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| I got invited over to play |
 During this shot I was yelling, "Could you hold hands? Look at me? Oh, boys?" I felt like I was at home with my own boys. They don't listen to me either.
 His dad was bribing him with candy during this shot
 The wind caught his hair and made him laugh. This smile had nothing to do with me.
A modern miracle. Everyone happy. For the moment (this was at the beginning)...Labels: it's not hard to shoot beautiful people |
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| On SALE NOW! |
My art is being featured in the Fall 2008 issue of Irreantum. The issue is ON SALE NOW. Here's the cover image, it is entitled, 'In Her Ear.' There are more of my pieces featured inside (but you'll have to order it to see them). So go! Go spend some money! Help the economy!Labels: Self promotion bites |
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| Shoenbrunn Photo Shoot |
I must admit that the palace at Shoenbrunn is stunning. But today, she was even more beautiful. No? |
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| Do you know Cjane? You will. Oh, you will. |
When I volunteered my (little experienced) design skills to help with cjane's book, I didn't realize I'd be IN CHARGE of the design. Many an anxiety attack accompanied the birth of this cover. But, sometimes when someone else thinks you can do something, you ride on their faith until you realize that not only CAN you do it, but it's finished and you DID it (not a small miracle). So, here it is....cjane's book. And I'm thrilled to say that I knew Courtney before she was famous. Wait, 'thrilled' is not quite right. Honored would be more accurate. Yes, honored indeed.Labels: I design |
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| Proud Parenting Moment #193 |
So I organized a craft for the kids the other day (read: gave in to their endless requests to let them paint, yelled at them from the computer room to be careful not to spill the paint, and then proceeded to break my face away from the computer for a few seconds to respond to their requests of 'Look mama!'). Sometimes I get all mommy and buy canvas for them to paint on so I can then hang it on the walls of their room.
I'm gagging as I type that.
And I'm sure you're thinking, am I reading the right blog? Let me check the address again, yes this is the one. Ok, moving on, so as I'm watching over their precious little shoulders commenting on their work (read: yelling from the other room, 'Good Job honey!' 'Looks beautiful!') when I hear the first grumblings of complaint from my oldest. 'Mom! BAM BAM IS MIXING THE PAINT.' Horror. So what would a good parent do? Yes, get off her sorry behind and get a new paint plate for Mr. Furious. And that's what I did (mommy points for that one). As I was bringing him the new plate, I suddenly decided to ask what they're painting (more mommy points).
I ask Bam Bam first, he responds, "I'm painting poop.' And I swear I'm going to have to call Mensa STAT because it looks JUST LIKE POOP. This one's got some skills. And then I turn to Mr. Furious' canvas. He is describing in great detail how there is scaffolding (that's the blue stuff) and then there are guys on the scaffolding. And. wait. for. it. Yep, they're all dead. 'OH, I respond with a suppressed laugh, then that explains the red paint everywhere.' 'Yes,' he says, 'That's blood.'
FANTATIC! I'll see your perfectly behaved child and raise you a future gastroenterologist and a future felon.Labels: The Boy Factory |
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| I'm too nervous to read |
| And since I've sworn off chocolate (due to a constant headache spanning multiple days), I'm not sure what the remedy is. Probably not blogging. Probably not staying up until midnight staring at the screen of the computer. I'm thinking drugs sound nice. If only I could speak enough German to clearly communicate to the pharmacist that I need some medication that would allow me to sleep for a few days and that comes with an auto-babysitter as a added bonus. Labels: Off to class I go |
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| Skip the Sound of Music Tour |
on your next visit to Salzburg.
BUT don't leave without visiting 'Schliesselberger,' a centuries old, family-owned belt shop. Stick around, chat a bit, make your way upstairs. Buy a belt, or four, or five. Or let them match one to the shoes you're wearing. If you're really nice, they might let you see the workroom. The owner graciously showed my sons his collection of snake and alligator skin, the differences between fake and real ostrich hide, and generously presented them different types of scrap leather as gifts. The boys carried them around for days, took them to show and tell, whined for their 'leathers' when they disappeared behind train seats or couch cushions. The experience was funner than Disneyland, more enjoyable than the Sound of Music tour.
Next time you travel abroad, go ahead and enjoy yourself. You know, try not to be a tourist.Labels: Depressed Mama's Guide |
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| Flying |
I identify most with her. Mother of four, dresses modestly, deeply religious, doesn't drink. Stands out so starkly from the others that I sometimes feel the need to integrate her. But how? She doesn't seem uncomfortable living in a country where people are less than tactful about their dislike of her nationality, ethnicity, religion. She seems like she holds a secret. Maybe she's naive in her contentment. Maybe she's not.
