Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The Facebook Hammer.
I heard it again today: someone saying how much they hate Facebook. And by hate, they actually mean love so much it's unhealthy. I've heard the same thing about blogging: "I've got to quit blogging," like they're giving up a hard drug.
I totally get it. It's so easy to spend way too much time on it. It's so easy to get sucked in. It's so easy to turn into a major creeper and try to find out way more than you need to know about someone else's life. It's so easy to get majorly self-absorbed and assume that every facet of your life is worth sharing with EVERYONE you know. And seriously: sometimes you leave people behind in your life for a reason. No need to keep in touch. No need to get depressed about how their choosing to live their life when they were so much better than that! Argh!
Seriously. I get it.
But I know that when those thoughts start running through my mind, it's time to plug into my internet mantra:
Use it. Don't let it use you.
So zen, right?
Because, really, saying I hate social media sites is like saying I hate hammers. They're tools. That's it. And like the hammer, it can only hurt me if I'm mis-using it or I'm not careful.
Maybe a better example is a credit card: Facebook is like a box of chocolates credit card. It can do so much good (do you know how much free gas we've gotten by using credit cards right? It's awesome.) but it can also do so SO much baaaad. If I use them right, they're my tool, I control them for wise purposes. Don't let them control me, and we've got a working, healthy relationship going on here. No need for all-out get-out-of-my-life banishment.
Though, again, I get it. I get how sometimes, when you're having a hard time, cold turkey is the best way to go. Like how sometimes, a cash-only budget is a necessity for someone who really struggles with using a credit card wisely. Or how you have to swear off cutting up carrots for a while because you cut your finger every. single. time. Gah!
When I feel like I'm starting to drown in social media, I have to stop and take inventory of why it's getting so chronically appealing. For me, it's usually because I haven't made time to connect with others outside the walls of my home...and am feeling socially starved. A quick fix is a phone call to a friend or long-distance family member. Or to sit down and write an old fashioned email...or (gasp!) paper and pen letter. (Those are so fun, p.s.) Or call a friend that second and invite them over for lunch the next day. But it's different at different times for me...and it's different for everyone else, I think....as far as what makes it tempting to misuse and what fixes the prob.
But if you'll excuse me, I have a Facebook status to update. About how I just blogged about Facebook.
Kidding!
I laugh at all my own jokes around here.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
The Millet Militia.
Okay, confession:
I love food.
Weird? I know. Who loves food? I mean, really.
What I love most about food, though, is when it's real. And clean. And nutritious. AND, most importantly, tastes good. I love tasty, real food. I actually get really excited about it. And spend inordinate amounts of time learning about my food: where it comes from, how to grow it (for when my dreams of a garden become concrete. Boo to renting on that count for now), what makes it nutritious, what it can do for the health of my body, AND...most importantly....how to make it, and make it delicious...and keep it nutritious.
Oh, baby, I love my food.
My hubby loves food, too, but it's a different kind. It's the pretend kind. The kind that fizzes. And coats your tongue with sugar. And tastes good. But that's okay, because I like it sometimes, too. More than sometimes, even. And it keeps my feet on the ground when I start floating away into my spaghetti-squash dreams. And although it really is important to me to enjoy the taste of my food, sometimes his definition and my definition of "tastes good" differs. SOooo it also challenges me to find ways to prepare my favorite, deliciously real foods in ways that are yummy to me, but also appealing to him. And when I say challenge...I mean it. I'll get something to a point where I can't-get-enough-of-it-it's-so-scrumptious and hand it to him with high hopes....and get a wrinkled nose with "well...it's okaaay but..." And I'll make a mental note to try something different with it next time....while gladly keeping this round aaaallll to myself. Yumyumyum. Oh, and Baby-Rae. She's usually a good sport when it comes to food.
Anyways.
I've been really curious about different grains lately. Curious enough to buy some to experiment with.
Like millet, for example.
Last night, I cooked up a tidy little amount in my rice cooker (with the same water to grain ratio I would use if making rice) and hopped on the Millet Train with both feet. Here goes nothing, thought I.
This morning, I had it for brekky. I just warmed it up and prepared it like I would a bowl of oatmeal for myself: some maple syrup, milk, and a spoonful of peanut butter on the side. It worked! The texture is grainier than oatmeal, but I liked the change. Star for millet as breakfast.
