Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I was thrilled to win a copy of Plum Johnson’s They Left Us Everything; after all, I’m a memoir-loving pack rat, and the idea of mentally accompanying someone sorting through a generation’s worth of family history was irresistible.  In reading it, however, I got more than I bargained for.  Johnson’s father died of Alzheimer’s, while my own father is currently battling dementia; Johnson’s family home was on a lovely piece of land by Lake Ontario, while my own family’s home was in the Rhode Island woods, an hour away from the ocean.  We both enjoy rich family histories, albeit rich in different ways.  As I shared Plum’s journey of discovery, I found myself wondering what it was like for my sister to help my parents prepare to move from that family home in RI to a much smaller house in Idaho.  I will probably always regret not being there, both to help and to say goodbye to a place I still love fiercely, but I wasn’t in a stage of life conducive to doing either.

It is what it is.

Ultimately, I found Johnson’s memoir poignant, humorous, and well-written; it’s difficult, however, to accurately evaluate a work that took me on a sometimes uncomfortable emotional journey.  It’s certainly worth reading, but I did–occasionally–find it hard to read.  I suppose that’s an added endorsement in its own way, really, but–well, here’s the thing.

You should read it.  You totally should.  I’m glad I did.

I just won’t be reading it again anytime soon.

This post should really be longer, but I’m tired and we were gone all evening and it’s a school night, so you get the Reader’s Digest Condensed version.  I had to bring birthday treats to dinner at my in-laws’ for my new 7-year-old and found this recipe for Peanut Butter Caramel Toffee Chocolate Chip Cookie Bars.  Now, if that sounds like a 9 by 13 pan-full of goodness to you–why, yes.  Yes, it was.  They make you super thirsty and they’re deeper than your usual bars, so cut them into very small pieces, but oh, the goodness.

You should go make them.

I’m going to bed.

Every once in a while I decide to try a recipe that I’m not sure anyone in my family will like (trying new recipes is how I keep feeding my family every night from becoming a tedious chore); these Chicken & Sweet Potato Enchiladas were one of those recipes.  I had sweet potatoes as well as all of the other ingredients, and since it was Sunday, I had time to roll enchiladas with another adult in the house to police the 1-year-old.  What really surprised me was how well they went over!  My son LOVED them, and my husband had seconds, and the 1-year-old and I had a party.  I served them with sour cream, chopped garden tomatoes, and perfect pieces of avocado, and they were thoroughly delightful.  I did accidentally add extra black beans–by the time I realized that it called for one cup, instead of one can, it was too late–but we were happy with the result.  I also stacked them two layers deep in the pan I started with, rather than pulling out another one (I don’t think I’ve EVER managed to come out with the numbers the recipe calls for when I’m rolling filling into tortillas).  This involved some extra salsa verde, but it worked just fine.  I tossed the red onion in a hot pan with some olive oil for a minute or two–I don’t love the taste of near-raw onion–and the one teaspoon of chili powder became a scant half teaspoon plus a generous half teaspoon of cumin, because that’s how I roll.

Clearly I take liberties when I cook.

The end result, however, was definitely worth making again.  And since we’re heading into sweet potato season, and my youngest seems to have a taste for them, I’m sure we’ll be doing that at our house!

Today my second girlie turned 7–and started second grade.  Which means, of course, that we’re spreading her birthday meals out over a week or so, because OH, the first day of school!

Anyway.

Here are 7 things I love about my newly minted 7-Year-Old:

1.  Her smile.  It lights up her entire face.
2.  Her sweetness.  She is my child who will occasionally tell me, “You are a good Momma.  I love you.”
3.  Her diction.  She frequently (and adorably!) eschews contractions.  (“I would not like that.”  “I do not know.”)
4.  Her willingness to eat things she doesn’t love.  (And a good thing too, since she’s my pickiest eater!)
5.  Her passion for Italian food.  (I like to think there’s a little bit of RI in her!)
6.  Her gift for nurturing.  She’s a little loving mother to her younger siblings.
7.  Her imagination.  She can pretend play with Barbies, Ponies, doll house figures–you name it–like nobody’s business.

Happy Birthday to my second oldest–I hope it’s the start of a great year!

Yes, I know, I missed out posting last night.  But this week has been and will continue to be fairly crazy–we have family coming into town for a wedding, appointments galore, and a birthday celebration to schedule since the actually birthday falls ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL.  At the very least I’m taking a break until next week starts; realistically, there will be enough going on next week that I make no promises until after the 18th.  Goodnight all!

Asparagus has been available for crazy good prices lately, which never happens in August in Utah.  The last of what I purchased was still in the fridge when I found this recipe for Creamy Pasta with Asparagus and Bacon and thought–hey, I’ve got half a pound of bacon waiting to be used!  THIS CAN BE DINNER!

I’ve been strapped for ideas lately, can you tell?

Anyway.  I was generous with the asparagus (a pound and a half is a lovely way to go) and subbed 12 oz of evaporated milk and 1/2 C whole milk for the cream, but other than that I followed the recipe, and it was INCREDIBLE.  The saltiness of the bacon and the Parmesan, the crisp-tender asparagus, the hint of nutmeg…mmmm.  I even added the parsley to the whole recipe instead of just my serving, which my son and I loved, at least.  (My second girlie:  “Why did you put SO MUCH parsley in here? There’s 10 YEARS of parsley in here!”  My oldest girlie immediately wanted to know exactly how much parsley she was referring to.)  If you live in a place where asparagus is both decent and affordable right now, put this on your weekly menu ASAP.

