Today, Caitlin got out of bed early and without being prompted brushed her teeth, fed the cats and got dressed. She then ate breakfast and having time left over, got to read one of her library books (we're on a Beverly Cleary bender over here - Socks, Ribsy or Henry Huggins and the Clubhouse) for 15 minutes before it was time to leave for school.
The magic device?
A retro $13 alarm clock that sits on the table next to her bed.
Whaaaa?
If only we'd known it was going to be this easy!
Let's hope tomorrow goes as smoothly!
Where's the pause button on this thing?
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Follow your instincts
So there I was, hanging out in line at the post office with Eric and Caitlin, shipping off an extremely late Xmas gift to my nephew Daniel, when I noticed this guy walk in.
He was wearing a long flowing robe thing, had long kind of crazy hair, dark sunglasses and yes, had brown skin. In this land of Many White People he stood out, to me. And we were in a post office.
He went over to a rack of post boxes and got something out and then went whipping around the corner further into the building.
And I got nervous.
Considering that I live in No Wheresville when it comes to "sensitive sites" of Colorado, why was I nervous? What was I expecting to happen? Why did I react that way when I don't even watch TV news or listen to news radio all that often. I'm not constantly getting spammed with the message "Be Afraid!" and yet, I was worried about this guy, doing something ordinary, in the post office.
Nothing happened. Nothing. We finished up and went home. The post office did not go Boom! later on that day.
It did, however, remind me that there was a book that I had been meaning to read for some time, so I finally picked it up from the library: The Gift of Fear. It's been pretty interesting reading so far and creepy, too. I highly recommend it.
One of his examples was this:
My response to that was Buh-whaaa?! With all of that information, exactly how couldn't they figure out that her life was actually in danger?!
And so another woman becomes a statistic.
So here I am, learning about honing my instincts so that I can learn to process what is actually a threat from false alarms. My false alarm in the post office just reminded me that I need to pay attention to my instincts and get them a little exercise.
One day, it might make all the difference.
He was wearing a long flowing robe thing, had long kind of crazy hair, dark sunglasses and yes, had brown skin. In this land of Many White People he stood out, to me. And we were in a post office.
He went over to a rack of post boxes and got something out and then went whipping around the corner further into the building.
And I got nervous.
Considering that I live in No Wheresville when it comes to "sensitive sites" of Colorado, why was I nervous? What was I expecting to happen? Why did I react that way when I don't even watch TV news or listen to news radio all that often. I'm not constantly getting spammed with the message "Be Afraid!" and yet, I was worried about this guy, doing something ordinary, in the post office.
Nothing happened. Nothing. We finished up and went home. The post office did not go Boom! later on that day.
It did, however, remind me that there was a book that I had been meaning to read for some time, so I finally picked it up from the library: The Gift of Fear. It's been pretty interesting reading so far and creepy, too. I highly recommend it.
One of his examples was this:
A television news show reports on a man who shot and killed his wife at her work. A restraining order had been served on him the same day as his divorce papers, coincidentally also his birthday. The news story tells of the man's threats, of his being fired from his job, of his putting a gun to his wife's head the week before the killing, of his stalking her. Even with all these facts, the reporter ends with: "Officials concede that no one could have predicted this would happen."
My response to that was Buh-whaaa?! With all of that information, exactly how couldn't they figure out that her life was actually in danger?!
And so another woman becomes a statistic.
So here I am, learning about honing my instincts so that I can learn to process what is actually a threat from false alarms. My false alarm in the post office just reminded me that I need to pay attention to my instincts and get them a little exercise.
One day, it might make all the difference.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Sushi and me
What do you do with the woman with near constant low grade nausea and irrational food hatreds (Chicken has gone the way of salmon - "Out! Out! Damned food!" It's steak all the way, for now!)?
You take her out to dinner at a sushi place, of course!
It's true, I voted for sushi. We'll see how it goes. Normally I only ever eat the cooked stuff anyway, so this won't be very different. I may gag while watching both Eric and Caitlin eat slabs of raw salmon, but since it won't smell like cooked salmon, I probably won't lose my miso soup over it.
The unagi - it calls to me!
By the way, I've been sucking down ginger beers and ginger ales like they're going out of style! My current favorite is from Wild Oats: Natural Brew Outrageous Ginger Ale. It has Jamaican (hey!) and Chinese ginger in it. Too much for Eric's taste, just right for me. There's nothing like ginger beer and saltines to make the pregnant world go 'round.
Or stop going 'round.
Did I mention the cranked up gag reflex action? Yup, got that again this time. Can't hardly brush my tongue without sounding like a cat with an enormous hairball! Fortunately Eric hasn't rushed me off of the carpeting "just in case"....If you've got a cat, you know what I mean. The mad 20 Foot Cat Hairball Dash. How many articles of furniture can you jump over, grab the horking cat and get it to a "safe to vomit on" surface before the cat blows? Without terrifying the cat into running away from you?
Back to food. (Nice transition!)
Unagi. California rolls. Caterpillar rolls. Miso soup. Thai iced tea. Mmmmmm!
Maybe some shopping at Frolic on 32nd. My favorite clothing boutique! I've got an "in" with the owner....
Did I tell you that Caitlin rubs my tummy every morning now? I feel very...Buddha about it. And that I get love notes from school every day? Eric's jealous of the notes, but it's hard to compete with Gestating Mommy! She who will produce the longed for sibling! She whose tummy is now too big for regular jeans but not big enough for maternity gear. She who wants to avoid looking all frumpy with the pregnancy thing and will have to find cute shirts to wear. She who really doesn't want to go shopping for a decidedly short term need, but will anyway because her regular shirts (and pants) just aren't gonna cut it for very much longer.
