HAUSFRAU

ashley's cupcakes

2011-07-06T13:53:00.000-06:00

from claire's birthday party. did i photograph the children? no. but the cupcakes, definitely.

summer hours

2011-07-06T09:25:00.000-06:00

it's been bothering me that we're sleeping late in the morning and staying up late at night. this morning i decided to stop fretting and hang an imaginary "summer hours" sign over our schedule.

i went to gap kids a few days ago because it was an emergency. the elastic in peter's shorts failed and he had to hold them up manually, which seriously messed with his whole attitude. so we got new ones on sale. the point of this anecdote, really, is the sale part. all the summer clothing was on markdown. "fall fashion" signage was everywhere. that means, in the retail world, anyway, the summer is over.

thus, we resolutely keep summer hours and allow the days to stretch as long as they naturally go. bedtime is hereby suspended.

afternoon to myself

2011-05-23T14:23:00.001-06:00

it's blazin' hot on the front porch and the neighborhood children are screaming bloody, bloody murder while they splash in their kid pools. my boys are at the zoo with nanny and boppy. lead belly is singing about the rock island line. the iced coffee has gotten warm and totally unappealing. the whole world can go hang itself, i'm off duty.

this street goes nuts when the weather warms up. all the crazies, ahem, the neighbors, come out. some of it's kind of charming like the guy who practices his trumpet with his windows open and the easy front-porch chats with people. our block has a ton of kids and they stop by, walking dogs or getting their guinea pigs some fresh air. last week two little girls set up a lemonade stand and shouted about it all afternoon. i'm a firm supporter of local business so i bought some even though they were charging one dollar a cup. it was from a powdered mix, which was a wee bit soul crushing. but what the hell. if a kid's selling something, i'll buy it because some day my little butter beans will be hawking lemonade themselves. i'll just make sure it's real. in case you come over to buy some.

the downside of summer on chicago street includes drunken frat parties at the rental house next door and odd, shifty folks at the door selling magazines. many, many of them. last summer this weird guy came to the door selling snow-globes and paperweights with plastic roses inside. we also get jehovah's witnesses in droves. and the skinny white kid with the afro who regularly ambles through our yard yelling for his mom's dog, violet. there's also someone on the block who's fond of revving his motorcycle and zooming up and down when it's really late at night. and DO NOT get me going on july fourth.

but right now there's a meadow lark in the tree and things are nice. come over.

summer's coming

2011-05-02T09:57:00.000-06:00

Hi Teri,

open the windows, crank up the lead belly and mix the mojitos. the cold gray spring is moving out. it's going to be a good summer. with lots of tomatoes. get your apron on and let's cook up sunday supper together.

i'm right in the head, don't worry

2011-02-12T09:13:00.002-06:00

sorry if that last post was scary - several friends have asked worried questions and yes, all is well. :)

right in the head

2011-02-08T11:21:00.002-06:00

do you ever have times when your mind gets all boggy and weird, like you can blow through important things without noticing them, but get really obsessed with dumb details? or like, you go so deep into some idea or worry, and realize you were completely on auto pilot while driving to the store, and you can only hope you obeyed traffic laws. this has been happening to me lately and it feels kind of gross, mentally. i had a couple of weeks when i felt bright and lucid and ready for whatever, which highlights the boggy feelings of now. it's like sharing an inner life with mrs. dalloway.
unlike mrs d, i am not, i assure you, suicidal. just maybe...februcidal. feeling that brand of pathos unique to february and march.

and now for some good news. i'm reading a systematic theology and really liking it. this is good because it requires some intellectual discipline, and though i'm slow and out of practice, i'm stretching into it like an old bird wing. it's also good because it's a rigorous, articulate examination of god, the bible, and theology, and if i'm going to be a christian, i have to engage it that way, before i can feel it in my bones. it also reminds me that i'm a member of a really big group of believing people through all of time. and that my great-grandma ethel prayed that i'd love jesus, and i do.

what's going on with you?

ice like morsels

2011-01-22T15:49:00.000-06:00

he giveth snow like wool: he scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes.
he casteth forth his ice like morsels: who can stand before his cold?
he sendeth out his word, and melteth them: he causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow.
ps. 147

eagerly hoping for the day when he melteth all of this.

talk therapy

2011-01-20T21:34:00.000-06:00

a really clean kitchen is good like medicine. i just worked really hard on it and am savoring the fruits of my labors. the smudgy floor doesn't count.

tonight i made a weird chickpea thing with chicken and udon noodles. i just made it up. it was a mishmash of thai ingredients: ginger, kefir lime leaves, fish sauce, coconut milk, sweet chili sauce, a little of this, a little of that. i thought it was going to be amazing but it turned out sort of odd.

more snow tomorrow, i hear. let us take a cleansing breath.

when i vacuum the floor i feel like one of those monks who make intricate pictures out of colored sand. like it's really precious, important work, that also totally doesn't matter. the wind can blow, or in my case, pete can walk by with a handful of cereal, and it all goes away.

hmmm.

potty hero rides again

2011-01-19T10:34:00.000-06:00

ben's potty trained, finally, once and for all. the potty party got us off on a good foot, but consistency's been lacking until this week. now things are rolling along nicely. praise-a-lujah.

c is for cookie

2011-01-12T21:04:00.000-06:00

ben asked to make cookies today. several hundred times he asked. finally tonight we did it and they turned out pretty good. oatmeal with a few chocolate chips. it was the recipe from the quaker oats drum. i tried some fancy kinds from some good cookbooks and websites, but i still think the humble quaker oat recipe pretty much kicks it.