For dinner this evening, I was inspired by this recipe. But the head of cauliflower I had on hand got burnt to shame in the oven a few nights earlier, thanks to my psycho appliance (No, really, it was totally my oven. Not me even a little bit. At all.). That is a different story altogether. So I was cauliflower-less. Therefore: I improvised. And soon a bunch of millet, a can of lima (butter) beans, some chicken broth, a few cloves of garlic and an onion (both sauteed) all got blended together into a mashy pile of mashed-potato-looking stuff. And it was goooood: Mild enough to cheer on my gravy, and nutritious enough to do my body good, but tasty enough on its own to repeat again. And again. You'd really have to blend it like crazy in order for it to have the same consistency as potatoes, but if you just expect it to be--again--a little grainier, than you're set. Checkmark for millet as dinner.
Go, millet!
I'm still curious as to how else I can use the stuff, but for now, I think I'll just eat the rest for breakfast tomorrow. My next curiosity to satisfy is what-the-heck spelt berries taste like all cooked up. And I'll spend too long when I should be going to bed looking for recipes to try out with them. (Sigh!)
Oh, the burdens of a food addict.
I love food.
Weird? I know. Who loves food? I mean, really.
What I love most about food, though, is when it's real. And clean. And nutritious. AND, most importantly, tastes good. I love tasty, real food. I actually get really excited about it. And spend inordinate amounts of time learning about my food: where it comes from, how to grow it (for when my dreams of a garden become concrete. Boo to renting on that count for now), what makes it nutritious, what it can do for the health of my body, AND...most importantly....how to make it, and make it delicious...and keep it nutritious.
Oh, baby, I love my food.
My hubby loves food, too, but it's a different kind. It's the pretend kind. The kind that fizzes. And coats your tongue with sugar. And tastes good. But that's okay, because I like it sometimes, too. More than sometimes, even. And it keeps my feet on the ground when I start floating away into my spaghetti-squash dreams. And although it really is important to me to enjoy the taste of my food, sometimes his definition and my definition of "tastes good" differs. SOooo it also challenges me to find ways to prepare my favorite, deliciously real foods in ways that are yummy to me, but also appealing to him. And when I say challenge...I mean it. I'll get something to a point where I can't-get-enough-of-it-it's-so-scrumptious and hand it to him with high hopes....and get a wrinkled nose with "well...it's okaaay but..." And I'll make a mental note to try something different with it next time....while gladly keeping this round aaaallll to myself. Yumyumyum. Oh, and Baby-Rae. She's usually a good sport when it comes to food.
Anyways.
I've been really curious about different grains lately. Curious enough to buy some to experiment with.
Like millet, for example.
 |
| Photo Credit |
This morning, I had it for brekky. I just warmed it up and prepared it like I would a bowl of oatmeal for myself: some maple syrup, milk, and a spoonful of peanut butter on the side. It worked! The texture is grainier than oatmeal, but I liked the change. Star for millet as breakfast.
For dinner this evening, I was inspired by this recipe. But the head of cauliflower I had on hand got burnt to shame in the oven a few nights earlier, thanks to my psycho appliance (No, really, it was totally my oven. Not me even a little bit. At all.). That is a different story altogether. So I was cauliflower-less. Therefore: I improvised. And soon a bunch of millet, a can of lima (butter) beans, some chicken broth, a few cloves of garlic and an onion (both sauteed) all got blended together into a mashy pile of mashed-potato-looking stuff. And it was goooood: Mild enough to cheer on my gravy, and nutritious enough to do my body good, but tasty enough on its own to repeat again. And again. You'd really have to blend it like crazy in order for it to have the same consistency as potatoes, but if you just expect it to be--again--a little grainier, than you're set. Checkmark for millet as dinner.
Go, millet!
I'm still curious as to how else I can use the stuff, but for now, I think I'll just eat the rest for breakfast tomorrow. My next curiosity to satisfy is what-the-heck spelt berries taste like all cooked up. And I'll spend too long when I should be going to bed looking for recipes to try out with them. (Sigh!)
Oh, the burdens of a food addict.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Finally Finished.
I really had no idea how to make a quilt before I set out to make this one. I still don't really know how. I just know that it's basically batting between two pieces of material, held together with thread or yarn.
Ta-daaa! I know, you're impressed with my vast quilting knowledge, it's okay to say it.
Anyways. My ma-in-law and I found these pieces of fabric (I think one was actually a tablecloth...) at the thrift store that matched her room exactly. A good wash later, they were ready to go.
I wanted the actual quilt-pattern-part to be free-form and swirly. That's it.
And three months after starting it, it's now finished. Three quarters of it were finished in the first 24 hours after getting the stuff, thanks to said Ma-in-Law. The last quarter was finished yesterday. Three months later.
I plead new baby.
At least it's finished...and we're fans, Baby-Rae and I.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Me-Time.
I've been thinking lately about "me-time."
Mostly, about what it has come to mean to me.
