tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24852344256336526972024-02-18T21:50:07.853-05:00Pastry and PoetryJannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-2258451945884453212012-11-20T14:45:00.000-05:002012-12-20T08:55:35.261-05:00The New NormalThere have been a lot of changes since I've last posted.<br />
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For one thing, I am now in charge of making sure these are warm:<br />
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and I also get to look into these everyday:<br />
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At the end of September, out of nowhere, my father was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Four days later he was in surgery, and five days after that he came home. The next week, I was in the operating room, all feeling blocked from the middle of my back down,while the doctor and nurses delivered my daughter.<br />
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Michael Chabon wrote an <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/blogsandforums/blogs/badaily/2012/10/michael-chabon-thanksgiving.html">essay for Bon Appetit</a> this month about Thanksgiving and tradition. It's a wonderfully written piece, and I want to share the last paragraph with you:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>And that, to me, is the meaning of Thanksgiving. Of all the Thanksgivings before and since, the one spent at Manka's stands out for me as the truest, even though we were far from our places of origin. Nothing lasts; everything changes. People die, and marriages dissolve, and friendships fade, and families fall apart, whether or not we appreciate them; whether or not we give thanks every waking moment or one night a year. For the act of returning to the same table, to the same people and the same dishes--to the same traditions--can blind you to life's transience. It can lull you into believing that some things, at least, stay the same. And if that's what you believe, then what have you got to be grateful for? None of our Thanksgivings are ever coming back; we've lost them. They're gone. And so this year, let's go somewhere with strange customs and unfamiliar recipes and the latest collection of ill-assorted chairs, and give thanks--not for everything we have, but for everything, instead, that we have lost.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><br />
I believe in what he says. I've had many different Thanksgivings. Most of my childhood had my family gathered around the table, the large turkey and same sides we looked forward to year after year, the pumpkin and pecan pies afterwards, always too many than reasonable for a family five. Since then, there have been a number of different ones. I remember making the turkey and all the fixings for some college friends. It was my first Thanksgiving away from my family, and I was pretending I was more grown up than I really was. One year we drove eleven hours for a wonderful, surf-and-turf Thanksgiving with in-laws, which I enjoyed despite being sick as a dog. I've had one that fell right between two funerals. That one especially, minds were on what we had lost. This year's will have a funeral following it as well. <br />
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Still, I know that with my father well and at the table, and my new daughter in my arms, this year I am grateful for all I have.Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-31292583883149345372012-09-10T09:57:00.000-04:002012-09-10T09:57:22.674-04:00What's Your Chocolate?<span style="font-family: inherit;">I couldn't <i>not</i> participate in this blogfest once I saw the title on several blogs I read. It's
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">“<a href="http://mpaxauthor.com/blog/whats-your-chocolate/">What’s Your Chocolate?</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4b4b; line-height: 24px;">”</span> hosted by M. Pax, Laura Eno, Brinda Barry, and Ciarra Knight. It's a simple and delicious premise, post about your favorite chocolate to eat, when and where you eat it, chocolate memory, anything chocolate related. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I love chocolate. If we had as many words for love as the Inuits have for snow, there would be one just to describe my love of chocolate. I take it pretty seriously. I love to read about the harvesting of the cacao beans, the hulling and roasting process. I've read and experimented with the tempering process (it's hard to keep your own temper, let alone the chocolate's, when you are trying this in a tiny kitchen with two little ones underfoot). I still have plans to make my own chocolates.</span><br />
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It wouldn't be fair for me to call out one favorite chocolate. I grew up in Belgium, so I was in the perfect place to indulge. Sometimes, when I would go downtown Brussels just to walk around (why don't I do that as much here?), I'd let the different chocolate shops dictate which direction I would take. There was a Leonidas shop on Northwest corner of the Grand Place, and my friend and I would buy a few chocolates and then eat them on the steps of the Bourse before seeing concerts at the Ancienne Belgique. I'd pick up Cote D'Or bars from the local grocery stores, the Noissette and Double Lait were my favorite. From the American Shoppette I'd buy Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, which you couldn't easily find on the local economy (a shame, since peanut butter and chocolate is one of the best combinations of all time).<br />
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Nowadays, I practice a little more self control when it comes to my consuming passion for chocolate (except lately, but I'm pregnant, and there are so few vices I can indulge in). I no longer devour an entire bar in one sitting. I buy small amounts of quality, mostly dark chocolate, and have just one ounce at a time. My children are chocoholics as well, which secretly pleases me. Two Christmases ago, my sister and I each made a dessert for dinner. I made a Buche de Noel with chocolate ganache and mocha buttercream. My sister made a beautiful and delicious lemon-cranberry bundt cake. She was serving cake to my son, cut him a slice of the Buche, and asked if he wanted some of her cake. "No!" he shouted adamantly. "It's not chocolate!"Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-6156929104550862272012-08-08T14:04:00.002-04:002012-08-08T14:04:46.495-04:00Winding DownIt's already August 8th! or, it's only August 8th! I'm vacillating between the two sentiments. On one hand, where did this summer go? The season is winding down, there is only a small window to get in our summertime activities. It feels like we didn't go to the lake enough, to the pool enough, even just outside enough (of course, a rapidly expanding belly, and temperatures regularly in the mid 90's contributed to that). I don't think I've made a single fruit pie, and I can count on one hand the number of pitchers of sweet tea I've brewed. A voice inside me is scolding me for letting this season pass me by. "Hurry, there's still time! Lets eat breakfast on the porch, bake a peach pie, have a waterballoon fight in the yard. We still have summer left!"<br />
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Then there is the other hand. It's hot, this baby is getting bigger. I'm at that point where the pregnancy glow has almost completely disappeared, it's hard to breathe deeply, and you just embrace the waddle. I sleep with four pillows supporting various parts of my body, and need to change sides every six minutes. It's only August 8th, which means I have ten more weeks to go. Plus, I'm thinking more and more of September and October. I'm excited and nervous about Max starting preschool. He's going to start to have his own schedule, and I'm realizing there are going to be a whole new set of dates and appointments I'm going to have to keep track of (time to get on that family calendar). I've even already started planning out Halloween costumes. Thinking about things so early is very unlike me, but I know that in October, I will be grateful to have it done.<br />
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I actually wrote this yesterday, stopped to take care of what-I'm-not-sure-anymore, and have come back to it today. I'm not sure how I planned to finish these thoughts. I know that I have some regrets that I am not able to share any pictures of the delicious <a href="http://gratineeblog.com/2009/09/julia-childs-plum-clafouti/">Plum Clafoutis</a> I made last week. I made it at 9:00 pm, and my sister and I devoured most of it that night. Today I made some <a href="http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/zucchini-bread">zucchini bread</a>. It passes the taste test, but I baked it 18 minutes longer than suggested, and it still didn't bake through. I also made a delicious cinnamon roll cake, but for the life of me, cannot find/remember the recipe I used. It was rich (made with three sticks of butter) and sweet and nutty, and would have been the perfect breakfast for company. If anyone has made something like this before, please let me know what recipe you used.<br />