"Flying" Now Available for Purchase
Labels: Deutschkurs |
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| She smiles |
at my son. Two matchbox cars, the victims of play, caked with sand and clay lie at my feet. Slowly she stops, speaks in rushed German while wearing a half smile, half frown. She says something about a street. It takes me a socially unacceptable amount of time to answer. She repeats herself and then yells in German, "Do you not understand me?" I shake my head and whisper, "Es tut mir leid." She leaves me. Three times she looks back, full frown. Much too late, I realize that she was complaining about the need of a crosswalk at the intersection. My son stands. Intertwined, we cross the street, turn left, and head for home.
"Friedhof's Remorse" Now Available for Purchase
Labels: Phart |
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| Up to my.... |
I'm swimming in 11x14s and 16x20s. I made a huge order from a NEW lab a couple of weeks ago, thousands of retail dollars worth of artwork. The event? A gallery show of my pieces (along with other exp-pats) at the Amerika Haus here in Vienna. I'm thrilled and distraught.
Why?
I screwed up the 16x20 canvas order and forgot to order stretcher frames. What on earth are stretcher frames? Well, the things that make it possible to frame canvas. Yeah, the essential part to be able to SHOW the work instead of just store it in a box somewhere. So, I come here to beg the blogging gods to pray for tolerance and mercy upon the perpetually stupid.
***Here's one piece that's included in the show (I'll show more later...they're being published in the next issue of Irreantum and I don't want to spoil the fun of premiering them there).Labels: Phart |
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| It's all in the Genes |
| Turns out 'not being 100% sure' of a diagnosis (or two?) is not an idea that Bam Bam's doctor is satisfied with. This appointment only took an hour and 15 minutes, I'll call that a victory. The test results from our last appointment were all normal. Oh yeah, except the results on the scale. That's still a problem. With new medicine and upped food intake, Bam Bam gained um, how can I put this nicely....nothing, nada, keine kilos, no pounds, no ounces, no grams. Verstehest Du? Comprende? A couple of genetic tests, a potential repeat endoscopy, and a diet change looms ahead. But, first, we wait. We wait for results. We wait for our next appointment, we wait for another referral. Frankly, I'm dreading the results; dreading if they will be positive, dreading if they will be negative. Ironically, my greatest comfort comes from my child. He climbs mountains while I'm still huffing it in the foothills. He flies above me while I sit below, contemplating all the ways that I could lose him. He defies my worries, my calculations. And so, we move forward. It's lunchtime here. We all need to eat. |
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| 'The Mother in Me' Sneak Peak |
 Have I ever told you that I've got an essay and some photographs being published in a book? Like, a real fancy-dancy hardback book published by Deseret Book. Here is a sneak peak of some of the photos to be included in it. If you want to buy it (please?), go here or here. For more info on the book, you could even go here. Yes, these are pics of my family. Yes, they love me. Yes, they will buy the book. See how love works?
 Labels: I Write |
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| The American by Henry James |
 The American by Henry James
My review
rating: 4 of 5 stars
With the title of 'The American' one can't help but think that the main character could be seen as a 'type.' This type (too commercial, not acquainted with the social intricacies created by Monarchy and old money) could surely be seen at the turn of the century and also today. But if this is the case and the main character's biggest 'flaw' (or was it strength?) was his niceness, then this makes this novel a haunting commentary on the role that America and Americans play in Europe and elsewhere. Not an easy read, but an essential one for any American wanting to travel outside of the states.
View all my reviews. |
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| Quiet |
The kids are in their beds, it's mid-day. They're not asleep, they're being punished. On my to-do list for today (why do I make those things anyway?), I listed RELAX and PLAY WITH KIDS. I don't know why I haven't yet learned that those two agenda items DO NOT go together. At least for me. With my kids. I'm praying they fall asleep. There is something about being alone with small children all day that (how can I explain this better? I don't know.) sucks-the-marrow-out-of-my-bones. Why is that? It's not supposed to be this way, right? I feel immensely guilty. But try as I may, in six years of parenting, this one single facet has not changed. My discipline styles have changed, my capacity for love has changed, my capacity for sorrow has changed, my body has changed, my heart has changed. And yet I still can't handle spending every waking minute with a little one hanging at my side.
