Garrett has learned one thing that pleases his spoon-feeding Mama immensely and one thing that really doesn't. He will open his mouth wide so as to let me shovel in his fruits and vegetables (yes, even the peas), but he zips his lips and shakes his head when I give him meat.
At his last appointment, his doctor told me to introduce meats into his diet at lunch and, in a few weeks, at dinner as well. Happily I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from the visit and bought a few of every stage one meat puree they had: veal, chicken, turkey, and beef. He's had a taste of every one now, except for the veal, and every time I try he gives me the same reaction: pursed lips and gags on what I am able to get into his mouth.
I've tried to disguise the meat as much as I can. I've mixed it with vegetables and fruits that he likes. I've watered it down to make the texture less grainy. I've tried alternating spoonfuls of fruits and veggies with spoonfuls of meat. But he's a smart one, this boy. He knows meat when he sees it. And he doesn't like it. (And it probably isn't helping that the introduction of new foods has brought on another case of constipation.)
Now, I'm sure that time and patience will cure all, but do any of you experienced meat-feeders out there have any suggestions for me in the meantime? In return for your advice, how about this: how about I leave you with the recipe for the chicken tortilla casserole we ate yesterday (which, I thought, was quite tasty). See there...it'll be a win-win meat situation!
Chicken Tortilla Casserole
2 cups cooked, boneless, skinless chicken, cut into bite-sized pieces
4 tbsp chicken stock
approximately 9 (6 inch) corn tortillas, cut into strips
1 can cream of chicken soup
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 cup milk
1 (16 oz) jar salsa
1 onion, shredded
8 oz shredded cheddar cheese
In a bowl mix soups, milk, salsa, and onion. Put 3-4 tablespoons of chicken stock in a 9x13" baking dish. (I boiled the chicken to cook it and used that stock.) Add a layer of tortilla strips, then a layer of chicken. Pour soup mixture over chicken and tortillas. Continue to layer in this order until dish is full. Top with cheese. Cover and refrigerate for 24 hours (I only refrigerated mine for less than half that time...I prepared it in the morning and cooked it that evening. It turned out fine....so I'm still curious as to why this 24-hour cooling session is truly necessary). Bake at 300 degrees for 1 to 1 1/2 hours.
Enjoy! And thanks in advance for your wizened and experienced advice.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
stuck in my head
And now, with any luck, they'll be stuck in yours, too.
You Picked Me
by A Fine Frenzy
Like an apple on a tree/Hiding out behind the leaves/I was difficult to reach/But you picked me./Like a shell upon the beach/Just another pretty piece/I was difficult to see/But you picked me/Yeah you picked me.
You Picked Me
by A Fine Frenzy
Like an apple on a tree/Hiding out behind the leaves/I was difficult to reach/But you picked me./Like a shell upon the beach/Just another pretty piece/I was difficult to see/But you picked me/Yeah you picked me.
Fidelity
by Regina Spektor
I hear in my mind all of these voices/I hear in my mind all of these words/I hear in my mind all of this music/And it breaks my heart/And it breaks my heart/And it breaks my heart/When it breaks my heart.
Hey There, Delilah
by Plain White T's
(Song's great, and gets more stuck in my head with each mellow guitar strum, but this video is downright addicting for some reason.)
by Regina Spektor
I hear in my mind all of these voices/I hear in my mind all of these words/I hear in my mind all of this music/And it breaks my heart/And it breaks my heart/And it breaks my heart/When it breaks my heart.
Hey There, Delilah
by Plain White T's
(Song's great, and gets more stuck in my head with each mellow guitar strum, but this video is downright addicting for some reason.)
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
seven
Dear Garrett,
Seven months old already? When did you change from that tiny, floppy, wrinkly baby I brought home from the hospital into the strong, handsome, happy little boy you have become? It's hard to believe when I look at pictures of you taken only a few months ago that you are the same baby. And yet here you are, growing up so fast I have to choose carefully the moments when I blink my eyes. Because I'd hate to forget the little boy I'm loving at this moment, I'm enclosing a snapshot of you as you are today.
Just when I think you couldn't be happier, you burst into that toothless, gummy smile I've come to adore and work yourself into bundle of excitement ready to explode with each quick breath. You laugh so easily, when tickled, when talked to, and I can't help but want to infect myself with your case of very contagious giggles. Your talking and singing has been sprinkled with the variety of consonant sounds and sometimes I look over my shoulder to find you happily babbling "blah-blah-blahs" and "da-da-das" to yourself.
You've become a strong boy who sits independently (though until you stop getting distracted by things above and behind you, I think I'll keep the pillow nearby). You sit well enough now that we can put you in your highchair so you can join us at the table. Which reminds me...you've turned into quite the voracious eater. You've learned that the spoon Mama holds brings food you like to your taste buds and you're ever anxious to speed its entry along by grabbing my fingers and pulling the spoon to your mouth. You also understand that when I tell you to "open big," less food will smear itself across your face, thus letting more make to your tummy. You still like ice cold water and reach jealously for my glass whenever I take a drink. Sometimes I let you sip from my cup, which you love to do, even though it comes so fast it takes your breath away and what doesn't instead drips down your chin. Which is why I sometimes give you your own little sippy cup, which you're learning how to draw your own water from and which, with a little help, you can hold all by yourself.
Now that you are sitting, you are able to explore your toys more. You developed a bizarre yet admittedly convenient affinity for plush duck bills, which you suck heartily on and which now rarely see a dry moment. In fact, everything, it seems, once it's in your hands, finds its way to your magnetic, wet little mouth. When you're not sitting, you're playing on your tummy and surprising me (and mostly likely you, too) with your ability to scoot yourself backwards across the floor. You like it when I read you stories and you love it when I play "Here's Where the Cat Sits" and "Peek-a-Boo" with you. You still love your bath time and wiggle with naked excitement when you hear the tub start to fill.
I love you, Garrett! It's hard for me to comprehend, let alone measure, just how much I love you. But no matter how big you get, you will always be my sweet little boy.
Love,
Mama
Seven months old already? When did you change from that tiny, floppy, wrinkly baby I brought home from the hospital into the strong, handsome, happy little boy you have become? It's hard to believe when I look at pictures of you taken only a few months ago that you are the same baby. And yet here you are, growing up so fast I have to choose carefully the moments when I blink my eyes. Because I'd hate to forget the little boy I'm loving at this moment, I'm enclosing a snapshot of you as you are today.
Just when I think you couldn't be happier, you burst into that toothless, gummy smile I've come to adore and work yourself into bundle of excitement ready to explode with each quick breath. You laugh so easily, when tickled, when talked to, and I can't help but want to infect myself with your case of very contagious giggles. Your talking and singing has been sprinkled with the variety of consonant sounds and sometimes I look over my shoulder to find you happily babbling "blah-blah-blahs" and "da-da-das" to yourself.
You've become a strong boy who sits independently (though until you stop getting distracted by things above and behind you, I think I'll keep the pillow nearby). You sit well enough now that we can put you in your highchair so you can join us at the table. Which reminds me...you've turned into quite the voracious eater. You've learned that the spoon Mama holds brings food you like to your taste buds and you're ever anxious to speed its entry along by grabbing my fingers and pulling the spoon to your mouth. You also understand that when I tell you to "open big," less food will smear itself across your face, thus letting more make to your tummy. You still like ice cold water and reach jealously for my glass whenever I take a drink. Sometimes I let you sip from my cup, which you love to do, even though it comes so fast it takes your breath away and what doesn't instead drips down your chin. Which is why I sometimes give you your own little sippy cup, which you're learning how to draw your own water from and which, with a little help, you can hold all by yourself.
Now that you are sitting, you are able to explore your toys more. You developed a bizarre yet admittedly convenient affinity for plush duck bills, which you suck heartily on and which now rarely see a dry moment. In fact, everything, it seems, once it's in your hands, finds its way to your magnetic, wet little mouth. When you're not sitting, you're playing on your tummy and surprising me (and mostly likely you, too) with your ability to scoot yourself backwards across the floor. You like it when I read you stories and you love it when I play "Here's Where the Cat Sits" and "Peek-a-Boo" with you. You still love your bath time and wiggle with naked excitement when you hear the tub start to fill.
I love you, Garrett! It's hard for me to comprehend, let alone measure, just how much I love you. But no matter how big you get, you will always be my sweet little boy.
