Safe Bet

As I was going about my preparations for Christmas, I found I was lacking a source for food inspiration. Normally we've had the cable upgraded throughout the football season, and I've been gathering recipes and ideas there. This year we decided it just wasn't worth it, even for the Wolverines, and I was struggling to get inspired about menu planning.
Some of my menu planning is automatic. Kurt and his brother Peter always make us great pizza on Christmas Adam. My mother-in-law treats us to a dazzling array of pies--my favorite is raspberry. Stuff like that I can just pencil in and forget. The rest of it takes some planning.

I tried browsing Food Network's website, but it didn't have the same appeal as watching The Barefoot Contessa or Good Eats. Sam's Club has an excellent selection of cookbooks, some of them a bit off beat like the above, Church Suppers cookbook. In it I finally found a recipe for a blueberry, cream cheese breakfast casserole that I'd seen on Good Housekeeping and not gotten written down. My Kurt loves blueberries and I can't imagine a better treat for Christmas than a breakfast featuring his favorites. It also has an intriguing recipe for gingerbread waffles that has me thinking. However, all this stimulation just wasn't having the same affect. I needed more.
My favorite PBS cooking show is America's Test Kitchen, but we're in the middle of the local station's fundraising efforts and the schedule is all screwed up. (I want my Masterpiece Theater back! It was just getting good.) I have their Family Cookbook, but I've mined all the sorts of things I do for Christmas out of it. Fortunately Barnes and Noble sent me a coupon for a members extra 25 percent off, so I went cookbook shopping. I found The New Best Recipe Cookbook which is authored by the same group as the America's Test Kitchen guys. It is even better than the Family Cookbook. Each recipe includes an account of their trial and error testing that I find fascinating and the recipes are sensational. I'm now ready to finalize the menu and draw up the monumental shopping list.
I haven't done any baking this year. It's my concession to pregnancy. My hope is to get in the kitchen after the holidays and catch up. Kurt's taken an extravagant vacation this year, so I'll have another week after the big day to pursue holiday pleasures. Here's hoping you are having a very inspired Christmas, and not just about the menus!

Step Two

It's only the second post on this topic and the numerical approach is a farce. I was hoping that I'd fall into some sort of orderly approach, be it chronological or logical, but no such luck. As I tease the strands of my conversion apart they come off in their own peculiar order that can't be helped.
The next step I've settled on was my father's father. He was a gruff old man who built his own house and refinished furniture. He would drive from West Virginia to Pennsylvania just to enjoy a dinner at a nice little family diner he liked--usually with a load of grandchildren in the back of his pickup under the hood. He drove the whole way around 35 mph. He let me do things others didn't think I was ready to do, like scramble eggs or operate a lawn mower. He always asked me--"Who says,'Abu'?" Since my mother's mother had a weird problem with nursery rhymes, he was the one who taught me all those ancient poems, mostly by singing them to me. He usually swore in Yiddish when I was around, and we ended every visit with our own little ritual. He'd open his arms wide and say "I don't need no kiss." I'd going running into his open invitation and kiss him good. He smelled like tobacco and the outdoors, and he loved me very much.
Granddad had had an interesting childhood. His mother died when he was around 8, and his father couldn't keep their family together without her. The kids were all split up, and my grandfather ended up in a convent orphanage where the nuns raised him until he was around 13. My great-grandfather got a great job for about a year and was able to reunite his family for that time, but the Great Depression hit and once again they were all farmed out. This time, Granddad ended up apprenticed to a Jewish family that made sure he got a high school diploma while he did work for them in their store and home. Somewhere in high school he met and fell in-love with my grandmother. She was a Free-Methodist who wouldn't marry him until he talked to the preacher and had a conversion experience. As you can imagine, this left him with a unique perspective on faith.
My childhood was much neater. My father enthusiastically converted to my mother's brand of Baptist before they married, and I was raised with a fairly single-minded kind of faith. A large part of that faith is "concern for the lost." First the push was on for me to convert, which I did very happily at the age of 3 almost 4, then the focus became for me to convert others. Since my grandparents by this time had fallen into comfortably "backslidden" habits such as not attending church, and so on, they were prime targets for our family to pray for and seek to "convert." For one short year when I was five we lived near my grandparents, and I saw them more frequently than all the rest of my life. I did a lot of praying for them, and finally I felt that it was time to broach the subject. Granddad and Grandma were out in the sideyard getting ready to say goodbye as Dad and I left for the day and I took my opportunity. I asked Granddad if he was going to heaven or not while my dad stood back hoping for a breakthrough and my grandparents looked as if I'd stabbed them.
Granddad loved me and he wasn't going to yell at a child for doing what she'd been taught to do, but he went into a monologue I never forgot. "I've talked to the preacher, and the rabbi and the monsignor and they all say I'm on the escalator to heaven, so don't you worry about me." None of those responses were in my programing, so I pushed for another answer. I don't remember much else about the rest of our brief conversation, but I do remember my grandparent's grief at the way I spoke to them. I believe truth has its own sound, and the sound of their grief at my narrow and judgmental view of how a person comes to salvation had more truth in it than all of my Sunday school training. I felt admonished and instructed, and I've never outgrown that awkward moment in my grandparent's yard.
When it comes to salvation, one size does not fit all. While I do believe that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life, I also believe that he's the final judge of all the ways we come to him. My granddad taught me that.
Step One can be read Here. Step Three continues Here.

Happy 1/5 Birthday to Harriet!

I just finished typing up the last few pages of the first section of my novel. This means that roughly a fifth of my rough draft is completed. I can already see that major revisions will be necessary, but it's good enough for now. I'm excited about moving on to the next section where Harriet will be a little older and the themes a little more complex.
The longer the manuscript becomes, the more this project takes on a feeling of certainty. I may never publish Harriet, but I'm very likely to complete the rough draft. Once the rough draft is completed I know myself well enough to know that I will be unable to resist editing. I love editing. It's a bit of a challenge not to dive into the editing of the first section now, but if I do I'll regret it. The other parts of the book will let me know where I need to bring certain characters forward and other things that I don't know now. In any case it's very pleasurable to watch the spiderwebs of plot and character become an ink and paper draft. I could get into this.
We found out that my other baby, the little one kicking around in my womb, is a boy. The pleasure his little antics give me is something I'd forgotten about pregnancy. This is our first surprise, and I'm discovering that surprises can be very sweet.

Crazy for God

This book is wonderfully honest. I recommend it. It is Frank Schaeffer's memoir about being raised at L'Abri and the rest of his life. From one back-stage kid to another, you tell it Frank.
You can find out more at this Amazon Link.

Step One

I've been thinking that eventually I'll need to explain to somebody, somewhere how I got from where I was to where I am, in other words, how I became a Catholic. At the moment it's rather a complex beast and teasing out the individual strands is very worthwhile, so I'm going to think the process through here--step by step.
I'm using the metaphor of steps, not in the sense of how-to steps, but rather as steps along a path. In this case the path is the unique shape of my life, not a general path to conversion for others. It is not always a logical path, which causes me little grief, but I mention it so that those who will be tempted to argue with me based on logic will not be surprised when I don't care. I'm fairly satisfied that the resulting decision is logical, and so the logic of the process is incidental.
Let's begin in the fifth grade with a play about the life of Martin Luther. The play was meant to lift Martin Luther up as an exemplar for all of us children, and help us to understand why we weren't Catholic. I think it did a fairly good job, but it introduced me to Martin Luther as a person rather than as a set of ideas. Martin Luther as a person did not impress me--at any point. Let's begin with the story of his decision to become a monk. One thunderstorm and a hasty promise and he's turned his entire life inside out. Now, if there'd been a light and a voice from heaven like St. Paul, then such an amazing transformation would at least have precedent, but even St. Paul was instructed and did some soul searching before he took up his new place in the body of Christ. It did not seem surprising to me that Martin found his new life as a monk unsatisfactory.
Martin's obsession with confession and perfection did not seem to be imposed upon him from the outside. It seemed to be a fault of his personality. In fact, the play documented the efforts of his superiors to help Martin out of the slough he'd fallen into. His behavior was worrisome and not accepted as normal by the group he was a part of. I do believe that as Martin fought his way to a healthier understanding of sin and salvation that he discovered many flaws in then current Christian practice. I also think excommunication was a bad decision particularly as it forced Martin to leave the church body.
That moment of separation provided justification for leaving the church on the basis of conflicts with the individual conscience, and it led to the now current idea that leaving a failing/struggling church is not just an option but a moral obligation. I think responsibility for this must be shared between the Catholic Church of the time and Martin Luther, but its negative effects can be clearly seen in the ever-splintering body of the church.
Step Two can be read Here.