andrew's in the other room watching "modern family" and laughing really, really hard. he might be crying a bit, by the sound of it.

three days ago i declared i was done nursing (if this seems to be too much information, i rationalize it this way: my blog is about the life domestic, of which lactation is well and truly a part. and also i wish we lived in a culture that took note of milestones like weaning. so i'm going to take note right now). pete's kind of mad at me, but i knew he was ready to stop when, last week, he climbed down from my lap and walked off during the middle of his snack. all right, i said to him, the jig is up. of course now he's gripey and holding a grudge. but who isn't, these days. anyway, here's to the wonder of breastfeeding and here's to god for thinking of it in the first place, and here's to you, girls, for all the hard work. mazel.

by the bye, my genius sister ali and i, and a few of our smarty smart friends, are writing a blog about the king james version of the bible, which turns four hundred this year. it's called "that old tongue, with it's clang and flavor." check it out, if you like. it's an appreciation of the most influential book ever written in english, so, some literary thoughts, some devotional thoughts, etc. etc.

night night.

the right man

2011-01-09T06:52:00.000-06:00

andrew: where should we go for our weekend away.
me: it'll be in march, so we should not go anywhere north of nebraska.
andrew: let's go to chicago.
me: (grumbling noises) it will be *%&;#*$ unpleasant in chicago, in march.
andrew: but we're just going to hang out in book stores and coffee shops the whole time anyway. hardly be outside at all.
me: hmmm.yes.

shut up, maxi

2011-01-05T11:25:00.000-06:00

hello from blue line. the hipsters are thick as fleas on a dog. i'm too groomed to be here.

have you ever wanted to write, but been frozen. with fear. that you're such. a cliche. even if no one ever, ever reads any of it, you're still just - ugh. ugh.

there's a really snide person in my head, making fun of everything i write. she's so mean! what's her name. she's the opposite of kristy energy. if i'm going to tell her to shut up, she needs a name. she's sitting at the table next to me, talking about san francisco with the thin, bearded guy. i'm going to give her a name she'd hate. she'd like to be named jeanne or matilda. i'm going to name her maxi. partly because i'm looking out the window at the max i. walker sign, but mostly because maxi's laden with awful meanings.

maxi, why don't you go out and smoke a cigarette. you're just such a killjoy. here i am, with a few minutes to myself, and i just want to write a little bit, and you're completely killing the moment with your hypercritical vibe.

so anyway.
i bought a HEAP of vegetables and a silicone (?) steamer thing that fits into a pot, so i can steam the hell out of them and eat them like candy. too bad i'm so lazy. i'd rather toast an english muffin and smear it with jelly. but it's time to address the post-holiday state of affairs. thusly, we commence a broccoli and green bean binge. i would like to do one of those detoxes, but i'm afraid about the no coffee thing. the first day or two would be super awful. yes, maxi, i know that any self-respecting woman should be able to tough out a detox. and may i just say, you're such a hypocrite with the smoking.

huh. it feels good to yell at my inner critic. you should try yelling at yours. name her, or him, and bitch the critic out. so cathartic.

amnesiac's top ten

2011-01-01T14:17:00.000-06:00

can't remember much of 2010.

i'm typically a big one for year-end reflection, but being the parent of a one- and three-year old has effectively rendered that part of my brain (the part that does long-term memory, hell, even short-term memory) powerless. as though, somewhere in the evolutionary process, the maternal brain decided that responding to the needs of the immediate moment beat the pants off stuff like navel-gazing.

so when i try to remember, i get a big smear of odds and ends. with that disclaimer firmly in place, i offer this top ten list.

hausfrau's top ten stuff of 2010:

best feeling: comforting my little boys. being able to set their little worlds totally to rights - when the rest of the world is so wrong and complicated and stupid - is the best feeling ever. ever ever ever.
most satisfying day of work: cooking for gina's tasting party. being in the flow of cooperative labor, without interruption, and surrounded by friends; this is good in some primal sense.
happiest marriage moments: well, i'll tell you the second happiest. ;) good long talks over maudite and dinner at dario's. candle on the table.
best party: mad men party @ cheryl's. but there were also lots of excellent birthday parties this year, too. it was a year for good parties.
most listened-to album: contra, vampire weekend
richest comradeship: oh, this one could take paragraphs. you, friends, near and far, know how much i love you, how much i want you to move into all the houses on my street, and make life a perpetual block party.
most norman-rockwell family outing: picking pumpkins at the orchard. andrew wore that hat i love.
most essential household item: electric blanket. hands down.
favorite crutch: nap. under the electric blanket. followed by coffee, if i need to perk up. or a vodka and cranberry, if i need to perk down.
best popular fiction: it's been a big year for vampire novels on my night stand (although i still refuse to touch the twilight books). another favorite novel (completely vampire-free) was kazuo ishiguro's never let me go. at least i think i read all of those. see the above comments about memory loss.

best wishes to you, dear reader, for a happy and peaceful new year.

merry

2010-12-24T21:25:00.001-06:00

happy love and merry times to you.
and to you your wassail to.

i'm in my kerchief and andrew's in his cap.

just what you were looking for if you like lauren winner and cooking

2010-12-21T08:26:00.000-06:00

lauren winner on the joy of cookbooks. yay.

mixed signals

2010-12-16T08:42:00.001-06:00

my subconscious is sending me confusing messages. last night i dreamed that i was invited to join an elite cheerleading squad. in the same dream, one of my sisters said, "everyone's getting worried about the bald spot on the back of your head." huh. i must be feeling really confident/sexy and really insecure/ugly at the same time.

what did you dream about?

