"A Run in the Park"

So, as long as we're working on posting the "extraordinary-to-be-found-in-the-ordinary" sorts of things as they come along, I will share a delightful little email my daughter EL received from her 70-something grandfather. He had apparently been using his WiiFit.

Dear EL,

Some happy thoughts fluttered through my mind when I took "a run in the park" and you were my guide. That was yesterday. Today, a grey cat guided me.  Love, Opa

Finding Gumption

It has been two months since I last wrote here.  That is unbelievable to me; but, then again, not really.

I wrote something a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving and here it is a month after Christmas.  I sort of just skipped two months!  Well, of blogging, yes.  Of life, not a chance!

I absolutely love the whole "holiday season."  I love Advent and all the Christmas traditions our family has come to love and enjoy.  The links are to posts from last year, where I wrote about those things.  It felt silly to write about them again this year.  And yet, in that beautiful, cyclical, ordinary way that life has of just marching on, it came around again.  We pulled out the Advent Banner again.  The kids shopped for each other again.  We once again made deliberate strides to skip the whole materialistic, "obligatory gift" overspend and to buy one large family gift of something we need but can't really afford if we blow hundreds of dollars on possibly-wanted-but-of-dubious-value stuff.  (This year: electronic collars for the dogs.  When you've tragically lost a beloved pet to the highway that borders your side yard, you get a little paranoid when your dogs are running around the backyard park not on a leash.  But when you have an English white lab, you absolutely must make allowances for running around the yard without a leash!  Hence, this year's family gift.  Those buggers are expensive!!)

At any rate, I've noticed that--as with all things--anything that is habitual and good, but that you get away from for a while, will be hard to get going again.  Consider flossing.  Working out.  That morning prayer time with your spouse.  Those evening gatherings with your kids.  All of these kinds of things take conviction... and commitment... and gumption to get back to them when life--or the Enemy of Your Soul, who hates all habitual, good things that you deliberately put in place in your life--finds you having abandoned them.  Blogging is one such sort of thing for me right now.  As each new un-blogged day passes, I find myself less likely to open the browser and go for it.  Too much else to do.  Too much I'm thinking about.  Not enough time to write.

What will I say?  What will possibly seem important enough to have been "worth the wait"?  Whatever I post after two months will likely seem inane and silly.  Why do I do this thing anyway?

I "do this thing anyway" because it is an exercise in capturing life... some big, important things I'm deeply pondering.  Some little, ordinary things that I want to remember.  You know... scrapbooking, for the rest of us.

I think of so many things I should have posted but didn't.  Cousins came to visit from Atlanta, and we all played in thirteen inches of snow!  (This never happens where I live!)  New calves were born at the farm where we get our milk.  My eldest daughter got her driver's license.  Big life events that I didn't capture here, but could have.

There were also countless little things... little things that caught my attention or warmed my heart.  Many of these were likely forgotten, because I didn't grab the moment and immortalize it through words.  So, here's just one, remembered because it was only yesterday.  Yesterday I walked into my bathroom, mid-morning, to find my youngest daughter in my bathtub... reading her history book!  She was surrounded by flickering candles, immersed in warm water.  Nate Saint, of whom she's reading right now, was coming alive in her mind... and she was enjoying the warmth of a mid-morning bath.  (This is one of the lesser known lovely perks of homeschooling: the mid-morning bath, complete with history book.)

If I could have gotten away with a photo to capture the memory in my mind, I would have.  For obvious reasons, however, I did not do so, and so it must live on here in words.  And thus I am reminded of the value of the silly little blog post, important to possibly no one but me.

Creation Calls

How Does A Homeschooler Change A Lightbulb?

This appeared in the HEAV Homeschool Update email that arrived today.  It made me smile.  I have often been guilty as charged... enough so that my daughter EV asked, laughing, "Did you write that?"

How Does a Homeschooler Change a Light Bulb?
First, mom checks three books on electricity out of the library; then the kids make models of light bulbs, read a biography of Thomas Edison, and do a skit based on his life. Next, everyone studies the history of lighting methods, wrapping up with dipping their own candles. Then, everyone takes a trip to the store where they compare types of light bulbs as well as prices and figure out how much change they'll get if they buy two bulbs for $1.99 and pay with a five-dollar bill.