You take her out to dinner at a sushi place, of course!
It's true, I voted for sushi. We'll see how it goes. Normally I only ever eat the cooked stuff anyway, so this won't be very different. I may gag while watching both Eric and Caitlin eat slabs of raw salmon, but since it won't smell like cooked salmon, I probably won't lose my miso soup over it.
The unagi - it calls to me!
By the way, I've been sucking down ginger beers and ginger ales like they're going out of style! My current favorite is from Wild Oats: Natural Brew Outrageous Ginger Ale. It has Jamaican (hey!) and Chinese ginger in it. Too much for Eric's taste, just right for me. There's nothing like ginger beer and saltines to make the pregnant world go 'round.
Or stop going 'round.
Did I mention the cranked up gag reflex action? Yup, got that again this time. Can't hardly brush my tongue without sounding like a cat with an enormous hairball! Fortunately Eric hasn't rushed me off of the carpeting "just in case"....If you've got a cat, you know what I mean. The mad 20 Foot Cat Hairball Dash. How many articles of furniture can you jump over, grab the horking cat and get it to a "safe to vomit on" surface before the cat blows? Without terrifying the cat into running away from you?
Back to food. (Nice transition!)
Unagi. California rolls. Caterpillar rolls. Miso soup. Thai iced tea. Mmmmmm!
Maybe some shopping at Frolic on 32nd. My favorite clothing boutique! I've got an "in" with the owner....
Did I tell you that Caitlin rubs my tummy every morning now? I feel very...Buddha about it. And that I get love notes from school every day? Eric's jealous of the notes, but it's hard to compete with Gestating Mommy! She who will produce the longed for sibling! She whose tummy is now too big for regular jeans but not big enough for maternity gear. She who wants to avoid looking all frumpy with the pregnancy thing and will have to find cute shirts to wear. She who really doesn't want to go shopping for a decidedly short term need, but will anyway because her regular shirts (and pants) just aren't gonna cut it for very much longer.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Get the lead out
Of your lunch box.
Man, I can't even make this stuff UP!
Fortunately, however, lunch boxes from Laptop Lunches are lead free.
Man, I can't even make this stuff UP!
PRODUCT PLUNDER OF THE WEEK:
CHILDREN'S PLASTIC LUNCH BOXES
Last week, documents obtained under the Freedom of Information Act were released that show the U.S. government's Consumer Protection Safety Commission (CPSC) concealed evidence indicating dangerously high levels of lead in children's plastic lunchboxes. Back in 2005, the nonprofit Center for Environmental Health made national news when their investigations found high levels of lead in children's vinyl lunchboxes. The CPSC immediately countered that report by saying its own studies revealed no problems. On the contrary, documents released last week show the agency's own tests actually found lead contamination up to 16 times higher than what is allowed in lead paint. The government's motivation for a cover-up that threatens the health of the nation's children is unclear, but an allied group of state Attorney Generals is being organized to ultimately remove these lunchboxes from the marketplace.
Learn more: http://www.organicconsumers.org/afc.cfm
Tip: The lunchboxes to avoid are made of PVC. These are typically the squishy plastic type of "bag" boxes. You can also order a lead lunchbox testing kit from the Center for Environmental Health: http://www.testyourlunchbox.com
Fortunately, however, lunch boxes from Laptop Lunches are lead free.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
A Girl Like Me
I was blog surfing and came across this on Echidne of the Snakes.
My heart got crushed when they asked the little girl "And which doll is most like you?" and she slowly, reluctantly, shamefully pushed the "bad" doll over to the interviewer. That hurt.
At parties, after the "What do you do?" question, everyone inevitably moves on to the "And where are you from?" question - the ethnic sense, not the geographical one. One of my favorite things to do is to make people guess. No one is ever quite sure where I'm from one way or another. I don't have a NY accent, which allowed me to be accepted much more readily out here in The West, when I first came out for University. The other girl on my floor who was from Long Island? She got razzed constantly. Guesses about race are never correct. Everyone immediately goes for some flavor of South American. Then they move over to Italian. Most unusual guess was Ukranian.
Nope, I'm a mix of Jamaican and Canadian, I respond with pride and glee. No one ever thinks about islands! Poor little islands! Then the guesser has to go into a little mind bend correlating my looks with their idea of Jamaican. Everyone goes right for the dark, black, Rastafarian look and that's as far from my mom as you can get without leaving the island! To say that I "pass" as other races is putting it lightly. And now there's Caitlin, who is 1/4 Jamaican and looks as Caucasian as the day is long. I felt conflicted over what to select on the Race/Ethnicity box when enrolling her in school because the concept of "Other" does not compute in our area of Colorado.
Race is a weird thing. Growing up, it was made very clear to me that I was Other. The obnoxious black kids in the neighborhood hated us because we were neither one nor the other. The white kids (Whom we referred to as The White Boys, so that will give you a clue that I identified as Other back then.) didn't have anything to do with us until they discovered that I was a *gasp* girl. Then it didn't matter what my mom was. In elementary school I was one of 3 Caucasian looking kids (Italian, Puerto Rican and me). My junior high (what's called "Middle School" in these here parts) was very diverse, but I don't remember any black kids there and then in high school they wouldn't believe me until they saw my mom.
Mostly alone in my otherness, I didn't think much about the race issue. Then I came to Colorado. That was an eye opening experience. I suddenly discovered that apparently White Folks really were in the majority in the US! Growing up in Queens, NY, I was always in doubt. My world was filled with people from all over, but mostly shades of brown. Out here, it was all White. And tanned. And they'd look you in the eye and smile at you as they walked down the street.
Unnerving!