Can't Wait for Prince Caspian!

I understand the decision to release later in the year, but what a grand Christmas present this would have been!

Hurtling Forward

At Christmas time seems to hurtle by. So many aspects of my life crash into each other and insist on being paid attention to. There is the practical aspect of collecting gifts, cleaning for company, menu-planning and other details of pulling off a successful family holiday. Then for me finding time to really appreciate the true meaning of Christmas by attending Mass, praying, reading inspirational stories (I love Frank McCourt's Angela and the Baby Jesus), watching old and new movies, and journaling, is non-negotiable. Otherwise Christmas becomes a holiday for children, and I am just the facilitator of their experience, but if I find the time to contemplate what happened there in Bethlehem, Christmas retains its magic. Extended family and all the complex issues that arise as one prepares to once again reenter your baptism of communal human relationships force themselves from the comfortable background noise of the nearly forgotten into the immediate foreground where they must be faced or be in your face.
Suddenly all of that has a time-table and has to be planned for or simply survived. My mother just had her 30th birthday ;) and we celebrated it on Saturday here at my house. Now we can focus on getting the tree, decorating, baking, advent activities, and all the rest of it. I find myself wishing that I could somehow squeeze extra time in somewhere. I miss the endless waiting of childhood. I wish the rocket of Christmas would either slow down or let me off, because real Christmas is eternal. Sometimes our celebration feels overwhelmingly temporal.

I take it back.

Ok, there is something wonderful about being pregnant around Christmas time. All the physical things aside, there is such a deep connection with the Christmas story that only comes from sharing Mary's predicament. We watched The Nativity Story last night as part of our celebration of Advent, and I viscerally felt for her as the time was at hand and there was no place to go. That's a great thing.
I guess I wouldn't have so many children if I didn't love new life, and watching it grow.

The Pregnant Rollercoaster

You'd think a woman who's been in this predicament six times would have at least made her peace with pregnancy, but I haven't. I love babies. I love children. I assume I'll love teens and adults since I generally do enjoy people. I do not love being pregnant.
There's the first three months when I feel very proud of myself for getting anything done--anything. Then there's the first month of feeling better and trying to dig out from the three months of just surviving. Now I'm finally in the sweet spot, but as always I'm getting carried away. I've got a new physical fitness regimen. (I'm overly cautious about doing my regular stuff with a spud on the way.) Harriet is on fire--my gigantic whiteboard is covered with multi-colored analysis of the plot reconstruction I'm working on. I've decided that I'm going to try and set up AP level classes for our oldest's high-school experience, so I've got lists and publishers and resources to hunt down. (Yes, I know I've got 2 and 1/2 years to prepare, but it's only 2 and1/2 years for a very ambitious goal.) I've also got a project or two cooking away for Heifer, and all the usual stuff.
I know I have to hurry with all this as the waddling phase is coming soon. Most of the stuff can continue through the waddling phase, but honestly who wants to? I know that most people consider the pregnancy over after labor, but I always lump in that first 2 months of getting baby on a schedule. At least you don't have the whole bowling ball, constantly changing center of gravity thing to deal with, and there's this beautiful little person to get to know, but you still can't get into any kind of routine.
This is most likely my last pregnancy. I suppose I should be nostalgic, but, well, pregnancy and I know each other far to well for that. :)

Carpenters

Some build houses
Some build ships
I build ships.

New-fangled Old-fashioned

When I sit down to write, I'm afraid I must write long-hand. There is something about the words scrawling over the paper that is much easier for me to connect to than typing on a keyboard. I go back and scribble over stuff, with the assurance that whatever got canned is still available under the new words. I tend to go through several colors of ink as I revise material, though my writer's group requirement that the pages I present be typed double-spaced have given me the luxury of a fresh page to scribble over as I work in the revisions and ideas my friends have suggested or inspired.
I used to work in pencil until I realized that working on a project as time consuming as a novel meant that my work was often smeary and hardly usable when I was ready to go on to the next draft. Pen has been a good move, and the regular typing up of chunks as I go has also been good, but I hate the typing up. I am not a good typist and I find all sorts of mistakes get folded into my manuscript simply because ten fingers is a lousy way for me to record bursts of creativity. I have long wished for some system that would transcribe my handwritten pages into a typewritten manuscript without my having to sit there tapping away. I may have found it.
There's this new gizmo for kids--the Fly Pen Top Computer--that promises to take my handwritten notes and automatically transcribe them. I have no idea whether or not it could make out my rather gruesome handwriting. (I have lovely penmanship when I have time, but when the muse is speaking I rush.) However, I cannot help but be drawn to the hope that it could. I shall have to do some research on such matters as durability, battery life, etc. I'll keep you posted.

The Best Way To See The Future

Eat your vegetables
Avoid fatty treats
and sweets
Exercise your body
and mind
Love!
strongly and deeply
For this is

The Best Way

Study all that is
Good and Right
Just and Merciful
Look not at
what is rather
See what SHOULD BE
For this is

To See The Future

Eagerly work to put the
World Aright
to unscrew the screwed
Where You Can
Give all that you are for
True Holiness
For this

Is To Live It.

Explaining Myself

While I've been graciously spared any confrontations about my conversion to Catholicism, I'm sure that there will be those with questions as time goes by and the word gets out. My friend Jane, who was my sponsor, gave me a wonderful book for those sticky questions that folks from the world I grew up in have about Catholicism--Catholic and Christian. I recommend it to those who can't imagine how I went from here to there as it is a respectful, Biblical book.

It's Official! I'm History.

In our family we have little rituals for growing up. Three year olds go to Build-a-Bear and build a friend. Nine year old girls receive the American Girl doll of their choice. We have an eight year old who is thinking over her American Girl options, so they were eager to receive this year's catalog. I handed it over like a good mom, and a few minutes later the four of them came giggling down the stairs to announce that I am officially ancient history. They've made an American Girl doll about growing up in the seventies.
Never mind that I was three in 1974, this is a minor technicality they are not willing to consider. Once your era is part of the American Girl collection it's over for you. :) My mother who has been waiting for a fifties era doll to come out is rather put out that the Boomers were just skipped over, but really, they'd need the blue state version and the red state version if they tried to get into that barrel of worms. Molly McIntire does lead a fairly fifties life with the added excitement of WWII as a historical backdrop. The seventies were a time of rediscovering common ground, and to be honest I thought they were a terrific time to grow up.
Our eight-year old is leaning toward Felicity who loves horses as much as she does, so I doubt that we'll be buying a Julie doll. For the record, we have a Josefina and a Samantha. I know the dolls are pricey, but we've been so impressed with the quality and the exceptional service that Fisher Price (American Girl's parent company) has provided with the dolls. We've also found our girls get very interested the period highlighted not only with their own doll, but with their sister's dolls as well. We've even had to have Josefina's head replaced because the hair was defective and they did so free of charge. For us, it's a good way to mark an important period of development and encourage the girls to learn about American history.