9:45 update

2010-12-09T21:50:00.000-06:00

ben's a potty hero. he had a total of three successful potties and no accidents at all. petey was a potty anti-hero, trying to push ben off the potty and block his view of "mickey saves santa." so i spent most of the night wrestling peter, trying to keep him from disrupting the delicate process taking place in the kitchen. now both are tucked into bed, amen hallelujah. may i add, all of this was done without the man of the house, who's still slaving away at work. that makes me a potty hero too, i believe. cheers.

7:59 update

2010-12-09T20:05:00.002-06:00

potty successes: 1
potty attempts: 5

potty! party!

2010-12-09T18:38:00.000-06:00

lord help us. we're commencing a full-scale potty-training extravaganza tonight.

i've partitioned the kitchen with baby gates, brought in the space heater to warm it up, and covered the floor with a plastic table cloth. most importantly, i'm armed with a jumbo container of disinfectant wipes.

the diaper has been removed.

unlimited juice in a brand-new penguin cup.

christmas cartoons.

reese's peanut butter cups for a reward in the event of potty success.

ben just said: did you hear the air come through my bottom? that means i'm going to go potty!

i'll be live blogging through the evening. totally transgressing the TMI line.

what if i'm a hoarder.

2010-12-09T08:23:00.000-06:00

yesterday watched an episode of that extraordinarily grim show, hoarders. while watching (in the kitchen on my laptop) i noticed an empty carton of eggnog on my counter. and a greasy sink of dishes. and - see previous post - dried beans all over the floor. and i thought: oh no. oh no. what if i'm a hoarder? the people on the show don't seem to see their own messes. they don't seem to know what they're doing at all. i could totally be a hoarder and have no idea.

listen. you have to pinky swear that you will tell me if: a. i'm a hoarder, or b. i look like i'm becoming a hoarder. or if my house smells gross (i think it probably does) or i smell gross. or if i'm becoming paranoid. deal?

dry pinto beans make the best toys

2010-12-08T18:45:00.000-06:00

as long as pete stays busy with his sprinkling of pinto beans, i'll sit here trying to write.
i've cast dinner to the wind (chicken drumettes from trader joe's are this evening's offering).
i've cracked open a blue moon winter abbey ale. my shoulders are getting that nice warm feeling that follows a rapidly drunk beer.
ben is "washing the dishes by himself," which guarantees a flooded kitchen floor. then i suppose the beans will float away...
now if i could only think of something to say.

pete eats breakfast (with a cameo appearance from spiderman)

2010-12-01T10:06:00.000-06:00

complaint, with whining

2010-11-30T10:24:00.000-06:00

oh my staaaaaaars!
when will this headache/coughing/sneezing/stuffy head END?!?! when. will. it. end. i swear. the headaches. i've single-handedly put down almost a whole bottle of ibuprofin in the last two weeks. and i'm at it again right now, trying to cope with yet another throbbing headache, etc. etc. etc.
thank the dear lord for pbs kids. sid the science kid, you're my hero.

who cares thanks

2010-11-20T16:01:00.001-06:00

broke bread this morning with six friends (seven if you count violet. she's five and a half years old, but she's got a nice, laid-back vibe. she fits right in). it was the usual comfortable blend of the raucous, the literate, the mundane, and culinary and the familial. a satisfying conversational bricolage (thanks for the new word, anna, it's useful).

cheryl, thanks for the pomegranate. it's really the sexiest fruit.
caron, thanks for leaving those little lemon tea cookies.
daphne, thanks for the juice (in honor of ali).
brooke, thanks for the donettes. it wouldn't be whocares breakfast without donettes.
darci, thanks for abigail and the gluten-free goods.
alicia, thanks for stopping in and reminding us that you can get some stylish duds at dillards. or was it jc penney?

and vi, it was nice to see you perched on the window seat.

yum. thanks.

2010-11-19T18:55:00.000-06:00

it's clementine season.

thanks for grandmas, god bless em

2010-11-19T10:21:00.000-06:00

this week, i say a heartfelt thanks for eunice arant and brenda whealy who were available, at odd hours and for unexpected lengths of time, to play with ben and peter. they were wonderful.

thanks for not having a migraine

2010-11-18T07:03:00.002-06:00

yesterday was migraine-vomiting-chills-sweats day. i'm glad it's over. onward and upward.

many thanks

2010-11-16T07:10:00.000-06:00

oh, days of thanks are piling up. here are a few:

thanks for yesterday's late-afternoon talk with daphne. it was so nice. and her boots were a revelation of cool.

thanks for the new bon appetit. the cover is gorgeous.

thanks for my sister kelly. it was her birthday yesterday. i love her.

thanks for canned frosting

2010-11-11T08:16:00.000-06:00

last night's big goal was to get through the evening sans tv. it was daddy's night out (even though he came home early), so the boys and i took our supper-hour blues on the road. we went to hy-vee and bought pre-cut sugar cookies and four aerosol cans of frosting. oh the high fructose corn syrup. oh the partially-hydrogenated yadda yadda. it was epic. we baked. we wrangled frosting. we've never seen petey with so much goo in his hair. we listened to christmas music all the while. (it's probably the first time pete's ever had that infamous chemical, red #40, and there was a noticeable spike in his energy. there was a wild glint in his eye for about half an hour after the cookies and he was absolutely bonkers in the bathtub. i think we won't do that again.) anyway, it was a cheap thrill and it got us through the evening. so, many thanks for the physics and chemistry that make it possible to shoot frosting out of a can.