Getting back to the doll issue, there I was without a doll to choose from. I didn't feel comfortable around the 6% of black folks in school and they weren't comfortable around me. Only a couple of the white kids even noticed that my skin color was different and said something mean about it. The rest didn't seem to care, so I hung out with them.
I still don't have a group that I identify with, one way or the other. I still select Other on forms. Like the girl in the movie, I'm sort of without my own culture*. How do I introduce Caitlin to a culture that I'm not fully part of? In some ways it's easy for her since she just accepts that this set of people are her relatives just as easily as she accepts this radically more colorful set of folks are also her relatives. We're all just folks until someone starts pointing out black and white.
What's your culture? How do you self-identify?
* Although trips to Jamaica are especially fun when you tell the cab drivers that your grandma is a local. The hard sell stops, the offers of cell phones to call the Ever Late mom begin. But that's a story for another day.
My heart got crushed when they asked the little girl "And which doll is most like you?" and she slowly, reluctantly, shamefully pushed the "bad" doll over to the interviewer. That hurt.
At parties, after the "What do you do?" question, everyone inevitably moves on to the "And where are you from?" question - the ethnic sense, not the geographical one. One of my favorite things to do is to make people guess. No one is ever quite sure where I'm from one way or another. I don't have a NY accent, which allowed me to be accepted much more readily out here in The West, when I first came out for University. The other girl on my floor who was from Long Island? She got razzed constantly. Guesses about race are never correct. Everyone immediately goes for some flavor of South American. Then they move over to Italian. Most unusual guess was Ukranian.
Nope, I'm a mix of Jamaican and Canadian, I respond with pride and glee. No one ever thinks about islands! Poor little islands! Then the guesser has to go into a little mind bend correlating my looks with their idea of Jamaican. Everyone goes right for the dark, black, Rastafarian look and that's as far from my mom as you can get without leaving the island! To say that I "pass" as other races is putting it lightly. And now there's Caitlin, who is 1/4 Jamaican and looks as Caucasian as the day is long. I felt conflicted over what to select on the Race/Ethnicity box when enrolling her in school because the concept of "Other" does not compute in our area of Colorado.
Race is a weird thing. Growing up, it was made very clear to me that I was Other. The obnoxious black kids in the neighborhood hated us because we were neither one nor the other. The white kids (Whom we referred to as The White Boys, so that will give you a clue that I identified as Other back then.) didn't have anything to do with us until they discovered that I was a *gasp* girl. Then it didn't matter what my mom was. In elementary school I was one of 3 Caucasian looking kids (Italian, Puerto Rican and me). My junior high (what's called "Middle School" in these here parts) was very diverse, but I don't remember any black kids there and then in high school they wouldn't believe me until they saw my mom.
Mostly alone in my otherness, I didn't think much about the race issue. Then I came to Colorado. That was an eye opening experience. I suddenly discovered that apparently White Folks really were in the majority in the US! Growing up in Queens, NY, I was always in doubt. My world was filled with people from all over, but mostly shades of brown. Out here, it was all White. And tanned. And they'd look you in the eye and smile at you as they walked down the street.
Unnerving!
Getting back to the doll issue, there I was without a doll to choose from. I didn't feel comfortable around the 6% of black folks in school and they weren't comfortable around me. Only a couple of the white kids even noticed that my skin color was different and said something mean about it. The rest didn't seem to care, so I hung out with them.
I still don't have a group that I identify with, one way or the other. I still select Other on forms. Like the girl in the movie, I'm sort of without my own culture*. How do I introduce Caitlin to a culture that I'm not fully part of? In some ways it's easy for her since she just accepts that this set of people are her relatives just as easily as she accepts this radically more colorful set of folks are also her relatives. We're all just folks until someone starts pointing out black and white.
What's your culture? How do you self-identify?
* Although trips to Jamaica are especially fun when you tell the cab drivers that your grandma is a local. The hard sell stops, the offers of cell phones to call the Ever Late mom begin. But that's a story for another day.
Unending nausea
Is it a boy or a girl? I don't know (and won't find out until sometime in May - 20 week ultrasound), but I do know that this time around I am nauseous.
Maybe I shouldn't have enjoyed that lack of nausea so much the first time! With Caitlin, I think I got nauseated twice. No seriously! All I had to do was lay down for awhile and it went away. This time? I feel ill pretty constantly throughout the day. I'm not hurling my innards into the Porcelain God, but I'm beginning to wonder if I'd feel better if I did. Just once. Except that I hate throwing up. Bleah!
So yeah, I'm still alive, but I'm waiting for the end of the first trimester.
Oh and I'm feeling paranoid that something might go wrong. I keep trying to have Happy Thoughts! but they are consistently drowned out by Unhappy Thoughts. Dark Thoughts. Yet, at the same time (or moments later), I try to convince myself that the nausea and the ever-rounding tummy is a sign that All Is Well.
I'll be begging for an 8 week ultrasound. Begging.
Maybe I shouldn't have enjoyed that lack of nausea so much the first time! With Caitlin, I think I got nauseated twice. No seriously! All I had to do was lay down for awhile and it went away. This time? I feel ill pretty constantly throughout the day. I'm not hurling my innards into the Porcelain God, but I'm beginning to wonder if I'd feel better if I did. Just once. Except that I hate throwing up. Bleah!
So yeah, I'm still alive, but I'm waiting for the end of the first trimester.
Oh and I'm feeling paranoid that something might go wrong. I keep trying to have Happy Thoughts! but they are consistently drowned out by Unhappy Thoughts. Dark Thoughts. Yet, at the same time (or moments later), I try to convince myself that the nausea and the ever-rounding tummy is a sign that All Is Well.
I'll be begging for an 8 week ultrasound. Begging.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Caitlin Says...
