her able hands

This weekend was very productive, and the first one in over a month that I have felt like actively participating in my life here at home. I finally got up off the couch and did something. I made a menu for the week and a shopping list to go with it. Then I cleaned the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom while mulling over ways to organize our belongings in a more practical and user-friendly fashion.

All summer and fall we’ve lived with Tyler’s mountain bike leaning against the french doors in the kitchen because we don’t have a garden shed and the garage with lots of expensive tools and two classic cars (not particularly financially valuable ones) is off limits to a kid who forgets to lock (or even shut) doors. I would have preferred the basement, but every time he brought it upstairs he gouged a wall. So yeah, my kitchen doubled as a shed all summer. Well, it’s too cold for him to ride his bike to school anymore and I get up earlier so I can drive both kids. It was high time to reclaim my kitchen.

Lila has a great little Waldorf style wood kitchen that we set up in her bedroom when we first moved in, but it turns out we only use the upstairs for sleep and storage. She seldom wants to play in her room, preferring our company and enjoying her own internal solitude by sitting quietly nearby with a pen and pad of paper making lists of scribbles and letters. She also got a sweet wood table and chairs set for her birthday that we’ve had in the living room where it became the DVD and VHS repository (yes, another piece of storage furniture we need). So I turned the alcove by the french doors into Lila’s kitchen-within-a-kitchen.

She has plenty of natural light during the day and spent most of Saturday and all of Sunday hanging out in the kitchen with me while I puttered. She decorated her very own Christmas tree—one of the little shrubs we never managed to get in the ground this summer—with the tiny wood ornaments her Aunt Jen gave to her over Thanksgiving. I’m looking for a tall pantry style cabinet to set in the corner to the right of the table where I can store her art supplies, play-dough and a bunch of the other crap that clutters my counter tops.

Of course, I had much bigger plans this weekend and thought I would get the living room and dining room cleaned and organized as well, but that didn’t happen. OK, fine. One room at a time. If I can get the main floor of the house disinfected and well-tidied by Christmas, I’ll be a very happy camper indeed. Then after the holidays we have a date with a certain out-of-control basement.

Later in the week I’ll share some of the cooking I did. I roasted the free turkey we got at work (a Butterball which is not my first choice, but I am enjoying the fact that it’s giving us the basis for five entire meals).

Turkey dinner
Leftovers for everyone’s lunch
Turkey Burrito Layered Casserole
Turkey Soup (some to eat, plus five quarts of extra stock in the freezer)
Turkey Pot Pie (makings in the freezer for later in winter)

I also finally pickled the turnips and will do a post about that tomorrow. Ten more days before I can open them. This is harder than waiting for Santa.

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There have been so many moments in recent weeks that I wanted to savor. To have last long enough that I could weave some spell and turn them into trinkets to tuck away in a pocket and bring home where I could then take them out and hold them gently in my warm hands and feel their pulse and vitality. Life is flying past so quickly and I can hardly click the shutter down on my own thoughts. Though I try, I really do.

But I’m also feeling slow and tired and only just a little bit recovered from getting so sick. I get home from work, make dinner and then try to remember all of the lovely little things I thought of over the day. Things I want to share with you. Things that made me laugh or made me think just a little bit harder about how I am in the world. The speeding world.

Evening isn’t my best time for writing. I’m looking at the clock inching its way towards 8 pm right now and thinking little hurry up thoughts to myself. Little type faster thoughts. Because just below the surface of all of the other thoughts and ideas that clamor for my attention is the constant, beckoning thrum of the dream-time. All I want to do is sleep. I think all day about climbing onto my high king mattress and pulling the cotton sheets and the heavy flannel quilt my mother made for us up to my chin, a book leaning against the pillow on my tummy, my eyes growing heavier until I drift off. I zoom through the days and look over my shoulder at the setting sun and at the hurried moments, the missed bits with the kids and the mate, and I wonder. What if?

And morning comes too soon. We do it all again.