thanks for the sauteed onion

2010-11-10T17:01:00.000-06:00

i love prepping an onion for the saute pan. i love glugging in the olive oil and seeing it ripple when it's hot. and the sound of the chopped onion hitting the hot oil, and the smell of it cooking, and the weird impulse to hang my head over the pan and bask in the steam like i'm getting a facial. it's just a good thing andrew doesn't object to kissing an oniony wife.

thanks so much

2010-11-06T19:14:00.002-06:00

for an extra hour of sleep tonight. ah, daylight savings.

several days' worth

2010-11-05T08:37:00.003-06:00

on tuesday: thanks for contra. we put "horchata" on repeat and perked around the kitchen. instant happy. (if you need instant happy, click here, click listen+lyrics, click horchata)
and while we're on the subject of vampire weekend, this is great.

on wednesday: thanks for leaves.

today: thanks for space heaters! it's durn cold in this old house. and lord knows, thanks for hot, hot coffee.

thanks for thrift world

2010-11-01T19:22:00.000-06:00

today's thanks is for thrift world. i went there looking for stuff to put in a "baker's box" for ben, so he can tootle around in the kitchen while i'm cooking. stuff like measuring cups, little bowls and pitchers, sieves, funnels, and what have you. it was a goldmine, let me tell you. the stuff was dirty and smelled like cigarettes, but i filled the sink with hot soapy water and let him have a go at washing them. it was a smashing success. a dripping success. had to change his clothes. but who cares? i also found him a little art table for his bedroom. woot. thanks and double thanks for thrift world.

thanks for tonight

2010-10-30T19:21:00.000-06:00

surely one of the world's great charms is tucking a sleepy, quiet baby into bed. thanks for the baby, thanks for the blankets, thanks for the bed. oh, and thanks for the quiet.

thanks for timers

2010-10-29T09:40:00.000-06:00

today's thanks is for timers. the good old analog kitchen timers that tick off the seconds so pleasantly and ring when the time's up. ben is peacefully reading on the couch, having book time until the timer rings. today's our first time trying it. i set the timer for fifteen minutes. tomorrow, twenty, and so on until he spends the day in book time. okay, not the whole day, but i'm going to shoot for forty five minutes, a la diane downing. thanks, em, for the idea.

one more

2010-10-28T20:33:00.000-06:00

thanks tonight for an early bedtime. and i love "sleepytime extra" tea. oh sleep! restorative, healing, calming, magical SLEEP.

thanks again

2010-10-28T11:51:00.001-06:00

today's thanks is for the warm, accepting, companionable companionship of rebecca britton. she and baby isaiah (as ben calls him) saw us through a chaotic couple of hours this morning. just her company really helped me.

thanks, thanks, thanks

2010-10-27T14:43:00.000-06:00

been brooding. muddling. to counteract the gloom i hereby declare a month of daily thanks-giving, starting now. one "gratitude" each day from now until thanksgiving.

today i say thanks for a clean, cozy kitchen on a cold and blustery day, and a hot dish of penne pasta and tomato sauce and two little fellows to lunch with.

strategery

2010-10-08T14:58:00.000-06:00

it's 4:00. time to coffee up.
friday is an important day for saturday and sunday, because today's the day when i execute my weekend plan. stock the drawers with clean clothes. clean out the fridge. stock the diaper bag. make sure there's at least one clean towel somewhere. plan a meal for sunday. rest a little, so as to be in the mood for romance. it's a lot to get done in one day, while also occupying ben and keeping pete from throwing himself down the stairs. i'm way behind.
like i said. coffee up.

1

2010-09-28T14:26:00.000-06:00

he scoots around like greased lightning.
he bops to music.
he prefers his daddy.
he'll try any new food, once.
he loves to squish things, shake things, pat things, dump things and throw things on the floor.
he can de-book a bookshelf in seconds flat.
he has a sweet, quick smile.
he's fond of hide and seek.
he adores his bath and shouts when he has to get out.
he tolerates an amazing amount of unnecessary roughage from ben with reasonably good cheer.
he wants to play with my computer more than life.
he's one.

party

2010-09-25T17:05:00.000-06:00

a few snaps from peter's first birthday fete, thrown this morning with great aplomb. as you can see, ben had a hard time keeping his own birthday fever in check.

i am sixteen going on seventeen

2010-09-18T20:56:00.000-06:00

thanks everyone who helped me celebrate my birthday today! i have the best friends in all the world.

calgon, take me away

2010-09-09T22:09:00.000-06:00

yep. he dumped the whole box of calgon bubble bath powder on the bathroom floor. it was crazy to clean up. but he smelled incredibly fresh.

a tentatively positive feeling about the onset of autumn

2010-09-03T09:43:00.000-06:00

i have to say, it's a brisk, sunny, spectacular autumn morning. truly one of those plummy days (rare, in nebraska) when there's not one bad thing about the weather. the last week, i've been in a state of low-level panic about the coming winter. i used to love the fall more than any other season, but the last few years, the falls have been short and the winters, agonizingly long. i think i'm becoming a textbook SAD sufferer. as the days shorten, i start to feel panicky and trapped. buried alive, not to be too dramatic about it. :) anyway, i'm going outside now to soak up the light and enjoy the beauty. rest, o my soul! there are lots of things to love about this season.

patience and fortitude

2010-08-31T15:57:00.001-06:00

i've been percolating this post for a while, since caron directed my attention to this interesting little piece from slate. it's an article analyzing a recurring theme in hollywood: ditch your husband, love your life. i guess it's an important part of the plot of "eat pray love" and, the article points out, lots of other films for women.