On the way home, a discussion develops over the history of money and also Abraham Lincoln, as his picture is on the five-dollar bill. Finally, after building a homemade ladder out of branches dragged from the woods, the light bulb is installed. And there is light.
- Author Unknown

Imagine

Recently I received an email from a friend which contained a video attachment of a recording of John Lennon's "Imagine" featuring Deaf and hearing students signing and singing together.  (I'm assuming that it must be from the television show "Glee," which I've never seen.) I think she sent it to me because she knows that my daughters and I are all learning ASL (American Sign Language), and she (rightly) assumed that we would enjoy seeing the interpretation and song-signing of the Deaf students in that group.  It is a moving and enjoyable video.

That, I would venture to say, is part of the problem.  It is moving.  It is inspiring.  Seeing all the kids joining together to sign the song was a beautiful reflection of the message of unity and brotherhood attempted in that song.  However, we can't ignore the fact that the ultimate "peace" that is sought in the song "Imagine" is at the expense of Truth and reality. 

True peace (with God and with our fellow man) does not come when we abandon the realities of heaven and hell and just "live for today."  And while it is true that the "religion" of man, if void of relationship with the living God, is fruitless, it is not true that the idea of abandoning the Truth of our religion, Christianity, leads to a better way of life.  It leads to a less full life here, and to a life of eternal damnation after death. 

"I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and no one comes to the Father but by Me," Jesus said.  Seemingly "exclusive"?  Yes.  Incredibly divisive?  YES!  But that is the Truth upon which we stand.  And every day hundreds of believers around the world are murdered or tortured for their faith in God through Jesus. 

So, while one day there will be "no countries" (once Jesus has returned to take His children home to heaven), the reality we live in now is that there are many things "to kill or die for," because of the injustices foisted on our fellow human beings--particularly believers--by the unjust governments of those countries.  Many of our brave men and women in the armed forces, and those living on the mission field, are willingly facing this injustice in order to bring the Truth of the Gospel--or at least the beautiful freedom that makes the sharing of the message of the Gospel possible--to those lands where it is currently forbidden.

And so to "join them (those who dream of his 'better' life)"--as John Lennon indicates he hopes people will--would lead ultimately to a life here on Earth without relationship to God, which results in an eternal separation from Him in the life to come.   "Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels," Jesus said.

So, while it may have been a "great video," unfortunately, it is not a great song.  And things like this, when they move us--and it is a moving video--make a great impression on us.  I do long for the day when there will be true peace--and we will truly live as one in heaven--but in the meantime I also hope to be faithful to debunk these false messages about false hope in "the brotherhood of man" at the expense of belief in the ONLY true Way to get there, Jesus.

May I always share these truths with love, gentleness, and grace as well as boldness!

On a lighter note, here is a humorous rendition of this song, Tim Hawkins style.

An Allegory

Apparently my 9-year-old daughter knows me better than I realized.  The following paragraphs, which she wrote for a school assignment, "remind (her) of (me)," she said.  She is so dear... and life is so precious... and the moments are so fleeting!  I'm reminded again to savor every moment...

The dog ambled through the almost endless field; she lifted her head into the dimly lit sky and took in the sweet aroma of the spring air.  She imagined her small puppies leaping through this field, playing together by the tall trees.

The field's deep grass was damp from the storm the night before; it swayed and sang a song with the wind.  The dog imagined her small puppies growing and growing until they were gone and imagining their own puppies just like she was.  A tear came to her eye.  She knew she couldn't stop this from happening, and she realized how much she was going to miss them when this did happen...

She loved her puppies and this field, and that was all that mattered right now.

"How to Raise Boys Who Read"

This morning, I finally got around to reading an Op-Ed article from the Wall Street Journal entitled "How to Raise Boys Who Read," (subtitled "Hint: Not with gross-out books and video game bribes").  It mentions the popular but failing philosophy in many homes and schools today--just get them reading something, even if it is silly, gross, absurd, and banal--because  their tastes will eventually mature.  Ridiculous.  No young (or older) boy (or girl, for that matter) develops the attention, focus, persistence, and hard work necessary to read something other than mindless drivel--full of short, choppy sentences and crass humor--if he has not been fed a steady diet of challenging, high-quality children's literature.  And no book like that can compete with video games.  TV.  The Internet.