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While I indulge in a small lamentation over my current feeble-mindedness, I should also state that my posts (and my reading of others' posts) are going to become more and more sporadic, with a decent hiatus planned in the next few months. It's time to get my ducks in a row, my house in order. I will try to stop by and "see" you all, and I hope everyone enjoys the rest of their summer.Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-40966042891502463342012-07-18T11:52:00.001-04:002012-07-18T11:52:03.851-04:00Purging and RechargingWe are getting ready to pack up and go on a mini-vacation tomorrow. I think it may be the first vacation that we're going on as a family that doesn't involve visiting other family. We're heading down to Williamsburg, VA. It's only a few hours from where we live; a long car trip was not desired, and there's a lot to do around there. Hopefully without spending too much money. I asked Max what he wanted to do on vacation and he said "have fun." I like the way he thinks. We're skipping Busch Gardens, but may take a trip to the beach. My children have never really seen the ocean. Sam saw an image of it on TV last night and exclaimed "Swimming Pool!" I think it's time to show them the real thing.<div>
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These past few weeks have been fun, but stressful. It's been a month of purging, but the unintentional kind. Three weeks ago our hard drive, I'm not sure exactly what happened, but the end result is that it doesn't work, at all. For all intents and purposes, it's fried. We lost all documents and pictures. One one hand, I was partially relieved that I wasn't going to have to deal with the digital clutter I'd been collecting. Mostly though, I was devastated at losing so many memories. Luckily, we had backed up much of our documents (so I'll have to organize it sometime), but we still lost pictures from the past year. I'm still searching through e-mails and asking family if they have any from Christmas. An important lesson was learned, back files up regularly and share pictures with others.</div>
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More recently we accidentally defrosted our freezer. That's not the best way to wake up in the morning. Again, on one hand, it forced us to clear some things out that should have probably been tossed a while ago. I suppose it's a good thing that I no longer have a box full of ice cream sandwiches to snack on whenever <strike>my stomach rumbles</strike> the baby wants one. On the other, I hate throwing out food. Fortunately, we didn't lose as much as I originally thought; it just meant a short spurt of furious cooking.</div>
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A vacation will be welcome. I've been camped out in my house this week, which has been good. I've been recharging and trying not to spend any money. I've also been trying to make progress on my checklist of things to do around the house before the baby arrives, but it's a slow process. The full weight of my pregnancy is finally hitting me, and there is just so much that I should not/cannot do. Due to time and budget constraints, I'm trying to get excited about finishing projects and organizing things, as opposed to big decorating redoes. Pintrest has been very helpful in that respect.</div>
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Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend! I'm hoping to take lots of pictures and have fun.<br /><div>
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</div>Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-83652236835657336292012-07-11T17:21:00.001-04:002012-07-11T17:21:58.930-04:00Poetry Project<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Today, I found a link to this <a href="http://myreadingbooks.blogspot.com/2012/07/poetry-project-revamp.html?showComment=1342038335468#c5971116320036789715">Poetry Project</a> on <a href="http://geeky-daddy.blogspot.com/">Geeky Daddy's</a> blog. Needless to say, I saw the words poetry and project together, and got very excited. It's a year-long project, designed to encourage reading and discussion about poetry. From what I gather, you post once a month. They have a guideline topic for each month, but it's not required that your post be about that, and there are no specific days that you have to post. Sounds like my kind of challenge. Here is the Intro Questionnaire for this month:</span></span><br />
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I love poetry. I'm happier when I read/hear it regularly, but find I often don't make time for it. I figure this project will help me keep that part of my brain active, as well as expose me to some new poets and new thoughts on poetry.<br />
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<span style="background-color: #fcf5ee; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b>Do you have a favourite poet?</b></span><br />
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This is a hard one. Right off the top of my head I would say E.E. Cummings, Edna St. Vincent Millay, and Robert Frost.<br />
<br style="background-color: #fcf5ee;" /><span style="background-color: #fcf5ee; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b>Hopefully this will go longer than a year. Do you have any suggestions for themes?</b></span><br />
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Perhaps poems from different countries, in translation? Or a glimpse into a poet's life, followed by a few examples of his/her work<br />
<br style="background-color: #fcf5ee;" /><span style="background-color: #fcf5ee; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b>What are your experiences with poetry in the past? Have they been positive or negative?</b></span><br />
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I have had mainly positive experiences. Most of the time, they've been better when I've been able to discuss them with others.<br />
<br style="background-color: #fcf5ee;" /><span style="background-color: #fcf5ee; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b>Tell us about a poem or poet that has had a profound effect on you. If you can't think of a poem, how about a song? Or a line from a story?</b></span><br />
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Another hard one for me. The first one I thought of was Robert Frost's "<a href="http://writing.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/frost-mending.html">Mending Wall</a>." I reread it a year ago, and realized that there is a reason we study it in school<br />
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I think that the language used to discuss poetry needs to be more accessible. I don't want it dumbed-down, but if the idea is to encourage the reading of poetry by people all over, you should be able to discuss a poem without the need of an English degree.<br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I'm expecting my third child in October, so that will be three kids under the age of five (I'm excited, but a little scared). I love to make things and bake, especially pie!</span></span>Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-53004900656725814822012-07-10T14:05:00.000-04:002012-07-10T14:05:42.743-04:00What is a Vampire's Favorite Fruit?Last Friday, I woke up at 6:30 am for the specific purpose of baking a cake for breakfast. I love early morning baking; there are just so many things that make it feel <i>right. </i>The kitchen is quiet, and I have it all to myself. It's still outside, and the heat hasn't quite reached the sweltering point that early in the morning. Also, I'm just in better mood when I've started my day doing something productive and creative.<div>
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So this is what I made last Friday, a Nectarine Golden Cake, or really, and Nectarine Buckle. We had five nectarines in our Green Grocery delivery the week before. I was very excited, only to find out that my husband does not share my enthusiasm for the smooth-skinned stone fruit. Gasp! My oldest seemed to share his sentiments, and with all the other fruit in the house, my youngest and I were not going to finish them off. Several sat there neglected until I decided that while they might not like them raw, they will probably like them baked. </div>
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Buckles are so named because you place your fruit on top of the batter in the pan, and as the cake bakes, the fruit buckles underneath. You start with something like this:</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">And end up with this:</span></div>