Car Watching

One of the perks of living in Michigan is the cars. With Motor City so close, folks hold on to classics and restore them. I love our village for a number of reasons, but I was tickled to discover a used car dealership that specializes in "classic" cars including some really old pieces from the 20's and 30's. Their slogan is "where quality is timeless."
Summer is the high season for being surprised on the road. There was a parade of Model T's and the Del Shannon Car Show in Coopersville, but my favorite is to just be driving along and suddenly there's an old beauty coming up on the right. Snow is in the forecast as this amazingly warm Fall finally becomes more seasonal. It also means the end of all the beautiful old cars and the flashy convertibles--though I did see a convertible still shivering down the road this weekend.
Life is more practical in the winter, and our vehicles reflect that. There will be lots of SUV's with 4 wheel drive and the ever popular mini-vans will bumble along as always. I hope there will still be a smattering of Bugs and PT Cruisers to perk things up. Of course with all that exhaust Spring will be back before you know it.

Confessions

When I was six or seven years old, the school I attended announced a poster contest. Students were to create posters about their adult ambitions and the most artistic effort would win. I knew what I was going to draw. Me at a podium speaking into a microphone with a gigantic flag as a backdrop. I wanted to be the President of the United States. Before the ink was even dry on the mental version of my poster, I was informed that such roles were reserved to men and that God didn't make or gift women for leadership roles such as President of the United States.
Here we are thirty years later and we have a woman seriously contending for the office I coveted in grammar school, and I have to confess I'm sorely tempted to vote for her as a way of finally voting for myself. I won't though. She's pro-abortion, and we can't have that. I would wonder why there isn't a woman of right conviction to oppose her contending for the Republican nomination but it is obvious that its because the same men who discouraged me fill the ranks of the Republican Party.
Women have so much more to contribute than the fundamentalist groups within Christianity are willing to admit. Sometimes I think one of the strongest pulls of Catholicism is their firm conviction that Mary's little yes was anything but little, and that the most powerful event in history took place because a woman said yes. I love how my new church is filled with women, women leading. No, there won't be a female pope, but there certainly are female saints and personally I think they count for more than popes anyway.
God does make and gift female leaders, and I'm one of them.

Happily Weary

I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted. I'm pregnant and I've been working very hard on the annual Heifer International Living Gift Market. Those things combined with my regular gig as a homeschooling mom of five mean I haven't had energy to post my musings. However all the hardwork paid off, for the full story check out the Heifer Happening Blog. We raised 6,680 dollars and had a good time doing it.

Super Woman

Your Superpower Should Be Mind Reading

You are brilliant, insightful, and intuitive. You understand people better than they would like to be understood. Highly sensitive, you are good at putting together seemingly irrelevant details. You figure out what's going on before anyone knows that anything is going on! Why you would be a good superhero: You don't care what people think, and you'd do whatever needed to be done Your biggest problem as a superhero: Feeling even more isolated than you do now

What Should Your Superpower Be?

Knitting

I went out and thoroughly enjoyed The Jane Austen Book Club last night, and it reawakened a conviction I'd come to earlier that I need to learn how to knit. It's more of a spiritual metaphor really. I'm by nature an unraveller. I could spend hours, days, weeks, years, working on difficult knots both physical and metaphorical, but what do you do with all that material when you come to the end of teasing it out? I'm thinking you knit, but I don't know how.
I dropped into Meijer last night to pick up a few things after the movie. The handy craft section is nicely stocked and they had several different resources to help me learn the basics, but isn't knitting something you need to learn from another human being? Do it yourself knitting teaching just doesn't have the appeal of live instruction from a friend or mentor. Unfortunately, I know more knotty people than I know knitters. I guess that's part of the drill when you are an unraveller, but the material is piling up and I'd like to live more intimately with the metaphor. Maybe I'll sign up for classes.

No-brainer

I'm having a difficult time synthesizing spiritual freedom and intellectual freedom. In the early years of my life one had to choose and faced with such a choice jettisoning intellectual freedom was, well, a no-brainer. However, my mind seems particularly ill-suited to prison life so it staged a mid-life breakout. Now I've got to find a way to live with the consequences.
Turn about being fair play, the simple answer is to jettison my spiritual freedom in favor of agnosticism or a fuzzy faith without any particular allegiances, but I have a feeling my soul is even less suited to prison than my mind. So the question has become how to stand fast in the freedom Christ has given me and read Virginia Wolfe and Thomas Hardy. The old answer was to find out what respected Christian teachers had to say about such dastardly duos and carefully see nothing more or less than what you were instructed to see. My mind won't have that anymore.
My previous life assumed that Christianity was fragile, or perhaps that my hold on it or it's hold on me was fragile. I think that's false. Times of extreme doubt and struggle have always ended by uncovering unshakable bedrock, such as my complete adoration of/addiction to holiness. If I am going to accommodate the new freedoms my mind has appropriated for itself I will have to trust that that trend will continue and that I have nothing to fear but fear itself as I learn to think without walls and safeguards.

Surviving the First Week of School

I went to my writer's group with nothing. I've been so immersed in school I just can't get anything decent down on paper.
We're surviving this first week. The summer is such a relaxed time that it is difficult to get back into the classroom rhythm. My mother used to joke that you should never let your students see you smile until Christmas. Well, I'm my students mother, so I can't get away with that one, but classroom discipline is certainly much tighter than it is at the end of the year.
Our schedule is tough this year. Other years I've worked it out so that I had an hour or two where the kids were responsible for their education while I did other things that I needed to do. This year we have too many players for me to get a break.
We start with Mass, though getting the youngest to behave has been challenging. I'm determined to stick with it as I can't think of a better way for them to get their Bible time in and learn how to behave in public. Then we move on to a daily writing exercise and math drills.
Quiet school this year is pretty involved. 3 and 4 have worksheets to do and read aloud time. 2 is doing SOS. 1 is doing the Omnibus program and Saxon 8/7. I try to squeeze in a little time to work with 5 on shapes, letters and numbers, but it isn't easy.
Loud school is equally packed with Geology and Astronomy followed by Spelling Power. Shurley English is now being done on two levels. Then we're working through The Story of the World history curriculum. We are quite delighted with history and science this year, but then we always are. ;)
I'm also shoe-horning in Music, Art and Latin, but we don't get nearly as much time with them as I'd like.
The general reaction of the children has been one of delight. The new cottage bear decor was a tremendous hit. As was the large stuffed bear I found for story corner. He's been christened Snuggly Bear and he does do a lot of snuggling. 1 says her brain feels like its going to explode, so I think we're on track. If I can get through this week, it'll be a good year

Acceptance

It's a strange thing when you decide to be who you really are. Some people don't notice anything different. Some like the change, and some feel sick. But I suppose the most important thing is that you've finally accepted yourself, no matter how others might feel.

Christine Ansorge is a Catholic.

Saturday, I was confirmed in the Roman Catholic Church. The experience was one of the most beautiful and powerful experiences of my life. The only thing I might compare it to would be my wedding, which makes sense as they are both sacraments.
I don't feel up to discussing the confirmation and my first Eucharist. Some things must be treasured in one's heart.
What I do need to discuss is the daunting task of living out my new life. Once again a parallel to my wedding, you wake up the next day and all the weight of living out this commitment makes the struggle of committing seem inconsequential.
There are lots of ways for something to be daunting. You can be denied necessary resources to complete a task, such as the struggle the Israelites faced when they were told to make bricks without straw. You can be uncertain of your ability to complete the particular task you have been assigned, such as a physicist asked to perform in a drama.
I don't feel either kind of daunted. I feel like a child with musical ability who has been given a serious instrument. On the one hand, I am delighted--at last a real instrument that will produce real music. On the other hand, I am daunted--my abilities are not this developed. But the balance of the feeling is delight. I have years to practice and the practice is delight.
Thank you, Mother Church for accepting me.