I love it when they go to school and preschool because I love it when they come back. When they're with me all day, I start to go a little bit insane. And you know what they say about 'a little bit insane?' That even a little is insane enough.Labels: Got Milk? |
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| A Lost Lady |
 A Lost Lady by Willa Cather
My review
rating: 3 of 5 stars
This novel challenges the concept of 'ideal,' more particularly, an ideal woman. Eastern gentility and refinement are seen as fronts for 'real' human motivations like despair and survival and greed. And yet, the main character still seems enamored by Eastern gentility and education and he leads a respectable, if boring, life. He seems torn by the principles of the East and his home in the West. And in the end that friction remains in the reader as well.
View all my reviews.Labels: I Read |
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| Mormon Country |
 Mormon Country by Wallace Stegner
My review
rating: 4 of 5 stars
Mormon Country is not history, per se. But it's not fiction either. I think it pre-dated the 'creative non-fiction' title that seems so popular now. It reads like a series of short stories and it happens to be about a group of people and a landscape that I care deeply about. I loved the breadth of the writing if not the depth. I also loved the hearty assessment of a people from an outsider, but without the anger or resentment that comes from being an 'other.'
View all my reviews.
Labels: I Read |
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| To-Do List |
1. drop off Bam Bam's Poo to Gastro
2. buy chocolate bar with ganze hasselnusse.
Irony?Labels: Nummy |
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| Goodbye, Hello |
 Goodbye little ones. I wish I could say that I want you here under my wings, and my feet, and my protection, always. But I don't. I'm thrilled to see you walk to school, to the bus, to the playground. I love to watch you find shoes, find friends. And I'm honored to be the one to wave goodbye from the porch, counting the seconds until the moment you return.
much love,
MamaLabels: Mamaesthetics |
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| Never. Forget. |
Bam Bam loves to give compliments. Bam Bam loves to use potty words. So, one of the highest compliments he can give is when he says, "You're the pee-ist ever I seen."
It slays me.Labels: The World According to Bam Bam |
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| He gets it |
| Hubby slumped on the couch after the boys were in bed last night. His eyes were red after many hours of making breakfast, lunch, and dinner for us all (and then cleaning it up), grabbing new underwear for littlest brother, fulfilling church duties, managing in-the-night visits by kids needing to potty, etc... He turns his head towards me and says, "I don't know how you do it. I'm barely keeping people fed, the three baskets of laundry that you folded last week are still sitting in the boys' bedroom, the house looks like s*#@ and I have spent ALL DAY LONG in the kitchen. I didn't get the bathroom cleaned yesterday and I'm exhausted. " We both started to laugh, me from my queenly place on the couch where I've been relegated for three days, him on the love seat scrunched between my books and crutches. "I'm always grateful when I come and the house feels organized. But, now I realize just what a miracle it is." Indeed. Indeed. Labels: love actually |
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| Quote of the Day |
'While the astronauts, heroes forever, spent mere hours on the moon, I have remained in this new world for nearly thirty years. I know that my achievement is quite ordinary. I am not the only man to seek his fortune far from home, and certainly I am not the first. Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.'
--Jhumpa Lahiri, From 'The Third and Final Commandment' in her book of short stores, 'Interpreter of Maladies.' |
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| I've got Soul but I'm not a Soldier |
Hubby is listening to his playlist while doing dishes, singing along in perfect pitch, sexy as hell. As always. I stop on the landing, arms loaded with laundry and listen, enchanted, to his edgy tenor. Cold Play's electric guitar slowly fades and I hear something more acoustic come on, laced with a lilting beat. A steel guitar starts to play. My knees get weak as I hear, "I left out'a Tucson with no destination...." He matches George's baritone and continues to sing almost every word of the verse. I drop the laundry, descend to the kitchen and watch him, smiling a victorious grin. He turns, innocent but not ashamed, and says, "I love this song."
"So do I."Labels: and then.... |
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| You know how long I've loved you |
It only took an hour and a half to give the medical history.
Yeah.
I'm impressed with the doctors here but it's just so painful to get an appointment/work with the auxiliary staff because of the whole LANGUAGE BARRIER issue. You know, the one where I speak a different language than they do? And neither of us are THAT good at the other person's language of choice? I've been terrified of making the appointment and then, even worse, going to it.
Why?