I wanted to tell you about the trip, but the words just aren’t there right now. These other ones were in the way, and somehow the images I captured along the road illustrate it all too perfectly. I carry the pictures of the friends and family I had the good fortune to spend time with inside of me because I forgot to pick up the camera and focused instead on being with them with every available bit of myself. So bear with me over the next week or so as I figure out what the hell I’m trying to say and show you a bunch of photos of the world we zoomed through at 70 mph.

Oh, and Lila wants to know if you think she’s very pretty…

and also…are we there yet?

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That last post brought some people out of the paneling and into the comments! Some delurkers. Some new readers. Some old friends. Thanks so much for your kind words, and apologies for not responding. I was away…I took a cheap flight to MA to surprise my mother for her birthday (which is actually tomorrow). My awesome sister had the idea to get a bunch of broads together for drinks and dinner on Saturday night to celebrate and my terribly handsome brother joined us, as did dear Cathy.

So yummy and a great mix of people. A whirlwind of a visit and right back to Ohio to bang my head against the cubicle wall.

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There’s always something happening while I’m busy with meal preparations and I seldom have anyone in the kitchen to help me. Sometimes this is just the way I want it, to have the kitchen and my thoughts all to myself. But other times I feel like the little red hen and get all overwhelmed by all of the chopping and peeling and mixing and measuring with the clock moving so fast. When I’m feeling behind like that, my resentment can flare up without warning, catching me and everyone else by surprise. Kind of puts a negative spin on dinnertime.

Here’s part of our first real harvest of Haricot Verts, ends snipped off and ready for the steamer. In the background you can almost see Tyler and his friend out in the yard carving wood stakes into swords. Shortly after this photo was taken, they stood up and began to duel. Within ten minutes the swords were broken and they began a new set.

Here’s the first Black Krim tomato. It fell off the vine and while yummy-ish chopped up with two just-picked Boston Pickling cucumbers and tossed with a little balsamic dressing, I think it could have used another day or two to ripen fully. You can almost see Chris in the background. He’s scooping the leaves and grass out of the pool while Lila crab walks around in the water with just her head above the surface.

Meanwhile, I was inside shredding the baseball bat zucchinis, cracking eggs, grating Parmesan, sautéing onions and peppers, mincing herbs—all for zucchini fritters. Once again I watched the clock go from 6:30 to 8pm and my meal was just getting served and I thought, hell I need a sou chef.

The beans were divine. I do not think I will ever tire of the flavor of these beans, especially when picked so young and tender. They taste like green. I eat them and I think, wow, I’m taking all of this green into my body. Pure green. I’m so happy I planted two more big patches. I need to run out tonight to pick again before they get too fat and tough. My favorite way to eat them is whole, steamed very lightly so they’re still quite crunchy (this only tastes good when you pick them super small) then a wee dab of butter melted on the hot beans, tossed with coarse sea salt and cracked pepper. Sometimes I’ll snip a little fresh dill on top. Truly, the most heavenly flavor in the garden right now, but the Brandywines are coming on, so make room, baby.

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I woke you up yesterday, singing Happy Birthday and We All Love You. You hopped up onto your knees and said, “Can you believe it?! I’m four years old now and all it took was one more sleep!”

We talked about some of the ways you’re now a big girl:

You can button, snap and zip.
You spell and write your name (with upside down “L”s).
You count to 20, or to 100 by 10s.
You know your ABCs and put on your own shoes.
You’ve started sleeping in your own bed and when you wake up at night you don’t cry. You just tiptoe into our room and say, “I’d like to come in bed with you now.”
You also don’t cry when I leave you with someone else.
You’re ready to like vegetables. And fruit. And less sugar.
You look forward to our Saturday trip to the farmer’s market. You help me make the shopping list and you carry your own bag.
You learned how to pump on the swing, and to do a flip on the rings.

We ran out of time because Daddy had to take you to school.

While you were gone, I baked you a cake.

I spelled your name the way you signed it on my birthday card in May.

It looks like you made a super wish, and I hope it comes true!

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