Love,
Mama
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
in the kitchen
Here's the dish on a few of my recent kitchen successes. (And sorry, no pictures...we scarfed it all down too fast, apparently.)
Flour Tortillas
I learned how to make these from a friend in my Muncie ward who was from Mexico, but perhaps because until we moved to Brooklyn we could always find flour tortillas for a good price, I didn't think to try making my own until the other day when my copy of the ward cookbook (which was compiled just as we were moving) arrived in the mail. This recipe was included, and since we were kind of itching for Mexican food requiring tortillas, last week I rolled up my sleeves, floured up my hands, and gave it a whirl. These apparently take lots of practice to get them to the perfect thinness and mine were decidedly NOT round, but they still tasted delicious and worked great for tacos and quesadillas.
6 cups flour
1 cup shortening
1 tbsp salt
1 tsp baking powder (optional)
3 to 3 1/2 cups boiling water
Add shortening to dry ingredients and rub with hands until well mixed. Add three cups boiling water and mix with spoon, then use hands to complete mixing. Add more water if needed. Knead for a short time and separate into balls. Roll balls into very thin, flat circles (or rectangles or hexagons or blobs, depending on your skill set). Cook both sides in frying pan over medium to medium-high heat until done. Makes 30-32 tortillas.
Crock Pot Sweet 'n' Sour Chicken
This one is SO EASY (assuming you don't burn the chicken, which, I'll admit, I did the first time - second try, though, went much, much better). It's also delicious enough to tempt even sandwich-loving Blake to take leftovers to work for lunch.
2 tbsp ketchup
1 cup water
1/2 cup white vinegar
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cubed
2 tbsp cornstarch
2 tbsp water
pineapples and bell peppers (if desired)
Combine the first five ingredients in the crock pot and mix well. Add chicken and cook on high for 3-4 hours (I cooked it for closer to 3 hours and it came out perfect). Combine cornstarch and water in small bowl. Stir into slow cooker. If you want pineapples and peppers, add them now as well. Cook on high for 15-20 minutes, stirring often, until thickened. Serve over rice or noodles.
And because we can't forget dessert....
Fudgey Brownies
Um....yeah....these are delicious. And remarkably easy. So I don't think I'll buy box brownies mixes ever again.
1/2 cup butter, melted
1/2 cups cocoa
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup flour
1/4 tsp salt
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 8x8" pan. Combine melted butter and cocoa until well blended. Add sugar and mix well. Add eggs, one at a time, and beat well. Stir in vanilla, flour, and salt. Do not over beat. Spread in the prepared pan and bake 25-30 minutes (keeping in mind that slightly underdone makes for fudgier brownies). Sprinkle with powdered sugar if desired.
Flour Tortillas
I learned how to make these from a friend in my Muncie ward who was from Mexico, but perhaps because until we moved to Brooklyn we could always find flour tortillas for a good price, I didn't think to try making my own until the other day when my copy of the ward cookbook (which was compiled just as we were moving) arrived in the mail. This recipe was included, and since we were kind of itching for Mexican food requiring tortillas, last week I rolled up my sleeves, floured up my hands, and gave it a whirl. These apparently take lots of practice to get them to the perfect thinness and mine were decidedly NOT round, but they still tasted delicious and worked great for tacos and quesadillas.
6 cups flour
1 cup shortening
1 tbsp salt
1 tsp baking powder (optional)
3 to 3 1/2 cups boiling water
Add shortening to dry ingredients and rub with hands until well mixed. Add three cups boiling water and mix with spoon, then use hands to complete mixing. Add more water if needed. Knead for a short time and separate into balls. Roll balls into very thin, flat circles (or rectangles or hexagons or blobs, depending on your skill set). Cook both sides in frying pan over medium to medium-high heat until done. Makes 30-32 tortillas.
Crock Pot Sweet 'n' Sour Chicken
This one is SO EASY (assuming you don't burn the chicken, which, I'll admit, I did the first time - second try, though, went much, much better). It's also delicious enough to tempt even sandwich-loving Blake to take leftovers to work for lunch.
2 tbsp ketchup
1 cup water
1/2 cup white vinegar
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cubed
2 tbsp cornstarch
2 tbsp water
pineapples and bell peppers (if desired)
Combine the first five ingredients in the crock pot and mix well. Add chicken and cook on high for 3-4 hours (I cooked it for closer to 3 hours and it came out perfect). Combine cornstarch and water in small bowl. Stir into slow cooker. If you want pineapples and peppers, add them now as well. Cook on high for 15-20 minutes, stirring often, until thickened. Serve over rice or noodles.
And because we can't forget dessert....
Fudgey Brownies
Um....yeah....these are delicious. And remarkably easy. So I don't think I'll buy box brownies mixes ever again.
1/2 cup butter, melted
1/2 cups cocoa
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup flour
1/4 tsp salt
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 8x8" pan. Combine melted butter and cocoa until well blended. Add sugar and mix well. Add eggs, one at a time, and beat well. Stir in vanilla, flour, and salt. Do not over beat. Spread in the prepared pan and bake 25-30 minutes (keeping in mind that slightly underdone makes for fudgier brownies). Sprinkle with powdered sugar if desired.
Monday, January 28, 2008
half-year stats
Just got back from Garrett's six-month well check-up. Here's how he's measuring up:
Weight: 19 lbs 1 oz (70th percentile)
Height: 28 1/2 inches (90th percentile)
Head Circumference: 43 1/2 cm (25th percentile)
So we have on our hands a happy, healthy, not-quite-seven-months-old boy who is long and lean and whose head is apparently not as big as it appears to be. Also, the doctor said we could now spice things up and let our plant-eating baby brush shoulders with the carnivores at lunch and dinner. And I was happily reassured that Garrett's accomplishment of the sitting milestone totally trumps his bizarre refusal to roll over.
Garrett's in his crib napping off another round of shots, else I'd snap a photo of him to post here. But since we kinda went camera crazy yesterday, I'll just send you back for another peek at that adorable baby a few posts down.
Weight: 19 lbs 1 oz (70th percentile)
Height: 28 1/2 inches (90th percentile)
Head Circumference: 43 1/2 cm (25th percentile)
So we have on our hands a happy, healthy, not-quite-seven-months-old boy who is long and lean and whose head is apparently not as big as it appears to be. Also, the doctor said we could now spice things up and let our plant-eating baby brush shoulders with the carnivores at lunch and dinner. And I was happily reassured that Garrett's accomplishment of the sitting milestone totally trumps his bizarre refusal to roll over.
Garrett's in his crib napping off another round of shots, else I'd snap a photo of him to post here. But since we kinda went camera crazy yesterday, I'll just send you back for another peek at that adorable baby a few posts down.
with fond memory
My mom called last night and, with a tremble in her voice, told me, "President Hinckley died this evening." She cried, and I cried, and when I told Blake, who was reading in bed next to me, we cried. And, even though I know we all felt peaceful about it, how could we not? He's the prophet I grew up with. He's the man who planted temples throughout the world for me to visit as I've moved across the country. I am sad for myself because I will miss his firmly gentle admonitions and optimistic charisma. But my testimony of eternal families leaps to a new level as I imagine the happy reunion he now enjoys in the arms of his beloved wife.
President Gordon B. Hinckley
1910-2008
President Gordon B. Hinckley1910-2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
serenity now
For those times when New York City becomes too city, you can walk away from it to the heart of Central Park.
But sometimes, in order to find a sanctuary, you need to walk into a session in the heart of the Upper West Side.
Which is what we did this afternoon after leaving Garrett at home with the babysitters (thanks again, guys!).
Beautiful. In so many ways . . . beautiful.
But sometimes, in order to find a sanctuary, you need to walk into a session in the heart of the Upper West Side.
Which is what we did this afternoon after leaving Garrett at home with the babysitters (thanks again, guys!).
Beautiful. In so many ways . . . beautiful.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
cooties
I never thought third grade diseases could infect me with such a horribly hilarious fit of giggles:
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
my day in history
January 23, 1983 - 1st birthday. And what's a first birthday without the opportunity to feed yourself some chocolate cake?
January 23, 1984 - 2nd birthday. I got a Showbiz Pizza party and, according to my baby book, loved watching the animals singin' and riding on my favorite ride, the little ark with the steering wheel and hooter.
January 23, 1985 - 3rd birthday.
January 23, 1986 - 4th birthday. Me and a few friends got to take our favorite dollies to visit the McCurdy Doll Museum.