Sometimes kids pick up irritating habits after visiting friends. Especially friends with older siblings. Caitlin likes to those habits out on us, since she is currently lacking siblings to practice irritating behaviors on.
This morning, Eric was asking her for space but she wouldn't leave him be.
Finally he snapped, "Caitlin, stop it!"
"No, you stop it!" she snapped back.
Having had enough I escorted her to the door and kicked her out. Told her she could take her bad attitude elsewhere and shut the door behind her.
Some time later, I noticed a note had been passed under the door. Anticipating a Horrible Mommy note, I saw this:
"CAM DOWN MOM [heart drawing]
[Inside] CaM DOWN NOW MoM aND I Mae it"
I probably should have been angry. Instead, I burst into laughter and had to hand it to Eric silently, while still laughing and trying to breathe. After I stopped laughing so hard I went and gave her a hug and had a talk with her about talking back, but it was a lot nicer than it would have been without that note!
Oooh, that kid!
This morning, Eric was asking her for space but she wouldn't leave him be.
Finally he snapped, "Caitlin, stop it!"
"No, you stop it!" she snapped back.
Having had enough I escorted her to the door and kicked her out. Told her she could take her bad attitude elsewhere and shut the door behind her.
Some time later, I noticed a note had been passed under the door. Anticipating a Horrible Mommy note, I saw this:
"CAM DOWN MOM [heart drawing]
[Inside] CaM DOWN NOW MoM aND I Mae it"
I probably should have been angry. Instead, I burst into laughter and had to hand it to Eric silently, while still laughing and trying to breathe. After I stopped laughing so hard I went and gave her a hug and had a talk with her about talking back, but it was a lot nicer than it would have been without that note!
Oooh, that kid!
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Hunger
What is up with the kind of psychotic hunger that you get when pregnant?
I'm sitting here (this has been going on all throughout the day), working away on pictures, perfectly fine. Not hungry at all.
Suddenly...POW! I'm starving to death, I've got the shakes and I feel ill. I need food NOW! I walk up the stairs on shaking legs and try to find something I can inhale as soon as humanely possible.
Not a lot of leeway with this kind of hunger.
This apple-seed has a lot to answer for already!
Can you ground someone that isn't even born yet?
I'm sitting here (this has been going on all throughout the day), working away on pictures, perfectly fine. Not hungry at all.
Suddenly...POW! I'm starving to death, I've got the shakes and I feel ill. I need food NOW! I walk up the stairs on shaking legs and try to find something I can inhale as soon as humanely possible.
Not a lot of leeway with this kind of hunger.
This apple-seed has a lot to answer for already!
Can you ground someone that isn't even born yet?
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Caitlin learns to ski
I know, I know. You've all been asking yourselves:
"Where is TEH CUTE?!"
Well, here it is. I am currently conscious, in between 3 hour naps, so I thought I would shower you with the gift of TEH CUTE. We went to Crested Butte a few weekends ago, where Grammy paid for Caitlin to get ski lessons. Since she'd never been before, but is 5 years old, turned out that she got her very own private instructor for the group price. Neat!
Now Caitlin and I both have the same level of skiing experience! What's that? How long have I been in Colorado? Uhhh...18 years. Only been skiing once.
Yeah, I know! Don't rub it in! I've been...uh...busy.
Her instructor, by the way, was a very sweet young man and she had a great time with him.
Here he is showing her how to go down a very gentle slope. Bend the knees! Bend! Wedge!
Caitlin gets a little instruction while on the small people mover/conveyor belt thingy.
TEH CUTE!
Pizza wedge!
This is what I'm dubbing the Zombie Pizza skiing move. "Uhhhn! Brains!"
The little kid skiing area is called the Magic Carpet. Tiny skiiers! Tiny skis! So cute!
Ah ha! They have finally noticed the stealthy mom shooting with the enormous lens!
Caitlin flies!
"Hi mom!"
I was wrong. That's not teh cute - THIS IS!
It's not often that ski instructors can pick up babes quite this cute. And light weight!
Last run of the day. "Brains! Braaaaains!"
OK, I am still discovering levels of her cuteness. I'm done now. Really.
Dang! Must recover from the cuteness!
I think we'll keep her.
Thanks Grammy!
P.S. Happy Valentine's Day!
"Where is TEH CUTE?!"
Well, here it is. I am currently conscious, in between 3 hour naps, so I thought I would shower you with the gift of TEH CUTE. We went to Crested Butte a few weekends ago, where Grammy paid for Caitlin to get ski lessons. Since she'd never been before, but is 5 years old, turned out that she got her very own private instructor for the group price. Neat!
Now Caitlin and I both have the same level of skiing experience! What's that? How long have I been in Colorado? Uhhh...18 years. Only been skiing once.
Yeah, I know! Don't rub it in! I've been...uh...busy.
Her instructor, by the way, was a very sweet young man and she had a great time with him.
Here he is showing her how to go down a very gentle slope. Bend the knees! Bend! Wedge!
Caitlin gets a little instruction while on the small people mover/conveyor belt thingy.
TEH CUTE!
Pizza wedge!
This is what I'm dubbing the Zombie Pizza skiing move. "Uhhhn! Brains!"
The little kid skiing area is called the Magic Carpet. Tiny skiiers! Tiny skis! So cute!
Ah ha! They have finally noticed the stealthy mom shooting with the enormous lens!
Caitlin flies!
"Hi mom!"
I was wrong. That's not teh cute - THIS IS!
It's not often that ski instructors can pick up babes quite this cute. And light weight!
Last run of the day. "Brains! Braaaaains!"
OK, I am still discovering levels of her cuteness. I'm done now. Really.
Dang! Must recover from the cuteness!I think we'll keep her.