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It's sweet, but not too sweet, so you can easily justify it for breakfast with a hot cup of coffee or tea. I found the recipe <a href="http://www.sassyradish.com/2009/09/nectarine-golden-cake/">here</a>, It's been adapted from a recipe featured in <i>Gourmet</i>. I pretty much followed her adaptation, with the exception of using turbinado sugar to sprinkle the top. It gives it a little more shine and a nice crinkly crunch.</div>Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-19836807239755935222012-07-05T12:33:00.000-04:002012-07-05T12:33:10.061-04:00Happy 4th of July!I hope everyone had a safe and fun Independence Day, and that most of you were able to keep cool. Of course, for almost everyone in the USA, that would be hard if you went out at all. We decided to brave the heat, and spent a little over four hours at our local lake, eagerly awaiting the fireworks display. I sat on a lawn chair for most of the evening, continuously applying bug spray (the harsh, antiseptic odor was worth it, not a bite on me!), while my husband and sons splashed in the very, very warm water. We sweated and swam, ate overpriced vendor food, and boogied to 70's dance and funk music. Max got our permission to dance on the sand, where he regaled those sitting on the beach's edge with his creative and enthusiastic moves. Finally, the sky grew dark enough. We sang the Star Spangled Banner, and waited for them to start the pyrotechnics. As much fun as we had been having, heat and all, the night just got better. This was Sam's first experience with fireworks. Every time a rocket flew into the air, his entire body would stiffen with excitement. Each explosion of color brought an exclamation from him, "Red! Green! Loud! Bright!" followed by simple, contagious laughs. Max loves the fireworks as well, but he's a cautious kid and a thinker. He couldn't help but be concerned for the kids swimming in the dark water, invisible but for the multi-colored glow-sticks around their necks and wrists, and the brief illuminations from the fireworks overhead. I was concerned as well, and envious. I remember how magical night swimming is, and it's been such a long time since I've participated. My concern came from the large flashes of lighting just a few minutes before. Luckily, the storm held off until later that night, when everyone was safely out of the water and back in their homes.<br />
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Days like yesterday, and many more these past few weeks, have brought a wonderful, sad feeling of nostalgia. I'm not sure what it is. We went to our first waterpark with the boys last weekend (and my first trip to a waterpark in 10 years). Even watching cartoons on these hot, summer mornings brings a flood of memories and feelings that I can't quite place. I find myself trying to keep this feeling up; watching and doing things from my childhood, even buying the same snacks (nothing says summer like those horrible Fruit Juice Barrels, made with no fruit juice). I think I know that everything is going to change again at the end of the summer. They're all good changes, the new baby arriving, Max going to preschool, Sam becoming a big brother; but right now, this summer, I like time travelling backwards. It's strange that since I've had children, each year I've grown older and further away from my youth, I've also been getting closer. <br />
<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-12602148425564117782012-06-26T18:24:00.001-04:002012-06-26T19:37:30.544-04:00Powder Room: AfterTwo weeks after I posted about my excitement for a working toilet, and a narrative of our bathroom redo, I am ready to post the after pictures. Of course, things aren't completely "finished." There are touch-ups that need to be done, and a few items that still need to be put up. I need to buy some baskets to place on the shelf of the farmhouse vanity we built (you can find the plans at <a href="http://ana-white.com/2010/02/plans-farmhouse-vanity-cheap-and-easy.html">ana-white</a>) I know myself, and it may be another year or so before that actually gets done, however, so I thought I'd post the reveal now.<br />
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Here was the before picture:<br />
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And here are some photos after many, many hours of hard work. I am particularly proud of how my husband and I worked together, with very little yelling or swearing. Towards the end there were a few times he told me, "I know you think you are being helpful, but I would really appreciate if you would just stop talking." I only told him I was going to cry once, at 3:45 on Saturday, when we still didn't have a working sink drain, and had 25 people coming at 4:00. He got it working at the last minute however. We both shine under pressure.<br />
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<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-12247187445229647552012-06-13T09:54:00.000-04:002012-06-26T18:24:26.236-04:00First Floor Bathroom, BeforeI am writing this post in anticipation of having a working toilet on the first floor by this evening. It's been since Memorial Day weekend, and I've definitely felt the loss. We decided to do the powder room because it was small, and we figured it would be a quick, relatively inexpensive redo. What fools we were.<br />
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This is how our bathroom looked before. Rather uninspiring. You can't tell from the picture, but the sink is in the shape of a shell, and the vanity had been painted with some sort of textured paint. Unfortunately, all types of dirt and lint and who knows what else would cling to the stippling, and it was impossible to make it look clean. The walls of our entire house are painted in a color I have now named Fannie Mae Beige, and in a flat finish, which is horrible for a bathroom, and most any room where you will have young children that may brush against the walls. (I am slowly ridding the entire house of that color.) The floor tile was white, with veins of pink running through it. <br />
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So the demolition began, and we discovered many things. One, that although the vanity looked horrible, it was amazingly well constructed. The only way to tear it out was to cut it out in sections, and after we removed the entire cabinet, the vanity top still remained stuck to the wall. That was some pretty strong adhesive the builders uses.<br />
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Two, while the shell-shaped sink and vanity top looked like it was made out of that lightweight, occasionally cheap looking marbled acrylic, it in fact was not. I'm not sure what material was used, but it seemed to be some sort of cast composite. My husband basically chiseled around the edges until it finally came apart from the wall. I think we have the same sink in the boys' bathroom, so that's making me a little nervous.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1NeugbSSnS_Km2EvwdJ5ChUGma-bav9cHiC5GytGTs3zwJB1JaHJWyIunCMdm9sGrRo_f7lCflP7-oLUcESpOnsi0SBlkNJ5xnt0vpUNAmCKoZGJNTVWhkgyOY6-TIMpEMcY51dyfyO4/s1600/Bathroom+reno.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1NeugbSSnS_Km2EvwdJ5ChUGma-bav9cHiC5GytGTs3zwJB1JaHJWyIunCMdm9sGrRo_f7lCflP7-oLUcESpOnsi0SBlkNJ5xnt0vpUNAmCKoZGJNTVWhkgyOY6-TIMpEMcY51dyfyO4/s320/Bathroom+reno.JPG" width="212" /></a>Three, and this was the worst, the floor had sustained significant water damage, going all the way into the subfloor, and through to the ceiling below. I am sure that at some point, someone had to have seen a water spot forming on the basement ceiling and wondered, "Hmmm, that's right below the toilet, I wonder if everything is okay." If that did happen, no one did anything. Once my husband removed all the damaged plywood, insulation, and drywall, he saw traces of a slow leak dripping down the drain from the old toilet. He cut out the old PVC pipe, and coupled and cemented a new section to the drain. Assuming he installs the toilet correctly, which I have no doubt that he will, we shouldn't have any more water problems. I love having a handy man.<br />
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But tonight, we will have a finished floor and a toilet in the room. It's the small things we take for granted. I've been very impressed with my four-year-old, who has managed to make it upstairs in time to use the bathroom these past three weeks (only once did he have an emergency situation and need me to assist him up the stairs). In all honesty, as my pregnancy is progressing, I'm more and more worried that I will find myself in an emergency situation, and there will be no one to help me up the stairs. Hopefully, by the end of the week I can post some after pictures, and our bathroom will finally be done.Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-38585454849659701062012-05-31T15:01:00.000-04:002012-05-31T15:01:35.124-04:00Green Grocer GoodnessYay! It came today!<div>
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Last week I signed up with <a href="http://www.washingtonsgreengrocer.com/">Washington's Green Grocer</a>, and you've never seen a family so excited about a vegetable delivery. We've been talking about the box for the last few days. My boys' eyes lit up as we carefully unpacked each specimen, and discussed all the yummy things we could do with them as we put them away.</div>