January 23, 1987 - 5th birthday
January 23, 1988 - 6th birthday (no photo available). My memory's spotty on this one, but I'm pretty sure it involved cupcakes in my Kindergarten classroom.
January 23, 1989 - 7th birthday. When it came time to blow out my birthday cake candles, I wished really, super hard that my pregnant mother would finally give me a sister. My brothers were great fun and all, but I desperately needed a female ally. Three months later my wish was granted.
January 23, 1990 - 8th birthday. It was my year for a friends party and one of the few friends parties I remember. It was spectacular, and included not only a handful of my favorite buddies, but also a rousing game of "push the Tootsie Roll across the living room floor with your nose."
January 23, 1991 - 9th birthday.
January 23, 1992 - 10th birthday. Ten years old! What a perfect age! I mean, come on -- TWO whole hands! I remember wishing I could stay 10 forever. Obviously that one didn't come true.
January 23, 1993 - 11th birthday. Making the most of being two whole hands PLUS a big toe. Yeah...awkward, isn't it? My year again for a friends party and for it I planned a small slumber party. Unfortunately I was sick with a cold and spent the whole time blowing my way through an entire box of Kleenex.
January 23, 1994 - 12th birthday. I was sick sick sick and was also scheduled to sing in the choir at the Tabernacle on Temple Square for an evening broadcast. Both were reasons that I missed my first day in Young Womens (at last I could end my days as that freakishly tall Primary kid!). My sister, Chelsea, who was born ten days earlier, was, like the granting of my 7th birthday wish, probably my best present. This family photo was snapped somewhere amidst cake and presents, a stomach flu-induced trip to the bathroom, and the drive to Salt Lake City to sing for the broadcast.
January 23, 1995 - 13th birthday (no photo available). Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted that year as a gift, I told them I wanted a box of crayons. Consequently I ended up that year with a lifetime supply of Crayolas. And thus began several long years of teenage awkwardness.
January 23, 1996 - 14th birthday (no photo available). Went sledding in the canyon with my friend, Lyndsie. Got soaking wet. Had a blast. Also attempted to drive up the road to Sundance to see the film festival, but got stuck part way up. I don't blame her mother for turning the car around...at one point it was nothing but deep snow and an icy ledge.
January 23, 1997 - 15th birthday (no photo available). Because our lives were busy and it was incredibly hard to find even just five minutes that we could spend together as a family to celebrate, we all got up extra early and celebrated before school. Mom woke up even earlier than the rest of us and made me my favorite food, quiche lorraine, for breakfast. I spent the evening at my weekly volunteer shift at the hospital where my supervisor, Sandra (who was also born on January 23rd), and I celebrated both of our birthdays by scarfing down famous Snack Bar milkshakes.
January 23, 1998 - 16th birthday (no photo available). Was spent at an ice skating lesson, eating cake with my family, and trying hard not to be sad that I wasn't invited to the first boy's choice high school dance, held that night, that I was "legally" old enough to attend.
January 23, 1999 - 17th birthday (no photo available). Aside from the traditional evening family party, I got to spend an enjoyable afternoon with my dad at the theater parked in front of "You've Got Mail." Also had lovely conversations with both parents about the cold, snowy day I gave them that title.
January 23, 2000 - 18th birthday (no photo available). Spent a nice, quiet day at home with my family.
January 23, 2001 - 19th birthday. This was a particularly sad birthday. Three days earlier my grandpa died, so this day was spent on several small planes traveling from Rexburg, Idaho to St. George, Utah. Instead of cake and ice cream, I went to his viewing. The funeral was the next day. When I got back to Ricks on the 25th, my roommates surprised me with a small party in the dorm lounge.
January 23, 2002 - 20th birthday (no photo available). I had just transferred from Ricks down to BYU and didn't yet feel like I fit it - with my roommates, in my ward, etc. I wasn't living at home, so my birthday was pretty quiet. Was given a small TV/VCR combo to help fill the silence in my lonely apartment.
January 23, 2003 - 21st birthday (no photo available). I woke up to an apartment decorated by my lovely, lovely roommates. They also made me a cake.
January 23, 2004 - 22nd birthday (no photo available). Woke up to a sweet happy birthday message from my room-roommate written in dry erase marker on my mirror. Mom and Dad took me to lunch at Osaka. Was also given a thoughtful little party in the evening by my roommates, which included tacos made by Heather.
January 23, 2005 - 23rd birthday (no photo available). My golden year! (And what a golden year it turned out to be...23 years old and set to be married on the 23rd of the following April.) My fabulous fiance, Blake, gave me a lovely copy of Pablo Neruda's poetry, took me to dinner at a little Italian restaurant in downtown Provo and then for a drive up beautiful, snowy Provo Canyon.
January 23, 2006 - 24th birthday. Blake attempted to make me a 2-layer cake. Actually turned out to be pile of cherry chips and chocolate frosting. Still delicious, though.
January 23, 2007 - 25th birthday. Thanks to Blake, I enjoyed a very nice day. He whisked me away to an Indiana version of France and filled the day with one surprise after another. Got over the morning sickness in the nick of time. This year the cake turned out...less messy.
January 23, 2008 - 26th birthday. A pleasant day so far. I've been spending it at home with Garrett, who's been in an adorably pleasant mood. It's cold but sunny outside, so an afternoon walk will probably happen. Blake made me a cake last night which we will eat this evening when he gets home. Thanks, everyone, for the birthday wishes you've been sending my way!!
[Update: The day's been fantastic. Garrett was a happy, playful Angel Baby, even when we went for a walk with the new carrier (we chose the blue one, by the way), and Blake worked it so he could leave work an hour early. Honestly, those were the two best presents I could have received (though the three books Blake gave me were pretty fabulous, too). I now know that chocolate fudge brownie milkshakes + dark chocolate fudge birthday cake = too much. But it WAS pretty cute to watch Garrett taste the milkshakes and freak out when we turned on the blender to make them. Thanks again, all, for a great 26th birthday!]
January 23, 1984 - 2nd birthday. I got a Showbiz Pizza party and, according to my baby book, loved watching the animals singin' and riding on my favorite ride, the little ark with the steering wheel and hooter.
January 23, 1985 - 3rd birthday.
January 23, 1986 - 4th birthday. Me and a few friends got to take our favorite dollies to visit the McCurdy Doll Museum.
January 23, 1987 - 5th birthday
January 23, 1988 - 6th birthday (no photo available). My memory's spotty on this one, but I'm pretty sure it involved cupcakes in my Kindergarten classroom.
January 23, 1989 - 7th birthday. When it came time to blow out my birthday cake candles, I wished really, super hard that my pregnant mother would finally give me a sister. My brothers were great fun and all, but I desperately needed a female ally. Three months later my wish was granted.
January 23, 1990 - 8th birthday. It was my year for a friends party and one of the few friends parties I remember. It was spectacular, and included not only a handful of my favorite buddies, but also a rousing game of "push the Tootsie Roll across the living room floor with your nose."
January 23, 1991 - 9th birthday.
January 23, 1992 - 10th birthday. Ten years old! What a perfect age! I mean, come on -- TWO whole hands! I remember wishing I could stay 10 forever. Obviously that one didn't come true.
January 23, 1993 - 11th birthday. Making the most of being two whole hands PLUS a big toe. Yeah...awkward, isn't it? My year again for a friends party and for it I planned a small slumber party. Unfortunately I was sick with a cold and spent the whole time blowing my way through an entire box of Kleenex.
January 23, 1994 - 12th birthday. I was sick sick sick and was also scheduled to sing in the choir at the Tabernacle on Temple Square for an evening broadcast. Both were reasons that I missed my first day in Young Womens (at last I could end my days as that freakishly tall Primary kid!). My sister, Chelsea, who was born ten days earlier, was, like the granting of my 7th birthday wish, probably my best present. This family photo was snapped somewhere amidst cake and presents, a stomach flu-induced trip to the bathroom, and the drive to Salt Lake City to sing for the broadcast.
January 23, 1995 - 13th birthday (no photo available). Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted that year as a gift, I told them I wanted a box of crayons. Consequently I ended up that year with a lifetime supply of Crayolas. And thus began several long years of teenage awkwardness.
January 23, 1996 - 14th birthday (no photo available). Went sledding in the canyon with my friend, Lyndsie. Got soaking wet. Had a blast. Also attempted to drive up the road to Sundance to see the film festival, but got stuck part way up. I don't blame her mother for turning the car around...at one point it was nothing but deep snow and an icy ledge.