Thanks Grammy!
P.S. Happy Valentine's Day!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Eric says...
Discussion of using the same knife to butter a bagel before he can put cream cheese and nausea-inducing salmon on his bagel:
Me: Which one of us is pregnant? (Referring to cross-contamination of the knife being worse for me than for him.)
Eric: You. Does this mean that you're automatically right if you're pregnant?
Me: YES!
Eric: So you're automatically going to be right for the next 9 months?
Me: YES!
Bwahahhaaaaaa!
I win!
Me: Which one of us is pregnant? (Referring to cross-contamination of the knife being worse for me than for him.)
Eric: You. Does this mean that you're automatically right if you're pregnant?
Me: YES!
Eric: So you're automatically going to be right for the next 9 months?
Me: YES!
Bwahahhaaaaaa!
I win!
It's official! I'm a...farmer!
We are farmers.
Heather and I.
In business together - an LLC (cuz I have my very own lawyer to write up paperwork). The farmer's market approved our application yesterday and apparently rolled over laughing about our name. Heather turned it around and asked if they'd ever be able to forget that name. They all sheepishly replied "No" and really got it. Novice farmers at the market! Yay us!
Crop lists, farm drawings and acreage, oh my!
OH MY GOSH! This is gonna be so much fun!
I get to plant a kabillion seeds this spring and propagate thousands of plants in the summer!
I'd better go find some overalls, a straw hat and a piece of hay. I feel a photo shoot coming on!
Yeeehaw!
Heather and I.
In business together - an LLC (cuz I have my very own lawyer to write up paperwork). The farmer's market approved our application yesterday and apparently rolled over laughing about our name. Heather turned it around and asked if they'd ever be able to forget that name. They all sheepishly replied "No" and really got it. Novice farmers at the market! Yay us!
Crop lists, farm drawings and acreage, oh my!
OH MY GOSH! This is gonna be so much fun!
I get to plant a kabillion seeds this spring and propagate thousands of plants in the summer!
I'd better go find some overalls, a straw hat and a piece of hay. I feel a photo shoot coming on!
Yeeehaw!
Friday, February 09, 2007
Cravings
- Grape-Nuts
- Entenmann's cinnamon doughnuts.
- Calamari. Not just any old calamari, either. Calamari from Zolo Grill. I really wanted the type they used to make with a brown sugar coating. No luck. The current version is also very nice - spicy sweet. Mmmm.
- Ribs. Mom's ribs. Not my mom's personal ribs, just her pork rib recipe.
This, of course, meant that I had to call her today in the middle of the morning (after this morning's bout of unconsciousness) and beg for the recipe. It is now cooking on the stove.
You'd like the recipe? Of course you would! My mom's cooking rocks!
Momma Hatchet's Ribs*
1 rack of pork ribs
Divide rack into pairs of ribs
Season with ginger, black pepper, and garlic powder
Brown both sides in your Dutch oven, a pair at a time. When all are browned, throw them back into the pot.
Pour in 1 cup vinegar + 1 cup brown sugar
Add 1 large onion, sliced
Cover and simmer for two hours. This is the hard part. Waiting.
Turn them around/over every 30 minutes so that they all stay moist.
Right before they're done, add soy sauce to taste. (I don't know what that means yet, but I'm about to find out.)
If you're really patient, mom says they taste even better the next day and you can skim off the excess fat. I don't think I'm going to make it that long, I can smell them now. The sauce can be poured over rice and devoured.
Mmmmmmm!
The critter in my gut is about the size of an apple seed and yet has the ability to control what I eat (and what I don't), how much I sleep and whether I go into a psychotic fit over perceived injustices or not.
Whoo boy!
* If you're really lucky I'll crave her beef patties. Then you will beg me for the recipe. Beg. I'm tellin' you. World peace could be achieved if we all sat down together and shared some of these.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Now I know G, D, C, E-, and A- chords. I can't transition worth a damn, my fingers are buzzing and swollen and I can't type for very long with my left hand, but I'd say I'm progressing as well as can be expected! My plan is to practice like mad this weekend in the hopes that the kids in class WON'T be practicing and that I'll be "caught up" in time for Monday's class.
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Monday, February 05, 2007
Hatchet's first day of school
I was all wound up last night and couldn't sleep. My first day of school! Again! For the 3rd or 4th (or more, if we include anything prior to college) first-day-of-school time! I was nervous.
I don't know why. Man, it's a guitar class! Why was I nervous? I don't know, other than to speculate that it has something to do with going out of my comfort zone for the first time in...uh...two years.
I had to get a bus pass (Not covered by student fees - why?). I had to figure out the route. I had to figure out where the class was held and get there on time! Yes, the mind boggles that any of this would give me stress, but think about how simple your life becomes when you only ever go to the same set of places you've gone before?
Riding the bus was interesting. It's been so long since I've been on public transportation in Colorado that the experience was all new. The warning signs were even different.
No smoking. (OK) No eating or drinking. (OK) No loud radio playing, wear ear phones. (New to me) No gambling. (Whaaaat?)
No sign against spitting, as they used to have in NY, but no gambling? Since when did people start gambling on the buses?
And the advertisement posters on the wall/ceiling (what do you call that part of the bus?) ranged from poetry to warnings against suspicious looking activities to composting. Composting?! I kid you not! Although I did think their photograph was deceptive since the first image was all This is your yard. [Boring/weedy yard pic] This is your yard on compost. [Lush flower filled yard] The thing I noticed was the first image wasn't of a yard, it was of a potential vegetable bed! One small section of a bed, before planting season, even. Humph. But at least they're trying! I give them points for trying.
Anyway, back to our nervous heroine....