Because Bam Bam is on the border of being diagnosed with any number of conditions and this doctor wanted to doubt his previous diagnosis (you know, the ones that have revolutionized our lives for the better and worse over the last couple of years? Yeah, those ones). And although I trust our previous docs and his previous diagnosis, I know, have always known, that none of his tests have been 100% conclusive (because of a thousand different factors, I won't bore you. I'm sure you don't want the 90 minute medical history). And because he's not gaining weight, we're now headed for more. More tests. More specialists. More uncertainty.
Frankly, I didn't handle this process that well when we lived in a country where I could communicate with the staff. When I didn't have to pay for everything out of pocket first and then get it reimbursed at out-of-country rates later.
They took 10 vials of blood today. And a urine sample. They want a stool sample. I have to go back in a month. With a detailed description (with weights in METRIC) of his diet. She wants more allergy tests. And to rethink his diet. Potentially change his diet and test him again for Celiac. Somehow figure out if we need to cut out milk. I trust her enough to follow through with what she wants. But I feel like we're starting over. Again. Didn't we just go through this?
Of course I'll do anything to see if he will gain weight and look like a four-year-old instead of a really intelligent two-year-old. Of course I'll go to any expense to get him the best care. But sometimes my will doesn't match my desires. And my desires don't match my heart. And my heart is just. plain. confused. |
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| No naps today |
VICTORY! We will sleep tonight! Yeah, I thought so....until....
the bad dream happened. 30 minutes post bad-dream-wake-up, he's still screaming bloody murder. Hubby is singing him songs on his guitar about not crying so loud. We've sung our favorite tune from the Godfather for him, but it looks like guitar-playing mobsters are not going to calm him down. The kid needs a valium. Speaking of which, so do I. |
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| Good Morning |
Mr. Furious is watching a movie and the DVD presenter says, 'Coming to Own on DVD.' At which point he yells (is there any other kind of talking?), "It's ALREADY OWNED." Then he proceeds to correct the English of the preview, "You mean CRUSHED upon them, not dropped upon them, CRUSHED.'
Can you imagine what this kid will be like as teenager? If I were hubby's grandmother, I would say in a great southern drawl, 'Lord help.' Because we're sure going to need it. |
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| first night |
8:45 pm boys in bed, asleep
9:15 pm I'm in bed, asleep
9:45 pm I wake up as if I'd slept the whole night, wonder why hubby is not in bed
10:45 pm Mr. Furious climbs in bed, bad dream
11:45 pm Bam Bam climbs in bed, no reason
12:00 am Bam Bam needs a baba, I go to fetch it, turn on the light in the boys' room, hubby groans for me to turn it off. I realize my mate has abandoned the communal bed. Traitor.
1:00 am Bam Bam needs more baba, I go downstairs and fill it, realize hubby has returned to our bed and there's nowhere for me to sleep.
1:30-3:30 am Bam Bam and I watch Wallace and Grommit.
3:30 am I fall asleep in the guest bedroom, Bam Bam falls asleep in the chair, I worry that he'll pee on my chair.
12:00 NOON I wake up having no idea what time it is, hubby is awake and dressed, kids are dressed, just returned from the park and lunch. Hubby informs me that he has been up since 4:45 am with Mr. Furious, lucky him.
1:00 pm hubby falls asleep, kids fall asleep. I'm awake, barely.Labels: jet lag, much? |
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| Exhausted his Resources |
My hubby has worn all of his house-mates out with his incessant desire to have company while singing 'karaoke' to High School Musical. Actually, let's be clear, with High School Musical 2. The second one, you know, the one that actually has less plot than the first one. Yes, it's possible to have less plot than the first movie. If you don't believe me, you obviously have not watched the first movie.
Well, tonight he recruited a new victim, uh, partner.
We have a visitor staying with us. She doesn't understand English. She's adorably cute. She's 8.
'nuff said.Labels: Alien Invasion |
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| Have I ever said thanks? |
Here's to S* and his beautiful and talented wife Courtney of Five Elephants who got me into blogging two years ago. And thanks for helping me (just today) figure out how to get pics from MY very own server to show up here on the blog. For someone as technically savvy as myself, it's a freaking modern miracle. Thank you again and again! |
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| oops |
Here's the result of a mistake I made earlier today. I kind of like it, I think. Don't worry, I'll hate it again in a couple of hours. |
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| Lesson in Bilingualism...Yeah, I'm 82% sure that's a word |
So far, Bam Bam (3 yo) is by far the German language star in the house. Of course, he also gets the most exposure because he spends three hours every weekday with a native speaker. BUT, nonetheless, it sucks for me to know less German than a person who still drinks out of a bottle.