As the famous saying goes, "The secret is, that there is no damn secret."

It is a fantastic, thought-provoking article.  I would highly recommend that you read it in its entirety.  And it occurs to me that articles posted online are often

removed, leaving the article unavailable for reading later on.  So, actually, here it is:

Published in the Wall-Street Journal Opinion Journal
September 24, 2010

How to Raise Boys Who Read

Hint: Not with gross-out books and video-game bribes.

By Thomas Spence

When I was a young boy, America's elite schools and universities were almost entirely reserved for males. That seems incredible now, in an era when headlines suggest that boys are largely unfit for the classroom. In particular, they can't read.

According to a recent report from the Center on Education Policy, for example, substantially more boys than girls score below the proficiency level on the annual National Assessment of Educational Progress reading test. This disparity goes back to 1992, and in some states the percentage of boys proficient in reading is now more than ten points below that of girls. The male-female reading gap is found in every socio-economic and ethnic category, including the children of white, college-educated parents.

The good news is that influential people have noticed this problem. The bad news is that many of them have perfectly awful ideas for solving it.

Everyone agrees that if boys don't read well, it's because they don't read enough. But why don't they read? A considerable number of teachers and librarians believe that boys are simply bored by the "stuffy" literature they encounter in school. According to a revealing Associated Press story in July these experts insist that we must "meet them where they are"—that is, pander to boys' untutored tastes.

For elementary- and middle-school boys, that means "books that exploit [their] love of bodily functions and gross-out humor." AP reported that one school librarian treats her pupils to "grossology" parties. "Just get 'em reading," she counsels cheerily. "Worry about what they're reading later."

Not with 'gross-out' books and video-game bribes.

There certainly is no shortage of publishers ready to meet boys where they are. Scholastic has profitably catered to the gross-out market for years with its "Goosebumps" and "Captain Underpants" series. Its latest bestsellers are the "Butt Books," a series that began with "The Day My Butt Went Psycho."

The more venerable houses are just as willing to aim low. Penguin, which once used the slogan, "the library of every educated person," has its own "Gross Out" line for boys, including such new classics as "Sir Fartsalot Hunts the Booger."

Workman Publishing made its name telling women "What to Expect When You're Expecting." How many of them expected they'd be buying "Oh, Yuck! The Encyclopedia of Everything Nasty" a few years later from the same publisher? Even a self-published author like Raymond Bean—nom de plume of the fourth-grade teacher who wrote "SweetFarts"—can make it big in this genre. His flatulence-themed opus hit no. 3 in children's humor on Amazon. The sequel debuts this fall.

Education was once understood as training for freedom. Not merely the transmission of information, education entailed the formation of manners and taste. Aristotle thought we should be raised "so as both to delight in and to be pained by the things that we ought; this is the right education."

"Plato before him," writes C. S. Lewis, "had said the same. The little human animal will not at first have the right responses. It must be trained to feel pleasure, liking, disgust, and hatred at those things which really are pleasant, likeable, disgusting, and hateful."

This kind of training goes against the grain, and who has time for that? How much easier to meet children where they are.

One obvious problem with the SweetFarts philosophy of education is that it is more suited to producing a generation of barbarians and morons than to raising the sort of men who make good husbands, fathers and professionals. If you keep meeting a boy where he is, he doesn't go very far.

The other problem is that pandering doesn't address the real reason boys won't read. My own experience with six sons is that even the squirmiest boy does not require lurid or vulgar material to sustain his interest in a book.

So why won't boys read? The AP story drops a clue when it describes the efforts of one frustrated couple with their 13-year-old unlettered son: "They've tried bribing him with new video games." Good grief.

The appearance of the boy-girl literacy gap happens to coincide with the proliferation of video games and other electronic forms of entertainment over the last decade or two. Boys spend far more time "plugged in" than girls do. Could the reading gap have more to do with competition for boys' attention than with their supposed inability to focus on anything other than outhouse humor?

