Jennifer @Home

When ladies tattle (or, impressions of a PK)

At the height of this evening's Shrove Tuesday Pancake Dinner, our adorable five-year-old was discovered leaping from the countertops of the ladies' restroom into a swamp of orange juice, water, hand soap, and paper towels. As I entered the scene (feeling like the bad mother who isn't keeping track of her kids -- though Eve has been managing the restroom herself for several months at least) I also realized that two of our dear elderly parishioners were about to emerge into this sludge, and I could just see explaining to the paramedics that they had fallen because of my child's mess. So there was hasty, very hasty, cleanup with massive numbers of paper towels. And then the eye-opening reports regarding countertop leaping, which Eve would later defend as part of her cleaning method. If you squirt soap and drop towels into the spilled juice, then take a flying leap into the puddle, well, it's clear how this enhances the result. Right?

Do I have a "PK"? I grew up hearing of the infamy of PKs - "preachers' kids" - the wild ones who bent rules and acted out publicly, embarrassing their parents who were supposed to be setting excellent examples, or something. (I don't recall any PK types who really lived up to these negative expectations, but I do remember the expectations.)

Marc and I have been conscientious in choosing certain aspects of parenting -- not to beat our children, not to shame them, not to do their work for them. We aspire to help them discover their talents, their interests, their independent thinking skills. What we didn't exactly foresee was that all this sense of being comfortable in their own skins, relatively unafraid, and independent, could result in some striking behavior choices from time to time. And that this might be embarrassing every now and then.

Independent Eve recruited all the smaller children to be tigers and to playfully scratch the legs of unsuspecting pancake eaters. Fearless Eve led the younger ones on a expedition to the top of a desk in the hallway. YES we have been over this. She knows not to climb furniture. But the prospects of leadership must have overwhelmed her good sense.

Yes, there was a time out and yes we had eaten too much sugar and yes she merrily left time out for the orange swamp adventure.

I felt frustrated. It's one thing for the kids to pull shenanigans at home, but it feels quite different in public, and good grief can't they tell the difference between our living room and the church parish hall?

And then it hit me - they don't see a difference. Raised in the church, and having been robustly welcomed by the community, they really do see it as a second living room. And would we want them to feel any other way? Full of pancakes, Isaac happily read his Percy Jackson novel, while Eve tore around thinking of activities for her cohort. Very much at home, both of them.

When I went to college and discovered campus ministry, I found it to be a haven for PKs. My friends shared tales of how closely they were scrutinized, the pranks they would pull, and the acting out in a minor bid for some breathing room. They loved the churches they grew up in, yet they also experienced them as fishbowls -- "the place where everybody knows your name" and where those everybodys are often quite aware of your choices, both good and poor.

We left tonight soon after the worst of this. On the drive home, I told Eve that I did not appreciate her unfortunate choice to make a huge mess and her dangerous choice to make flying leaps into the mess. Eve told me that she "did not appreciate it when those ladies tattled on me."

Eve earned a silent time of reflection for the drive home, and a one-way ticket to bed immediately on arrival.

She is now sleeping soundly next to me, "not as a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home."

New Year, Living the Great Outdoors

I've thought long and hard about what to resolve for self improvement, health and psychological well-being in 2012,  and I've hit on a tantalizing solution. 

I really can't take full credit, as my sister Catherine absolutely inspired me when she indicated she and her husband were considering civil war reenactments and tent camping as near-future activities for their little family.  I agree completely that  6 months really isn't too young for a little one to start learning to survive as in Olden Tymes, without the benefit of an exersaucer.  

I can just imagine baby Clara in a cute antebellum gown, playing on a neatly swept patch of dirt outside a tent while Catherine does a home arts presentation on the use of a bucket and washboard.  The tent will be handy for discrete feedings in between public demonstrations of "how to get those whites really white again."  This will lead naturally to a hand-dyeing demonstration -- "when all else fails, gather pecan shells and turn everything brown!"

I'm not sure how you babyproof an open fire and enormous iron dyepot, but that's just part of the reality aspect, right?  Remember, authenticity is key.  And when that gets boring, there's always cavorting through cornfields to the sound of rifle fire and cannon boom.  Getting buff takes on a whole new meaning when wearing full-on-antebellum while running cross-country, carrying a baby.