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There are a lot of reasons I'm excited to start using this service specifically. I like that I don't have to commit to a certain number of weeks, and they deliver right to my door. While the produce isn't as local as a CSA, they do work with regional farmers for as much of their goods as they can. It's also fun. I'm not specifying anything that I do or do not want in my box (which you can do if you want) so I may end up with items I would never think of buying in the store. I'm looking forward to trying new things and finding new recipes. It's also going to challenge me to plan my meals around the vegetables I have, instead of around a meat. Too often I think of veggies as a side, and forget that they have just a much right to the starring role.</div>
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It may end up being a little more expensive, but I figure if I use it all, it's worth it. Of course, there's also the fact that the produce is not as "pretty" as you find in the store. I know that really, that's a good thing. Things are grown to be picked and eaten fresh, not shipped across the country to sit in a store and look appealing until someone buys it. Still, it's been ingrained in me that apples should be big and shiny, oranges smooth and bright, and my lettuce triple washed. Hopefully this summer I'll get over my "pretty fruit" thing, and learn to just savor the flavors.</div>Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-34629558290666967812012-05-30T14:48:00.002-04:002012-05-30T18:27:14.676-04:00The Woes, I mean, Joys of Home-OwnershipI am forcing myself to write today. For one thing, it's been a week and I feel I need to, and for another, if I don't, I will simply stress out about my house. I'm at that point right now, where there is so much to do that my mind all but shuts down trying to figure out where to start. I feel like one of those Looney Tunes characters put in charge of a baby. A baby that crawls across the telephone wires, over the crocodile pit in the zoo, bounces off an awning onto a car in rush hour traffic, only to be miraculously saved by a window washer who picks the baby up by the diaper with his squeegee and plops him into his room. Right now, I'm Sylvester, frantically running in all directions trying to take care of things. I'm getting electrocuted by the wires, snapped at by the crocs, falling onto the pavement and getting mowed down by oncoming traffic. I should take solace in the fact that the baby will ultimately be saved, but I know the window washer is going to dump his dirty water on my head as I am about to enter the building and head upstairs to check on him.<br />
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What has started this not so slow descent into madness is the "quick" powder room remodel my husband and I planned to do over the weekend. We're no strangers to DIY projects. We had the vanity built and stained, my husband has had experience installing a toilet and sink, so most of our trepidation was related to installing a tile floor. That was new to us, but we figured, we did our research, it was a small room, we'd get through it. All of that changed as we started to demo the existing bathroom. (I should clarify, that while I am using <i>we</i>, it was really my husband that did most of the work). <br />
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Without taking you step-by-step into the project (I will save that for a later post, hopefully after we have the room finished and are laughing about this whole thing); I will say that we found extensive water damage in the sub floor. We now have the floor removed to the joists, and need to throw out the existing insulation and remove a section of the ceiling below. I don't see how the water damage wasn't showing on the basement ceiling. My only guess was that it must have been painted over by the previous homeowners or by Fannie Mae. I'm just glad we started this project six months after we moved in, and didn't wait a year or two from now.<br />
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I know there is an end to this project in sight, but in the meantime, I have tools scattered all around my first floor and everything that was in that bathroom is in a corner in my kitchen. When I come downstairs in the morning, I literally pull my hair when I see the chaos. I need to have some semblance of order (and safety) before I babysit for a friend on Saturday. She's never been to my house, and I'm afraid she's going to cancel her plans and march out with her son as soon as she puts her foot inside the door. So right now, deep breaths, patience, and hard work. That will see us through.<br />
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<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-16583093438854495612012-05-22T09:48:00.001-04:002012-05-22T09:48:53.393-04:00Wedding Bells Are Ringing<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday morning, my sister and her fiancé tied the knot. They had a simple wedding ceremony at the courthouse. It was a sunny day, and the judge married
them outside in a small, grassy corner of the lot. It was beautiful and quick (my favorite kind
of ceremony), and that evening they threw a kickin’ party with family and
friends. Everyone had a wonderful time,
and the bride and groom could not have seemed happier.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That’s the overall summary of the day, and it’s true and
accurate. It would be interesting,
though, to see the whole day, before and after the festivities, through the
eyes of each guest. I only know my
version, and while I want to reiterate that I had a wonderful time (I know you
will eventually read this, Em) the summary just doesn’t cover it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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To start, I didn’t get enough sleep. I had been baking and frosting cupcakes most
of the day before. My brother came over
and hung out with the kids so that I could focus, but it still just took a long
time. I think I frosted the last one
around 9:00 pm, and was too wired to go to sleep just yet. I regret that decision, because I was
awakened at 4:00am with a crying toddler and a howling dog. Going back to sleep was nearly impossible,
and I probably only grabbed 30 minutes or less before we had to wake up and get
ready to go.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was tired, and some other things weren’t going the way I
thought they would. I’m not going to go
into it in more detail, but let’s just say that my husband and I were not
getting along. We got lost on our way up
to the hotel. In fact, this weekend, we
got lost almost every time we got into the car.
Sometimes it was bad directions, misleading road signs, sometimes I read
the directions wrong, but if we had to get somewhere, we got lost. Ed and I are not good together when we are
lost and there is a time crunch. Voices
were raised, and I think at one point I even yelled, “Look, we don’t have to
like each other, but if we’re going to pretend to be happy one day, it’s going
to be today!” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Things got better after the ceremony. Both families and the best man and his date
went out to lunch (the one place we didn’t get lost going to, mainly because it
was a straight shot from the courthouse and we passed it on our way
there). My family had eaten almost
nothing until then; my boys had a granola bar and Ed bought some Pizza Combos
at a gas station (a choice that more than irked me at the time, since I was
very hungry but the smell of them makes my stomach turn, at least at 9:00 in
the morning). After lunch, the idea was
that we would all go back to my mom’s hotel room, and Ed, me, and the boys
would take a nap. Only one of us got a
nap. It wasn’t me; it wasn’t the
boys. My husband has the gift of being
able to sleep anywhere, anytime. I lay
in bed, watching cartoons with the boys, and shot jealous, resentful looks his
way. After all, I’m the pregnant one, I’m
the one who didn’t sleep the night before, and I’m the one who will be driving
an hour and a half home after he had taken advantage of the open bar. I needed sleep! <o:p></o:p></div>
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There was nothing that could be done though, so I tried
soaking in the tub. I think the designers
at the Sheraton must have figured that most of the people who would be bathing
are size 6 women, and made the tub only as wide as the berth of their
hips. After a very, very quick soak, I
went down to set up the cupcakes at the candy bar. My sister loves candy, always has, so that’s
what she had in lieu of wedding favors at the table. Everything was looking good, and I started
to rally. While I had been helping out
downstairs, Ed took the kids to get something to eat, and brought me back
something as well. By the time we headed
to the party, he and I were friends again, for real.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The rest of the evening was just fun. Ed and I took turns shepherding our kids away
from the dance floor during the vow exchange and the important dances. Apparently I don’t need to buy any more toys;
I just need to invest in 150 square feet of parquet flooring. They tore it up. I can understand the reasons people have for
not inviting kids to a wedding, but I love it so much more when there are a few
little ones rocking out on the dance floor.