Here are a couple Bam Bam moments where he gets an A for effort:
We were eating lunch together and I was talking to hubby about some serious subject like food shortages or what color to paint the wall when all of the sudden Bam Bam gets a very solemn look on his face. He turns to me and says with an expression of empathy, "Bist du ein Brot?" His intonation said, "Are you OK?" but the words he spoke meant, "Are you bread?" I had to say no, that I wasn't bread but I sincerely appreciated his concern.
And this morning, he was eating GF bread with Nutella on it. He was lovingly talking about the joys of 'Schokolade' which is what he calls Nutella. And then he stoppped, looked at me and said, "What is 'Schokolade' in Engwich (English)? And I very self-satisfyingly said (hey, the kid speaks better German than me, I've got to show my skills somewhere!), "Chocolate."
I've got that subject mastered.Labels: Sprechen Sie What? |
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| another example of irony |
 
Within walking distance, we find two very different tourist sites. I included the original picture so you can gander at that sweet punk rocker mama in the lower left-hand corner smiling so beautifully at her baby (in stroller with the orange top). Oh and that guy's face? It's a tattoo. No makeup. Help me guess how many piercings? I guess 11. |
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| Why Read? |
| Because really...if it doesn't agree with my worldview, what's the point?
Right?
Labels: I Write |
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| wide angle |
I've been messing with using a wide angle in portraits as a means of distortion. |
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| 5 Things I miss about America |
| 1. Let's start this by keeping it real. Mayonnaise. Squeezing vinegar-tasting mayo out of a metal toothpaste container is seriously not fun. And it should be fun. Being able to huck a plastic container of mayo at your friend? Fun. Extracting the luscious gooeyness out of the plastic container with a knife? Deliciously fun. Squeezing mayo on bread, working so hard that you start to sweat? Not fun. Also gross.
2. And while we're on condiments. Free ketchup. Definitely miss that.
3. Driving....a car...you know, that we own...and that we don't have to rent...for like $200 a day.
4. Â Driving said car to grocery store and then sitting on my can while the groceries get transported to the house.
5. The baptist churches that I found on abandoned, tree crushed roads; built in fields and parking lots, strip malls and solitary hills.  I miss the religiosity of America, the unabashed faith in something mysterious, unexplainable, illogical.
Things I don't miss about America:
1. Eating too much Mayonnaise. Because really! Mayo is not necessarily a major food group. Trading Austrian chocolate for mayonnaise is not officially a sacrifice in any real way.
2. And if I'm getting Free Ketchup, you know what else I'm ordering? Too many French Fries. Yes. I love those naughty little things. And if I'm ordering French Fries, you know what I'm not eating? Deliciously ripe, warm tomatoes, fresh asparagus from local farms, cheesy polenta, homemade northern Italian creamy mushroom sauce, basically REAL FOOD. Grown from real people, and sent to my local market. Which I love. And which I then expend effort to make. And which nourishes me and my brood on an entire different level than french fries.
3. My car. I love seeing the city on foot. I feel like I live the city instead of passing by it quickly on my way to somewhere else. We're thinking about buying a car. And I hate the idea.
4. Laziness canonized as 'efficiency.' There is almost nothing that Americans do better than marketing laziness to themselves and the rest of the world. Laziness is practically the national pass time. I'm guilty. And as I haul my groceries up five hills to get home, I often think of how much easier (read: better) it would be if I could just drive. But then I would miss yelling at my kids to keep up, every three seconds.  I would miss being able to burn off the chocolate bar that I just ate as I was walking. I would miss being able to walk to a reform house which carries gluten free bread, pudding, pastas, cookies, crackers, bread mixes, bread crumbs, seriously delicious nummies for the celiac and non-celiac alike. I would be fatter if I had a car (scary...and true) and besides, I have no idea how/where/when to park in this city. It's a nightmare. My girlfriend spent most of our lovely visit to the Albertina Museum trying to 'pay' for her parking on her cell phone. How sad. And have you ever seen a woodcut by Munch? WOW. I think my favorite was Moonlight 1. She missed it. She was texting.