January 23, 1997 - 15th birthday (no photo available). Because our lives were busy and it was incredibly hard to find even just five minutes that we could spend together as a family to celebrate, we all got up extra early and celebrated before school. Mom woke up even earlier than the rest of us and made me my favorite food, quiche lorraine, for breakfast. I spent the evening at my weekly volunteer shift at the hospital where my supervisor, Sandra (who was also born on January 23rd), and I celebrated both of our birthdays by scarfing down famous Snack Bar milkshakes.
January 23, 1998 - 16th birthday (no photo available). Was spent at an ice skating lesson, eating cake with my family, and trying hard not to be sad that I wasn't invited to the first boy's choice high school dance, held that night, that I was "legally" old enough to attend.
January 23, 1999 - 17th birthday (no photo available). Aside from the traditional evening family party, I got to spend an enjoyable afternoon with my dad at the theater parked in front of "You've Got Mail." Also had lovely conversations with both parents about the cold, snowy day I gave them that title.
January 23, 2000 - 18th birthday (no photo available). Spent a nice, quiet day at home with my family.
January 23, 2001 - 19th birthday. This was a particularly sad birthday. Three days earlier my grandpa died, so this day was spent on several small planes traveling from Rexburg, Idaho to St. George, Utah. Instead of cake and ice cream, I went to his viewing. The funeral was the next day. When I got back to Ricks on the 25th, my roommates surprised me with a small party in the dorm lounge.
January 23, 2002 - 20th birthday (no photo available). I had just transferred from Ricks down to BYU and didn't yet feel like I fit it - with my roommates, in my ward, etc. I wasn't living at home, so my birthday was pretty quiet. Was given a small TV/VCR combo to help fill the silence in my lonely apartment.
January 23, 2003 - 21st birthday (no photo available). I woke up to an apartment decorated by my lovely, lovely roommates. They also made me a cake.
January 23, 2004 - 22nd birthday (no photo available). Woke up to a sweet happy birthday message from my room-roommate written in dry erase marker on my mirror. Mom and Dad took me to lunch at Osaka. Was also given a thoughtful little party in the evening by my roommates, which included tacos made by Heather.
January 23, 2005 - 23rd birthday (no photo available). My golden year! (And what a golden year it turned out to be...23 years old and set to be married on the 23rd of the following April.) My fabulous fiance, Blake, gave me a lovely copy of Pablo Neruda's poetry, took me to dinner at a little Italian restaurant in downtown Provo and then for a drive up beautiful, snowy Provo Canyon.
January 23, 2006 - 24th birthday. Blake attempted to make me a 2-layer cake. Actually turned out to be pile of cherry chips and chocolate frosting. Still delicious, though.
January 23, 2007 - 25th birthday. Thanks to Blake, I enjoyed a very nice day. He whisked me away to an Indiana version of France and filled the day with one surprise after another. Got over the morning sickness in the nick of time. This year the cake turned out...less messy.
January 23, 2008 - 26th birthday. A pleasant day so far. I've been spending it at home with Garrett, who's been in an adorably pleasant mood. It's cold but sunny outside, so an afternoon walk will probably happen. Blake made me a cake last night which we will eat this evening when he gets home. Thanks, everyone, for the birthday wishes you've been sending my way!!
[Update: The day's been fantastic. Garrett was a happy, playful Angel Baby, even when we went for a walk with the new carrier (we chose the blue one, by the way), and Blake worked it so he could leave work an hour early. Honestly, those were the two best presents I could have received (though the three books Blake gave me were pretty fabulous, too). I now know that chocolate fudge brownie milkshakes + dark chocolate fudge birthday cake = too much. But it WAS pretty cute to watch Garrett taste the milkshakes and freak out when we turned on the blender to make them. Thanks again, all, for a great 26th birthday!]
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
young love
Apparently the trend starts early:
Garrett and his new friend, Sophia.
Sophia: Gosh, that hand looks sumptuous. I sure wish he'd let me hold it.Garrett: Sophia? Who's Sophia?
Sophia: Ha! I got him! Now he's mine, all mine! Mwah-ha-ha!Garrett: Did someone just touch me?
Sophia: I love you, Garrett, I love you! Don't you hear me? I love you!Garrett: [Oblivious to her flirtatious advances]
Sophia: Garrett?...Garrett?Garrett: Oooh, video games!
grocery shopping hurdles and how we hopped them
For Rachel
I live .15 miles away from one grocery store and .7 miles away from another and yet, despite the closeness of these two options, when we first moved to Brooklyn, they might as well have been an eternity away. We had sold our car before we arrived and had a two-month-old infant who, obviously, couldn't be left at home alone while I bought groceries. We could only purchase what we could carry home and were increasingly more and more tempted to just scrap our tight budget and eat out every meal at any one of the hundred sumptuous smelling restaurants within arms length because heck, on the surface actual groceries seemed too expensive anyway. So there were, you might say, a few hurdles we had to hop over in order to successfully stock our cupboards. Here's a quick look at how we trained:
Hurdles 1 and 2: No car and the restriction of only buying what can be physically carried home.
How we hopped them: We bought a cart. It's been great. It comes with me on every grocery shopping trip and gets wheeled around the store as I fill it with food items from the shelf. Once everything is paid for and bagged, it's loaded up again and wheeled home. If buying a cart isn't up your alley, you can also look into getting your groceries delivered. Some stores deliver either for free (not including the tip) or for a small charge, so all you'd have to do is shop and pay for your groceries, tell the cashier where you live, and walk home empty-handed (or nearly empty-handed, in the event that you have a few perishable items that need to be taken home right away). Some stores will even do the shopping for you: all you have to do is fill your cart online or make a phone order and wait for your goods to be dropped off at your home. This luxury, though, is usually a bit pricey.
Hurdle 3: Shopping with the baby
How we hopped it: It's not practical for me to do my grocery shopping with Garrett in the stroller for several reasons: 1) it's hard to maneuver the teeny tiny aisles with a stroller, 2) I can't pile in a week's worth of groceries into the storage basket underneath the stroller which is why I 3) bring the above-mentioned cart with me. So, with the stroller option out, I am left with a dependency on my infant carrier. It is my lifesaver (for grocery shopping and laundry alike).
Hurdles 4 and 5: My groceries cost me an arm and a leg so it's no wonder New Yorkers have the "must eat all my meals out" mentality.
How we hopped them: Yeah, they weren't kidding when they said the cost of living in New York City was higher than most places. Sheesh! If you're not careful you can break the bank with just the necessities. Still, though, with a little extra homework and patience, it really is is cheaper to feed a family at home rather than at a restaurant (tempting though they are). Before I do my weekly shopping trip, I first look through the supermarket circulars (one store's I pick up on any one of the numerous occasions I walk by, and the other gets sent to my email inbox). Then I plan my meals around what's on sale. I also keep my food storage in mind when I thumb through the ads and will sometimes buy several of one item to keep on hand. I think most budget-minded grocery shoppers around the country also do this, but for me here in the city it is extra important. Also, like anywhere, make a shopping list and stick to it like glue.
A Few Other Hurdle-Hopping Training Tips
I live .15 miles away from one grocery store and .7 miles away from another and yet, despite the closeness of these two options, when we first moved to Brooklyn, they might as well have been an eternity away. We had sold our car before we arrived and had a two-month-old infant who, obviously, couldn't be left at home alone while I bought groceries. We could only purchase what we could carry home and were increasingly more and more tempted to just scrap our tight budget and eat out every meal at any one of the hundred sumptuous smelling restaurants within arms length because heck, on the surface actual groceries seemed too expensive anyway. So there were, you might say, a few hurdles we had to hop over in order to successfully stock our cupboards. Here's a quick look at how we trained:
Hurdles 1 and 2: No car and the restriction of only buying what can be physically carried home.
How we hopped them: We bought a cart. It's been great. It comes with me on every grocery shopping trip and gets wheeled around the store as I fill it with food items from the shelf. Once everything is paid for and bagged, it's loaded up again and wheeled home. If buying a cart isn't up your alley, you can also look into getting your groceries delivered. Some stores deliver either for free (not including the tip) or for a small charge, so all you'd have to do is shop and pay for your groceries, tell the cashier where you live, and walk home empty-handed (or nearly empty-handed, in the event that you have a few perishable items that need to be taken home right away). Some stores will even do the shopping for you: all you have to do is fill your cart online or make a phone order and wait for your goods to be dropped off at your home. This luxury, though, is usually a bit pricey.