Some of my favorite wedding memories have been of dancing with partners
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As for what happened for us after the festivities:
nothing. We left early and drove
home. Ed had some coffee so he could
stay up with me on the drive, and when we got home he carried the kids up to
their rooms and let the dogs out. Then
we slept. Our falling action was rather
dull, but I’m sure some of the other guests have much more interesting after
stories to tell.<o:p></o:p></div>Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-77791030834235226772012-05-21T15:03:00.001-04:002012-05-21T15:03:46.654-04:00Some Awards? You're Too Kind<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ZYX18wtRWi40cgjzuS_mXU-xHSdMvonrn_4tj6TizyzD_OnaGvdLzoL8Wb-vtq-fP-Fnh-BhbEfHWkwGtMKWwlyIRwe3kWXQLidfIDo8nxPGYRItuFrj36xhuw2LCYeR10xeJSrPNVg/s1600/A_KREATIV_BLOGGER_AWARD_thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ZYX18wtRWi40cgjzuS_mXU-xHSdMvonrn_4tj6TizyzD_OnaGvdLzoL8Wb-vtq-fP-Fnh-BhbEfHWkwGtMKWwlyIRwe3kWXQLidfIDo8nxPGYRItuFrj36xhuw2LCYeR10xeJSrPNVg/s1600/A_KREATIV_BLOGGER_AWARD_thumb.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8fgmtfw3K6jvZbNiffAKb4DF3CvhPsGld72NX0Uu1Ql9sYdogPohYG1OssVh-9q7rmy25MlyaTDx5tJpZTZKUOv_uvK5BP62EXCefRgJJmJTuWeOdQQ03aLiH-mOYLx_88xtcGhHrDsY/s1600/onelovelyblogaward1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8fgmtfw3K6jvZbNiffAKb4DF3CvhPsGld72NX0Uu1Ql9sYdogPohYG1OssVh-9q7rmy25MlyaTDx5tJpZTZKUOv_uvK5BP62EXCefRgJJmJTuWeOdQQ03aLiH-mOYLx_88xtcGhHrDsY/s200/onelovelyblogaward1.jpg" width="200" /></a>I'm honored to be the recipient of two blogging awards. Eliza at <a href="http://elliesblankbook.blogspot.com/">Ellie's Blank Book</a> passed the Kreativ Blogger and One Lovely Blog award along to me. Thanks so much!<br />
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There are a few conditions upon accepting these awards. Mainly, I need to tell you all a little more about myself by answering some questions and providing some facts. I am not very good at writing about myself directly, but I'll try to make it interesting.<br />
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<i>What is your favorite song?</i><br />
Can anyone really answer this question? I probably have a list of about ten, depending on my mood, what I'm doing, the weather. I suppose if I have to provide an answer, it would probably be <i>This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)</i> by Talking Heads. I never tire of it, and every time I hear it it seems to affirm my admiration/adoration of Mr. David Byrne.<br />
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<i>What is your favorite dessert?</i><br />
Pie!!!!! Fruit filled, custard filled, a tart or a galette; put something sweet in flaky, buttery pastry and I'm there!<br />
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<i>When you are upset, what do you do?</i><br />
This largely depends on why upset. I normally deal with little upsets with some deep breathing, or a quickly muttered expletive. When it's something really big, I try to find some alone time and just work it out. Nobody wants to be around me at those times, my husband will attest to that.<br />
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<i>What is your favorite pet?</i><br />
Such an unfair question! I love all my four-legged children.<br />
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<i>What do you prefer to wear, black or white?</i><br />
I'm exceptionally pale, sometimes borderline translucent, so white does not work for me. Black is not always any better, but I like how it sets off my red hair. Kids make wearing white impossible, and cats make wearing black a pain.<br />
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<i>What's your biggest fear?</i><br />
I have a number of irrational fears, that all seem perfectly reasonable to me at 11:00 pm when I am laying in bed trying to get to sleep. I'd share them now, but I try to reveal my neuroticism slowly.<br />
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<i>What is your attitude mostly?</i><br />
I've mentioned this before, but I would classify myself as an easily discouraged optimist. Also, I'm a romantic.<br />
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<i>What is perfection to you?</i><br />
I don't believe it exists, except for the occasional moment, and then you just know it when you're in it.<br />
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<i>What is your guilty pleasure?</i><br />
Made for TV Christmas movies.<br />
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Okay, now to provide ten random facts about me:<br />
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<ol>
<li>Part of me still wants to work in a zoo, because that seems to be the only way I'd ever get to hug a baby lion, tiger, bear...</li>
<li>I actually love to clean, but hate putting things away (which is why anyone who's been to my house doesn't believe that I love to clean).</li>
<li>I pick paint colors based on their names almost as much as I pick them for their hue.</li>
<li>I love old black and white movies, especially musicals.</li>
<li>I have a thing about eating "beautiful" fruit. While I'm not as picky as I used to be, I still sometimes pass off the "uglier" pieces to my kids, who don't seem to have my hang ups.</li>
<li>I have an amazing memory for people, faces, and names. Sometimes I think it puts people off.</li>
<li>My husband and I recently spent an absurd amount of money on a wind chime, and we both think the purchase was worth every penny.</li>
<li>I love to work with my hands, whether it be in the kitchen, the garden, or with art and craft supplies.</li>
<li>I don't own any, but would like to wear vintage clothing. The fear of coming across as a hipster slightly deters me, but I like the style and back then dresses were designed for women with curves.</li>
<li>I hate the question, "So, what do you do?" What people are really asking is, "What do people pay you for?" which most of the time tells you nothing about the person you are talking to.</li>
</ol>
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This award is normally passed on to six or seven other bloggers out there, but I'm horrible at singling people out for these things. I've actually only recently started actively following blogs, and a lot of those I would like to pass it on to have received it recently (sometimes several times, not that they don't deserve it again). That said, I'd like to send it to my sister-in-law, Alisa at <a href="http://thelittleredricebowl.blogspot.com/">The Little Red Rice Bowl</a>. She's an active cook, crafter, and has some stunning photography. Check her out!</div>
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<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-73187041277863894922012-05-15T17:26:00.000-04:002012-05-15T17:27:29.313-04:00Irons in the FireI hope everyone had a wonderful weekend, and a Happy Mother's Day to all moms out there. I had a wonderful day on Sunday. My husband went to a bachelor party for my soon to be brother-in-law on Saturday, so I knew that I wasn't going to wake up to smiling, well-dressed children bringing me breakfast in bed. In fact, Sunday was a lot like most other days of the week. I comforted my oldest child when he woke up in hysterics at 5:00 am, I got them dressed, went grocery shopping with the two of them. At first I thought I was going to want a break from my normal Mom routine, but when is a better time to embrace it? After all, that's what we're celebrating on Mother's Day.<br />
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In some ways, Sunday was even busier since I had to make <a href="http://pastryandpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/04/earth-apples.html">potato salad</a> and a <a href="http://pastryandpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/04/pie.html">strawberry-rhubarb tart</a> to take to a farewell party for a neighbor. I'm a little jealous that I was not able to drink any of the 12 gallons of sangria one of our friends made, but I had a wonderful time at the party and ended the evening on a high note watching <i>Sherlock</i> on PBS: Masterpiece Theater. Not going to lie, I looked forward to that most of the day.<br />
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My husband also started working on one of our many projects on that day. We're building a farmhouse vanity for the powder room on the main floor. I found the plans on
<a href="http://ana-white.com/">http://ana-white.com/</a> . Right now it looks like this:</div>
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but hopefully it will just take a few more hours of work to make it spectacular. I went ahead and made a spreadsheet of everything I want to do/make/buy for each room. It's a little overwhelming right now, so my next step is a schedule. I know the nesting drive is kicking into high gear when I'm willing to commit to a timetable.</div>
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Everything is on hold until Saturday, though. Tomorrow, it's time to get organized. My sister's wedding is on Friday, and I need to start preparing to bake the cupcakes for the reception. I've never baked this much at one time. I'm fine with the baking part, but I'm not looking forward to all the washing of dishes that will be happening on Thursday.</div>