The Dominoe Affect

It doesn't only go in one direction. After more spills and disasters than I care to recall or recount, I gave up and called Stanley Steemer to come and clean our carpets. The experience was amazing. We went out to do errands and visit the library and returned to beautiful carpets nice and clean.
Little by little we've been working from the carpet up to restore order and beauty to our chaotic and well-used existence. What a relief. Thanks, Stanley Steemer, for getting us started.

Telemarketing

I've been working publicity for the local Heifer International Living Gift Market. Overall, it's been a very rewarding experience. We've raised 700 dollars so far, and the event doesn't take place until October. Putting together a press kit to send to local media outlets was a fascinating learning experience, and we have at least one magazine working on an article about our event. But the most interesting job I've taken on so far has been telemarketing the event to area churches.
It sounded so simple at first. The Change for Kids Challenge is such a high-quality experience for families and children, that I was sure all I needed to do was get the word out. Turns out, it's not that easy. I'm gradually finding a phone script that gets a yes to more information more than it gets a no. It only took me about 200 calls to get it right.
My current challenge is figuring out how to improve the response rate once I get the information in the hands of the churches. At the moment my total call back success rate stands at one, and they were angry with Heifer. The good news is that I was able to help them move closer to their very noble goal of helping a village in Mexico by improving their connection with Heifer. No one has signed up for the Change for Kids Challenge because of my efforts.
I'm going to keep at it though. I'm learning the ins and outs of publicity from the ground up, and that's got to pay off somewhere in my life, somehow. Feeding the hungry is worth doing a little tough grunt work.

If I thought soap was evil...

Pancake mix is evil's evil twin. With the soap once you got it up the floor was clean. With pancake mix, it just feels like a never ending saga of implacable crusty stuff. I've got two hours into cleaning it up, and I'm still not done.

Yesterday was such a good day until...

We started with pancakes for breakfast.
Hit the pool for the first lesson.
Hit the library for our weekly visit.
Hit the pool for our second lesson.
Hit the library for a leatherbound set of Harvard Classics for five bucks post cash machine visit.
Had lunch.
Made calls for Heifer.
Worked on the school classroom
Moved the endless mulch.
Sat down for a little mom time.
Discovered half a bag of pancake mix spread all over the kitchen and 1/2 bath/laundry room and used for various scientific experiments.
Fun day.

Hope today's better.

Vi's Everything but the Kitchen Sink Potato Salad

5 lbs. small redskin potatoes that have been quarter or eigthed depending on the size of the potatoes then boiled until they are soft.
A large bag of matchstick carrots
one head of cauliflower chopped
one bunch of broccoli chopped
one can wax beans
one can green beans
1/2 of a small jar of sweet gherkins
8 or 9 Heinz dill pickles (They aren't much for an eating pickle, but they have the right texture for salads.)
9 boiled eggs, chopped
2 cups mayo
1-2 TBSP ketchup
1-2 TBSP mustard
1-2 TBSP of a good brown mustard with coarse grains

Use a gigantic bowl to mix this up. I use a Tupperware cake keeper turned upside down.
Enjoy.

Soap is Evil

Ok, not in general, but today, it was evil. My son got hold of the dish soap, yeah, we buy it at Sam's Club, and had a grand time using it as paint all over the tile and hardwood floors. I discovered this when I tried to walk through the hallway to the kitchen and discovered I was in a friction-free zone. It took me an hour or so to get it all wiped up, washed up, sucked up, and scrubbed up. Parts of my floors are very, very, very clean.

Decor, Once More

It's that time of year again. The basement must be cleaned and organized and redecorated for school. For the past two years, I've been satisfied with the way the room is set up, but this year seems like a good time to change it up. Don't tell the kids, but I've been looking at some very cute Cottage Bear Accessories that will turn our basement classroom into a cozy woodland cottage. I haven't committed yet, but I'm very tempted.
The other possibility would be to go all out with the ancient civilizations theme, but we'll be moving through them so rapidly I'm not sure I could keep up. I like to have decor settled for the year. I'm not a new bulletin board every month sort of a teacher.
In any case, I've got to buckle down and get all of last year's drek and material sorted and organized and put away. All my new curriculum has arrived and is anxiously waiting to take over the shelf space. I have to do something with my office as well. I'm afraid that it's been overtaken by Heifer and Harriet, and there is little to no room for school.
That said, I must quit blogging and get to it.

Chocolate to the Rescue

Lately I've been having deadlines to meet. This is not my favorite way to work as a writer. I like to have all the time in the world to get something right, however, deadlines to force me to focus on tasks I don't enjoy.
My most recent deadline is self-imposed. As part of my volunteer efforts for Heifer Happening Grand Rapids, I set myself the task of creating their first ever press kit. I wanted to get it out to the area's magazines by the end of July so that I have a prayer of getting into the October issue when our event will be taking place. To that end I've been gathering information and materials and writing, writing, writing.
The last piece of the puzzle was a ready-to-print article to include in the kit, so that editors can just slap my article in their publication and be done with it. I was having a horrible time moving from informational writing to journalistic writing. My hooks were awful, and I couldn't seem to wade through all the mountain of material I'd amassed and get to the heart of it. Finally, I packed up my computer and headed out to the local bookstore where I do my fiction writing. Settling in with hot tea, I wasted several sheets of paper getting nowhere. I had to do something, so I bought a chocolate cupcake. "Aaaah!" The light shown from heaven and suddenly it was all so easy. I have noticed this side-effect of chocolate in the past, but it really is amazing how reliable that particular addiction is. Thank God for chocolate, the deadline's worst nightmare.

Bulk Cooking

My sister is cooking up a new little niece for me, so the least I could do was fill her freezer with easy prep or no prep meals. We had a great day working in the kitchen, and I remembered the joy of bulk cooking
Bulk cooking, also know as once-a-month cooking, is a handy way to reduce your work load at times of high stress like the first month or two of a baby's life. You take one day and cook everything, throw it all in the freezer and voila, you are set. I was introduced to the concept by my beloved sister-in-law who knows that a cookbook is always a good gift idea for me. She gave me a copy of Once-A-Month Cooking by Mary-Beth Lagorborg and Mimi Wilson. While that got me started I've found that everyone is much happier eating food they know and love, so I adapted the idea to meet our family's tastes.
Here's the basics. Choose two or three meats that you'll use for the bulk of your recipes. We chose turkey, ham and ground beef. It's also a good idea to make a vat of spaghetti sauce. Using those meat selections as a guide, select recipes containing those ingredients. We made Lasagna, Mexican Chicken/Turkey Lasagna, Turkey Tetrazini, Saucy Chicken/Turkey and Bow Tie Pasta, To Be Baked Ziti, Turkey Burrito Meat, Taco Meat, Ham and Macaroni and Cheese, Ham and Fettucini Alfredo with Peas, and a vat of chili. There was left-over spaghetti sauce which we froze in bags that will be used with purchased meatballs and ravioli.
She's set. We used purchased disposable 9x13 pans and lots of freezer bags, but you can also line your glass 9x13 pans with plastic wrap and freeze the food in place. You need to grease the pan with Pam, but after the meal is frozen just pop it out and wrap it with aluminum foil or use 2 gallon freezer bags to store it. When you make the homemade spaghetti sauce it is likely that you'll have a giant can that was full of the tomatoes from the bulk food club. Rinse the can out and put your freezer bags over the can to make filling simple and neat.
Enjoy. This is a great gift to give anyone you know who is having a baby soon.