I found the classroom and the door was locked. Convinced that it was because I was early, I just hung around for awhile. Kind of bothered me that I was the only one that was early for the first day of class. After 15 minutes a kid showed up (Ooh! He's a sophmore! They're so cute!), also looking for the same class. We compared our amazing guitar skills (We both know which way to hold it - that's it!) and were relieved that it wasn't a classed separated by people with mad skillz and us.
Several more minutes passed. No one else showed up.
My new friend whipped out his cell phone and called the music secretary who informed him that the teacher would be there in half an hour. I thought we only had to wait 15 minutes before blowing a class off? the instructor was so lucky that kid was there! Well, maybe it was me that was the lucky one....Suddenly, as we closed on the half hour, other people started showing up. This is weird. I thought to myself. A feeling of uncertainty grew within me. The teacher showed up, took one look at me and said, "You're new!"
Um? New? Isn't today the first day of class?
Uh, no. As a matter of fact, despite the three emails from Cont. Ed. stating that class started this week, today was the fourth day of class. I and my new young friend have missed 4 sessions. Oh and the class time is now half an hour later than it was originally scheduled.
Oh.
Oh dear.
The teacher was very patient. The room was filled with cacophony as everyone tuned their guitars at the same time. Except me, because I didn't know how. Ugh. Then we jumped right into 3 chords (G, D, C. Val, are those the Holy Chords of Rock and Roll?) that everyone but me (and my pal) learned during the last 4 sessions. Ack! Never having picked up a guitar before (I tried the bass, very different!), I had no idea where to put my fingers. Discovered right away that I needed to cut my nails off completely (no big loss) and that it HURTS!
Yow!
I fervently look forward to callouses.
I came close to crying with frustration about 3 times. Oh, great! Pregnant, overly emotional, flustered and failing at guitar class all within the first hour? Dang!
Fortunately, it got better.
At the end of class, I took my swollen fingered self off to commiserate with Eric in the bottom of a cup of hot chocolate and promised to practice like mad between now and Wednesday, whenever my whimpering fingers will let me.
In between bouts of unconsciousness, of course.
So, my question for you is this: what songs should I learn to play?
Please don't say Stairway to Heaven.
I don't know why. Man, it's a guitar class! Why was I nervous? I don't know, other than to speculate that it has something to do with going out of my comfort zone for the first time in...uh...two years.
I had to get a bus pass (Not covered by student fees - why?). I had to figure out the route. I had to figure out where the class was held and get there on time! Yes, the mind boggles that any of this would give me stress, but think about how simple your life becomes when you only ever go to the same set of places you've gone before?
Riding the bus was interesting. It's been so long since I've been on public transportation in Colorado that the experience was all new. The warning signs were even different.
No smoking. (OK) No eating or drinking. (OK) No loud radio playing, wear ear phones. (New to me) No gambling. (Whaaaat?)
No sign against spitting, as they used to have in NY, but no gambling? Since when did people start gambling on the buses?
And the advertisement posters on the wall/ceiling (what do you call that part of the bus?) ranged from poetry to warnings against suspicious looking activities to composting. Composting?! I kid you not! Although I did think their photograph was deceptive since the first image was all This is your yard. [Boring/weedy yard pic] This is your yard on compost. [Lush flower filled yard] The thing I noticed was the first image wasn't of a yard, it was of a potential vegetable bed! One small section of a bed, before planting season, even. Humph. But at least they're trying! I give them points for trying.
Anyway, back to our nervous heroine....
I found the classroom and the door was locked. Convinced that it was because I was early, I just hung around for awhile. Kind of bothered me that I was the only one that was early for the first day of class. After 15 minutes a kid showed up (Ooh! He's a sophmore! They're so cute!), also looking for the same class. We compared our amazing guitar skills (We both know which way to hold it - that's it!) and were relieved that it wasn't a classed separated by people with mad skillz and us.
Several more minutes passed. No one else showed up.
My new friend whipped out his cell phone and called the music secretary who informed him that the teacher would be there in half an hour. I thought we only had to wait 15 minutes before blowing a class off? the instructor was so lucky that kid was there! Well, maybe it was me that was the lucky one....Suddenly, as we closed on the half hour, other people started showing up. This is weird. I thought to myself. A feeling of uncertainty grew within me. The teacher showed up, took one look at me and said, "You're new!"
Um? New? Isn't today the first day of class?
Uh, no. As a matter of fact, despite the three emails from Cont. Ed. stating that class started this week, today was the fourth day of class. I and my new young friend have missed 4 sessions. Oh and the class time is now half an hour later than it was originally scheduled.
Oh.
Oh dear.
The teacher was very patient. The room was filled with cacophony as everyone tuned their guitars at the same time. Except me, because I didn't know how. Ugh. Then we jumped right into 3 chords (G, D, C. Val, are those the Holy Chords of Rock and Roll?) that everyone but me (and my pal) learned during the last 4 sessions. Ack! Never having picked up a guitar before (I tried the bass, very different!), I had no idea where to put my fingers. Discovered right away that I needed to cut my nails off completely (no big loss) and that it HURTS!
Yow!
I fervently look forward to callouses.
I came close to crying with frustration about 3 times. Oh, great! Pregnant, overly emotional, flustered and failing at guitar class all within the first hour? Dang!
Fortunately, it got better.
At the end of class, I took my swollen fingered self off to commiserate with Eric in the bottom of a cup of hot chocolate and promised to practice like mad between now and Wednesday, whenever my whimpering fingers will let me.
In between bouts of unconsciousness, of course.
So, my question for you is this: what songs should I learn to play?
Please don't say Stairway to Heaven.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Global Warming
First, the funny part.
