The Question

What did the Budhist say to the hot dog vendor?

The Answer

Make me one with everything.

Lesson Prep

I'm teaching Relief Society this Sunday. Preparing a lesson alters things around here. In efforts to be more "in tune", I am watching only two episodes of "The Office" a night instead of three. Also, I was looking through old journal entries, trying to find applicable life experiences. The below paragraph describes a moment during my Psych rotation in nursing school. I was working in the lock-down unit for people with severe mental illness:

Today a lady with paranoid/delusional schizophrenia was sitting next to me on the couch. We had not met before and had not, to this point, talked with each other. We were both looking straight forward, not making eye contact. After some moments, I turned casually to look at her, wondering if she wanted to talk. Then she, turned deliberately to look at me and said, with a straight-face and in all seriousness, “You are from the family of Satan."

Probably won't be using that one in the lesson.

"Bear"

Sydney and I have been attending a sign language class together for the past six weeks. Tonight was the last night. She has been signing "light" for awhile; but a couple days ago added "bear" to her repertoire. Grrr!

A Picture For You

Today was just a regular day.

Where Would You Move?

I recently finished reading The Sex Lives of Cannibals. It is not about sex. Or cannibals. It is about the author’s experiences on Kiribiti, an equatorial, Pacific atoll northeast of Australia. It was a very good read. With this book on my mind and having read a friend’s post, I got to thinking (again) about the benefits of leaving behind the Routine and moving Elsewhere. A paragraph from the book describes one aspect of it:

It is one of the small pleasure of living in Kiribiti, that the foreigners one meets tend to live life in a vivid and eccentric sort of way, and when you listen to their tales of high adventure in the South Seas, you find that you are subsequently ruined from a conversational point of view, that you can no longer even pretend to be remotely interested in someone's trip to the mall, or their thoughts about the stock market, or their opinions about the relative merit of a football player, and soon you will be branded as aloof, simply because once, on a faraway island, you heard some good stories.

However, our five-year plan (inasmuch as we don’t have one) does not include moving. Anywhere. But I remain hopeful that it will happen one day. I feel the whisperings of opportunity every now and then when, having had a stressful day at work, Briton comes home declaring, “Intel has a job opening in Cordoba.” Or, “I could apply for this such-and-such a something in Germany.” (That was a good one. By the end of that night, thanks to Google, I had an apartment in Munich picked out). I’m crossing my fingers and hoping to die that something For Real comes up while our kids are still at home and could come with us. There is a “power on” (Intel-speak) going down at work the past few days, which means long, long hours for Briton. Maybe we’ll see where we’re moving to next when he comes home tonight! (Kiribiti! Kiribiti! Kiribiti!)

Serving Sizes

I received a box of Thin Mints from someone, who shall remain nameless. I ate them all. In one day. Well, let's be honest. In four hours. Or so. It reminded me of this Brian Regan clip. In my world, one serving of Thin Mints is one box.

Chain Gang

I got this from Mrs. Moo, who got it from her friend's blog, a Greek Goddess, who got it from her friend's blog, who begat Zorobabel, who begat ... This is my first blog-land chain letter (strike chime). As Mrs. Moo says, "It's a chain of giving and I like this idea." Me, too.

The first five people to respond to this post, saying they have joined the ranks by posting this "chain of giving idea" on their blog, get something made by me.

Fine Print:

1. It will within 12 months.

2. It will be something made specifically for you - tho' perhaps not even tangible.

(I may have messed up the rules, in which case, any blog cursings will fall on my shoulders, not yours, should you break this chain that has been going since 1957).

This n' That

Making music and taste-testing the drumsticks.

We *heart* Abram and Airie.

Our good friend, Karren, made a cake for Sonya to devour in celebration of her first birthday. She invited Lila and Syd to join her. The three girls were born within a few months of each other. This pic is from the photographer's blog and she gave permission to copy it here.

Pretty in Pink

Woowee. What a weekend. Briton and I started our love-fest-weekend on our Friday night date. After a hearty platter of Sveedish meatballs, we wandered the corridors of Ikea and admired the clever closet organizers. Then, on Saturday, we each went running (separately) and I spent some time hunting and gathering. Enter Embarrasing Story (if you are male and get skittish when reading the word “bra” and “lingerie”, do not read this next paragraph. Consider yourself warned).