I don't really know.
A couple years ago, pre-marriage and pre-kids, if someone had asked me what I do in my free time, I think I would have talked about things like playing the piano, writing songs, writing poetry, (writing, period), running, playing with friends, having a bubble bath, reading a good book, watching a really worthwhile movie, going hiking, taking pictures, yaddy yaddy yadda. Hobbies, basically. Good things. Enriching things. Enjoyable things.
I took a quick inventory of my time to see how much I get to do those things now.
I panicked!
Oh NO, I hardly get the time to do any of these any more, I must be LOSING MYSELF!!!
That's what that must mean, right?
Well...at least I felt like I should be panicking. I initially felt some mild concern. Some things I really should be taking a little time for, like keeping up musical talents. But I was mostly just surprised by the fact that I didn't really feel like I was missing out. I didn't feel like I was less fulfilled because I hadn't soaked in bubbles lately.
I thought it interesting. And so I've continued to think about it as I've washed dishes.
(I do that a lot. Wash dishes, I mean. No dishwasher around here except for me. Awesome.)
I thought about the things that make me feel great. Like, really great. And I've since come to the conclusion that I have become an incredibly boring person. The things that came to mind were things like "declutter a closet: so rejuvenating!" or "make a room beautiful, decor-wise, using what I already have in new and creative ways" or "cook up an incredibly delicious, incredibly nutritious meal that makes even my hubby want to eat his vegetables."
See? Boring, right?
I may be a hopeless case. But I don't see this getting any better any time soon. I'm doomed.
Though...I'm hoping there's a perfectly acceptable explanation. Maybe? Somewhere. I'm hoping that it means that my hobbies have evolved to include new-found interests and sought-after skills. I'm hoping it means that I'm learning to really enjoy my work. I'm hoping that it means that I'm learning that making a home is not a far-off final destination, where the price is wading through mirthless duties...but a process, where the purpose is in the sweetness of the journey. I'm hoping it means I'm deepening and maturing...not flatlining....beeeeeeeeeeeep.
Because, really: who's definition of doing something for me means doing the dishes in the sink so that I'll wake up to a bright, clean kitchen the next morning?
(Sssh. Don't tell anyone that a clean kitchen makes me happy. They might get the wrong idea. I'm so much more exciting than that.... Hey, why are you laughing?)
That's it. I'm going to take a bubble bath. While thinking up different ways I can rearrange the kids' bedroom furniture.
Mostly, about what it has come to mean to me.
I don't really know.
A couple years ago, pre-marriage and pre-kids, if someone had asked me what I do in my free time, I think I would have talked about things like playing the piano, writing songs, writing poetry, (writing, period), running, playing with friends, having a bubble bath, reading a good book, watching a really worthwhile movie, going hiking, taking pictures, yaddy yaddy yadda. Hobbies, basically. Good things. Enriching things. Enjoyable things.
I took a quick inventory of my time to see how much I get to do those things now.
I panicked!
Oh NO, I hardly get the time to do any of these any more, I must be LOSING MYSELF!!!
That's what that must mean, right?
Well...at least I felt like I should be panicking. I initially felt some mild concern. Some things I really should be taking a little time for, like keeping up musical talents. But I was mostly just surprised by the fact that I didn't really feel like I was missing out. I didn't feel like I was less fulfilled because I hadn't soaked in bubbles lately.
I thought it interesting. And so I've continued to think about it as I've washed dishes.
(I do that a lot. Wash dishes, I mean. No dishwasher around here except for me. Awesome.)
I thought about the things that make me feel great. Like, really great. And I've since come to the conclusion that I have become an incredibly boring person. The things that came to mind were things like "declutter a closet: so rejuvenating!" or "make a room beautiful, decor-wise, using what I already have in new and creative ways" or "cook up an incredibly delicious, incredibly nutritious meal that makes even my hubby want to eat his vegetables."
See? Boring, right?
I may be a hopeless case. But I don't see this getting any better any time soon. I'm doomed.
Though...I'm hoping there's a perfectly acceptable explanation. Maybe? Somewhere. I'm hoping that it means that my hobbies have evolved to include new-found interests and sought-after skills. I'm hoping it means that I'm learning to really enjoy my work. I'm hoping that it means that I'm learning that making a home is not a far-off final destination, where the price is wading through mirthless duties...but a process, where the purpose is in the sweetness of the journey. I'm hoping it means I'm deepening and maturing...not flatlining....beeeeeeeeeeeep.
Because, really: who's definition of doing something for me means doing the dishes in the sink so that I'll wake up to a bright, clean kitchen the next morning?