Dr. Robert Weis, a psychology professor at Denison University, confirmed this suspicion in a randomized controlled trial of the effect of video games on academic ability. Boys with video games at home, he found, spend more time playing them than reading, and their academic performance suffers substantially. Hard to believe, isn't it, but Science has spoken.

The secret to raising boys who read, I submit, is pretty simple—keep electronic media, especially video games and recreational Internet, under control (that is to say, almost completely absent). Then fill your shelves with good books.

People who think that a book—even R.L. Stine's grossest masterpiece—can compete with the powerful stimulation of an electronic screen are kidding themselves. But on the level playing field of a quiet den or bedroom, a good book like "Treasure Island" will hold a boy's attention quite as well as "Zombie Butts from Uranus." Who knows—a boy deprived of electronic stimulation might even become desperate enough to read Jane Austen.

Most importantly, a boy raised on great literature is more likely to grow up to think, to speak, and to write like a civilized man. Whom would you prefer to have shaped the boyhood imagination of your daughter's husband—Raymond Bean or Robert Louis Stevenson?

I offer a final piece of evidence that is perhaps unanswerable: There is no literacy gap between home-schooled boys and girls. How many of these families, do you suppose, have thrown grossology parties?

Print Friendly

Have you ever been irritated with having to print all the extraneous junk that comes up on web page articles when they don't have a "print friendly" version?  Now you can create your own, with Print Friendly!

"...parents are possessed of no constitutional right..."

Are you aware that in 2005, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals found in Fields v. Palmdale School District “that the Meyer-Pierce right [of parents to direct the upbringing of their children] does not exist beyond the threshold of the school door.”  

Further, they declared that, "Parents...have no constitutional right...to prevent a public school from providing its students with whatever information it wishes to provide, sexual or otherwise, when and as the school determines that it is appropriate to do so."

“We conclude that the parents are possessed of no constitutional right to prevent the public schools from providing information on that subject [sexuality] to their students in any forum or manner they select” (emphasis added).

Hmmm...

If this doesn't frighten you and cause you concern, I would like to direct you to a book I recently read called You're Teaching My Child What? A Physician Exposes the Lies of Sex Education and How They Harm Your Child by Miriam Grossman, M.D.  If you are a parent, you cannot afford not to read this book.  Be prepared to be shocked and appalled.

Perhaps it is time for a Parental Rights Amendment.

Super-Easy Canned Tomatoes

Canning things the old-fashioned way is time-consuming and complicated, at least to someone inexperienced like me.  However, my friend Evonne has a super-easy method for canning tomatoes that works perfectly!

So, here's a healthier alternative to tomatoes packed in aluminum cans, and you can extend the healthy goodness of those oh-so-much-yummier homegrown tomatoes into the winter months.  Enjoy!

HowToType.net

HowToType.net shows you how to type special characters for Windows, Mac, and HTML.

Their self-proclaimed specialty? "How to type symbols, accents, special characters, and weird punctuation."

Just last week, I wanted to type café, and the best I could resort to was finding it written somewhere online and cutting and pasting the accented e.

Hooray for an online cheat sheet!

Continuous Chest Compression CPR

"Every three days, more Americans die from sudden cardiac arrest than the number who died in the 9-11 attacks. You can lessen this recurring loss by learning Continuous Chest Compression CPR, a hands-only CPR method that doubles a person’s chance of surviving cardiac arrest. It’s easy and does not require mouth-to-mouth contact, making it more likely bystanders will try to help, and it was developed here at the University of Arizona College of Medicine. 'This video is worth sharing,' said Gordon A. Ewy, MD, director of the UA Sarver Heart Center and one of the research pioneers who developed this method.*"



* From the Sarver Heart Center (University of Arizona's College of Medicine) article entitled "Learn Continuous Chest Compression CPR."

Today's funny quote, care of my son PT, who is reading Wuthering Heights.  Who remembered that Emily Bronte was so hilariously cheeky?