Home again, Home again, jiggity jog.

I spent last Thursday and Friday at a writer's seminar, specifically, The Soul Tells a Story led by Vinita Hampton Wright. It was sponsored by Calvin's Gainey Institute and was really very lovely. Vinita created space for us to explore and create and helped suggest routines and exercises that could help us in our work as creative people. I let myself become immersed in that part of my life that I've come to realize has to have an outlet. Holy Hell is the result of our final exercise about a three day journey until our dream came true. Now though, I'm back home. It took me two days to really return to my life. I had to write for one day, and absorb other people's stories for another before I was any good here with the kids.
I'm home now, and I'm finding I'm much better for the excursion into that troublesome creative side of myself. It's easier to manage reality if I have a bit of a vacation now and then. I also wrote my first sex scene. I'd known it was in the book, but I'm writing chronologically and Harriet is still eleven. What was that all about? I don't know, but for my first try it's pretty good. Thanks, Vinita.

Holy Hell

On the first day I lit the all-consuming flame.
I danced in the center in ecstatic pain.

On the second day I wept until I doused the fire.
I wept away all other desire.

On the third day I asked for the glass,
and through the pane I walked at last.

Congratulations, Dr. Peter!

My double brother-in-law (my sister married my husband's brother) recently finished his residency and is entering a family practice in Battle Creek, Michigan.
Here are some web links--from the Battle Creek Enquirer and Indianapolis Community Health.
We are all so proud of our family doctor.

Pondering the Imponderables

After all, what else is worth the time? A few items of the moment:

My father has been licensed as a minister of the gospel by a small Baptist church.

The emergent church I am currently attending has a self-serve communion station.

The Immaculate Conception makes more sense to me than Hal Lindsay's, Late Great Planet Earth.

I'm thinking of just giving such things up to God to understand. My job is thankfully much smaller.

End of an Era

I've been changing diapers, daily, for the last eleven years and some. Our youngest is finally getting interested in potty training, and we're getting excited about dropping diapers from our expenses and our chores.
One of the things that drew me to having children and lots of them was the idea of a tiny little body rustling in the crib. I liked the idea of the little diapered behind sticking up in the air, and I must admit, I've enjoyed the reality.
I am not the best at potty training. I suspect it's because I've never been particularly annoyed by diapers. I don't suppose you could say I enjoy changing them. In fact, you can definitely say I don't, but I did love the closeness of being the only person who was still glad to be around the stinky little being. They were always so glad when things were made right again in that department. I will miss that.
Here's to my babies. Growing into personhood one little step at a time.

Given Rhythm

"Come," He whispered
and my heart ran away
ran away
ran away

To live to love an other day
another day
another day

And now it is the other day
And all His love I give away
give away
give away

Making Peace

I'm beginning to realize that before I can move on with my life I need to make peace with my failures, lapses, gaps, and those of other people in my life. I don't have to wring contrition out of any of us, or, in most cases, get or make an official apology, but I do have to let it rest. I'm finding the biggest challenge may be the church as an institution. A friendly person once suggested that instead of seeking personal help I ought to "call the church." That's a reasonable suggestion if the church wasn't the very institution that had screwed me over. At that moment what I really needed was personal help from faithful people not institutional help.
I suppose that friendly voice meant that I could get the personal help I needed by working through the bureaucracy of church referrals, but I'd been through that system. Frankly, you always end up screwed. People check off check lists and "make connections" and then you sit in a room with someone you don't know who doesn't know you and you try to express the deepest intimacies of your life. It never works.
It's particularly difficult if you've grown up with the backstage view. You know that all these people are playing political games of one sort or another and with varying degrees of success. You've lost all innocence that someone actually cares. The only authority the church seems capable of generating at the moment is the authority of the abusive father. So I've gone off looking for something else.
I think I've found my personal something else, but I don't like how absurdly grumpy I am with the past. I don't like shuddering at every tiny misstep the church we are currently visiting makes. It's not like they are trying to be evil. They are trying to do something very good. They just don't seem to be succeeding, in my view. I'm not ready to give up on working out some kind of truce with them just yet, so I'll keep going and I'll probably keep shuddering. I wish there was a program I could call that would walk me through the steps so I could walk free.
I bet there is. I bet it doesn't work.

Dead Trees and other Paraphenalia

Yesterday was a grand day. West Michigan Tree Services (They are terrific and I highly recommend them!) had come out a few days ago and turned all of our dead trees into mulch, a huge pile of which they left us to use as we saw fit. We dived in as a family team, and got about half of it properly spread around our property. We have ideas about what to do with the rest of it, but we were just bored with wood chips after awhile.
I've mention earlier that I'd like to do more walking than driving this summer. Part of my plan is to walk/ride bikes to the kids tennis and swimming lessons. Kurt and I agreed that an undertaking of that sort requires a dry run, so with the help of a kind neighbor we set out on our adventure.
Initially, it was just me and the kids as Kurt was suffering a bike malfunction. I was so glad we were trying this without any time pressure as kids were learning to stay closer to the grass instead of the white line and other important lessons. I was just beginning to be overwhelmed when who should arrive on his trusty rollerblades? You guessed it, our family's personal man of steel.
Things were still difficult as we discovered dangerous intersections and poorly designed sections of the bike trail. Number Four took a terrible tumble over the edge of a rise, but bravely battled on on her Dora the Explorer bike. The largest difficulty is Number Five and I trailing behind with the stroller. Our next dry run will be all about setting mandatory wait points for the older children on their bigger and faster bikes.
Trials and skinned knees included we all had a good time.

Spring Cleaning/Summer Goals

Memorial Day was spent scrubbing my kitchen and the downstairs bath. I've been working on them a little at a time, but Monday gave me a whole day to simply focus on Spring cleaning. It is surprising how much I enjoy cleaning these days. I had Kurt move all the appliances and thoroughly enjoyed scraping the dust off of our refrigerator coils. Kurt scrubbed the back deck and began the process of cleaning out the garage. We want the garage to provide more rainy day play space this year, which means we've got to get those last few boxes out of there.
While scrubbing I had time to start formulating summer goals, here's what I've got so far.
1. Ride my bike to the library. I'm not very good on my bike, but it's great exercise. I've always wanted to master the machine. Maybe this summer is the summer.
2. Do more walking and less driving. We live in a beautiful village with almost everything you need within a reasonable walking distance. With gas prices going through the roof and my new environmental consciousness, I'm going to take advantage of small town living.
3. Ditch television, with the only exception being a weekly family DVD and possible sick day entertainment. This will be hard with all the great stuff there is to Netflix--I've grown addicted to the documentaries.
4. Work in cultural enrichment activities from the free section of the Entertainment calendar in the newspaper. We found some great stuff last summer, weekly concerts of various styles of music, an archaeological dig, and kiting gatherings. Not to mention our local library's terrific offerings for kids.
5. Get back in the habit of reading. Ordinarily, I read all the time, but recently what with writing a novel, publicizing Heifer, and the new cleaning obsession, not much reading is going on. The books are piling up.
6. Eat more salads. We want to picnic most nights this summer, and I like salads when I picnic. Sure, KFC is the classic option, and I'm not under-rating it, but chicken salad is better for you. I'm going to become a salad recipe maven. I'll post the best ones.
7. Recycle. We used to recycle at our last house, but we never got around to setting up the service here in Spring Lake. I'd like to get my sorting bins back in action.
8. Finally and irrevocably build the habit of daily cleanup into my children. We keep working away, and little by little the habit is coming along, but summer provides real opportunity to tighten the screws--I mean create incentives. If we have to miss swim class or their newly earned tennis lessons, the message just might get through that doing chores is non-negotiable. That's much harder to teach during the school year. If I make them go back and fix their rooms that means less time in school. Summer is my opportunity.
So, what are you doing this summer? I'd love to hear from you.