So back to me -- I was pondering what to do with my family that will be equally health-minded, self sufficient, buff-making, and meaningful.   I want something that will both benefit us now, and produce deeply cherished memories for future reflection and nostalgia.  

And I think I have finally settled on it:  we will migrate to those woods nearby and begin living a hunter-gatherer lifestyle.  We can always pop over to the house for a quick change of clothes, but the rest will all take place in the great outdoors on the shores of Lake Tuscaloosa.  

I hope there are some pecan trees.  Everyone likes pecans.  And after four or five days of living outside, drinking Lake T and eating nothing but pecans, I don't think we will feel the least compunction about bringing down one of those deer and having that for dinner instead, roasted on an open fire.  

Not to mention fishing.  We will totally do some fishing.   The tree climbing, deer chasing, frigid lake bathing, wood gathering and so on will have us all fit as fiddles in no time flat.   Whatever misery we endure will only make us appreciate spring all the more, when we can add young grass to our diet.  In May we'll be able to find blackberries.  And until then, we will gather lots and lots of pecans.  I had better sort out how to weave baskets from local vegetation.  

We will walk the kids to school and then continue to work... So will need to leave at about 5 every morning.  But the sun's down by 5 in the evening so we will still get plenty of sleep.  

Just imagine!  No more electricity = no more screens, or phone, or anything.  In fact, we could really just quit our jobs and enroll the children in our own Wisdom of Nature Church School.  The dogs are going to love this.  The cats will need more time to adjust.  Want to come see us?  You know where to look --- just drive to the end of our street, and start walking.  You might have to holler.

Impulse Knitting

Poring over the natural fibers section for the beginnings of a new sweater for Eve (whose Christmas gift changed sizes on us --- more later about that), I absolutely could not resist this wool blend by Lion Brand - called Amazing -  in "Wildflowers," not knowing what I would use it for, but very keenly aware that these colors needed to come home with me. I did finally decide to start a set of keep-baby-warm leggings for my new niece Emeline.  This yarn has been so much fun to knit -- every strand emerges as some wonderful mixture of 3 or 4 colors (purple!  lime!  cobalt!  sunset!), and these change subtly through the skein, for a soft self-stripe.

 

 

 

While I was in the impulsive mood, I purchased the winter 2011 edition of knit simple, and haven't stopped swooning over the afghan pictured here. Love!

It's called "Knitted Triangle Sampler Afghan."

Something to pass around at knitting group, whether or not I ever really get started on it... I am eking out the last few hours of unimpeded knit time before the holiday is over. Kids are blissful to be home for an extended period. It's a sweet time of year.

 

 

Coco-chili: several of you have asked for the recipe, so here goes

Sautee 1 onion, finely chopped, in a little oil, in a dutch oven
As it cooks, add these spices to taste:
2-3 cloves minced garlic
1-2 tsp cumin
1-2 tsp smoked pepper (we use about 1/2 tsp chipotle + 1 and 1/2 of smoked paprika, as the kids don't tolerate much heat)
Salt to taste
When onions are nearly clear, add 1-2 TB unsweetened cocoa powder. Mix all together well over med-low heat
Add 2-3 lbs beef stew meat. Brown in onion mixture for a few minutes, then add about 1 inch of water to bottom of pot. Bring to a low boil, cover and reduce heat. Simmer for about 2 hours.
Add 1 can petite dice tomato and 2 cans light kidney beans. Simmer an hour longer.
Thanks to the cocoa, it's a dark brown -- here's a photo:

We like it with chopped avocado on top.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my mama knit for me

Winter holidays mean time to knit, and to make good on the hat I had promised Isaac -- to his specifications: charcoal gray, ribbing on the bottom edge, "just a normal hat, Mom." For me, a small knitting breakthrough as it is truly the first project I have attempted and completed from scratch, without a pattern! The funnier part was my first attempt, which was quite literally on its way to being large enough for Hagrid, or for a prize giant pumpkin. So I took it all back out and restarted with half as many stitches-- success! Leveling up in the knitworld.