so apparently the only way to get your groove back, nurture with your soul or find "your truth" at "your center" is to fly the marital coop.

aw, man, really?

do i have to?

i have three words for those titans of wisdom:

what a crock.

just so happens, life is hard, marriage is work, children are exhausting, and the world may not be just one hundred percent my oyster, at the moment. but really? must we?

as the trailer for eat pray love shows it, julia flees because she just wants to find something at which to marvel. i feel you, honey. the daily grind affords few opportunities to marvel, if you're short on imagination. but really?

i happen to like my life. and my husband.

when do we get to see the movie where the smart, lovely, soulful woman finds her truth at her center, right where she is, just by digging in and staying at her post? what about the one who, despite a bad case of wanderlust, decides that patience and fortitude matter more? there's a film i'd like to see. somebody call maggie gyllenhaal.

have mercy sweet lord

2010-08-31T13:51:00.001-06:00

i need a nap in the worst way and these two turkeys WON'T SETTLE DOWN for their naps. it's almost 3:00 and we're approaching the point of no return...if they don't sleep soon, it'll be too late and tonight will be a royal fiasco. i'm considering tranquilizer darts. brace me jesus.

do something.

2010-08-20T12:41:00.000-06:00

several days of tootling around and not doing much of my usual household upkeep have resulted in the haus and i getting in deep weeds. every room is really dirty.

not just a little dirty, i mean full-on.
dried-baby-barf-on-the-sofa, crackers-melting-in-water-all-over-the-kitchen, bathroom-trashcan-contents-blithely-strewn-about-the-upstairs grunge. are you with me?

i just changed the second catastrophic poopy of the day, noted that said pooper's dresser had been emptied in great scoops of clothes all over the floor, and seriously contemplated putting the boys in their beds, taking two percocet and going to bed myself. instead, i'm going to take two advil, throw back a diet coke, and attack the mess. wish me luck.

mama-fog-love-brain

2010-08-14T21:15:00.000-06:00

ben: "shoo away, bug. get off my mommy's leg."
peter: "mamamamamamamamam"

the little boys are growing and thriving like rambler vines. just today peter started waving goodbye. when he smiles or cries, his four white front teeth make him look so official. he's eating crackers and cheese, bits of scrambled egg, and bananas, and he loves to take a sip from a cup and spit the water down his front. ben helped andrew in the yard today and came in with a ring of sweat around his head like a halo. he grabbed my water bottle and swigged. he said "sanks" as he handed it back. then out to the yard again.

they're my two presents, my two twinkling stars, my little pals. they smell like sweet corn. i've never been so mentally fatigued or so uncertain of my competency. i've never been so utterly without the ability to recall what i did yesterday, or today, for that matter. i lose whole conversations, entire days, firmest intentions, clearest plans. but i live in a sweet haze of little boy love and i don't seem to be coming out of it any time soon.

potty training as sanctification

2010-08-11T10:01:00.000-06:00

yesterday we had a dramatic episode with potty training. i'll spare you. but i realized ben wants to use the big potty ON HIS OWN TERMS and without my interference. suggestions that he go potty are met with raging protests, tears, drama par excellence. on the other hand, he's been known to sneak off to the potty chair, remove his diaper, and, well, you can probably imagine the scene i find when i finally catch on to what he's doing. i stand there, torn between chagrin at the scale of the mess, and knowing he wants so much to be praised. so we go with the praise option, hugs, kisses, congratulations, etc. and save the cringing for later, when i mop up alone.

i'm just not sure where to go from here. it seems to be time for some sort of official potty plan, but i don't get anywhere when i try to prompt him. rewards don't seem to motivate him much, either, although maybe i just haven't hit on the right one. i'm in the weeds with this. anyone with experience potty training a boy care to weigh in?

euphemistically yours

2010-08-09T09:05:00.003-06:00

ben picked up the word "sucks" from somewhere.
cue andrew: "he didn't get it from me, that's all i'm going to say."
sigh.
i'm not using the word "sucks" anymore, but the damage appears to be done. if something goes wrong, ben can be heard to mutter, "sucks, sucks, sucks" under his breath.
i've told him that it's a rude word, and that he should say something else instead.
i suggested "beans" as a substitute. as in, "beans, beans, beans."
now he's going around saying, "sucks beans."

i'm afraid i suck beans as an example of good speech.

at the denver aquarium

2010-08-01T14:43:00.001-06:00

oh my yes

2010-07-31T14:42:00.000-06:00

i'm out of my natural habitat right now.

this gets me back to more familiar head space.

ulalume

2010-07-21T07:38:00.000-06:00

yesterday was so nice. we spent the morning splashing in rachael's sweet pool and spent the afternoon napping and playing "bob the builder." ben called himself bob and called me wendy all through a trip to target, undertaken because he needed "chicken wire" to finish a construction project. yes...chicken wire...he asked for it as if he'd been asking me for chicken wire every day of his life. not having any on hand, and not particularly wanting him to play with real chicken wire, i bought him a sturdy roll of electrical tape and he was satisfied: "thanks wendy! can we build it? yes we can!" it was pretty sensational.

last night i got out for some time with ali and kelly. we sat around waxing eloquent while the sun set. we laughed hard and spun some yarns like old guys at a pub. we missed you, em. wasn't a proper hootenanny without you.