5. Public religiosity. The Catholic church bells I hear from my front windows and from my back windows call to a non-existent congregation. The churches are beautiful, lush, and empty. I love the quiet spirituality of a people burned by a long-ago war, a dislike for the commercialized and ancient religions alike, and an intense feeling that religion is something so sacred, that a private display is its only appropriate expression. Labels: The Move |
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| Upgrade much? |
All of the changes on these pics (in this post and the one befoew) were done in Camera Raw from the Bridge, both new features that were added when I upgraded my Photoshop CS to Photoshop CS3. As some of you may know, details are my greatest weakness and greatest strength. They overwhelm and define me. I hate that. Working in Camera Raw makes me feel like I'm cuddled up with my favorite blankie at the foot of my parent's bed knowing, KNOWING! that all is right in the world. And now I feel like demanding that someone (MOM!) buy me some onion rings from Crown Burger and feed them to me in bed. Because I'm worth it. And it's my birthday. So there. |
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| Gretchen wears |
grey glasses. At the park. On the Merry-Go-Round. While it's spinning. I need some kind of parenting award for this supreme act of creativity. And guess what. It worked.Labels: The Boy Factory |
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| And this is after |
the haircut. And the 'watch me.' And the 'Don't take the picture yet.' And the 'Take the picture when I get to three. I didn't get to three!" "MOMMMMMM!!!'Labels: The Boy Factory |
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| This little church |
is so typical of what catches an American's eye here in Europe. It was built on a hill, smashed into a triangular shape to fit the space between the road and other buildings. It appears out of nowhere as you swing your head to look for cars before you cross the narrow cobblestone alleyway that meanders around it. It lingers there as you blink to make sure it's real.
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| Like I can answer that |
| I was in the middle of a deep doctrinal discussion with my hubby about the differences between the evaporated milk they sell at 'home' and the kaffee milk they sell here when my oldest interrupted us with a question. "Mom?" His face was raised to us from where he sat. There was something in his quizzical expression. I can't describe it exactly, hope? desire? longing? Or maybe it was simple curiosity. The same kind of curiosity that leads him to streak my side table with reddish-orange acrylics or throw water balloons from our second story window.
Or maybe not. Because he followed that expression with, "Where's home?"
And after he said this, he looked at us as if we could easily solve this dilemma for him. As if we knew the answer ourselves. Labels: The Move |
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| Ok, I admit it. |
I love a clear, crisp morning at the cemetery. No really. I do. |
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| Just a normal day at the park |
with ski goggles, floods, and shoes that he commented about this morning, "Will you buy me new shoes? Because I don't care what they look like, I just want them to be comfortable." I replied with a sigh, "Yes, I will buy you new shoes." Because what is a girl with an uncomfortable shoe-fetish supposed to do with a child like this? Blame him on his father. Of course. Labels: The Boy Factory |
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| Photostory |
I've finally found a company to print my wedding albums that I love love love. I've been looking for 4 years to find the perfect fit. I've been satisfied with who I went with before but they didn't have the aesthetic I wanted. The pop. The class. The style. Anyway, I've been researching this Italian company for, like, ever. (Utah Valley Girl anyone?). I've always assumed they were too expensive because some of the best photographers I know recommend them.
They have transparent covers, metallic paper, panoramic printing. The books are hand crafted in Italy. They're. just. stunning.
And, I'm happy.Labels: Jack of all Trades, Master of (n)one |
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| Ending Decay |
30 minute "run."
On route there are 6 grocery stores.
If I had run one street further, I could have added two more.Labels: The Move |
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| It's all about the stock and the Minestrone and the Mozzarella |
Because I love you, my bloggy friends and loved ones AND stalkers (you're there right? Because it helps my self esteem to think you are), I am going to share one of the best cooking secrets in the world. And then my very special recipe for something that my husband thinks he invented. But, I perfected it, so there.
Here you go. The key to making everything taste good is...................homemade stock. I promise it's worth the time and effort, it's cheaper than pre-made stuff, it makes the house smell nummy, no chemicals, no fake flavors, food-of-the-gods I say.
So, here's how you do it. Cook meat (any kind, chicken, lamb, pork, or beef but select the cuts with bone, lots of bone, they're so much better anyway and that's your raw material for the stock), serve it to your family. Easy right? I know you've done that. Ok, next step. Save the fat and bones and skin and any extra meat left-over from the meal. Put it in the fridge. Go to bed. Child's play!
The next day, you lazily wake up and have the makings of another meal. It's so Mormon! And I'm not Mormon with a capital M very often, so take note. When it's dinner time, throw the bones and meat into a BIG stock pot. I usually add celery, onions, and carrots to make the flavor (and I cut them "pretty," on the diagonal because I usually don't blend the stock up). But, you can add any vegetables that sound appealing to you. Don't be shy ladies, fill the pot up with water and add as many veggies as you desire. Then add Salt and Pepper. Lots of Salt and Pepper. Never add the stock to anything until it's seasoned appropriately.