"And you, you worthless--"  he broke out as I entered, turning to his daughter-in-law, and employing an epithet as harmless as duck, or sheep, but generally represented by a dash----

Handling Facebook

Well, this post started out as a "comment" to a friend's Facebook post, but it was just getting way too long and philosophical for that venue, so I've moved it here.  It was in response to her announcement that she was taking a three-month break from Facebook, starting tomorrow, because she's been "convicted about being addicted to Facebook and the fact that it's becoming an idol in (her) life."  If this post seems a little like I'm talking to you directly, it is because I am writing with a desire to address this particular friend and her struggle.  (It is also particularly timely, in that I have just recently--reluctantly--allowed my 14-year-old son get his own Facebook account.  I am always seeking to help both him and his 16-year-old sister to navigate this world of electronic communication and social networking with responsibility and wisdom.)

First of all, far be it from me to ever step in the path of someone who is genuinely feeling convicted about the need to cease something, and then try to talk them into continuing it!  So, if you are truly feeling the conviction of the Holy Spirit in some arena (including this one), and the Lord is telling you that it is time for you to stop doing something (even if it is something permissible and fine, biblically), then you should stop doing it.  Period.

BUT, [as Pee-wee Herman used to say, "Everybody's got a big 'but'..."], if you are just feeling godly disappointment in the fact that Facebook (or watching television, or playing video games, or surfing the web, or one of any number of other potentially addictive things of this nature) has somehow come to take up too much of your time and affections--and you don't quite know how to get a handle it or what to do about it, so you're just quitting cold turkey out of desperation--then I offer the following thoughts.

(And know that I do so very reluctantly, because I do agree that our spending time with machines instead of with people--and, even more significantly, with the Lord--is a major problem facing all of us alive today.  Most all of us could use less "electronics times" than we currently allow ourselves!  [See this post for my thoughts--and some sobering statistics--about this problem.]  That said, however...)

It is a fact--and I am accepting this reluctantly, I might add--that social networking sites like Facebook (and texting, which--grrrr---isn't free!) are the primary ways in which younger generations are communicating these days.  I'm not sure how or when we got to the place where calling on a cell phone (let alone a landline!) or sending an email (let alone postal mail!) were passé forms of keeping in touch, but we're there. Of course they're still in use, but they are not the primary way that Generation Y keeps in touch.  Younger folks don't know how to "do relationship" in deep, meaningful, face-to-face ways, until they encounter it and learn it from some folks who have already learned it, committed to it, and shared it.  I have young friends who tell me that their peers are upset with them if they call rather than text to invite them somewhere--their friends don't want to have to respond to the invitation "live" on the phone (let alone in person!).  Is this resulting in people who don't know how to do relationship very well?  Absolutely!  But that is where we are, and we have to learn to make concerted efforts to join with the trend in redemptive ways. 

So, if your Facebook habits and affections have gotten out of proportion to what constitutes healthy time management--or if you just want to ensure that they never do--perhaps some self-control parameters are in order.  You can take it or leave it, or modify it to suit your life, but here's what I do to keep it--Facebook specifically--manageable in my life.

First of all, if spending too much time in chat has been--or you think it will be--a problem for you, turn it off.  Under options, "go offline."  This will keep you from getting sucked into conversations with people who are just killing time when you don't have time to kill.  If they really want to talk to you, they'll contact you some other way.

Second, if gaming has been a problem for you--or if you fear it might become one--turn it off.  I never got caught up in Facebook gaming, but--if the notifications I read when I'm in Facebook are any indication--many a friend has gotten very caught up in Farmville and Mafia Wars and the like!  If this has become problematic for you, time-wise, turn it off, or at least turn off notifications about the game, which will keep you from being forced into dealing with it unless you've specifically chosen to get online in order to play Facebook games for a few minutes.  Then you can deal with whatever has transpired since your last time playing.

After those two basic things have been taken care of--really only helpful if chatting and gaming, specifically, have been problems for you--then you get to the main strategies for handling Facebook time management.  First, be sure you're signed up to receive notifications of all Facebook activity and correspondence at your email account.  Then, choose only to get on Facebook when you get notice of something.  This takes away the obsessive feeling that sometimes develops--like you have to "know everything" and "keep up with all the news" about everyone--by keeping you off of Facebook most of the time.  Being on there a lot is what feeds the need to be on there even more... that itching feeling you develop to "check and see what's happening" with everyone.  (Young people especially--by which I mean anyone between the ages of about 12 to 35--seem to have a major problem with this aspect of things: the constant need for the moment-by-moment notifications that beep on their smartphones...)