100 Pages

The rough draft of my novel has passed 100 pages. The need to have something to read at my writer's group has been a gentle but steady push to make progress. It's quite satisfying to open the black binder and see all those double-spaced pages filled with text.
Of course, the minute you achieve a milestone of this sort you become anxious about keeping up. The scene I just finished was powerful and moved along on its own, sometimes without my say so. Working on the next part has gone more slowly, and the match between scene and plot isn't as clear or as powerful. However, I had the same worries about the last bit, and it turned out quite nicely.
Creating the first telling of a story has, so far, turned out to be much easier than I expected it to be. Once I embraced the "shitty first draft" concept, the only thing that matters is actually telling the story. If I can tell this story at all, then I can worry about knocking it into a well-told story later.

Hurry, Dad, Come see the Kittens!

My sister-in-law sent me this picture. I don't know anything about it, but it was too cute to keep to myself. Thanks, Mary!

I didn't stand a chance, really.

Not with this much estrogen in the room. I wouldn't change it. The opportunity to watch the mother/daughter relationship evolve over this much time in such depth was/is amazing. They all told/tell me stories about what it means to be a daughter or to be a mother and each one is a new lens for life's experience. These women taught me that you never outgrow your mother. I had to teach myself that you have to grow into yourself--anyway.

after Repeat me.

"Mommy is the boss."

theimamesobsof

I am Mommy

I am Mommy.

I am Mommy!

I am Mommy!!

I am Mommy!!!

eHeM

i am the boss of me

He Me

I AM, the boss of me.

Amen.

Phew!

Saving the world is serious business. I realize my blog has been suffering some neglect. I've been busy developing communication/publicity tools for Heifer Happening. I'm really enjoying myself, but I haven't had time to think up articles for this blog. I've got a new character I want to introduce for TV School fans, but I don't have time to write it yet.
School will be over soon, and that ought to free up some spare time.

Freedom!

Thanks to an entire family effort, we are finished with "quiet school" for the rest of the year! Three and Four finished up last week and One and Two finished this afternoon. What a relief. Now we get to focus full time on experiments, writing and projects. I love the way that quiet school builds discipline, but we all get tired of the drill. We learned a lesson in the benefits of a little extra effort. Everyone is ecstatic.

My other blog

I've begun a second blog, Heifer Happening Grand Rapids, to publicize the Grand Rapids area Living Gift Market. The Living Gift Market encourages alternative giving to help the developing world by "selling" animals that will be placed with struggling families on five continents through Heifer International. The market isn't unique to Grand Rapids. Heifer volunteers all over the country organize fund raising events of one kind or another. If you live in the area, check us out. You might find the perfect gift for the person who has everything. I can pretty much guarantee they don't have a water buffalo.

A Nuclear Graduation Present for Developing Nations

I was thinking recently about the importance of the right to bear arms. Fundamentally it serves as a counterbalance to the military power at the disposal of the government. Personally, I believe it is one of the reasons our democracy has been so robust. Human beings really only feel at peace when they have access to equal power. That's when we feel secure about our ability to defend ourselves should a friend become an enemy.
Anyway, that train of thought led me back to the bothersome problem of nuclear proliferation, and the obvious "coming-of-age" aspects that becoming a nuclear power possesses at this time in our history. The more I thought about it the more I wondered if perhaps we aren't approaching this thing from the wrong angle.
Currently, becoming a nuclear power is the "bad boy" thing to do. Rogue governments insist that if we won't respect them, they will force us to respect them, and they succeed in making us listen and to that extent making us respect them. What if we presented nuclear warheads to states that had proven themselves to have developed a culture worth protecting? What if we made a nuclear defense the "graduation present" for developing countries?
We could set standards for human rights, education, social justice and freedom, and those countries that met those standards would be rewarded with a nuclear bomb to protect the precious humanitarian progress they had made. I imagine that fairly quickly graduating countries would be reluctant to accept such a gift, and that as humanity grew to appreciate the new safety and comfort of right government the nuclear bombs would eventually be purely symbolic. Maybe when everybody has a bomb, we'll all decide we don't need them.
Just a thought.

That time of year again

April is the month when I start organizing and purchasing curriculum for next year's homeschooling effort. This is largely due to sales and marketing blitzes by the curriculum companies, but it's also a result of my delight in planning and organizing things. It's been a back and forth process, but I think we've decided to continue homeschooling our oldest. She's made some wonderful friends in the neighborhood and they all attend the excellent local schools. There was a real pull toward joining them, but the excitement of next year's curriculum has won her over.
Quiet school will continue much the same as this year for everyone but our oldest. She'll be leaving Switched-on-Schoolhouse and moving on to the Veritas Press Omnibus for history, literature and Bible, Saxon 8/7 for math, Shirley English for Grammar. For science I'm thinking of putting her in charge of experiments and having her create reports about the various subjects we will all be studying together. The other children will be working through either Horizons Phonics and Math or Switched-on-Schoolhouse Bible, language, history, science, and math depending on their age.
Loud school will be ancient history for everyone which will tie in nicely with the Omnibus material that our oldest will be working on. Science will be geology and astronomy. I'm still hunting up resources, but we've already purchased a fascinating course from the Teaching Company about geology. We'll continue our drills, especially Spelling Power. I'm hoping to work in some music, art and P.E. next year as well. The children are getting old enough for us to do some interesting projects.

Opera in the Closet

When a former fundamentalist starts talking about hiding in their closet with a radio, the assumption is that they were listening to rock and roll. Not so in my case, I was listening to the opera broadcasts from the Met. I knew that to bring my interest in opera out of the closet was to risk serious teasing, so I only indulged on the sly.
These days I have to catch the broadcasts on the fly, because Saturday is my day to run errands. I still love opera. I find the emotion that the singers pack into the music amazing, and I become lost in their range and power. I still have to put up with a little teasing, but I'm a big girl now.
Go ahead, mock me! I love opera, and I'm out of the closet!

The journey of a thousand miles

"In the beginning, God created...." I can stop right there as I look for insight from the Bible about division. When God created he divided. Suddenly there was I AM, and I depend, so division is not evil in itself. It can be good. I think that's a reassuring and auspicious first step on my journey of discovery. Contrary to my instinctive response to division, division is not evil.

A race to the finish

Everyone in my family is sick of "Quiet School." Quiet School is where each child has independent work to complete. Compared to Loud School where we all work together on language arts, science and history, it's just a bore. When we realized that due to some oversights on my part, the younger members of our home school would be finished by the end of April, the older members started a race to see if they could finish their quiet school by the same deadline.
I'm very impressed with my second child's progress in particular. Last year she really struggled with quiet school time. We actually gave up and focused on loud school. She redid last year's quiet school assignments this year, and she is way ahead of her older sister. All of her science and Bible are complete for the year. It's been nice to change up the schedule and try something different for these last few weeks. Here's hoping we can spend May devoted to the fun things we do in loud school.