Let it cook. It's such a snoozer, but it's very important. I usually let it simmer until it's concentrated, maybe two or three inches from the top, takes about half an hour. I don't like to overcook the carrots though so I don't let it boil indefinitely.
Ok, here's your reward:
Minnestrone Soup a la Reluctant Nomad and her Reluctant Hubby
Remove the bones from the stock. Leave the meat in the pot if there is any (with Minestrone I usually do Pork or Beef, although I've used Chicken Stock without the meat).
Add Kidney Beans or any kind of Red Beans
Add Lentils (I think I add about 16 oz cans of each but I'm not sure given that I work in grams. Always rinse the beans! Or go to the hassle (I mean righteous labor) of cooking the beans yourself.
(Edited to Add): Add a hearty amount of dried basil here.
Let it cook for a few minutes, not long
Add tomatoes with its juice (until it looks red enough to be Minestrone, it's not an exact science). Fresh tomatoes would be wonderful if they're in season but you will have to add some kind of sauce to that, probably pureed tomatoes from a can to supplement).
Add Green Beans (again fresh would be great but I usually use canned as long as they're a good brand and they look green when I open them, not brown. The greener the better).
Bring that to a boil. (Edited to Add): I would cook it for at least 20-30 minutes so that the flavors combine).
Add pasta. I use gluten free pasta but regular Penne is even better.
Ok, since you've lasted this long. Now you get to learn the secret ingredient which I guess is not so secret since I revealed it in the title of the post. Don't look up! It's a secret!
At the bottom of each soup bowl, place a layer of fresh mozzarella. I usually let Mr. Furious cut the mozzarella for us, it's his specialty. It has to be fresh ladies. You saved so much on making your own stock that it's worth it. I promise. I usually buy about 5-6 balls of mozzarella for the meal and for left overs. Pour the soup and let the mozzarella melt while praying. Say Amen.
Eat! And don't be shy about table manners. Elongated strands of mozzarella will flow from your spoon and your mouth. Let it happen with abandon.
Enjoy yourself. Laugh when your husband begs you for Minestrone instead of sex. Hey, it could happen?Labels: My Own Blend of Crazy |
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| Dirt Angel |
How to:
Lay down.
In dirt.
Move arms up and down.
Move legs out and in.
Get up. Say, "Look Mom! Ta Da!"
A beautiful dirt angel. Just like in snow but with much more. Um. Dirt. Everywhere.
Rinse and Repeat.Labels: The World According to Bam Bam |
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| And then. We laughed. |
Going crazy. Again. The hours drag, I can't read, can't concentrate, the children are with me, on me, yelling and crying, my back is broke. I want to eat. a lot. of chocolate. The children are sick. And asking questions like, "Are you mad at us?"
You know the boy who runs off the diving board and his legs are still moving before he hits the water? And for a split second you think he might just walk on that water? And then of course, the inevitable happens. He sinks. I'm that little boy.
So when my dearly beloved came home from work a few nights ago, I expressed my intention to escape. I had some chocolate calling my name from somewhere very far away from the house and I had to find it. pronto.
In response to this statement (plea?) he said, "You know what I do when I'm in a funk?" His voice sounded empathetic, serious, full of I-want-to-help-you-advice. "I go into the nearest Catholic church, put my fingers in the holy water, cross myself and kneel down in the quiet." I laugh, incredulous, knowing that he is joking. His grip got tighter, more intent. He looked into my eyes and said, "Of course what you don't know is that....I'm serious." And I believe him. And we laugh. More.Labels: You know. The Mormons? |
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| This. is. the. place. |
that I found while looking for a toy store: Freud's famous practice (now museum). These kinds of happy coincidences make me believe in Romance (of the serendipitous and multi-faceted kind) Do you believe? |
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| neon |
"Adri painted her wall today."
He stops. And then slowly sets aside the dress shirt he's just taken off. He smiles slowly in that impish way that only he can, half of his mouth grinning like a school boy. I can't resist smiling in return. He then gives me the look. The look says, "Are you just saying that to say it or, as I fear, is there more to that statement?"
And I respond, "Some people are settled."
And to my great astonishment, he nods. Understanding what I'm saying. Understanding me.