From xkcd.com. Please don't sue me! (whimper!) The comics are fantastic! Much geekiness and love.
Now for the unfunny part. From CNN we have the weasel-worded headline of "Scientists: Humans 'very likely' cause of global warming".
Yes, Virginia, there really is global warming. Took until now to get the commission to say it in so many words, but there it is. Of course, here in the land of mega-corporations, we're still in denial:
There are many different ways of looking at this, here are two of my favorites.
For those of you thinking that this is a cyclic weather change, have you thought about that? Did we have automobiles, airplanes, giant factories and massive numbers of cattle a millennia ago? Are you going to try to convince me that all of those things combined have nothing to do with what we are seeing today? Have you ever thought of why you are clinging to that belief?
I know why I am but why are you clinging to your belief? you angrily ask.
Well, because I believe that we are responsible for our own actions, on a global scale. We got all of us into this and all of us working together is what it's going to take to get all of us out of it. The only other option is death, as far as I can see. And really, I like living. Much more preferable to the death thing. Especially death by starvation, heat exhaustion, hypothermia, or mass rioting.
The thing that I am most worried about is that we're actually too late. That we've come so far, spent so much time screwing around with the Bush Administration's protestations about how the science wasn't "reliable", etc. Massive ice shelves the size of Rhode Island are falling off of glaciers, people! We've been pumping out massive amounts of carbon dioxide, methane and nitrous oxide since the Industrial Revolution.
Can we fix this? Is it possible to get the American government and our corporations to get together and do something about it?
I don't know.
And I am scared.
From xkcd.com. Please don't sue me! (whimper!) The comics are fantastic! Much geekiness and love.
Now for the unfunny part. From CNN we have the weasel-worded headline of "Scientists: Humans 'very likely' cause of global warming".
Yes, Virginia, there really is global warming. Took until now to get the commission to say it in so many words, but there it is. Of course, here in the land of mega-corporations, we're still in denial:
Despite a strongly worded global warming report from the world's top climate scientists, the Bush administration expressed continued opposition Friday to mandatory reductions in heat-trapping "greenhouse" gases.Energy Secretary Samuel Bodman warned against "unintended consequences" -- including job losses -- that he said might result if the government requires economy-wide caps on carbon dioxide from the burning of fossil fuels.
--Lawmakers square off on climate report
Let's discuss this, eh? It's more important to protect the economy than it is to protect life as we know it on this planet. Do these guys have an extra planet tucked away somewhere that they're all going to go inhabit after this one is unable to sustain life any longer? Perhaps they have space stations they're all building where they can go and live with their umpteen kabillion dollars in profits? I'd like to know. Really.There are many different ways of looking at this, here are two of my favorites.
- If we're wrong, and global warming (Or global climate change, whichever you prefer because it ain't warmer in my part of Colorado this winter!) doesn't exist, then we spend a lot of money to get pollutants out of the atmosphere, resulting in better health for humans, plants and animals around the globe. That doesn't suck as an outcome.
- If they're wrong, and global climate change is happening and we don't fix it, we all die. Some will die faster than others (see Hurricane Katrina, the Christmas Tsunami, etc.). Crops will fail in regions previously used to temperate weather. Colder areas will warm up faster than expected. Sea levels will rise and islanders will become refugees by the millions. Colder and colder winters kill more people. Warmer winters in other locations may mean less snow/rainfall which in turn means less drinking water for the following spring.
For those of you thinking that this is a cyclic weather change, have you thought about that? Did we have automobiles, airplanes, giant factories and massive numbers of cattle a millennia ago? Are you going to try to convince me that all of those things combined have nothing to do with what we are seeing today? Have you ever thought of why you are clinging to that belief?
I know why I am but why are you clinging to your belief? you angrily ask.
Well, because I believe that we are responsible for our own actions, on a global scale. We got all of us into this and all of us working together is what it's going to take to get all of us out of it. The only other option is death, as far as I can see. And really, I like living. Much more preferable to the death thing. Especially death by starvation, heat exhaustion, hypothermia, or mass rioting.
The thing that I am most worried about is that we're actually too late. That we've come so far, spent so much time screwing around with the Bush Administration's protestations about how the science wasn't "reliable", etc. Massive ice shelves the size of Rhode Island are falling off of glaciers, people! We've been pumping out massive amounts of carbon dioxide, methane and nitrous oxide since the Industrial Revolution.
Can we fix this? Is it possible to get the American government and our corporations to get together and do something about it?
I don't know.
And I am scared.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Crashing!
We were driving back from yet another poking at the Hatchet appointment yesterday, during the latest of our many snowstorms.
Note to Mother Nature: We're over it already! Let's move on to melting and springy type days, here!
Ahem!
We were attempting to turn left onto the big street that runs past our house at the big intersection. The turn lane was unplowed. We kept going. Straight.
Straight as in straight into oncoming traffic in the opposite lane, straight.
Traffic was coming. We were clearly visible heading right for the car in the lane immediately next to their turn lane. That person chose to keep on going. They didn't look, to my wide-eyed-with-fear perspective, as if they were slowing down at all. Perhaps they were on a cell phone? Who knows! So there we were, the three of us, in Eric's car (mine is in the shop getting the rear seatbelts repaired). Sliding. Sliding directly towards oncoming traffic that appeared completely oblivious to our plight. We had begun the turn in good faith and well before that traffic had even rounded the turn further up that road. It was clear that once we started sliding that there was nothing we could do.
Gut clenching, body tensing, gripping the sides of my chair fear struck me.
The anti-lock breaks never came on. It was as if we were on a sled. A big, heavy sled that was headed towards another vehicle at some rate of speed faster than a sled should normally go. I'd like to say that I maintained calm, or was silent, but I wasn't. I was quietly repeating "Shit! Shit! Shit!" over and over again as we slid towards that oblivious driver.