It’s like this: I really needed a new bra. I’ve been wearing the same dingy, maternity bra for over a year. Victoria’s Secret has it beat when it comes to buying bras. For the uninitiated, you should know that buying a bra is a pain in the neck when you never know what size to buy because when you’re nursing and weaning and then getting pregnant again and nursing and weaning you’re carrying around a moving target. They’re like the cycles of the moon. Waxing and waning. Waxing and waning. Right now they’re waning and I’m whining because the bra I have just isn’t doing its job correctly. I will spare you further detail.

So there I am, in the Ooo-la-la Store because they measure you and then hand you that nifty box in your correct size. I really like that Box System. Plus, a lady stands attentively outside your door and asks how you’re doing. She's really attentive. I finally make my choice – a very industrial-strength, every-day type of bra. As industrial strength as VS can get, anyway. No lace. No frills. Plain Jane. And then I switch gears and think about my next item. Lingerie. Come on – it’s Valentine’s Day, after all – and I know I don’t really put much stock in the commercialization of love – but still – this is something I’d been thinking about long before Valentine’s Day. It’s just a coincidence that I happened to have time to go shopping for this sort of thing on said day. Well! Lesson learned: NEVER GO TO VICTORIA’S SECRET ON VALENTINE’S DAY … especially if it is the one closest to your ward boundaries.

So there I am, clutching a diverse selection of lingerie. I look up and unavoidably see and make eye contact with someone from our ward. The husband of my visiting teacher. He, too, is making his selections. He says, “This is embarrassing.” Embarrassing? Try, mortifying. I tell him, “Do not go to the cash register. Don’t follow me!” I make my purchases. The friendly cashier lays each piece in turn, the industrial-strength bra and risqué lingerie, on the counter to carefully wrap them in the bright pink tissue paper. I make small chat and decline acceptance into the Angel Program. I turn to leave and who is standing next in line, fully in view of what the cashier was wrapping up? Yeah. He'd followed me. The next day in church, my visiting teacher and I laugh about it. She told me that her husband had come home bursting with the news: “You’ll never guess who I saw at Victoria’s Secret. Someone you’d never, ever expect to see there!”

Hey! ...What the heck!?

Two Words

"The Office"

Two Going on Sixteen

Nutrition Action

Whereupon the blog administrator learns that scampi is a synonym for butter and after consuming both chicken scampi and German pancakes, one meal after the other, she determines to serve a more healthy meal to her nutritionally deprived family.

Quick* Cassoulet**

3 leeks, white and pale green parts
6 sprigs flat-leaf (Italian) parsley
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
5 oz. spicy sausage, diced (e.g. Wellshire Farms Turkey Andouille or Spanish chorizo)
8 cloves garlic, minced
2 carrots, peeled and sliced
2 celery stalks, chopped
4 sprigs thyme
1 bay leaf
1 15 oz. can no-salt-added diced tomatoes
2 15 oz. cans no-salt-added navy beans, drained and rinsed***
2 cups water
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
½ tsp salt

Halve the leeks lengthwise, then cut crosswise into ½ inch pieces. Rinse well and spin or pat dry. Remove the leaves from the parsley stems and roughly chop the leaves. Set aside the leaves and stems separately.

In a large, heavy pot, heat the oil over medium heat. Cook the sausage and garlic until the sausage beings to brown, about 2-3 minutes. Remove the sausage and garlic with a slotted spoon to a bowl, leaving the oil in the pot.

Add the leeks and cook, stirring occasionally, until they’re softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in the carrots, celery, thyme, bay leaf, parsley stems, tomatoes, beans, and water. Simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally, until the carrots are tender, about 20 minutes.