lo, it's raining. i keep meaning to make a recording of the summer sounds. the cicadas are thrumming in the evenings, and i was thinking, maybe you nebraska expats would like to hear the sound. i'm sure you have your own cicadas in your respective places, but the ones here are special nebraska cicadas and you grew up with them in your ear. if i ever figure out "garage band," i'll try to lay down a few tracks of the cicadas and the rain.

i dither, therefore i am

2010-07-13T08:04:00.000-06:00

it's going to be a scorcher today. but we've no plans at all until tonight, so i need to think of something for us to do.

frenetic activity! the solution to all of life's uncertainties, ambivalences, and moments of weakness when you might just end up watching tv.

we need something cheap...something that peter could tolerate...something wildly fun that would burn several hours of ben's energy and simultaneously be mellow enough for tired me...something in the near proximity of coffee...oh magic eight ball, where should we go?

no ideas? you're so lame, magic eight ball.

feast or famine

2010-07-07T21:52:00.001-06:00

binging on:
stone fruit (on my counter: nectarines, white peaches, cherries and plums)
the real housewives
bon iver

starving for:
sleep
a good novel
the new frazy ford ep

whine

2010-07-06T06:29:00.000-06:00

today's whine comes not from a toddler or infant, but from me. tired, sleepy me. it was not a good night for peter. in fact, it was a weekend of bad nights, thanks to zealous july-4th revelers, gracing the block with sonic-boom fireworks starting on friday night. i can't think. i'm dithering like a fool. somebody put a coffee in my hand with a straw, please.

this one goes out to eunice and dick on their anniversary

2010-06-30T08:06:00.003-06:00

thirty seven years ago today, you got hitched in a little lutheran church in iowa. i love you, mom and dad. thanks for being married.

an odd button

2010-06-26T13:15:00.000-06:00

just saw this poem by luci shaw and loved it.

No, I'm not Hildegarde

I'm merely a floater in the eye of God
a flake of his winnowed chaff. A twig
from the tree at whose root his axe is laid,
if you believe Luke, and I do. I am a wisp
of the fog that blinds my world this morning. A drop
from a leaking tap. An odd button. A blot.
I'm less than the smallest bone of St. Catherine's
withered fore-finger; in Sienna it's preserved
behind glass and I'm not. I'm a loose tooth.
A hesitation of wind. The lost coin never found.
A river wrinkle come and gone. An eyelash
found by an ant in the dusk. A blink.

7:55 am

2010-06-21T06:55:00.000-06:00

it's raining. gushing. thunder, lightening, a proper storm. my boys are up, playing with blocks together and i'm drinking cold dregs of coffee and feeling profoundly uninspired to make the week's meal plan.

weather report

2010-06-18T07:30:00.002-06:00

went out at 6:00 this morning to buy cupcakes for playgroup at 10:00. it was hot already, with that hazy summer morning light. lots of people running and walking dogs. i drove through elmwood park. the radio was forecasting a storm, but the sky was clear and bright, so i thought it was another case of overeager meteorology. by the time i got home, black clouds rolled in, the temperature dropped, and now it's raging and pouring. i love a summer storm. it's cleansing. cathartic like a big sneeze or a good hearty fight.

oh mother, where art thou?

2010-06-16T10:38:00.001-06:00

i have two hours, two blissful quiet hours to myself.
i'm outside, under an umbrella, at jones brothers.
there's coffee cooling on the table. nobody to chase, no errands to do, just time.

book club book: life together, dietrich bonhoeffer

listening to: "for emma, forever ago," bon iver

magazine: the newest atlantic

self-help book: savor: mindful eating, mindful life, thich nhat hanh

feet: bare, toenail polish chipped

hair: sweaty ponytail

feeling: happy coffee jitters, like i could talk, talk, talk, if only you were here. if only.

trying something else

2010-06-13T20:57:00.001-06:00

sometimes i stop and think, there have GOT to be better ways to do certain things in my life.

like, why does it take me forty five minutes to put peter to sleep? i should change him, nurse him briefly, and put him into bed, even if he cries, instead of rocking him ad infinitum until he's in a deep sleep.
then i'd have more time for:
- book club (the weekly meeting is constantly disrupted for me by his lengthy bedtime routine)
- settling into bed early
- sitting on the porch, talking with andrew
- praying, saying thanks for the daily bread
- your basic slowing-down, taking-stock-of-the-day, planning-tomorrow process. if i don't designate time to put this day away and think through what i have to do tomorrow, i find it harder to rest. my mind buzzes, revises, shouts, quibbles and gnaws on everything longer.

reading a book on mindfulness. trying to pay attention to the things in my life that aren't working - both in the inner, emotional life, and the outer, logistical life. figuring out what i can do to make it better. i think this is the only way i'll survive motherhood. constantly taking stock and re-working things.

the judges thought your work was shear genius

2010-06-11T11:05:00.001-06:00

this morning ben put on his baseball shirt, basketball shorts and john deere cowboy boots. then he made me sit on the floor so he could give me a haircut. wielding an old toothbrush and my eyelash curler, he freshened up my look. i will not post a picture.

ben: sit still.
me: ok. sorry.
ben: (thoughtfully tapping my head with the toothbrush) i have to get those bugs out.
me: please. get them out.