I was casting about for something to make for Eve with some amazingly sparkly pink yarn, and found a "recipe" (pinned on my pinterest) for this cute headband/earwarmer. The band was easy enough, and the flower was concocted as a long cast-on strip on which I formed petals, moving larger to smaller, knowing I would be able to hand-sew the finished strand into a loose spiral -- like magic, a rose! I found a little mother of pearl button to fasten the band

A little fourth day of Christmas gift for the kids. I love having so many days in a row at home with my babies.

Back to the knitting

We're home after a lovely few days with Marc's family, celebrating August birthdays and having a good time with his sisters, parents, nephew.  Kids got to bed not too long after we returned and now I'm in Saturday-night-nerd-heaven:  working on knitting projects while viewing sci-fi reruns.

Here is progress on Eve's sweater, using the yarn I dyed not too long ago:

The pattern is Helena, by Alison Green Will.

And I am finally stepping into the Elliebelly Knit-Along, with this cast-on of the Paintbrush colorway.  Fun! This merino is so springy and soft, with delicious subtle shadings of navy, aqua, aspen, plum and mulberry.  I have had to go up two needle sizes (still trying to sort that out... I don't think I knit that tightly) and this size fits my wrist, which seems a good start.  I'm hoping these become the Commuter Mitts by Stephanie Sun.  This yarn is so pretty, I want to wear it on the way to the office.

 

 

 

 

Time for bed, Firefly is over.

Made it past the initial ribbing; now on to building a foundation for the cable.

Yarn dyeing : first experiment

. So I finally decided to pull out those fiber reactive dyes I have used on silk, to use on some wool yarn. It started as a natural off-white. I tied the yarn loosely into 3 oz loops and presoaked in hot salted water with vinegar while I mixed emerald green at 2 tsp per 1/2 cup saltwater.

I placed two yarn bunches loosely in two medium bowls and started drizzling with dye! I added water to the green after the first drizzle, to create a softer green. Then I mixed a new batch of dye, this time cerulean blue, and drizzled that, flipping the yarn over. As a parting gesture, I mixed baby pink nice and strong and added a dash here and there. Then I put the rest of the pink in the soaking pot, for a traditional tub dye method.

I let the multicolors sit for about 15 minutes and was so scared, based on the color of the water, that I had simply created mud. Rinsing revealed these subtle shadings of greens, blues, and lavender. Surprise! I swatched a little of the green yarn and I like the gentle self-striping there. Ahhhh. So THIS is staycation. Next time, I want to start with blue. I know some little girls who definitely need wool sweaters.... Off to find patterns now.

Giant Octopus (Tornado)

Over a month has passed and my mind still turns to the terrible storms, and to those affected, almost any time it has a chance.  We were incredibly fortunate not to have been affected in any direct way, and while we continue to do what we can to reach out and help, I am paying attention to how all this is playing out with the children.

A few weeks ago, as we gathered school supplies for the children displaced from destroyed schools, Eve began to talk to me about "The Tornado Who came through Tuscaloosa."  In her mind, "he" is a "Big, Purple, Giant Octopus that smashed everything down."   In fact, she corrects me when I try to refer to the tornado as "it."  Isaac, helpful older brother, challenges her on how she knows the tornado's gender.  But she is sure what she's talking about -- it smashed its way through the city and she is confident she saw "boy stuff."  I haven't probed deeper.

I have also heard people say things (as they always do in the face of disaster) about some message from the Almighty.  I don't believe in this kind of God, but I think I do understand how hard it is to comprehend such massive damage as the work of some blind, inanimate Thing.  Perhaps a huge disaster can go in the "under control" category when we imagine it was an intentional, supernatural act (God, Octopus, what have you).  Or maybe we just want to know that God was in it, somehow.

I am much more convinced that I see God, though, in the amazing generosity of thousands upon thousands of people, from here and from far away, who have come to the aid of so many in need -- "When I was hungry, you fed me... naked, you clothed me... a stranger, you invited me in." (loosely from Matthew 25.)  I will never again doubt the innate goodness of humanity, or God's presence among us.

Eve continues to assess the damage done by Giant Purple Octopus.  As we drive around town, she knowingly says "Look Mom, he smashed that too.  He ripped up those trees and threw them down.  He must have been really really mad.  He sat on that house.  His arms reached so, so far.  I can't even see how far." 