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</div>Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-89984912106565551072012-05-09T09:47:00.000-04:002012-05-09T09:47:32.485-04:00A to Z ReflectionsI've taken a little over a week off from blogging. That used to be my norm, but after April, in which I blogged 26 out of 30 days, a week off feels like I've almost abandoned it. What have I been doing with myself? Some reading, some house project planning, and watching a lot of Mad Men. <div>
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The A to Z challenge was a lot of fun, and I think it delivered on the promises of the hosts. I "met" a lot of new people, I think I've learned to be a better blogger, and I most definitely have become a better follower of blogs. I love to leave comments now, where before I might have been a little hesitant, worried that they weren't pertinent, or that they didn't say anything new. Now that I've posted more, I realize that even a simple "Love it!" shows that someone has actually taken the time to read your words, and felt enough to let you know.</div>
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I am most inspired by the sincerity and passion of some of the new bloggers I've found. There are people out there who can just write, and write well. I would read their descriptions of sorting the recycling, if that's what they were posting. It made me realize that the subject of a post can be anything, if it's written with clarity and honesty. There are people out there who are making their dreams a reality, who have found their passion and are actively pursuing it. This blows me away. Not only am I still trying to find my passion, but I also have a history of letting anxiety get the better of me. Thank you to all of you who aren't letting it get to you, or at least not letting it win.</div>
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<br /></div>Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-2651048220288719012012-04-30T16:15:00.000-04:002012-04-30T16:23:18.950-04:00Zomerse VruchtentaartSo we've come to the end. I'm grateful, the past five or so posts have been hard ones. Thanks to all that have checked out my blog this month. I've enjoyed reading all your comments (and I apologize for not responding to each of them). I'm happy to have started following some of your blogs and reading about your worlds and interests. Can't wait until next year!<br />
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I'm stretching things today, but I wanted to end on a sweet note (I know, puns are the lowest form of humor, but I still love them). So, I'm using the Flemish name for this Belgian Summer Fruit Tart. Also, it's not yet summer, so I had to substitute berries for the summer stone-fruit typically used in this recipe. I'm looking at it as a practice run for when fresh plums, peaches, and sweet cherries are plentiful.<br />
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The beauty of this tart is its simplicity. Fresh fruit is the star, surrounded by a <a href="http://pastryandpoetry.blogspot.com/2012/04/yeast-taking-you-places.html">sweet, bread-like crust</a>. It doesn't take too long to make or bake, and can be served warm or at room temperature. It's the perfect dessert for a casual get together with friends.<br />
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<b>Zomerse Vruchtentaart (Belgian Fruit Tart with Fresh Summer Fruit) </b>adapted from <i>Everybody Eats Well in Belgium</i> by Ruth Van Waerebeek<br />
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A quick note: if you do as I did and substitute berries for stone-fruits, you will probably want to decrease the amount of sugar and increase the amount of flour used (my tart was a little sweet for my taste, and very juicy). <br />
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Ingredients:<br />
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2 lbs of fresh summer fruit: pitted sweet cherries, apricots, plums, peaches, nectarines, or fresh red currants, all peeled and pitted if necessary. In Belgium its very common for them to use combinations of fruits in radial sections around the tart.<br />
1 1/4 cups sugar<br />
2 T flour<br />
1 tsp cinnamon<br />
<a href="http://pastryandpoetry.blogspot.com/2012/04/yeast-taking-you-places.html">Flemish Yeast Dough</a> (see link for recipe)<br />
egg wash (1 large egg lightly beaten with 1 1/2 T of sugar)<br />
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Glaze:<br />
2 T of sugar<br />
1 T red currant jelly<br />
1/2 tsp cornstarch<br />
1 T cold water<br />
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In a large bowl, mix the fruit with the sugar, flour, and cinnamon. Transfer the fruit to a colander r set over a bowl to collect juices. Let sit for 30 minutes.<br />
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While the fruit is macerating, preheat the oven to 375 degrees F and butter and flour two 8" tart pans or one 12" tart pan.<br />
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Roll out the dough (divide in half if making two tarts) into a circle about 1/4" thick. Press into the pan, trim and crimp edges, and prick bottom all over with a fork. Brush the bottom of the tart with the egg wash, then cover with a towel and let rise in a warm place for about 20 minutes.<br />
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Fill the tart shell with the fruit, reserving the juices for the glaze. Brush the sides of the pastry with the remaining egg wash.<br />
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Bake until the crust is golden, about 25 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool for 15 minutes before removing the sides of the pan.<br />
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While the tart is cooling, make the glaze: Place reserved fruit juices, sugar, and red currant jelly in a small saucepan. (Depending on how much sugar is left in the fruit juices, you may not need the full 2 T for the glaze.) Bring to a boil over medium heat. Dissolve the cornstarch in the cold water, add to the pan, and cook, stirring constantly, for about 1 minute or until thickened. Remove from heat, and spoon the glaze over your tart to give it a shine.Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-70436190439048082622012-04-30T14:59:00.002-04:002012-04-30T14:59:59.635-04:00Yeast; Taking You PlacesSpecifically, Flemish Yeast Dough is taking me back to Leefdaal, the small town in Belgium where I spent half my childhood. Leefdaal had one main street running through it, Dorpstraat. Everything you need could be found off that street, including three bakeries. Michotte was our favorite. My parents would send my siblings and me down on a Saturday morning to pick up pastries and we'd stare at the display cases, fascinated by the cream horns, the eclairs, and the beautiful fruit tarts.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo <a href="http://www.tstoopke.be/index.php?pagina=producten/broodengebak/taartencake">source</a></td></tr>
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Truth be told, it took me a long time to come around to these tarts. I thought they were very good, but there was something not quite right about them. They looked like pies, but they weren't pies. They didn't have that flaky, buttery shell that I expected. Instead, they were made with a yeasty, sweet, bread-like crust, and once I started to accept them for what they were, I found them utterly delicious.<br />
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I love working with yeast. This crust in particular brings back memories of my childhood and thoughts of another country, but anytime I make a yeast dough I am transported. It's something in the sweet tangy smell as the dough rises, the promise of great flavor once baked. It's the limited amount of control we have over the process, and the necessary waiting as the yeast does its natural thing. Even while I am making it in my modern kitchen, I can imagine bakers from generations past all over the world doing the same thing.<br />
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<b>Flemish Yeast Dough for Pie Crusts</b> adapted from <i>Everybody Eats Well in Belgium</i> by Ruth Van Waerebeek<br />
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This crust is fairly straightforward, perfect for someone who is not too familiar with working with yeast. It's the base of many Belgian tarts, one of which is my Z-post.<br />
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Ingredients:<br />
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1 pkg active dry yeast<br />
1/4 cup of milk, warmed to 100 degrees F<br />
1 1/2 cup all purpose flour, plus more if needed<br />
1/4 cup sugar<br />
Pinch of salt<br />
1 large egg, lightly beaten<br />
2 1/2 T unsalted butter, melted<br />
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In a small bowl, sprinkle yeast over milk. Let it sit until it gets foamy, about 5 minutes. Stir.<br />