Things looked grim for our brave adventurers, folks!
Somehow we managed to sliiiiiiide to a stop in their turn lane, avoiding the oncoming traffic. Just barely. Caitlin never made a peep. This may have more to do with her having been nose down in a book, as opposed to her great confidence in her dad. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice my quiet, fervent cursing.
After the traffic passed by, Eric slid us around into the far right turn lane to finish our interrupted left turn. We finished the drive in shock. I didn't think we were going to make it. Upon reaching our house the next level of fun began: getting up the driveway.
We didn't make it up. After several frustrating tries and one too many "helpful" comments from Caitlin, she and I exited the car and left Eric to try it solo. When that still didn't work, we broke out the shovels and then he tried again. Still couldn't make it further up than 3/4s of the way. Then the car got stuck, as it slid down the hill again, in the pile of snow left over (and unplowed by the city!) from the 4 previous snowstorms. Neighbors came over to help and took Eric the Mightily Frustrated over to get some ice melting stuff. Ice melting stuff still didn't help, but they helped to shove Eric's car further into out driveway, surrounded by the piles of snow in the street that were never plowed out.
This morning Eric mentioned that he'd never put his snow tires onto his car this winter. Mostly we use my car (I've had snowtires on mine since December, since our trip to Breckenridge), so he didn't think it was a big deal that he didn't have any on his own car.
After awakening from my 3 hour morning nap (Did I mention I'm tired a lot?), I broached the subject with Eric. I wasn't even psychotic about it, but I made it very clear that it's not OK that he hadn't put snow tires on yet. Yes, we do most of our driving in my car, but he does still drive in his and it is not OK with me that he a) puts himself at risk or b) put Caitlin, me and the latest mini-Hatchet at risk, due to procrastination.
You should admire my restraint. I didn't say, "We could have DIED." Instead I went with the simpler, "We could have been seriously injured." Eric, standing at the bottom of the stairs and observing my Righteous Wife face determined that accepting my words as The Truth was the best idea at the moment. We then mounted up, moseyed out and got those tires changed.
Psychotic Pregnant Hatchet Anger never even had to be unleashed.
Now that's the sign of a good marriage!
Note to Mother Nature: We're over it already! Let's move on to melting and springy type days, here!
Ahem!
We were attempting to turn left onto the big street that runs past our house at the big intersection. The turn lane was unplowed. We kept going. Straight.
Straight as in straight into oncoming traffic in the opposite lane, straight.
Traffic was coming. We were clearly visible heading right for the car in the lane immediately next to their turn lane. That person chose to keep on going. They didn't look, to my wide-eyed-with-fear perspective, as if they were slowing down at all. Perhaps they were on a cell phone? Who knows! So there we were, the three of us, in Eric's car (mine is in the shop getting the rear seatbelts repaired). Sliding. Sliding directly towards oncoming traffic that appeared completely oblivious to our plight. We had begun the turn in good faith and well before that traffic had even rounded the turn further up that road. It was clear that once we started sliding that there was nothing we could do.
Gut clenching, body tensing, gripping the sides of my chair fear struck me.
The anti-lock breaks never came on. It was as if we were on a sled. A big, heavy sled that was headed towards another vehicle at some rate of speed faster than a sled should normally go. I'd like to say that I maintained calm, or was silent, but I wasn't. I was quietly repeating "Shit! Shit! Shit!" over and over again as we slid towards that oblivious driver.
Things looked grim for our brave adventurers, folks!
Somehow we managed to sliiiiiiide to a stop in their turn lane, avoiding the oncoming traffic. Just barely. Caitlin never made a peep. This may have more to do with her having been nose down in a book, as opposed to her great confidence in her dad. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice my quiet, fervent cursing.
After the traffic passed by, Eric slid us around into the far right turn lane to finish our interrupted left turn. We finished the drive in shock. I didn't think we were going to make it. Upon reaching our house the next level of fun began: getting up the driveway.
We didn't make it up. After several frustrating tries and one too many "helpful" comments from Caitlin, she and I exited the car and left Eric to try it solo. When that still didn't work, we broke out the shovels and then he tried again. Still couldn't make it further up than 3/4s of the way. Then the car got stuck, as it slid down the hill again, in the pile of snow left over (and unplowed by the city!) from the 4 previous snowstorms. Neighbors came over to help and took Eric the Mightily Frustrated over to get some ice melting stuff. Ice melting stuff still didn't help, but they helped to shove Eric's car further into out driveway, surrounded by the piles of snow in the street that were never plowed out.
This morning Eric mentioned that he'd never put his snow tires onto his car this winter. Mostly we use my car (I've had snowtires on mine since December, since our trip to Breckenridge), so he didn't think it was a big deal that he didn't have any on his own car.
After awakening from my 3 hour morning nap (Did I mention I'm tired a lot?), I broached the subject with Eric. I wasn't even psychotic about it, but I made it very clear that it's not OK that he hadn't put snow tires on yet. Yes, we do most of our driving in my car, but he does still drive in his and it is not OK with me that he a) puts himself at risk or b) put Caitlin, me and the latest mini-Hatchet at risk, due to procrastination.
You should admire my restraint. I didn't say, "We could have DIED." Instead I went with the simpler, "We could have been seriously injured." Eric, standing at the bottom of the stairs and observing my Righteous Wife face determined that accepting my words as The Truth was the best idea at the moment. We then mounted up, moseyed out and got those tires changed.
Psychotic Pregnant Hatchet Anger never even had to be unleashed.
Now that's the sign of a good marriage!
Thursday, February 01, 2007
RIP: Molly Ivins
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