Hurdle 3: Shopping with the baby
How we hopped it: It's not practical for me to do my grocery shopping with Garrett in the stroller for several reasons: 1) it's hard to maneuver the teeny tiny aisles with a stroller, 2) I can't pile in a week's worth of groceries into the storage basket underneath the stroller which is why I 3) bring the above-mentioned cart with me. So, with the stroller option out, I am left with a dependency on my infant carrier. It is my lifesaver (for grocery shopping and laundry alike).
Hurdles 4 and 5: My groceries cost me an arm and a leg so it's no wonder New Yorkers have the "must eat all my meals out" mentality.
How we hopped them: Yeah, they weren't kidding when they said the cost of living in New York City was higher than most places. Sheesh! If you're not careful you can break the bank with just the necessities. Still, though, with a little extra homework and patience, it really is is cheaper to feed a family at home rather than at a restaurant (tempting though they are). Before I do my weekly shopping trip, I first look through the supermarket circulars (one store's I pick up on any one of the numerous occasions I walk by, and the other gets sent to my email inbox). Then I plan my meals around what's on sale. I also keep my food storage in mind when I thumb through the ads and will sometimes buy several of one item to keep on hand. I think most budget-minded grocery shoppers around the country also do this, but for me here in the city it is extra important. Also, like anywhere, make a shopping list and stick to it like glue.
A Few Other Hurdle-Hopping Training Tips
- Oddly enough, Brooklyn has a Costco, and happily enough, I have a few friends with memberships. There's no getting around the fact that some items (baby formula, anyone?) are just cheaper there. So when I'm given the chance to tag along with someone, I jump at it.
- Speaking of babies....Babies require diapers. Diapers come in large (expensive) packages. Which is why I buy mine from diapers.com. I wrote a post awhile back where I totally sang their praises and also gave away my $5-off-your-first-purchase code (LIAN6247) if you're interested in reading more about them.
- Because I have a baby with me, I plan my trips for times when I know the grocery stores will be the least crowded. For me that means earlier is better.
- I plan ahead when I need to buy bigger items. If, say, I needed bag of potatoes, a gallon of milk, or a package of toilet paper and just didn't have the manpower to get those, plus all my other groceries, up the stairs to my apartment, I'll have Blake swing by the store on his way home from work to pick them up for me. Husbands are great like that.
Monday, January 21, 2008
i have a dream
The clock radio woke me up this morning with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr's well-known "I have a dream" speech. Have you ever listened to it in its entirety? It's beautiful and thrillingly powerful. It certainly gives this history loving girl goosebumps every time she hears it. I thought you might also enjoy some goosebumps today as well. Happy Civil Rights Day!
Friday, January 18, 2008
keepin' the 'hood alive
Watching Saturday Night Fever (the PG version, of course) is, by its very nature, a very trippy experience. Being able to pick out landmarks, which are, essentially, just around the corner from where you live, while you watch it is even trippier. So come with me while I give you a tour of my neighborhood sponsored by John Travolta and a bit of disco fever.
The opening credits features a walk in a business district a few blocks from where we go to church:
The disco club, 2001 Odyssey, where Tony danced his Saturday nights feverishly away, operated as a neighborhood dance/disco club for many years. After later being transformed into the Spectrum, a club for, you guessed it, those of a different orientation, it was razed about two or three years ago:
The Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, where Bobby falls to his death at the end of the movie, is a beloved neighborhood landmark:
Even though the internet doesn't have a picture to prove it (though, maybe, if it's not too cold, Garrett and I will take a walk later to snap our own), the Manero residence is, literally, down the block and around the corner from where I'm sitting at my computer.
Update! We just got back from a pleasant little stroll to find the Manero House. Find it we did. The facade has changed in the last 30 years, but my sources and own calculations tell me that it's the right place:
The hardware store where Tony works was called Six Brothers Hardware and Paints, and was located two blocks away on another busy business district street. It was owned by the Albergo family: Giuseppe and his six sons, Joseph, Domenic, Marco, Peter, Angelo, and Ralph. After the movie's release the little shop became somewhat of a tourist trap, but even so, the family has since sold the business:
Fugetaboutit, youse guys, because I can't, obviously, provide you with photographic proof, so you'll have to take my word for it when I tell you that the Brooklyn accents employed by the actors in the film are undeniably and incredibly real.
So there you have it. Hollywood (and the Bee Gees) has done its part to keep my neighborhood alive:
The opening credits features a walk in a business district a few blocks from where we go to church:
The disco club, 2001 Odyssey, where Tony danced his Saturday nights feverishly away, operated as a neighborhood dance/disco club for many years. After later being transformed into the Spectrum, a club for, you guessed it, those of a different orientation, it was razed about two or three years ago:
The Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, where Bobby falls to his death at the end of the movie, is a beloved neighborhood landmark:
Even though the internet doesn't have a picture to prove it (though, maybe, if it's not too cold, Garrett and I will take a walk later to snap our own), the Manero residence is, literally, down the block and around the corner from where I'm sitting at my computer.
Update! We just got back from a pleasant little stroll to find the Manero House. Find it we did. The facade has changed in the last 30 years, but my sources and own calculations tell me that it's the right place:
The hardware store where Tony works was called Six Brothers Hardware and Paints, and was located two blocks away on another busy business district street. It was owned by the Albergo family: Giuseppe and his six sons, Joseph, Domenic, Marco, Peter, Angelo, and Ralph. After the movie's release the little shop became somewhat of a tourist trap, but even so, the family has since sold the business:
Fugetaboutit, youse guys, because I can't, obviously, provide you with photographic proof, so you'll have to take my word for it when I tell you that the Brooklyn accents employed by the actors in the film are undeniably and incredibly real.
So there you have it. Hollywood (and the Bee Gees) has done its part to keep my neighborhood alive:
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
words we write
Because I think I need a little more motivation and accountability to accomplish my "write pieces with the intent to publish" goal, and because, too, I think it would be a lot of fun, and also because, let's face it, I've always wanted to belong to one, I've decided to start an online writing group. The idea has been tickling me for some time now and, in conjunction with my "just do it" goal, decided that I should go ahead and put the feelers out here to see if any of you had any interest in joining me in this endeavor.
This is what I'm envisioning:
It would be operated in blog format, which would be private so as to encourage heightened bravery about posting your work. Members would post their work, participate in themed writings (as suggested by group members on a rotating basis), and check in frequently to give constructive feedback, by way of the comments section, to other's work. The group would give its members the opportunity to not only expand their preferred writing style portfolio, but would also allow them to attempt new writing styles and genres. It would be a place for people who were sincerely interested in honing in their writing skills and who would be willing to help others hone theirs. (All of the details of my writing group vision are not yet completely focused and clear, so I'm open to suggestions on the organization and management of such a group.)
Any takers out there?
Before you give me a yes, no, or maybe, let me tell you a few of my expectations for this writing group.
I would want this to be a place for people who are serious about writing. (Notice that I didn't necessarily say brilliant at writing...this would be a group for writers at all levels, so long as they enjoyed writing enough to take membership in the group seriously.) I would expect members to be brave enough and committed enough to post their work actively and consistently, whether it be a part of a themed writing or just something wanting feedback. I would also expect members to check in frequently to read and give kind-but-constructive comments on work that has been posted. Active participation would be key because without it we'd have no group.
So again I ask: anyone interested?
This is what I'm envisioning:
It would be operated in blog format, which would be private so as to encourage heightened bravery about posting your work. Members would post their work, participate in themed writings (as suggested by group members on a rotating basis), and check in frequently to give constructive feedback, by way of the comments section, to other's work. The group would give its members the opportunity to not only expand their preferred writing style portfolio, but would also allow them to attempt new writing styles and genres. It would be a place for people who were sincerely interested in honing in their writing skills and who would be willing to help others hone theirs. (All of the details of my writing group vision are not yet completely focused and clear, so I'm open to suggestions on the organization and management of such a group.)
Any takers out there?
Before you give me a yes, no, or maybe, let me tell you a few of my expectations for this writing group.
I would want this to be a place for people who are serious about writing. (Notice that I didn't necessarily say brilliant at writing...this would be a group for writers at all levels, so long as they enjoyed writing enough to take membership in the group seriously.) I would expect members to be brave enough and committed enough to post their work actively and consistently, whether it be a part of a themed writing or just something wanting feedback. I would also expect members to check in frequently to read and give kind-but-constructive comments on work that has been posted. Active participation would be key because without it we'd have no group.