Division

I've been thinking quite a bit about division lately. Not the mathematical function, thankfully I quit thinking about that a long time ago. I mean the idea of division among human beings. It started as a simple mourning over the open wounds in the body of Christ, but it has grown to a larger contemplation of division itself.
I really only have one area of expertise, and even that is limited. I know the Bible. I've read it from cover to cover at least fifteen times, and I've been immersed in it since before I was born. I don't really mind because the Bible is so rich a source, and always rewards study. I've decided to work my way through the Bible studying examples of division as I come to them. I thought a few of you might find my ponderings interesting, so I'll record my thoughts as I have them.
Hopefully the study will yield insight as to the causes of division, the morality of division, and as an elegant by-product some understanding about unity as well. For we know that..."there is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to one hope when you were called—one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

Putting my feet where my mouth is

Ordinarily this is a bad plan, but in this case I'm thinking it's about time. For a while now, I've been ranting about the inequities in the world, but I wasn't really doing more than writing checks. Writing checks is good work, but when I believe something is truly important I like to do more than talk. I like to get involved.
So, I'm getting involved with Heifer International.
Every year, local supporters put on a Living Gift Market, and this year, I'm helping with the planning and execution. Stay tuned for further developments. It's time to do a little something to change the world.

Like Riding a Bike

Last summer in a burst of enthusiasm I bought a bike. It's really cute, blue and white with hibiscus flowers on it's lady-like frame. All it really needs to complete the look is one of those wicker baskets. I'm going to have to find it on-line as no regular shopping has turned one up. The only problem is I don't really know how to ride a bike. It's sad, but true. I grew up in the mountains and my driveway was a near 45 degree angle straight onto the only major highway in the area. Riding a bike really wasn't an option. A few attempts were made to teach me how to ride a bike, but they were sporadic and there really wasn't time or opportunity to get the requisite practice. The result of this gap in my education is that the few times I mustered the courage to ride my beautiful little bike I really only did well on the straight-away. Turns and curves are not my forte. I usually had to stop the bike, reorient it and continue. I'm determined to do better this year. Eventually I'd like to do well enough to take the kids on a ride to the library, but I have a feeling I won't be doing that well this summer. Anyway, now you know why I always tend to snicker when someone tells me something is "just like riding a bike."

A Way

The pain of loving a caterpillar
is the pleasure
of watching it
fly.

Inside Out

Sitting in a room of compassionate people discussing good deeds, I found myself getting very irritated as they discussed Appalachia. I'm not about to argue about the persistent poverty that plagues the area, but I found the prism through which they saw the people offensive. Growing up in Appalachia, I saw the strengths of the mountain ideals. I was enmeshed in my community and it's strong familial support.
Some of that familial feeling was due to the inter-relatedness of the community members. I can remember discovering that I was related by blood or marriage to everyone in my girl's Sunday school class. We had to go back a generation or five to find the connection, but that was OK we knew our family history well enough to do so. I grew up surrounded by mountains that felt like ancient friends holding up the sky, but the mountains weren't the only rings of support around me in my valley. There was my immediate, biological family of which several branches lived nearby. There was my church family that provided spiritual sustenance and shelter. Then there was the city as a whole. We all fought to keep and create jobs. We did so because we loved being together, and we loved the mountains. We knew that home was where you hung your heart, and that you don't hang your heart as easily as you hang your hat.
I wish my children were growing up with that same sense of community and support, even though it would probably mean growing up a good bit poorer. There are some kinds of wealth that can only be measured by the heart.

Weird Vegetable Night

I decided recently that our family has too small a vocabulary when it comes to vegetables. We needed to get out there and try something new, so I instituted "Weird Vegetable Night." I've been playing it safe so far, asparagus, brussel sprouts, zucchini, but this week it's Swiss Chard. My husband remembers it fondly from his childhood. I'd never encountered it before I joined the family, and even then, my encounters have been of the watch him eat it at his mother's house variety. Anything tastes good with garlic, right? I'll let you know how it goes.

Throwing It Out

I think it started with the Herb Window. I emptied it of all the mismatched pots and boxes and the carcases of dead plants they contained. I'd seen a display of classic terracotta pots at Meijer, so I bought ten of them and I've been filling them with herbs as I scrounge up the plants at this time of year. The uniformity of the pots and the freshness of the herbs lifted my spirits dramatically. It was the beginning of something big.
Ever since I've been going through cupboards and drawers and throwing out anything I don't need right now, or that simply doesn't do its job well. Bags and bags of trash and donations are making their way to the curb or the van. This house really rewards any effort to smarten it up. Ten little pots in the window renewed the entire kitchen.
This is a new thing for me. I generally try to recycle everything even if the result is inefficient and ugly. Recently though, I've had a new confidence that I know what I need and what I don't. Minimalism is my new watchword. The less I have, the less I have to dust.

Time for me

Unlikely as it may seem I am discovering that the more time I set aside for myself the more time and energy I have for others, Currently, I take four mornings and one afternoon to workout at Curves, and I take two evenings to work on my novel. Kurt and I have also set aside one evening a week for date night. Before instituting these personal times, I was always dragging, and finding ways to retreat into my own space. Now that I have regular times set aside to nurture my well-being and personal interests, I find myself looking for ways to incorporate Kurt and the kids into the other things I'm doing. Working the kids into the household chores is happening more naturally, and I'm doing a better job of training and supervising. I don't mind a kid snuggling next to me while I fold laundry or read. I take a kid along to do the grocery shopping and other errands.
This phenomenon is puzzling. When I devoted all my time to my family, I was less interested in them. Now that I'm being "selfish" I'm eager to be with them. Life is funny sometimes

Nicholas has arrived!

My good friend Michelle on a beach in Costa Rica with her beautiful new son, Nicholas William. Congratulations.

My favorite cookbooks

I've been enjoying cooking and baking lately. As a result my collection of recipe books has been brushed off. Here's a selection of my favorites.

America's Test Kitchen-- The recipes in this book are generally no-fail, and they are delicious. I'm particularly fond of the Crab Imperial Recipe. The vegetable recipes are marvelous. My sister and I decided that we have to get Mother a copy because she actually ate her vegetables this last Christmas.

Cookwise--This book helped me begin to start making up my own recipes. The book is more about the science of cooking than it is a collection of recipes. It really boosted my confidence to know why recipes work and what each technique is trying to accomplish.

Bread Alone--My sister-in-law gave me this book for Christmas. The author's love affair with every aspect of bread baking is inspiring. I tried organic flour as a direct result of reading this book, and you most certainly can taste the difference. I don't bake my bread according to his system because he really is coming at it from a professional perspective, but I find it inspiring.

Cooking from Quilt Country--My mother discovered Marcia Adams and the fact that Amish Cooking is very similar to the cooking we grew up with in Western Maryland. Perhaps it is the influence of the Pennsylvania Dutch and the strong Amish/Mennonite communities in the area. In any case this book has lots of stained pages. I love the Baking Powder Biscuits, the Orange-Glazed PorkLoin and the Amish Apple Pie. The recipes have never failed me.

Mexican Cookery--I received this book as a gift from my friend Aurora. She is Mexican and after tasting my attempt at a Mexican pizza she felt I needed some help. Boy, was she right. The recipes in this book were so new to my palette. I loved the Enchiladas de Polo, and the Uxmal Carrots. I pull this one out whenever I'm hungry for something new and earthy.

The Great American Baking Book--Sam's Club carries lots of interesting recipe books, and this is one of them. The extensive pictures are quite helpful, and the Corn Bread is divine.

Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook: 1953 Classic Edition--My mother's Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook was one of my favorite reads as a child. I loved trying to talk her into trying new things. This is a reproduction of the 1953 version, but it still has the same feeling as looking at Mother's. The recipes may be oldies, but they're still goodies.

The Joy of Cooking--Believe it or not, I just purchased this recently. I'm really enjoying how thorough it is. No matter what I decide I want to cook this book has relevant information.