Thank you.Labels: The Move |
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| What's a girl to do |
the day after a three-day trip with the Jugend Damen und Menne, after a long day of school Valentine's Day celebrations (at which I was asked to be the ROOM MOTHER. I am so not cut out to be a room mother, I practically don't even believe in the concept), after a playdate for my oldest, a late nap for my youngest, a trip to the park, some last minute emails before a deadline, and some half-felt cleaning.
Make French Onion Soup.............. from scratch............. of course! A cheap steak and some carrots, onions, and celery for the stock, white bio onions, butter, and a baguette for the soup, and lots and lots of fresh Mozzerela and Pecorino cheese, just for fun.
My oldest promptly declared that it tasted......................like a leaf.
My youngest loved the rare treat of mozzerlla-covered gluten free bread dredged in the steaming soup. Although, I think he preferred eating the ice cube that cooled it down.
If I swore, I would have to say that it tasted damn good. But, I don't so I won't.Labels: My Own Blend of Crazy |
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| Spring Moonrise |
It was bitter cold for a time in December and January but in the last two weeks we have woken up to light rain, partly cloudy skies, and a beautiful, if far removed, sun. If I believed in them, I might almost consider sacrificing my first born in thanks to the weather gods for this remarkable reprieve. I can throw open the windows in the house for a few minutes and hear the pattering of rain and the calling of birds. The flowers are coming up, confused as to what month it is. I think I'm getting confused too. This should either make for a remarkable end of winter or a disappointing return to more "normal" weather.Labels: Twinkle me |
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| Who knew |
My favorite sport, at my freaking doorstep. And I have it on good authority (my young women) that pin is masculine. Der pin...makes sense I guess.
Labels: Globalisuction |
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| I'm a girly girl. Right. |
Shopping List
Hardwood, biscuit planer (however you spell that in English, mine is in German), stain (nussbaum), Chop Saw, collapsible table, wood glue, spare wood for the top of the table. Carried home on a bus, on a back, and on foot with much love and labor.Labels: Twinkle me |
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| Another Head Shot |
I'm sure you can't tell, but this picture was taken on a VERY HOT day in D.C. The kind where you feel like you're either drowning or parched, or maybe both at the same time, yes, I think it's both. And of course, H. looks like a spring morning. I think it's the smile.
Labels: photostory |
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| Head Shots |
I either get a good shot right from the beginning or at the very end. This one was taken at the beginning. Of the second shoot. Visit her site here, and oh yea, I took the rest of the pics on her site too. Thanks Kathy...Labels: I Write |
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| Head Shots |
This shot (and so many others that I've taken of my wonderful friends at Segullah) proves that Mormon women are sexy; in all of their cookie baking, child rearing, scripture reading, church going glory. I can't think of any bigger honor than capturing the beauty that I see all around me in average-everyday women, in moms, sisters, daughters, friends. Beauty that so often they can't see themselves. Thank you.Labels: I Write |
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| In which I remember why I became a mother |
Mr. Furious: Do you know what my favorite part of Bam-Bam is that is connected to his body?
Me: No, what?
Mr. Furious: His eyes.
Me: Do you know what my favorite part of Mr. Furious is that is connected to his body?
Mr. Furious: My heart.
Yes. Indeed.
(To read more about finding beauty in banality, go to my most recent Segullah Post)
Labels: Twinkle me |
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| Sit Down, Stupid |
Maybe it's just the lighting, or the buzz of conversation, or the flashing lights. I forgot my camera. I count at least 10 video cameras and probably 20+ flashes firing. My husband is not here. We've been practicing survival parenting again. Splitting up activities, dividing loyalties. The job only a parent can do, feel guilty about, and move on.
I don't fit in, in this "doting parents club." I remember being embarrassed that my mom wasn't a fun/young room-mother extrodinaire. She wasn't 100 pounds and all smiles, didn't talk in an elevated voice or call the kids "baby." She was awkward with the other moms, glad to go back to work and escape the pretense of perfection that elementary school mothers are so good at.
Wait. There he is. He is squinting, hand raised over his eyes, searching. I quickly smile and wave as I wipe away my tears of joy. Sometimes I forget that it's not about me anyway.Labels: Confessions of an Incompetent Parent |
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Name: Reluctant Nomad
Home: Austria
About Me: I photograph banal subjects to remind myself of the beauty in everyday life. I have two little boys who love me even when I'm crazy and a hubby who loves me in spite of it.
See my profile...
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Brushes by Gvalkyrie
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posted by Reluctant Nomad at 