(Sssh. Don't tell anyone that a clean kitchen makes me happy. They might get the wrong idea. I'm so much more exciting than that.... Hey, why are you laughing?)
That's it. I'm going to take a bubble bath. While thinking up different ways I can rearrange the kids' bedroom furniture.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
You Make Me Smile.
And of my pecan caramel cheesecake experiment.
And a couple of Thing 1 and Thing 2 together that make me laugh.
Friday, January 7, 2011
'Tis My Season, Two Thousand 11.
I know there's a growing trend to hop on the anti-resolutions train.
But I just can't do it.
I love fresh starts. And although you can do that any time of year, I'm definitely not opposed to doing so at any given moment, even ones that seem cliche or obvious. New Year? I'm on it. New School Year? It's a new me, baby. New Day? That, too.
Last year (SO long ago.), I was listening to The Mormon Channel whilst going about my business around the house. The program at the time was an interview with a particular church leader and his wife, just chatting with them and getting to know them. During the conversation, the Sister was sharing her thoughts on being a wife and mother, and woman in the church in general. She talked about how she felt that women had different seasons in their lives...seasons with no children, then with small children, then teenagers, then an empty nest...for example. Her and her hubby were empty nesters at this point...and she reflected on the times as a young mother with small children when she would be chasing them around church on Sunday, trying to keep them quiet, getting nothing out of the meetings. And she would think to herself sometimes, battle weary and frazzled, what the point of even going to church was! All she did was chase kids around! Then came the seasons thing. She realized that there are times in our lives meant for different things. This particular time in her life was not necessarily for all of the things she thought she "should" be doing...to be reading lesson manuals cover to cover, studying all her lessons ahead of time, etc. etc....but that this was the season in her life for teaching. Teaching her kids. That she may not be getting a ton out of church meetings, but that wasn't the point for her then. She was there. And she was showing her kids that it was important to be there. And she was teaching them a love for worshiping the Lord, and giving the Sabbath day to Him.
Now, she says, she has the time to be reading her manuals and learning and studying and dedicating large amounts of time to serving others outside her family. Because now is that season in her life.
I would love to be starting my own little business. Maybe a party-planning business. Or grocery shopping service. I would love to be creating all sorts of projects. I would love to be sewing more and volunteering in the community, starting up a book club, and going to Law School. I would love to be learning how to speak another language. I would love to be traveling overseas and living with other cultures for months at a time. I would love to be singing and dancing on a stage. I would love to be going on week-long backpacking trips several times a summer, hiking the highest mountains, and diving the deepest seas.
But now is not necessarily the season in my life for those things. Maybe I'll get to do a few of them here and there over the next little bit. And it would be great! But it's not the time in my life to be making those things my priority, my numero uno's.
For the next little while, at least...it's the season in my life to be learning the business of how to run my home and family like a well-oiled, kind of goofy, machine. It's the time to be organizing my kids' birthday parties, and family parties just-because. It's the time to enjoy grocery shopping just for us, planning healthy and delicious meals. It's my time to be making some wicked egg carton caterpillars and fingerpainting-with-pudding masterpieces. It's the time to be fixing a button here and there...(because that's the extent of my sewing skills at the moment)...and volunteering in my community's school...in my kids' classrooms. It's my time to be brushing up on my Eric Carle and Dora the Explorer books, and sharpening my debating and reasoning skills to prepare for having teenagers. It's my time to be learning toddler-talk, and becoming fluent in the love languages of each of my kids...and hubby, of course. It's the time to be learning about other cultures with my kids...teaching them about the world out there and how to be aware, empathetic, and compassionate and a true friend. It's my time to be making up plays about talking animals and teaching my kids funny new songs, ...and introducing my kids to my favourite musicals. It's my time to enjoy some camping trips that are small-kid friendly...short, safe, and full of crazy memories.
And just for now, those all sound so much better to me. Those other things can wait. This time in my life can't...or it will be gone. I don't want to lose this time to wishing it were over already, or anxious to move on or do something different, or try to cram less-important things into the time that belongs to my babies. Of course, that's easy to say...harder to remember.
I'll just need frequent reminders to myself when I'm tempted to think or act otherwise. Anyone up for the job of Reminder-er?
And so the inspiration for my resolutions this year: simplification and focus. The overarching themes are:
That frame makes the reference point for more specific and measurable goals like "working out three times a week" and "sending birthday cards out to family and friends" and "have direct teaching time with kids every day working on a new skill" and yaddy yaddy yadda....but the specific goals will change and evolve throughout the year....I just felt like I needed a framework to keep centred when setting specific goals throughout the year....and not get carried away with things like "modge podge ten things in my house in one day." Though that is an honorable goal.......baha.