Next, when you get there--and remember, you've only gotten onto Facebook because you've gotten an email notification about something needing your attention--then allow yourself to read one page of "top news" (the page you landed on) and one page of "most recent" posts.  Don't allow yourself to click to "older posts" in either venue.  Yes, you will "miss" a lot of things--I have missed finding out that a distant friend had a baby until the kid was like two or something!--but most of the important things will get through. That takes less than one minute to accomplish, and it is a built-in time limit.

After you do that, quickly handle whatever situation it was that brought you to Facebook in the first place.  Reply to the note, answer the friend request, look at the tagged photo--whatever thing it was you received the email notification about--and then get off.  You've already read your two allowable pages of notices and updates.  You're done.  You will have spent less than five minutes doing all of this.  Now get on with life.

For the other stuff--if you choose to allow yourself to go beyond the above parameters--impose "limits" like you will likely one day have to do with your kids.  For example, "I will spend only XX minutes a day browsing Facebook."  (You decide what's reasonable.  For my kids who have Facebook, it is 20 minutes--and only if all their work and chores are done first!)  A word to the wise: set a timer for this, or you'll lose track of time!  And the timer keeps it deliberate.  When you cross out of the limiting parameters stated above, only do so with full intention, and with the accountability of your timer.)  Another option: "I will only allow Facebook on weekends," and only for a certain amount of predetermined time.  (For our family, this is never more than an hour, and we're not like clockwork with it, either!)

Of course, you know yourself, so if you're really having trouble with it, and it isn't edifying in any way, by all means--just like anything else in your life like this--stop it!  [We don't watch TV for these reasons.]

But I am struck by the fact that in just the last week, my friend who is considering quitting Facebook would have missed the blessing of receiving the gift of a camera if she hadn't had it.  (And it is interesting to note that the friend who had discovered her lack of one--and was blessed to be able to give her this gift--found out about the need on Facebook, even while living within the above-mentioned limiting parameters and restrictions regarding its use.)

When I got on Facebook this morning, in response to a notification that I'd been tagged in a photo, I read my one page of "top news."  On it, I saw a quick comment from this friend who is considering quitting Facebook, on the Wall of a mutual friend who is in the hospital, that she was praying for her.  If she hadn't had Facebook, she wouldn't have known of our friend's hospitalization, and she would not have been praying.    [Of course, I recognize the fact that--using these parameters I've suggested--any of us might not have found out about x, y, or z on any given day.  That's okay.  We are not going to be able to know about everything that happens in the lives of hundreds of people, and still manage our own!!]

My suggestion in this regard: pray about it.  Yes, pray about Facebook!  And I don't just mean about the decisions regarding the parameters you'll put in place for its use, either.  I mean about each individual Facebook experience.

Before you get on--for anything outside the first parameters mentioned above, such as browsing around status updates using the "time limit" approach--pray that the Lord would bless your time there, and that He would use it to bless you and others in relationship.  He will lead you to the things you need to see, and it can be a rich time, relationally.

This practice of mine is similar to the practice of the "yard sale prayer list," which I've employed for many years now.  When we really need/want something, but it is just too expensive to go out and buy, I will mentally put it on my "yard sale prayer list" and ask the Lord to provide it in some other way.  I have literally furnished our home, clothed my family, and provided for our life in this way.  He ALWAYS provides the things I pray for in this way in some astonishing, very-cheap-to-free sort of ways: sometimes someone gives it to us; sometimes I find it at a yard sale, or a thrift store, or an amazing retail sale.

At any rate, He can do the same for your Facebook time, if you will take it to Him.  I ask Him to--and firmly believe that He does--lead me to just the things I need to see and know about on Facebook, whenever I go on.  I also ask Him to keep me from the things I shouldn't know about, things that might negatively affect my opinion of someone or lead me to some unfair conclusions about them.  And He directs me in how--and when, and if--to respond with my time in relationship with the things I find there.

So, if you can bring yourself to exercise self-discipline in its use, I do believe that Facebook can be a wonderful tool the Lord uses to bless you, and to bless others through you.  Like most things, however, it can also be a strangling noose around your spiritual neck--if not properly controlled and curtailed--and so I pray for great wisdom and discernment for you (as I do for myself and for my children) as you follow the Lord's leading in its use.