"stately, plump buck mulligan" gets joyce in trouble again

2010-06-10T10:34:00.000-06:00

the big money reports today that apple has banned a webcomic version of james joyce's ulysses, because it has a cartoon picture of the nude buck mulligan. ulysses is one of the most famous dirty books of all time, but if you ever tried to read it, you know the experimental writing style is so experimental, the reader hardly knows what's happening in the book without the help of a commentary. it's less offensive than any three minutes of any video on vh-1. so it seems a little silly that it's been banned again.

but the more interesting question is, given the stream-of-consciousness, linguistic whirlwind that characterizes ulysses, how does it survive translation into a comic book form? seriously. that's the real question.

this american radio show

2010-06-08T15:42:00.000-06:00

if you like this american life, here's an interview with ira glass you will enjoy. but where can i get a pair of specs like his, you ask? here.

moving...

2010-06-02T21:38:00.000-06:00

the conversation started below is moving to a new blog. and, lest you feel bored by the prospect of reading just my thoughts, take heart! there will be other contributors! you can be one, if you want. just say so. for now, the blog is public, but it may (or may not) go private. mosey over.

evangelical childhood redux

2010-05-31T07:53:00.002-06:00

thanks all for your replies (both in person and online) to the post below! i think your input, your memories, your humor, and your voices really matter. if there's interest in a longer conversation than just my blog post, would anyone be up for being part of a blog to discuss this stuff?

i don't want to burden you or the internet with superfluous material, and i'm not thinking of the potential blog as a huge commitment or anything, just a forum to think together for as long as people are interested...? comment if you're up for it, if you hate the idea, if you have suggestions, etc. etc. etc.

okay, another thread i'm following related to the post below.

all those youth groups and conferences planted the idea (consciously or unconsciously) that i was entitled to a life of changing the world for God. God wanted me to change the world, mandated me to change it, and would therefore give me influence, success, a vision, and a means to change it.

there's a bit here to unpack; a two-pronged idea that the burden for changing the world was squarely on my shoulders, but at the same time, God owed me a life in which i would be the next amy carmichael (but what to do about these blue eyes? that story made a big impression on me, too), or at least the next josh harris (awesomely kissing dating goodbye for the sake of the kingdom). i grew up fully expecting to be the hot stuff. for Jesus, of course. :) so there's a huge chunk of self-aggrandizement in the mix, and it's embarrassing to admit it. ugly. but, there it is. delusions of grandeur, mixed with spiritual entitlement.

what a devastating shock to my expectations and my ego, discovering myself to be entirely and totally ordinary, living a life that's invisible, wheeling my cart through the suburban target store with fifty other pale, tired mothers-of-toddlers just praying that nobody melts down in the dairy aisle. boy, did i let God down. boy, did he let me down. i never boarded the bus to kolkata, never got that book deal or speaking tour. in short, is my life okay with God? is this whole situation, so not what was promised by all those well-meaning youth pastors, enough?

omg, willie!

2010-05-27T14:57:00.001-06:00

wonder how much the braids would fetch on ebay. i'm not sure i'm into the new look.
maybe its the lei, but i would have left well enough alone. braids, bandana, if it ain't broke...

heroic measures

2010-05-26T13:51:00.003-06:00

lately been trying to write a piece about growing up evangelical. specifically, that strain of evangelical youth culture that emphasized emotional zeal and feats of spiritual valor. want to help me refine some ideas? leave me a comment if anything strikes you. here's what i'm working with so far:

i remember all those sunday school classes, youth group meetings, and conferences in which we were exhorted, cajoled and given talkings-to about being "big for God," "on fire for Christ," "world-changers," and so forth. there were sports metaphors. military metaphors. there was loud music. there were skillfully-orchestrated emotional highs and lows. sometimes there were pyrotechnics. often there was a guy with a goatee, or perhaps, yes, a mullet, whipping us into a frenzy to re-commit our lives. there were references to the high school students at columbine, martyred missionaries, persecuted christians, and right-wing political causes. i'm not trying to be snarky or cynical, i'm just remembering. and i'm not saying all those things were misguided or manipulative, necessarily. but that culture and those ideas have come back to mind lately, in need of critical thinking.

well, it was high-stakes theater, a thrill-ride charged with the gravitas of de-contextualized scripture and holy-ghost mesmerism. it was also an incredible amount of emotion and pressure, aimed at keeping us chaste, sober, and proselytizing at every opportunity. because if we didn't, the world would probably go to pieces. i'm all for chastity, sobriety and sharing one's faith. but it's weird to recall how often God was actually an after-thought, second to this fiery rhetoric about things we were supposed to do. and not do. it wasn't about small, every-day devotion; it was about intense, large-scale, extreme christianity. underpinned by the expectations, hopes and anxieties of the adults who instructed us.

there's a lot more to say, but all of this has had one lingering effect for me, other than making me cringe and feel embarrassed. it makes me uneasy about the kind of christianity i live with; the mundane kind. the simple, quiet, sometimes boring christianity of being thirty-one, with laundry to do and babies to raise. i can verbalize and easily reject the stuff described above. it's misguided at best and damaging at worst. but what to do with the weird suggestion that persists: it's not enough to live an ordinary christian life.

a dear friend recently said of her experience in a conservative evangelical household, "i'll probably spend the rest of my life trying to sort out the good from the bad in my upbringing." i suppose most people do that, no matter how they were raised. undoing the myth that God prefers me to have a life of all fireworks and revivals is the bit i'm sorting out right now.