And now I'm accountable, to the invisible "you."
I'm feeling good about this year. I'm making it mine! Boo-ya.
After all, 11 is my favourite number...
But I just can't do it.
I love fresh starts. And although you can do that any time of year, I'm definitely not opposed to doing so at any given moment, even ones that seem cliche or obvious. New Year? I'm on it. New School Year? It's a new me, baby. New Day? That, too.
Last year (SO long ago.), I was listening to The Mormon Channel whilst going about my business around the house. The program at the time was an interview with a particular church leader and his wife, just chatting with them and getting to know them. During the conversation, the Sister was sharing her thoughts on being a wife and mother, and woman in the church in general. She talked about how she felt that women had different seasons in their lives...seasons with no children, then with small children, then teenagers, then an empty nest...for example. Her and her hubby were empty nesters at this point...and she reflected on the times as a young mother with small children when she would be chasing them around church on Sunday, trying to keep them quiet, getting nothing out of the meetings. And she would think to herself sometimes, battle weary and frazzled, what the point of even going to church was! All she did was chase kids around! Then came the seasons thing. She realized that there are times in our lives meant for different things. This particular time in her life was not necessarily for all of the things she thought she "should" be doing...to be reading lesson manuals cover to cover, studying all her lessons ahead of time, etc. etc....but that this was the season in her life for teaching. Teaching her kids. That she may not be getting a ton out of church meetings, but that wasn't the point for her then. She was there. And she was showing her kids that it was important to be there. And she was teaching them a love for worshiping the Lord, and giving the Sabbath day to Him.
Now, she says, she has the time to be reading her manuals and learning and studying and dedicating large amounts of time to serving others outside her family. Because now is that season in her life.
I would love to be starting my own little business. Maybe a party-planning business. Or grocery shopping service. I would love to be creating all sorts of projects. I would love to be sewing more and volunteering in the community, starting up a book club, and going to Law School. I would love to be learning how to speak another language. I would love to be traveling overseas and living with other cultures for months at a time. I would love to be singing and dancing on a stage. I would love to be going on week-long backpacking trips several times a summer, hiking the highest mountains, and diving the deepest seas.
But now is not necessarily the season in my life for those things. Maybe I'll get to do a few of them here and there over the next little bit. And it would be great! But it's not the time in my life to be making those things my priority, my numero uno's.
For the next little while, at least...it's the season in my life to be learning the business of how to run my home and family like a well-oiled, kind of goofy, machine. It's the time to be organizing my kids' birthday parties, and family parties just-because. It's the time to enjoy grocery shopping just for us, planning healthy and delicious meals. It's my time to be making some wicked egg carton caterpillars and fingerpainting-with-pudding masterpieces. It's the time to be fixing a button here and there...(because that's the extent of my sewing skills at the moment)...and volunteering in my community's school...in my kids' classrooms. It's my time to be brushing up on my Eric Carle and Dora the Explorer books, and sharpening my debating and reasoning skills to prepare for having teenagers. It's my time to be learning toddler-talk, and becoming fluent in the love languages of each of my kids...and hubby, of course. It's the time to be learning about other cultures with my kids...teaching them about the world out there and how to be aware, empathetic, and compassionate and a true friend. It's my time to be making up plays about talking animals and teaching my kids funny new songs, ...and introducing my kids to my favourite musicals. It's my time to enjoy some camping trips that are small-kid friendly...short, safe, and full of crazy memories.
And just for now, those all sound so much better to me. Those other things can wait. This time in my life can't...or it will be gone. I don't want to lose this time to wishing it were over already, or anxious to move on or do something different, or try to cram less-important things into the time that belongs to my babies. Of course, that's easy to say...harder to remember.
I'll just need frequent reminders to myself when I'm tempted to think or act otherwise. Anyone up for the job of Reminder-er?
And so the inspiration for my resolutions this year: simplification and focus. The overarching themes are:
Myself:
Spiritual
Physical
Talents
My Kids:
Teach
Love
Laugh
My Relationships:
My Hubby
My Family
My Friends
That frame makes the reference point for more specific and measurable goals like "working out three times a week" and "sending birthday cards out to family and friends" and "have direct teaching time with kids every day working on a new skill" and yaddy yaddy yadda....but the specific goals will change and evolve throughout the year....I just felt like I needed a framework to keep centred when setting specific goals throughout the year....and not get carried away with things like "modge podge ten things in my house in one day." Though that is an honorable goal.......baha.
And now I'm accountable, to the invisible "you."
I'm feeling good about this year. I'm making it mine! Boo-ya.
After all, 11 is my favourite number...
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