So again I ask: anyone interested?
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
where 2007 took me
Just saw this on another blog and thought I'd be a little copy-cat. And so now I will list for you all of the places I spent at least one night at in the year 2007:
If all goes according to plan, 2008 will hopefully include places such as
So now, for the sake of the conversation I could use a bit of this quiet, cloudy day, what was YOUR 2007 like and/or where do you anticipate 2008 will take you?
- Muncie, Indiana
- Mascoutah, Illinois
- a rest stop outside Des Moines, Iowa
- Provo, Utah
- Mascoutah, Illinois - again.
- Nauvoo, Illinois/Fort Madison, Iowa
- a rest stop outside Wheeling, West Virginia
- Brooklyn, New York
- Pittsfield, Massachusetts
- Pittsfield, Massachusetts - again
- Provo, Utah - again
If all goes according to plan, 2008 will hopefully include places such as
- Brooklyn, New York, because I'm not in the mood to move again this year;
- Pittsfield, Massachusetts, to cling to the only branch of family we have in these parts;
- Rockaway Beach, Oregon, for a family reunion;
- Issaquah, Washington, to see Blake's grandparents while we're in the Northwest;
- Washington, D.C. and/or Boston, Massachusetts, if we're feeling brave enough for the Chinatown bus;
So now, for the sake of the conversation I could use a bit of this quiet, cloudy day, what was YOUR 2007 like and/or where do you anticipate 2008 will take you?
Monday, January 14, 2008
rules to write by
I was pretty (pretty? no make that extremely) flattered when the other day I clicked to read one of my favorite blogs and discovered that she considers me one "of the best writers out there" and consequently nominated me for a ROAR for Powerful Words award. Wow! What an honor! I don't know what ROAR stands for, but my understanding of what being a recipient of the award means is that I get to share with you three of my writing rules and then pick three more writers whose mad writing skills (or is that skillz?) also deserve to be recognized. So here we go.
1. Choose your words, punctuation, grammar, and the construction of your sentences wisely and to your advantage. It's amazing how much more you can say, and with an extra umph of power, if you spend the time to sculpt your writing.
2. Be creative. Instead of the same old boring format, try to find new ways to tell your story.
3. Come full circle. All of my English teachers (and yours, too) weren't kidding when they taught the importance of referring back to your introduction in your conclusion. But at the same time, don't restrict yourself to rigid five-paragraph essay format. You can come full circle and be clever about it, too.
And since I apparently can't stick to just three rules, here's two more...
4. Keep your audience in mind and use the relationship you've worked hard to establish to your advantage.
5. Revise, proofread, edit, and tweak. You'll be glad you did.
Anyway, thanks again, Hollywood! Your compliments made my day!
And now, the passing of the torch. Would
*Sorry, her blog is private, so a lot of you out there don't get to read her clever writing. Maybe, Kimberlie, you could post your rules in the comments section here as well as on your blog so that those outside your blog circle can learn from your genius?
1. Choose your words, punctuation, grammar, and the construction of your sentences wisely and to your advantage. It's amazing how much more you can say, and with an extra umph of power, if you spend the time to sculpt your writing.
2. Be creative. Instead of the same old boring format, try to find new ways to tell your story.
3. Come full circle. All of my English teachers (and yours, too) weren't kidding when they taught the importance of referring back to your introduction in your conclusion. But at the same time, don't restrict yourself to rigid five-paragraph essay format. You can come full circle and be clever about it, too.
And since I apparently can't stick to just three rules, here's two more...
4. Keep your audience in mind and use the relationship you've worked hard to establish to your advantage.
5. Revise, proofread, edit, and tweak. You'll be glad you did.
Anyway, thanks again, Hollywood! Your compliments made my day!
And now, the passing of the torch. Would
- Michelle at These Are Words that Go Together Well,
- Lizardbreath McGee at Random Meanderings, and
- Mommy of Three at I Capture the Chaos*
*Sorry, her blog is private, so a lot of you out there don't get to read her clever writing. Maybe, Kimberlie, you could post your rules in the comments section here as well as on your blog so that those outside your blog circle can learn from your genius?
Sunday, January 13, 2008
for my sister, on her birthday
Today my youngest sister, Chelsea, turns 14. When I moved away from home to go to school, she was a short, adorable, playful 6-year-old. When I got married and moved to the Midwest, she was a cute and growing taller 9-year-old. When I saw her last month at Christmas, she'd suddenly blossomed into a beautiful young woman. I wish I could have been around more to see the latter half of her growing up years, but I've loved every second of the times that I have been able to spend with her and am so pleased at how well she's turned out.
Chelsea is one of the sweetest, happiest, smiliest girls you will ever meet. She is kind and genuine and just gullible enough to have a fantastic time with.
Chelsea is one of the sweetest, happiest, smiliest girls you will ever meet. She is kind and genuine and just gullible enough to have a fantastic time with.
Happy birthday, Chelsea!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
day at the museum
So far as we're aware, the animals and figures do not come to life at night like they did in the movie. Of course, we were there in the safety of daytime, so I suppose we're not a good authority on what happens after hours. Either way, though, a visit to see the American Museum of Natural History is well worth the excursion.
(Sorry about the handful of blurry pictures...it would seem that maybe those animals might get antsy after all since I apparently had such a hard time getting some of them to hold still for the camera.)
(Sorry about the handful of blurry pictures...it would seem that maybe those animals might get antsy after all since I apparently had such a hard time getting some of them to hold still for the camera.)
Thursday, January 10, 2008
ex libris: my own confessions
Or, Anne Fadiman and I Sure Seem to Have a
“Marrying Libraries”
“Scorn Not the Sonnet”
“Never Do That to a Book”
“Words on a Flyleaf”
“You Are There”
r/ “Inse^t a Carrot” e/
“Eternal Ink”
“The Catalogical Imperative”
“My Ancestral Castles”
“Sharing the Mayhem”
“The P.M.’s Empire of Books”
“Secondhand Prose”
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
that baby
Something in my gut tells me that we have a lot of family out there (as well as, I'm guessing, a few friends) who are suffering from Post-Christmas Live-Action Garrett Withdrawals. And so especially for you folks, today we took some live-action footage. Here is That Baby showcasing his ever-developing talent to sit (mostly) by himself. The video also highlights his newly acquired affinity for plush duck bills.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
secret recipe no more
About five and a half years ago, shortly after I moved into my new apartment complex at the beginning of my junior year at BYU, an apartment of boys, in an obvious attempt to make themselves known to the girls, knocked on our door to borrow a baking sheet so that they could make some cookies. (I imagine that they had nothing for said cookies except an oven and the flirtatious idea to beg the other necessary tools and ingredients from the apartments of just-moved-in girls in exchange for a taste of their freshly baked goods.)
A few hours after we lent out our cookie sheet, the boys came back to return it and to pay us with the fruits of their baking labors. The cookies they made were surprisingly delicious: a simple looking chocolate cookie on the outside with warm, melted caramel on the inside. We complimented them on a job well done and asked if they'd share the recipe. Flirtatious as ever, we were told, nope, it was a secret recipe.
In the years since I've thought back fondly on those cookies because, to be honest, they were heavenly. After some conversations with friends, as well as a few online searches of my own, I am most pleased to report that their recipe is a secret no longer. I found a recipe that seemed pretty close the other night, and this afternoon, after altering it slightly, I successfully baked (and now you can, too)...
Rolo Cookies
(or, as it was in my case, Leftover Christmas Caramel-Filled Hershey's Kisses Cookies)
2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup sugar
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 cup softened butter
2 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
48 Rolos (or another caramel-filled milk chocolate candy), unwrapped
Heat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly spoon flour into measuring cup and level off. In a small bowl, combine flour, cocoa, and baking soda; blend well. In a large bowl, cream sugar, brown sugar, and butter. Add vanilla and eggs; beat well. Add flour mixture; blend well. With lightly floured hands, shape about 1 tablespoon of dough around 1 Rolo, covering completely; repeat for each cookie. Bake at 375 degrees for 7-10 minutes, or until set and slightly cracked. Cool 2 minutes, then remove from cookie sheet to cool on wire rack.
Yum yum....sweet chocolately caramely goodness.