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Sift the flour into a large mixing bowl. Add sugar and salt and then whisk to combine. Make a well in the middle, and pour in the egg, butter, and yeast mixture. Using your fingertips, slowly work the flour into the liquids until you have a smooth dough. Gradually add a little more flour if needed to keep the dough from sticking to your fingers; no more than 1/2 cup. Make sure you don't overwork or knead the dough, or your crust will be tough and chewy.<br />
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Form the dough into a ball and place it in a large, lightly oiled bowl. Cover with plastic wrap or a towel, and let rise in a warm spot until doubled in volume, around 1 hour.<br />
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To roll the dough:<br />
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Butter and flour a tart pan (preferably one with a removable bottom)<br />
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Punch down the dough onto a lightly floured surface. Roll the dough into a disc, somewhere between 1/4 or 1/8 an inch thick, depending on the recipe for the tart and personal preference.<br />
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Transfer the disc of dough to your tart pan. Trim and crimp the edges. With a fork, prick holes all over the bottom the tart. Cover with a kitchen towel and let the dough rise for 20 to 30 minutes before filling and baking.<br />
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<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-60277692841264433752012-04-28T12:30:00.002-04:002012-04-28T12:30:46.422-04:00Taking a DayMy Y post is going to come the same day as my Z post. This is for practical reasons relating to the post, and because I need to take today to catch up on things. I want to take some time to catch up on the blogs I've missed reading the last few days, and just to rest, do laundry, finish one of my dozen or so projects, those sort of things. Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend.Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-87327385341994583382012-04-27T19:07:00.000-04:002012-04-27T19:07:16.715-04:00eXasperatedX is for exasperated; frustrated by all the foods that I am currently not supposed to eat. Reading through May's <i>Bon Appetit</i> was slightly tortuous yesterday, and Pintrest just mocks me each time I log into it. I think I'm going to create a board of all the verboten items for pregnant ladies, and then next year make everything on it. It's especially hard because summertime is coming up, and that is the time I want to most make and eat these things. These things are:<br />
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<i>Soft Cheeses</i>: Goat cheese, brie, an Icelandic cheese that a friend of ours brought to a party and I can't find around here. Every night I crave a giant cheese platter. It's gotten worse since we recently watched <i>Ratatouille </i>with the boys.<br />
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<i>Sushi and Shellfish</i>: I love seafood, but it's not normally something I pine for. Now, I shoot dirty looks at people enjoying spicy tuna rolls or crab cakes (I don't really. I think horrible things about them, but I don't project it). Soon it will be summer and I wanted to hammer down on some crabs up with my sister in Maryland, to have perfectly seared scallops, host a clam bake.<br />
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<i>Runny Eggs: </i>not much I can say about them, except, yum, and I miss you.<br />
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<i>Caffeine</i>: <i>Bon Appetit</i> just featured a recipe on Vietnamese Iced Coffee, made with condensed milk (I've been making it that way for a while, and I didn't know I was being gourmet). Iced coffee and Thai Iced tea are two of my favorite summertime drinks. Even on the hottest days, I love to start my weekends with fresh brewed coffee.<br />
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<i>Booze</i>: It's not that it's really hard for me to give this up, but an ice cold beer on a summer day, or having a mojito or margarita on a warm evening, or just the right glass of wine with a great meal, these will be missed.<br />
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I'm going to be honest, I applaud all the women that really follow all the rules, but I know I won't, and I'm not going to feel guilty about it. I drink coffee and tea, not as much as I used to, but it's more than just occasionally. They just opened a Jimmy John's not too far from my house, so I've already broken the "no deli-meat" rule. While I'm not about to go out and order a sushi platter, I probably will make a beet, arugula, and goat cheese salad this season. Besides, sometime between the second and third trimester the baby's taste buds start to develop, so I'm just giving her an early start for an expansive palate. <br />
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On another note, thanks for all the well wishes for my son. His fever is finally going down, and he's gotten some of his appetite back. Hopefully he'll be back to his normal self tomorrow.<br />
<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-41475219154549784842012-04-26T11:37:00.000-04:002012-04-26T11:37:17.536-04:00No Waffles; Lots of WaitingW was one post I had planned out. I was going to make soft/crunchy, crisp/chewy, warm Belgian waffles from Liege. These are the kind you'd buy at a street vendor downtown Brussels, a <i>warme waffel</i> or a <i>gaufre chaud.</i><br />
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That post is not happening today, but will be written sometime in the future. My youngest has been battling a fever hovering around 101 for the past three days, and today I took him to the pediatrician's office. After one hour, two throat swabs and a nose swab, he's negative for strep and the flu. He just has some sort of virus, and all I can do is monitor his temperature, keep him hydrated, and wait it out. He's been needing a lot of extra love and attention, so I'm gearing up for another day. He's actually in my lap right now as I type this. I can only imagine how tired he has. I'm exhausted, and I'm not the one with the 100 + degree fever.<br />
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<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-51987770774619252982012-04-25T14:56:00.000-04:002012-04-25T14:56:16.743-04:00Vera PavlovaI love poetry, but seem to have trouble finding contemporary, living poets to read. I suppose I have trouble finding current music, books, films, those things in general. It's not that I think the present has nothing to offer us, that only classics offer substance and entertainment. I think I'm just generally too unplugged. When I was commuting to D.C. and listening to NPR to and from work, I had a little more exposure. It takes more of an earnest effort effort now to seek things out.<br />
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I came across Vera Pavlova fairly recently. She was born in Moscow, studied the history of music, and wrote her first poem when she was twenty years old, while she was still in the maternity ward after the birth of her daughter. I know very little about her history, mostly what I read <a href="http://verapavlova.us/">here</a>. I first became interested in her not through reading her poems, but some of her quotes about poetry. Here are just a few from <i>Heaven is Not Verbose: A Notebook </i>published in <i>Poetry</i> Magazine. You can find them all at the Poetry Foundation's <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/article/243806#article">website</a>.<br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are moments when I feel the universe expand.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Poetry should be written the way adultery is committed: on the run, on the sly, during time not accounted for. And then you come home; as if nothing ever happened.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Time is like a diatonic scale: it consists of major and minor seconds.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Went to bed with an unfinished poem in my mouth and could not kiss.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"The ovaries of a newborn girl contain up to 400,00 egg cells." All my poems are already in me.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Madness is inspiration idling in neutral</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The longer the poem, the weaker the impression that is has been dictated from above: Heaven is not verbose. Besides, the more you talk, the more you lie.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-8215847938515660522012-04-24T19:07:00.000-04:002012-04-24T19:07:19.487-04:00UltimatumsThis is not what I wanted to blog about today, but this is what my day/week/month has been about. My 4-year-old is very smart and very loving, and lately, very obstinate in his refusal to cooperate with my requests. I've been trying to give him choices. The Parenting Pro's tell you, kids love choices, they love the feeling of control. It's true, I can see that, and sometimes it works. Most of the time, though, my real life experience does not reflect the scenarios written in parenting books. When I ask Max, "do you want to leave the park now, or in ten minutes," he happily agrees to leaving in ten minutes. However, when those ten minutes are up, does he joyfully get in the car, content that he was able to make the choice to stay a little longer? No, and reminding him that he chose this time to leave does not help quell the crying.<br />