Discard the thyme sprigs, parsley stems, and bay leaf. Mash some of the beans in the pot with a potato masher or fork. Return the sausage and garlic to the pot. Season with pepper and up to ½ tsp of salt. Garnish with the parsley leaves. Serves 6.****

Per 1 1/2 cup Serving
Calories: 290
Total Fat: 12 g
Protein: 12 g
Fiber: 10 g

* "Quick" being a relative term.
** Nutrition Action, Jan/Feb 2009, p12.
*** Full disclosure: I used 1 lb dried navy beans, soaked overnight and then gently simmered in fresh water for ½ hour, until soft. I also did not use thyme sprigs. Umm ... and I put a movie on for the kids so I could sashay around the kitchen uninterrupted (sush!).
****Verdict: Yum! Who knew leeks could taste so good? Plus, it's a perfect blend of feeling both excellent for eating beans and naughty for eating sausage.

Note: no butter was used in this recipe.

Friday Fashion Show

One of Talmage and Joseph's favorite new activities is changing into pajamas. They disembowel the pajama drawer, digging for their preferred pair of the day. This activity keeps them concentrated, quiet and engaged for a good couple of minutes.

Today, as I spied them contorting themselves into pajamas:

Me: Are you guys playing dress-ups?
Talmage: No, we're playing jamma-ups.

Thursday Hide and Go Seek

Wednesday Outings

Blue-sky bliss. To the zoo we go.

In Taiwan it is not uncommon to see a family of five on a motor scooter. Not similarly, this two-person stroller comfortably fits three.We like going to the zoo (or anywhere) with Sonya because her mom always packs good snacks for us ... I mean, her.
Talmage, making sure Sonya's dehydrated fruit passes inspection. This was after her chocolate-chip banana bread got divvied up three ways and quickly snarfed.

Tuesday Tilapia

Recently, Cousin Dave got me thinking about fish. He says you're supposed to eat it three times a day. Since he's a toxicologist, he must know. But thirty times a day seemed like too big a change, all at once. As a dietary compromise, I decided to up our fish intake from once every few months to once a week. At least for February. This is what we ate tonight. It was tasty! And eeeeaaasy.

Note: I used frozen tilapia fillets because the whole, fresh, tail-and-head-included tilapia at the meat counter scared me. Maybe one day my sister will teach me to fillet a fish, but until that happens we'll take the pre-packaged stuff wrapped in individualized, vacuum-packed, non-biodegradable plastic; also, as a nod to mom's watchful eye over our arteries and in order to use up the expired jar in the fridge, I used reduced-fat mayonnaise. It was still very creamy and flavorful - it didn't taste "off" at all. Next time I'll mince the garlic instead of just chop it, though. I'll tell you what!

Monday Virtue

Aren’t Monday’s great? They’re like a new semester. Except weekly. I am frequently “turning over a new leaf” on Mondays. Granted, it’s the same leaf getting turned over. But over it goes. This morning I was up before everyone else; like the virtuous woman in Proverbs who darns socks by candlelight and is prized above rubies. That's me. On Mondays.

Running in the morning is also part of the new leafage. This one park I run through has a ducky pond and several bridges. The bridges have been closed for a long time for repair work. Like a year. People have compensated by going around the bridges, subsequently wearing a path down and up the embankment of the waterless river. This morning the bridges were open! I pranced across the first one, feeling pretty yippy-skippy about the whole new bridge thing. I mean, this morning had a theme going, you know?

Approaching the second bridge on auto-pilot, my feet took their habitual turn off the pavement so as to follow the grooved path down the muddy embankment. It took a conscientious reorientation to stay on the high road. The instinctual tendency to follow old habits, the grooved path, runs very deep - even when the easier way is right in front of me. This is not necessarily discouraging. Especially when a Monday is just around the corner.

Sunday Lesson

This morning I was wrestling with a wiggly Sydney, who is at her slipperiest and fastest, when she has a poopy diaper. Talmage was in the same room, voicing contrary comments, as 2 year-olds may be wont to do. Exasperated with them both, I asked outloud, "Why does everything have to be a battle?!" In the quiet that followed, Talmage's quiet voice pipes up, "Mommy, be patient." Yep. A correction can't come any more clearly and be any more humbling than one like that.

I'm not sure how Talmage knew to use that phrase. It was like that one scripture in action - the one that goes "little children do have words given unto them many times, which confound the wise and the learned" (Alma 32:23). And so I approach this week with heightened awareness of the need for this mom to offer more patience. More patience, more love, more good humor. More of all the good stuff.