A few hours after we lent out our cookie sheet, the boys came back to return it and to pay us with the fruits of their baking labors. The cookies they made were surprisingly delicious: a simple looking chocolate cookie on the outside with warm, melted caramel on the inside. We complimented them on a job well done and asked if they'd share the recipe. Flirtatious as ever, we were told, nope, it was a secret recipe.
In the years since I've thought back fondly on those cookies because, to be honest, they were heavenly. After some conversations with friends, as well as a few online searches of my own, I am most pleased to report that their recipe is a secret no longer. I found a recipe that seemed pretty close the other night, and this afternoon, after altering it slightly, I successfully baked (and now you can, too)...
Rolo Cookies
(or, as it was in my case, Leftover Christmas Caramel-Filled Hershey's Kisses Cookies)
2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup sugar
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 cup softened butter
2 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
48 Rolos (or another caramel-filled milk chocolate candy), unwrapped
Heat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly spoon flour into measuring cup and level off. In a small bowl, combine flour, cocoa, and baking soda; blend well. In a large bowl, cream sugar, brown sugar, and butter. Add vanilla and eggs; beat well. Add flour mixture; blend well. With lightly floured hands, shape about 1 tablespoon of dough around 1 Rolo, covering completely; repeat for each cookie. Bake at 375 degrees for 7-10 minutes, or until set and slightly cracked. Cool 2 minutes, then remove from cookie sheet to cool on wire rack.
Yum yum....sweet chocolately caramely goodness.
Monday, January 07, 2008
calling the shots
For six beautiful months, Garrett has reigned supreme. But it's high time for someone else to be calling the shots around here. And so today marks the beginning of my official attempt to put Garrett on a schedule.
Our day, more or less, has gone pretty much like this:
I think the better-monitored schedule is so far doing us both a bit of good. I can manage my time and tasks better, with pleasantly productive results, and Garrett, whether he's aware of it or not, is definitely benefiting. He LOVED our little adventure on the park swings:
Which isn't to say he didn't enjoy the swings last time, but, see, we've turned over a new, scheduled leaf, which makes all of us happier.
Our day, more or less, has gone pretty much like this:
- got up, got dressed, ate
- out the door by 8:15 to get grocery shopping done before morning nap time
- first nap at roughly 10:00 - he slept for nearly 2 hours!
- a bottle for lunch
- because it's, like, 60 degrees outside (I know - in January!!), we went for a walk to the park and to the library
- back at home, time for a solid food snack
- practiced sitting, was tickled, and played with toys on the living room floor
- down for the afternoon nap at about 3:00
- wake up from nap; eat bottle, somewhere between 4:00 and 5:00
- play
- eat solids (around 6:00) so we'll have a happy baby to deal with while I work on dinner
- take a bath
- play
- bottle (8:30ish)
- bed (9:00ish)
I think the better-monitored schedule is so far doing us both a bit of good. I can manage my time and tasks better, with pleasantly productive results, and Garrett, whether he's aware of it or not, is definitely benefiting. He LOVED our little adventure on the park swings:
Which isn't to say he didn't enjoy the swings last time, but, see, we've turned over a new, scheduled leaf, which makes all of us happier.
spending my pennies
I have finally been able to save enough pennies (nearly 10,000 of them to be almost exact) and it's time to invest in my much coveted new baby carrier. But I'm stumped as to what color to choose. Maybe you can help me decide:
black with green lining,
black with green lining,
blue with green lining, or
cranberry.So help! I can't decide!
Friday, January 04, 2008
belonging
It hit me pretty strongly while I was there for the holidays that I no longer belong in Provo. Macey's is no longer my grocery store, I no longer belong on the campus of BYU (or Provo High, or Dixon Middle, or Grandview Elementary either, for that matter), and, though I'll probably always know how to wind my way around the back roads through town, it is no longer a place I can say I belong at. For 23 years it was a great place to call home, and, for as long as I've got family and friends living there, it will be a place that I love to visit. But Provo is no longer home for me.
As much as I enjoyed the two years we spent there for graduate school, it only makes sense that, now that Blake has graduated, I no longer belong in Muncie. I will forever treasure the friendships that were formed there, I loved the opportunities we took to explore the green and farm-filled Midwest, and I loved the feeling of purpose I got through the support I gave to Blake, through the job I daily worked at, and through the positions I held at church. But Muncie is no longer my home.
It only seems right that, since Brooklyn is my home now, that I should feel like I belong here. But I don't yet.
I don't feel like I am aggressive enough to fit in with my native Brooklyn neighbors, nor am I an immigrant from an exotically foreign country. I don't have a out-of-the-home job that introduces me to new people, and either because they work long hours in Manhattan or don't understand English, the only people in my building who I know are the Polish supers. I am a rare breed in this relatively well-off neighborhood in that the child I tote around with me on errands is not one that I have been hired as a nanny to take of, but is, rather, my own, and because I stay home to raise him, there is no need for me to get in with the daycare crowd.
For a variety of reasons, including the fact that I was whisked to away to a lovely, yet hidden, calling as nursery leader, the weak communication between the Primary and Relief Society organizations in our ward that has kept me from knowing what my visiting teaching route is, the language barriers that have made it difficult for me find who I'm supposed to talk to to remedy that, and also because I have not yet had the courage and energy to put forth the necessary effort, I do not yet feel like I belong to my Brooklyn ward. Though the people in the ward are indescribably nice, we all live relatively far apart and lead very different lives, and I'm still lacking a similarly situated close friend who can help fill my quiet days with the conversations my six-month-old can't have with me.
I have, in short, had a bit of trouble finding my niche here, a place to fit in, that feeling of belonging.
But I realized yesterday that, while feeling like I belong in my ward and getting to know the other people in my building are things that I still desire, I have perhaps forgotten to focus on the reality that there are, in fact, a few places here in Brooklyn where I do belong.
I belong at the laundromat. Every Tuesday morning when I haul our dirty clothes the few blocks to wash them, I am accompanied by the same two other women also there to wash their family's pile of laundry. And even though we don't know each other's names, we do know each other's faces, and while our clothes churn in the washers and toss in the dryers and get folded on the counters, we engage in pleasant conversations. They tell me about their children, most of whom are grown, and I let them coo over Garrett, who, to the surprise and wonderment of them, as well as the Chinese lady who owns the laundromat, usually sleeps peacefully and adorably in the Snugli while I go about my work. "God bless," they tell me each week as I bid them goodbye. "We'll see you next week."
I also belong at my local Rite Aid. A healthy handful of employees, including the security guard, the cashier, one of the pharmacy techs, and a friendly floor employee, recognize me as the regular which I've become and Garrett as the teddy bear he turned into this winter. As with the laundromat, we know faces and not names, but I can't help but feel like I belong when the gruff security guard exclaims as I walk through the door, "Cute, cute baby! Here - I'll hold him while you shop," or when the heavily Brooklyn-accented cashier sighs for the umpteenth time over that sweet baby I always have with me. And it made me all kinds of happy when, yesterday, as I ran in to buy a package of batteries, the floor employee, who, several months ago, was a part of the conversation at the pharmacy counter where I explained the reason why my prescription came from an Indiana doctor rather than a Brooklyn one, stopped me in my tracks to say, "Hey, I wanted to ask you - what do you think of a New York New Year's compared with a Midwestern one? I'll bet it's a lot louder here."
And so, in a strange sort of way, I am starting to belong here in Brooklyn. I realize that truly belonging anywhere takes time as well as effort and, seeing as I've only been here for a few months, this is only a beginning. I still have names to learn and a close, drop-in-anytime sort of friend to find, but it's more than a little relieving for me to realize that the beginnings of my belonging here are starting to get established.
As much as I enjoyed the two years we spent there for graduate school, it only makes sense that, now that Blake has graduated, I no longer belong in Muncie. I will forever treasure the friendships that were formed there, I loved the opportunities we took to explore the green and farm-filled Midwest, and I loved the feeling of purpose I got through the support I gave to Blake, through the job I daily worked at, and through the positions I held at church. But Muncie is no longer my home.
It only seems right that, since Brooklyn is my home now, that I should feel like I belong here. But I don't yet.
I don't feel like I am aggressive enough to fit in with my native Brooklyn neighbors, nor am I an immigrant from an exotically foreign country. I don't have a out-of-the-home job that introduces me to new people, and either because they work long hours in Manhattan or don't understand English, the only people in my building who I know are the Polish supers. I am a rare breed in this relatively well-off neighborhood in that the child I tote around with me on errands is not one that I have been hired as a nanny to take of, but is, rather, my own, and because I stay home to raise him, there is no need for me to get in with the daycare crowd.