Enough, already!

"What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps one in a continual state of inelegance." - Jane Austen, written in a letter to a friend, 1796

I couldn't agree more!  Enough is enough, already!  Since when is down to "just in the 90's" a break?!

And my garden suffereth, too!

Extolling Hummus

Sabra Spinach and Artichoke Hummus... YUM!

Our family loves hummus.  My husband used to make our own, with tahini and everything, but we have fallen into the habit of picking up the large tubs of Sabra hummus that are for sale at Costco.  At first, we just bought the plain, which is very tasty.  Later, we really got into the Roasted Garlic and the Roasted Pine Nuts varieties.

This week my daughter spoke of a friend who had told her that she really loved the Spinach and Artichoke variety, and she doesn't even like hummus.  Well, since we love hummus--and spinach and artichokes, too-- we decided to give it a go.

It is delicious!  I often feel like I want to share when I particularly love a product.  Too bad I can't get advertising royalties for mentioning it, like those people who drive around with ads on the side of their vans or something!

Anyway, I just went into my kitchen to make a little lunch snack of it, with a clementine on the side.  It is just yummy.  Go try some!  (It is particularly good with Stacy's Simply Naked Pita Chips, which are just around the corner in the Costco aisle.)  Enjoy!

My Italian Grandmother

"I want you to pretend your kitchen has come to life as a person."

Hmmmm... This research study I'm doing is interesting to me.  The initial screening questions must have gone deeper into something besides just my cooking habits and how often, where, and when I like to eat out.  It is dubbed a "restaurant survey," but I'm still writing about my kitchen, and in an awfully figurative way that requires a level of creative thought and writing which I would think the average person doesn't practice much.

So, anyway, here goes.  My personification of my kitchen, discussing herself, and how she would feel if she met my ideal kitchen:  (Yep, that was the assignment!)

My kitchen is like an Italian grandmother, having always made something delicious and wanting you to want to eat it.  Lots of it.  She works hard with real ingredients, in real cookware... stoneware and cast iron and wood that's been lovingly oiled over years of use.

She is not at all precise with a recipe, but only because she doesn't need to be.  She knows the best teaspoons are measured in her palm, and that the bread is ready when it "smells ready."  She does want everything in its place, however, and "its place" is both practical and lovely, if it is possible for it to be.

My kitchen would be sheepish if she met my ideal kitchen.  She might feel a little insecure, but it a fiercely proud way, if she saw the larger, stainless steel stove with six burners instead of her four... with two ovens attempting to shame her one.  She would know that these things are far preferable for cooking for a large family--and for the inevitable stragglers that wander in to join them--but she has come to know and love the tools she's been given enough to shy away from coveting her neighbor's anything.  So she would blush, and blunder, and turn back to her broth with a chuckle and a sigh.

She'd turn around and give ear once again to her favorite classical music.  She loves the strains... going lovely here, and frigtening there, and loud, and soft, and gentle, and grand.  

She'll just listen to that for a moment or two, putting aside her brief struggle with discontent, and then she'll reach across the granite to gently take your hand and squeeze.  She'll let you know that it is all okay... that the momentary struggle has passed, and that this is, in fact, the best place in the world to be.

Then she'll slice you another piece, slather it thick with butter, and push it deep into your soul with a squeeze and a smile.

Shared Lifetimes

For the next assignment, I had to find a picture, and use it to write an analogy for my kitchen.  Here it is:

SHARED LIFETIMES

My kitchen is like this Italian window box.
Open, arched, reaching, reaching...

The flowers and vines grow freely
around the hearts and lives that gather here
Intertwined
Blooming
Joined, yet distinct,
as they embrace a scent 

and a taste 

and a touch.

Brown, red, orange, black,
Wood, terra cotta, stone, and iron
Wrapped around and weaving through
the lives that perch here
Some for moments,
Many for lifetimes.

Shared lifetimes
over a cookie
and a cup 

of spiced tea.