Note:  I couldn’t find any cooking instructions for the asparagus in the recipe, so I tossed it in with the pasta during the last two minutes of cooking time.  Not cooking it might have worked for me, but my one-year-old doesn’t have, you know, molars.

I am pleased to announced that I finished another of this year’s Newberys last night–only one to go!  (Yes, I know it’s August.) To be honest, I likely would have read it sooner if it weren’t so popular; I kept having to return it to the library right as I was wanting to start it.  (Newbery fame usually dies down in a few months, but this book was popular before it won.  It’s still frequently not renewable at the library.)  The stars finally aligned, however, and I can stop putting The War that Saved my Life on hold over and over again.  Wahoo!

And what did I think of it, you ask?  (Apart from the fact that finishing it right before bed after a worrisome few days about one thing and another resulted in a fairly impressive nightmare?)  I have to say, it was impressive.  This isn’t your average WWII story and Ada isn’t your average heroine; she has an untreated clubfoot and uses the evacuation of London’s children to the countryside at the start of the war to escape the abusive mother who keeps her confined in their one-room flat.  She and her brother Jamie end up with Susan Smith, a single woman grieving the death of the friend with whom she lived.  (Her life decisions and the extent of her grief imply a very close friendship, but that’s not actually the focus of the book.)  She doesn’t want to be responsible for children, but the billeting officer insists–and so Ada’s life begins to change.  As she and Jamie learn what it is to be clean, well-fed, and comfortably housed for the first time in their lives, Ada’s perception of herself begins to shift.  It takes time for her to seriously question what her mother has always told her about herself and her journey is often difficult, but the novel’s conclusion is wholly satisfying.

I will say that I might have preferred the dialogue to sound more England-in-the-early-years-of-the-war than it did, but that ended up being a minor irritation.  The author’s portrayal of Ada, moreover, was terribly impressive.  I lost count of the number of times I ended up telling myself, “NO, you wouldn’t have acted that way, and that’s not a natural way for a normal child to act, but given Ada’s life thus far, it makes perfect sense for HER to act this way.”  Bottom line?  Brubaker Bradley’s writing style wasn’t a perfect fit for me, but in the end, it didn’t really matter.  This is a story you don’t want to miss.

A friend from HS shared an article about the dangers of voting third party in this election; the article maintained that doing so may well hand the election to Trump.  I can’t abide Trump, but I’m sure not a fan of Hillary, so I’ve been thinking about voting third party myself (thankfully, in Utah doing so is unlikely to help Trump).  I was pondering sharing that on her thread when I spotted someone I didn’t know making more or less the same comment twice:  “if your voting for a third party stay home.”

Yup.

Out of respect for my HS friend, I kept my response to a minimum and focused it only on the main point, but this is MY blog, so–

YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I’M GOING TO TAKE POLITICAL ADVICE FROM SOMEONE WHO CAN’T TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN “YOUR” AND “YOU’RE”?

Whew.  I feel better now.

And as for voting, well, I know voting third party has its own set of problems, but there are no good options this election.

Just grammatical ones.

I’m pretty sure I checked Friends with Boys out of the library because the title caught my eye while I was looking for something else; I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it, but graphic novels are such quick reads that I figured–why not?  And lo and behold! I was pleasantly surprised.  Ghost stories are not so much my thing, but this was less about the ghost (although there IS a ghost) and more about Maggie entering high school after nine years of homeschooling; she has to find her way.  She’s used to hanging around with her brothers, but the twins are fighting more than usual and Daniel has a startling number of admirers of the opposite sex.  How do you go about finding friends when you’ve never needed them before?  As Maggie finds her people and grows more comfortable in her new reality, she also learns more about what can–and can’t–be fixed.

I liked this one enough that I’m contemplating recommending it to my 13-year-old niece; there’s a bit of language, but not much, and the message is perfect.  My 9-year-old’s not ready for it yet, but if you’ve got a junior high-er or high schooler, check this one out.

You’ll be glad you did.

Have you SEEN the latest from Lays?  (Yes, that was a Chandler Bing moment.)  I was at Wal-Mart yesterday and noticed them as I passed by the display, so of course I had to buy them.  (Must.  Try.  All.  The.  Things.)  We opened our four new bags of potato chips after dinner tonight, and OH my.  Here’s the breakdown by flavor.

1)Brazilian Picanha (Steak and Chimichurri Sauce):  By far the most popular.  I wanted the flavor to be stronger, but the kids and I all liked them; my hubby, however, maintains that meat-flavored potato chips don’t really work for him.

2)Chinese Szechuan Chicken:  The spiciest of the bunch, which I was expecting.  I’ve never had the real thing, but I didn’t think these were bad–just too spicy for me.  (And the girls.  I think my hubby felt more or less like I did.)

3)Indian Tikka Masala:  These did, in fact, taste like tikka masala (more or less), which is completely bizarre in a potato chip.  Also, making this flavor (and only this flavor) kettle cooked was a strange choice.

4)Greek Tzatziki:  The only wavy chip in the bunch.  I think the flavor could have been stronger, honestly, but what I could taste was fairly tzatziki-like.  These were weird because they sort of tasted like dip-flavored chips.

The girlies seemed to be Brazilian or bust, by the way, while my son told me he thought they were all good.  He’s not always reliable, but he may well have been serious, especially since he’s the only one of us who seems to enjoy spiciness.

Well, there you are.  Overall, another original effort from Lays, but I wouldn’t buy any of them again.  Have you tried them? Will you try them now?  Tell me what you think!