For a variety of reasons, including the fact that I was whisked to away to a lovely, yet hidden, calling as nursery leader, the weak communication between the Primary and Relief Society organizations in our ward that has kept me from knowing what my visiting teaching route is, the language barriers that have made it difficult for me find who I'm supposed to talk to to remedy that, and also because I have not yet had the courage and energy to put forth the necessary effort, I do not yet feel like I belong to my Brooklyn ward. Though the people in the ward are indescribably nice, we all live relatively far apart and lead very different lives, and I'm still lacking a similarly situated close friend who can help fill my quiet days with the conversations my six-month-old can't have with me.
I have, in short, had a bit of trouble finding my niche here, a place to fit in, that feeling of belonging.
But I realized yesterday that, while feeling like I belong in my ward and getting to know the other people in my building are things that I still desire, I have perhaps forgotten to focus on the reality that there are, in fact, a few places here in Brooklyn where I do belong.
I belong at the laundromat. Every Tuesday morning when I haul our dirty clothes the few blocks to wash them, I am accompanied by the same two other women also there to wash their family's pile of laundry. And even though we don't know each other's names, we do know each other's faces, and while our clothes churn in the washers and toss in the dryers and get folded on the counters, we engage in pleasant conversations. They tell me about their children, most of whom are grown, and I let them coo over Garrett, who, to the surprise and wonderment of them, as well as the Chinese lady who owns the laundromat, usually sleeps peacefully and adorably in the Snugli while I go about my work. "God bless," they tell me each week as I bid them goodbye. "We'll see you next week."
I also belong at my local Rite Aid. A healthy handful of employees, including the security guard, the cashier, one of the pharmacy techs, and a friendly floor employee, recognize me as the regular which I've become and Garrett as the teddy bear he turned into this winter. As with the laundromat, we know faces and not names, but I can't help but feel like I belong when the gruff security guard exclaims as I walk through the door, "Cute, cute baby! Here - I'll hold him while you shop," or when the heavily Brooklyn-accented cashier sighs for the umpteenth time over that sweet baby I always have with me. And it made me all kinds of happy when, yesterday, as I ran in to buy a package of batteries, the floor employee, who, several months ago, was a part of the conversation at the pharmacy counter where I explained the reason why my prescription came from an Indiana doctor rather than a Brooklyn one, stopped me in my tracks to say, "Hey, I wanted to ask you - what do you think of a New York New Year's compared with a Midwestern one? I'll bet it's a lot louder here."
And so, in a strange sort of way, I am starting to belong here in Brooklyn. I realize that truly belonging anywhere takes time as well as effort and, seeing as I've only been here for a few months, this is only a beginning. I still have names to learn and a close, drop-in-anytime sort of friend to find, but it's more than a little relieving for me to realize that the beginnings of my belonging here are starting to get established.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
tags because i'm tired
The last few days have been spent plowing through yet another pile of laundry and ironing (it's apparently never ending), sorting through Garrett's outgrown and next-size clothes (again...he grows too fast!), and taking care of a few other rather uninteresting post-vacation odds and ends (such as cleaning out my email inbox and replacing the mold-spawning shower curtain). I personally see no reason to delve into these boring topics any deeper than I already have. And because last night was rather long and wakeful, what with my stinker-pot baby who decided to lose his binky at midnight, wake up to play at 1:30, talk to himself at 2:00, needed a new diaper at 3:30 and a bottle at 6:30, and somewhere in between all that having to deal with our chirping carbon monoxide detector, which thought the middle of the night was a nice time to remind us to change its batteries, I am consequently a little exhausted. So I think today I'm going to plead uncreative and instead participate in the few tags I've been the recipient of over the last month or so.
From Jessica:
What is his name? Blake
How long have you been married? since April 23, 2005.
How long did you date? longer than most of the other couples in our singles ward...dated for about 10 months, engaged for 6 months.
How old is he? just turned 27.
Who eats more? probably him.
Who is taller? he is, but only by about 3 inches.
Who sings better? I do. But that's not saying much.
Who is smarter? depends on the topic. He's a wiz at all things philosophical and mathematical, and I help him with his grammar.
Whose temper is worse? probably mine. But I'm good at blaming that on the hormones.
Who does the dishes? I wash, he dries. Except for those nights when the dish drainer does the drying.
Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? he does.
Who pays the bills? I do. But these days he's the one bringing home the bacon.
Who mows the lawn? ah, the perks of apartment life.
Who cooks dinner? I do.
Who drives when you are together? the subway conductor and/or bus driver. In our car-owning days, though, he did, usually. I'm not a big fan of driving.
Who is more stubborn? we're both pretty stubborn
Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? neither of us (see above). The arguments usually just fade and are quickly forgotten.
Whose parents do you see the most? seeing as, according to google maps, we live 2,204 miles away from mine and 1,825 miles away from his, we don't see either very often. We try to keep our visits as equal as possible, though.
Who proposed? he did
Who has more siblings? I'm the oldest of six, and he's the oldest of five, so I win this one.
Who wears the pants in the family? I think we both do.
From Kristen:
From Jessica:
What is his name? Blake
How long have you been married? since April 23, 2005.
How long did you date? longer than most of the other couples in our singles ward...dated for about 10 months, engaged for 6 months.
How old is he? just turned 27.
Who eats more? probably him.
Who is taller? he is, but only by about 3 inches.
Who sings better? I do. But that's not saying much.
Who is smarter? depends on the topic. He's a wiz at all things philosophical and mathematical, and I help him with his grammar.
Whose temper is worse? probably mine. But I'm good at blaming that on the hormones.
Who does the dishes? I wash, he dries. Except for those nights when the dish drainer does the drying.
Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? he does.
Who pays the bills? I do. But these days he's the one bringing home the bacon.
Who mows the lawn? ah, the perks of apartment life.
Who cooks dinner? I do.
Who drives when you are together? the subway conductor and/or bus driver. In our car-owning days, though, he did, usually. I'm not a big fan of driving.
Who is more stubborn? we're both pretty stubborn
Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? neither of us (see above). The arguments usually just fade and are quickly forgotten.
Whose parents do you see the most? seeing as, according to google maps, we live 2,204 miles away from mine and 1,825 miles away from his, we don't see either very often. We try to keep our visits as equal as possible, though.
Who proposed? he did
Who has more siblings? I'm the oldest of six, and he's the oldest of five, so I win this one.
Who wears the pants in the family? I think we both do.
From Kristen:
A- Attached or Single? attached
B- Best Friend? I have been blessed with many and honestly can't choose.
C- Cake or Pie? cake if it's chocolate, pie if it's lemon meringue.
D- Day of Choice? Saturday, but Thursday is a close second.
E- Essential Item? blank paper and a pen.
F- Favorite color? blue. Except for those times when it's red.
G- Gummy Bears or Worms? there's a difference? Though, I have to admit, chocolate covered cinnamon bears are surprisingly tasty.
H- Hometown? Provo, Utah. Really. I didn't just emerge from that city as a BYU alum.
I- Favorite Indulgence? currently, it's lime-flavored tortilla chips.
J- January or July? I can't argue with January as it's my birthday month, but July is so much warmer.
K- Kids? Yes, Garrett: the whitest baby in Brooklyn.
L- Life isn't complete without? people to enjoy it with.
M- Marriage Date? April 23, 2005.
N- Number of Brothers and Sisters? 3 brothers and 2 sisters.
O- Oranges or apples? oranges in the winter, apples in the fall.
P- Phobias or fears? the list would be too long, so I'll just name the silliest: Santa Claus.
Q- Quote? "We shall not cease from exploration/And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time." - from "Little Gidding" by T. S. Eliot
R- Reason to smile? listening to Garrett's very contagious laugh.
S- Season of choice? I used to say winter, but then I wizened up. Then I said fall, but that can be a disappointment because winter follows too closely. Summer's rather hot, so I guess that leaves me with spring.
U- Unknown fact about me? I'm good at putting things in places too safe for me to find later.
V- Vegetable? carrots
W- Worst habit? currently I'm very guilty of leaving a trail of used tissues in my wake. Hopefully I can kick this cold's trash soon!
X- X-ray or ultrasound? x-rays of my crooked spine or ultrasounds of my developing baby? I think the answer is obvious.
Z- Zodiac sign? aquarius.
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