© 2010 Laurie Sitterding

My Kitchen

I really love my kitchen.  I have always loved it as the sort of "social center of the home" that the kitchen inevitably is.  But beyond just that comforting, comfortable feeling of a kitchen in general, I really love my kitchen--and all the more so since the "clean sweep" has made it all the way to this room.

So I was thrilled to find that the research survey I'm participating in this weekend has begun by asking me questions about my kitchen... both in technical descriptions and with figurative questions that probe how I feel about the room itself... and how I feel when I'm in it...

I was asked to use all of my senses as I gave a written accompaniment to the video, capturing how I feel about my kitchen and surrounding areas.  So, here it is:

There is a bit of a "living circuit" in our home... a circle formed, from the time you walk in the front door, that encompasses the entry hall, the family room, the kitchen, the dining room, and the study. When we have people over, they fill all of these areas, including the spillover to outside on the decks that are off both the kitchen and the family room.

The kitchen is definitely the "social center" of our home. In it, I prepare our meals from healthy, whole foods. I do home baking from freshly milled whole grains... I make healthy chicken and vegetable stocks by boiling the carcasses for at least 24 hours... we drink fermented beverages that we prepare ourselves in our home (kefir, kombucha, homemade yogurt, etc.)... we grow many of our own organic vegetables in our garden...

Our kitchen is always filled with a variety of delicious aromas, mostly driven by what's been baking or cooking on a given day.  On this day that I filmed my kitchen for the research survey, there was a chicken stock beginning to boil on the stove. During the filming, the scent of the rich broth began to prick at my nose, as the rolling boil began in earnest. There was the faint hint of banana cake in the air, and the suggestion of tomato and spices from the bruschetta we had eaten earlier.

A friend of mine once said, "I love to eat whatever Laurie sets out on this corner, because it is always good. Whatever is there, I eat it..." The "that corner" of which he spoke is the corner of the center island that is right there when you walk into the kitchen from the hallway or the family room. That ledge is always filled with whatever foods I'm serving, whether a full meal buffet-style, a wide array of appetizers and snacks, or a fun spread of homemade dessert with coffee and tea at the coffee bar.

My counter tops are granite, cold to the touch, but they sport a warm mix of tans and browns and greys that are pleasing and inviting to the eye. There is plenty of room to stand around the outer edges of the island, and people usually congregate there. This leaves me free to navigate through the "galley" that contains the stove and sink, and to continue to prepare and serve food as we visit. I have chosen to fill my kitchen with lots of wrought iron, wood, and stoneware. The overall effect is one of a European winery or bakery, with all the commensurate spice-y smells, and earthy pottery, and vintage cookware.

I ended by including a poem I'd once written, which captures pretty well some dimensions of how I feel about my kitchen, and about provincial decor in general.

I have another friend who is an interior designer at heart--probably since long before she studied it in college many years ago--and she's been after me--since she met me--to paint my wooden cabinets white.  I know she is much more knowledgeable than I about the style and fashion and trendiness of it all, but it has been easy to roundly refuse this suggestion.  Why?  Because I love wood... wooden bowls, wooden utensils, wooden furniture.  My kitchen is filled with it, and I love the warmth and homey-ness it adds.  So the rich brown of the wooden cabinets is a real pleasure to me.

I think Jane Austen must have been thinking in some measure of the kitchen when she said, "Ah!  There is nothing like staying at home, for real comfort"  (Emma, Chapter 32, 1815).

Swan Lake

Now granted, I recognize that I am still technically "post-partum," having experienced the hormonal plunge of a sudden end to pregnancy... and so, this might not be as moving as it somehow seemed to me when I watched it today.  Sometimes I'm a sap, and as such, this kind of marriage of beauty and accomplishment can cause tears to spring to my eyes.

These dancers are so smooth and graceful and polished that it seems flawless and natural, even as her body is put into positions that would in other contexts seem almost contortionist.  My favorite part is toward the end, when the extra male dancer comes out and almost imperceptibly shadows the pair as the ballerina does pointe on the danseur's head.  This spotter's entry and exit are barely discernible; he is just there, as extra safety during such an extraordinary feat of dancing skill.

Somehow, indirectly, vicariously almost, I felt honored and cared for as a woman as I watched that demonstration of concern for her safety, even as she perfectly executed the moves and proved his presence unnecessary.  Bravo!