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I'm not going to lie, I really don't know what to do. Lately the choices I have been giving him end with "or do you want to have time-out in your room?" It's not really a choice at all, more of an ultimatum, and one that isn't really working.<br />
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So I guess this post is more of a cry for help, encouragement, advice? Are some kids just more prone to fits and tantrums? How do other parents deal?<br />
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<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-15256193054489099792012-04-23T09:47:00.002-04:002012-04-23T09:47:42.771-04:00Tea and ToastI love mornings. That's not completely true. I love the potential that mornings have. Before I fall asleep at night, I think of the next day; what I will make for breakfast, talking to my sons about the dreams they had, all the things that I will get done that day. Of course, that's all the night before. I am normally awakened <i>way</i> too early by either one of my sons, breakfast ends up being something out of a box with some fruit or yogurt to ease my mommy conscience, and by the time I've done dishes and gotten everyone dressed, I've given up on my To Do list. Still, every night I lay down with my quixotic dreams for the next day. I think of myself as an easily discouraged optimist.<br />
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There are two things that can provide calming on even the most hectic of mornings, tea and toast. Whether you are drinking herbal, chai, green or black, whether you brew from loose leaf or steep a tea bag; there is something almost sacred about this simplest of breakfasts. After the kids are fed and dressed, we come back downstairs; and for the three to five minutes that my tea is steeping and my bread is toasting, I'm somewhere else, or perhaps I've just turned my mind off for that time. I pull the butter and strawberry jam out of the refrigerator; spread carefully to the edges of the slice. I add my milk and sugar to my tea (if that's the way I'm taking it that day), and then sit and sip. I might flip through a magazine, or read a book. When my boys come shouting, "Look at me!" or "Mommy, Sam/Max is being bad," it's "Not right now, mommy's drinking her tea." They seem to respect that, and it gives me those few moment of quiet time I need to regain my optimism from the night before.<br />
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If you want to really treat yourself, make this cinnamon toast. I know, a recipe for cinnamon toast sounds ridiculous, but this is delicious. I grew up baking my cinnamon toast in the oven. My mom would spread (I use this term loosely. My mother is a notorious globber, and she's comfortable with that) butter on a piece of white bread, sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon. What normally happened was that the outer edges became dry and stale, but in the middle the bread would be soft and gooey with buttery clumps of cinnamon sugar. I loved it. This recipe just takes my mom's way a step further.</div>
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<b>Cinnamon Toast</b></div>
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Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Melt one stick (1/2 cup) of butter in a shallow dish. In another shallow dish or plate, mix together 1/2 cup of sugar and 2 or 3 tsp of cinnamon.</div>
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<br />Cut six slices of hearty white bread into triangles (for a pretty presentation, you can remove the crusts and cut into quarters). Dip each side of the bread into the melted butter, and then coat each side with the cinnamon sugar. Place on a baking sheet and bake for about 25 minutes, or until crispy.</div>
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The result is toast with a cinnamon-sugar crust. It's very sweet, and may be hard to make a breakfast out of it, but it's a great snack and pairs very nicely with a cup of tea.</div>
<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-74774893716370201902012-04-21T19:17:00.001-04:002012-04-21T19:17:21.094-04:00Sweet and StickySuch sensuous words. I think of honey, a summer day, a melting Popsicle dripping down my skin, chicken wings.<br />
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Okay, maybe chicken wings don't incite the same sensuality as the rest of the list above, but oh man, these ones are good. Jenny blogged about these at <a href="http://www.dinneralovestory.com/a-stress-free-gluten-free-menu/">Dinner: A Love Story</a>, and I'm just helping spread the word. They don't fall off the bone, they slink off. All conversation at the table stops, as mouths are too busy licking sauce off fingers and uttering sighs of contentment. The best part, they take almost no work to make. There are four ingredients:<br />
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about 2 lbs of chicken wings<br />
1 cup of soy sauce<br />
1/2 cup of pomegranate juice<br />
1/2 cup of sugar<br />
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First, preheat your oven to 400 degrees F. Lay your chicken out in a single layer in a large baking dish. In a small saucepan, pour the soy sauce, the juice, and add the sugar. Stir over low heat until the sugar is dissolved, and then pour over your chicken. Bake for about 45 minutes on one side, turn over and then bake for another hour. Done!<br />
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I like to decrease the amount of soy sauce I use, and add a little more juice. I like the fruity tartness the juice provides. I just kind of eyeball it.<br />
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Also, don't worry too much about them getting charred. Trust me, charred is your friend. They will get very dark and very sticky, and all of this is a good thing. <br />
<br />Jannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01526270041449395216noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485234425633652697.post-53875564460210644692012-04-20T18:53:00.000-04:002012-04-20T18:56:22.976-04:00Ramble OnWhich is really all I am going to do for this post. It's been a day. But now, I'm rocking to Led Zeppelin, so that's making things better. I think everyone has three lists when it comes to songs, not music or even bands, but specific songs. There's the list of songs that you can't stand to hear (for me, <i>Walking on Sunshine</i> falls into this category), songs that you love, but may be slightly embarrassing (I'm not easily embarrassed, but songs like <i>Come on Irene </i>could fit here) and then there are YOUR SONGS. The ones you feel comfortable calling "favorite." The ones you blast in your car whenever they come on, that you can help to smile or move or whatever to. <i> Ramble On</i> is on the top of my list. It's best when it comes on the radio when you're driving on a sunny day, or at bar, a few hours after people have been doing a fair amount of drinking (songs from category two are also good, especially anything by Neil Diamond [who I love, I'll admit]) <br />
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But back to rambling. I thought about writing about respect, or the lack of it I've been getting from my oldest. Then I thought about rain, how happy I am that are finally getting some this weekend. Or maybe relaxation (what is that again?), but no. I don't have the focus. We went shopping this morning for kid shoes and maternity clothes. Shopping always tires me out. Then we came home and pulled ivy from an overgrown corner of our yard. We found the beginning of a very nice rock wall hidden under the 15 or so years of growth; who knows what else will be revealed? My contribution to the actual pulling of the ivy was small, but I had to run interference between my sons. Max has started to get pretty bossy. He was trying to tell Sam how to sit, how many crayons to have, that he was a bad boy. Every time he barked an order at Sam, Sam responded by blowing raspberries at him. I should have broken it up early on, but it was hilarious. Don't you wish you could do that to your boss, or spouse, or kids when they said something you didn't care for?<br />
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A walk to the lake and back, and now it's bath time and then bed time, for all of us. This might be one of the days I tuck myself in at 8:30, so I will try to get to catching up on reading your blogs tomorrow. Right now, Sam is having a staring contest with our Goldendoodle, and Max is serenading me with Hall and Oates <i>Kiss is on My List. </i>Not a bad end to the day.<br />
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