The French Chef--My copy is an old paperback I picked up at an estate sale. I wanted it because it shows Julia's Buche Noel. I watched her bake that on PBS, absolutely enthralled. The way she recreated an object from nature with food stimulated my creativity in all kinds of ways. Julia was one of my childhood heroines.

Music, Menus and Magnolias--Regional cuisine is always interesting. My family has been vacationing in Charleston for generations. My father once tripped over an astronaut on the Isle of Palms. This recipe book has great seafood recipes as you'd expect, and a killer turtle brownie recipe. Yum.

Cooking for Fifty--Sometimes I like to think big. My husband gave me this cookbook for Christmas one year. The recipes are very good, and it's fun to cook this much food every once-in-a-while.

Desperation Entertaining--I read this book more for technique and party ideas than the recipes. I don't doubt that the recipes are good, but I just haven't tried many of them. The ideas for putting together low maintenance parties are terrific.

Saving Dinner--This book is a great palette stretcher. We all fall into ruts, and following the pre-planned menus with the ready made shopping lists is a great way to break out of those ruts. Drawing on a wide variety of cuisines the author keeps it interesting without being so out there that the ingredients are impossible to find or the kids won't even think about trying it. This is a great resource for mixing it up.

The Sheltering D

I grew up in a sheltered world, so I thought that if I could just reach beyond the glass of the hothouse I could escape the heat. Life isn't that simple. The broader world has proved itself to be just as intent on deciding who is "us" and who is "not us." But we are all a part of each other. We are all human. I wrote a poem when I was still hopeful that I'd put the dehumanizing life of choosing who to respect and include and who to hate and reject behind me. In it I said that we had "lived" in Auschwitz, but the more I know the world the more I see that I must remove the illusion that the "d" perpetuates. We live in Auschwitz. We live in a world where we permit ourselves to choose who lives and who dies. We live in a world that measures people's merit by standards that can never come close to the truly priceless nature of a human soul.
I believe my faith when it promises me that I will be transformed and that I will leave that wickedness behind me in my own behavior, but the longer I live, the more I see that there is no culture or philosophy or creed that is strong enough to create a world without "not us." The only thing strong enough to counter that is to touch the face of God. Only God knows the truth of our Limbo.

Delinski Glacier

My maiden name is Delinski. I always hoped for something simple, easy to spell like Smith or Jones, but no, I married an Ansorge. I will be doomed to spelling my name forever. Good thing he's worth it.
Anywho, my uncle has worked for the U.S. Geological Survey since before I was born. He can tell you where you can and can't put a telephone pole on almost any continent. I always loved watching him trace the lines on this light box thing that I don't even know the name of. As a reward for helping with a project mapping the Arctic, he was offered the opportunity to have a mountain named after him, but Uncle George is an original thinker. He asked to have a glacier named after him, so they did. I wasn't able to find an on-line image of the glacier, but here is a link to the Wikipedia article that will be written about it, someday.
We're famous.

Life is Delicious!

It's amazing how full of nutritious matter the universe is. Every day offers a banquet of learning opportunities that comes in a surprising array of flavors, some pleasurable, some not-so-much. God is just so much bigger than I ever hoped he was. When you take the time to notice you discover that life hands you the answers you need. What seems like an impossible problem will be answered by an improbable argument. Even the bitter enhances the sweet.
I hope you are enjoying today as much as I am. I think I'll go bake some cake.

Interesting series on the Blog Next Door

My friend Trent, who occasionally plugs my blog, is doing a very interesting series on Augustine's Enchiridion on Faith, Hope and Love. You can find the first post here.

Decent

Sometimes someone will hit a button by accident that sends all these random thoughts that have been collecting like dustbunnies in the unconscious mind right to the forefront of your conscious thought and this whole thing pops out in a formula that you'd never have put together without that unsought stimulus. I had one of those moments recently. I suddenly found myself arguing that the problems in the world aren't due to overpopulation, but to bad values. Duh, of course that's true, and of course I've known that, but it'd never hit me quite so baldly before. If those with an overwhelming abundance would simply choose to be satisfied with a decent life rather than a luxurious one, those with nothing would be treated decently too.
I like to fantasize occasionally about being a wildly successful author. In the fantasies various little luxuries like a beach house and a sports car (I'm not sure why, but I love excellent machinery) are part of the pleasure of my enhanced cash flow. I don't think I'll ever be able to enjoy that perspective again. I have a feeling that even if I did write the next great novel and it actually sold well I wouldn't be able to indulge without feeling like I was robbing someone else who needed food and shelter and an education so that they can read my inspiring tome. I think from now on I'm going to have to learn to be satisfied with my decent life.

Sketching a Novel

For some reason I can't explain, I think about the process of creating my novel as if I were creating a painting. My previous drafts aren't drafts, so much as sketches of ideas. I've attempted three, maybe four depending on how you count it drafts of this story, and they've each been failures as drafts. I don't see much if any of the content of those drafts making its way into the final draft unless I sentimentally graft some in. On the other hand those sketches provided me with essential information. The first defined the characters for me. I knew by the end of that first brief draft who these people were. The second failure taught me how they did and didn't relate to each other. The third gave me the plot in a charcoal scribble. The fourth gave me a setting for the plot. This current draft is still just sketching. I'm exploring the vertebrae of this beast. I'm trying to make sure that the spinal cord is intact. I'm in no way ready to deal with muscles and skin. I'm still working in charcoal.
This doesn't bother me, but it's driving my writer's group crazy. "Where's the texture?" "This scene is taking place in a white room." "We don't even see this character in this scene." I tried this week to add in the extraneous details, but I found the work frustrating. Until I know what matters I have no idea if the scene on the page will even be in the final novel. For all I know as much as two-thirds of this draft will hit the floor in the next one. Why invest so much energy in what may be cut? Secondarily, I just don't have a feel for what details matter other than the conversations and interactions between certain key characters. I can't tell if it's better for the table cloth to be white like communion linens or some other color more emotive and descriptive, because I don't know if the tablecloth will be useful in conveying the final story. It may be that this entire scene will be rescheduled to a different time of year, or a different age, or even a different setting entirely. What good will all this gluing and pasting of detail be to me? Thirdly, they only give me four pages double-spaced every week. I'm already expecting this project to take between four and ten years. I've got to make time, and all that "texture" wastes valuable time.
I guess I can't expect them to see what I'm seeing from my charcoal sketches. After all I'm not Picasso.

Time flies

This week was full of the little moments that make you notice time. The most important was my husband's tenth anniversary with General Dynamics. He really has enjoyed working there. It's a place where new ideas and creative thinking are encouraged. It is still hard to imagine that we have been here in this area so long. We arrived with just our firstborn, and since then we have been blessed in so many different ways. The whole time just rushed by full of good things to remember.
Our secondborn is having her ninth birthday which is the big American Girl birthday. She's chosen Samantha after long thought because Samantha cares about orphans. Orphans are Number 2's special interest. I'm very proud of her compassion and idealism. They are all in the middle of the birthday change whereby the uneven arithmetic of their births is jumbled for a few months before returning to it's every two years simplicity. I have to sit for a minute and work out who's had their birthday and who will have their birthday when people ask their ages.
I suppose the last thing that has me thinking about time's hurried rush is the slowly hardening realization that I have probably finished having children. There are a number of factors that make that possibility a probability, and I'd rather not go into them now. But I am facing the end of one of the happiest enterprises of my life. If I never accomplish another thing, if I drop dead tomorrow, I have done more than enough for the betterment of mankind, because I have brought five amazing people into the world. The security of knowing that makes the uncertainty of the future unimportant somehow. Somehow, what is is enough.