I am doing better at not crying.

Giant Purple Octopus has become for Eve not just an explanation for the destruction she sees, but a legendary villian.  Who knows when he might come back, or where he might show up next?  Kind child that she is, Eve worries about whether he will have enough food to eat.  We have decided that if he asks us, we will suggest the deep ocean.

And in the meantime, we can continue helping sort out the mess he made.  Supplies and a spare room, and ready hands.

 

 

Topography

 I spent the weekend wandering the topographies between here and Thibodaux. The paper went well and it was delightful, really, to reconnect with other musicologists and think about  
those topics again.  And, this has been such an unbelieveable month of travel and comings and goings for me and Marc that I am craving something much more like a homey routine now.

Perfect timing, then, for Isaac to bring home an assignment for me: "Make a giant, ginormous moon for the bulletin board outside my classroom."  Out come the posterboard, crayons and cheap watercolor paints.  Up comes a photo of a moon online, for reference.  I set to work as Isaac ponders polygons nearby,
offering periodic observations on the effectiveness of my attempt at lunar representation. 

I had hoped the watercolor-over crayon would produce a cratery effect, and it did!  So much more fun, even, when I remembered to use a little splatter and a sprinkle of noniodized salt. 

The resulting hills and valleys of color are surprising, and pleasing.  They remind me of some of the unexpected effects that come about when dyeing and batiking silk.  (They remind me how I miss working with silk.  Maybe I should put that on the summer list.  Just now, I really want to learn to knit with silk hankies! {not handkerchiefs -- see link!})

The best part, though, is Isaac, who is extremely pleased with the moon:  "Awesome!"

 

Remembering Grandad

Today is the first anniversary of Grandad's death, and I am thinking of our time together on the Neches --

On one of our longer visits to Grapeland, when I was 11 or 12, Grandad proposed to me a fishing trip on the Neches river.  4:30 a.m. came very early, and I had slept in my clothes like a fireman, ready to go at a moment's notice, my rod and tackle waiting by the sliding glass door.  It was still dark as we drove up the dirt road that led away from the lake, out of Grapeland and on to wherever we were going.  

When we arrived, it was light enough to see the overcast sky and a rain-swollen small river.  Newly-emerged frogs scrambled up the muddy bank as we slipped and slid down it with the canoe.  I sat in the canoe and tried to hold it steady as Grandad loaded our few supplies, which included Donald Duck canned orange juice, always a strange and strangely desirable treat, with its acid, metallic flavor.   The plan was to paddle up, and float down.  Grandad asked me to go ahead and start casting while he paddled against the current.  He didn't look terribly optimistic.

He must have had that fisherman's sixth sense operating, and must have known we wouldn't get a single bite that day.  But fisherman's sixth sense is always tempered by fisherman's hope and so we kept on, finally finding a place to wedge the canoe in between a couple of fallen trees, so that we could both try our luck casting into the eddies.  We sipped the tinny juice and ate some sausage biscuits that Grandmom must have packed up for us the night before.  When it started to rain, we drifted back downstream.  By the time we got the canoe back onto the car, it was pouring.  I think I fell asleep on the way home.

Grandad suggested we try again sometime, and I always hoped we would.  But years passed and time kept flowing, and we never got around to doing it.  Still, I dare to hope that in the future nearer presence of God, we will enjoy something like this again -- community and communion.  And while I know Grandad was disappointed that the trip hadn't been more successful as a fishing trip (he said so), I never felt at all disappointed about it.  There are sounds and images one never forgets even in the absence of fish -- tiny frogs on the bank, the smell of rain, being right down at river-level and seeing the water stretch forever behind and before, the red Texas mud, the mesmerizing beauty of rills and eddies in high water, feeling very alive and at home and in good company.

*My thanks to Catherine for her Facebook stock of Grandad photos, from which the first was drawn.  And thanks also to the US Fish and Wildlife Service for a photo of the Neches much as I remember it.  The Neches was recently made a National Wildlife Refuge, and is currently being cleaned up for a canoe trail.  Perhaps someday I can take my own kids and/or grandkids there.