Lost indeed

2010-05-24T11:36:00.000-06:00

allow me a moment to gloat.

i.
have.
been.
saying.
all.
along.
that Lost was a waste of time, the writers dug themselves in hopelessly deep, and NONE of it made sense or would come to a satisfactory conclusion.

i.
was.
right.

andrew, you owe me a stella, a crepe and a pile of pommes frites from dario's. last night's re-dic-u-lous finale admirably vindicated my endless bitching about the show.

the first five seasons of Lost on blu-ray, going cheap. call me.

on your mark

2010-05-19T07:29:00.001-06:00

getting ready for a crazy marathon day. so much to do, i'm sort of frozen.

this morning ben said he had a tummy ache from eating "all that rice and all those chickens."

pete's awake. off we go.

if you give a kid a camera

2010-05-13T10:52:00.000-06:00

ben took these pictures yesterday. his first experiment with a camera.

arm of the starfish

2010-05-02T21:16:00.002-06:00

i'm growing a new side of myself. it's an organized side. picture a starfish growing a new arm. that's me. the plan-ahead arm. it's going all right.

this week, i started preparing for the weekend on thursday. that's because my husband and i have the same problem every weekend. the benefit of repeating the same problem is, if you think about it, you might be able to avoid them sometimes. so our issues are:

-by the weekend, all the laundry has gotten dirty, and when andrew's getting the boys ready for bed or dressed for the day, he can't find the right clothes. so he dresses them in whatever he can find. let your imagination run wild.
- the refrigerator is filled with the aging leftovers of the week (probably the week before, too) and inevitably, because it's so full, something sticky and/or disgusting gets spilled.
- the diaper bag is stocked with plenty of dirty diapers and bibs, but has no clean ones.

so, like i said, i started thinking about all this on thursday. i was flexing my new arm, i guess. i cleaned out the fridge and tossed the old stuff. i attacked the laundry and subdued it, so that we all had clean towels, clothes, etc. i even cleaned out the diaper bag and re-stocked it.

result: a happy weekend! a harmonious, mello-tone weekend! well, mostly. note to self for next weekend: charge my phone. keep it with me.

growing an entirely new limb takes time.

window washer

2010-04-29T12:25:00.000-06:00

it's monday

2010-04-26T06:01:00.000-06:00

there's an old norwegian proverb: iffen datta dita blah blah (loosely rendered).

it means: this day is for this.

okay, here we go. monday.

indecision isn't such a bad thing

2010-04-24T18:35:00.000-06:00

we could not come up with a plan for the evening. when andrew and i get together, we are masters of indecision. so we meandered around. ended up parked by the new wohlner's. took a walk around the park. had stroller/tricycle races (me, pete, stroller vs. andrew, ben, tricycle). got some smoothies. went into wohlners and bought stuff for a picnic: a big chunk of parmesan, a fancy sausage, grape tomatoes, pickled beets, tortellini salad, blueberries, a chunk of bread, and several excellent bottles of belgian beer. drove home, due to loud whinging coming from the back seat. took our picnic in the back yard, ben nibbling on the tomatoes and eating hummus with a spoon. it was really nice.
the moral of the story is, improvising works, sometimes.

glorious food

2010-04-17T21:29:00.002-06:00

three books have taken up permanent residence in my domestic life: alice waters' the art of simple food, mark bittman's food matters, and mollie katzen's moosewood cookbook. they're my holy trinity of cooking these days. the books share more or less the same premise: eat less meat, dairy, and processed food; eat more plants (veg, fruit, grains and legumes), and prepare them beautifully. waters and bittman emphasize locally-grown and organic foods, katzen's a straight-up vegetarian with a huge repertoire of absolutely gorgeous meatless fare. i love their smart, persuasive perspectives on the american diet and how to return to a simpler, cleaner way of cooking and eating.

so i'm using their ideas and am enjoying the pleasure of a good, freshly sharpened knife, a well-stocked spice cupboard, and a fridge bulging with beet greens and broccoli florets. this weekend i made a (rather successful, thank you very much) korma with ginger, cilantro, coconut, garlic, chick peas, and a slew of spices this weekend, and am feeling thoroughly pleased about the whole endeavor.

but there's a complication, as usual. it's all well and good to boast of clean food and painstaking preparation when you have two things: time and money. i have both, and that makes me a person of no small privilege. bittman argues that it's cheaper to buy vegetables than processed foods, and he's probably right; forty dollars buys a bigger pile of greens than it does, say, frozen dinners and snack food. but shopping at a store that stocks lovely produce, like whole foods, is undeniably a sign of affluence. the same goes for the time it takes to fix one of those tasty moosewood recipes. unless you're a sous chef with hundreds of hours of experience chopping, slicing, and shredding, it takes a long time to prep a large pile of vegetables for dinner without drawing blood. i can take the time, because i'm a homesteader. and because ben liked to watch clifford the big red dog, while petey and i putter in the kitchen. but i cannot fathom how a working single parent would be motivated, at the end of a long day, to whip up "acorn squash stuffed with fruited basmati pilaf," given the time it takes to prepare the ingredients, let alone assemble the dish. pretty sure it would be the mcdonald's drive-thru for me and mine.

much as i love good food and reading cookbooks and watching cooking shows, i have to remember to keep food snobbery at bay. food could only become a hobby, like it's becoming for me, in a culture of affluence and leisure; for the majority world, its precious in a much more important way.

nice night

2010-04-11T17:10:00.000-06:00

it's shaping up to be a nice night.
turkey burgers on the grill, steamed veg, glass of wine, a little cat power on the virtual turntable.
spent the afternoon hiking at neale woods, napping, being wrestled upon by ben, and reading cookbooks. made several abortive attempts to plan meals for the coming week. no dice with that one.
it's warm and the house feels different with the windows open and the boundaries between in and out smudging nicely. i have ideas now. ambitions. energy. stratagems. schemes. it feels good to want life.

guess who was on our flight today

2010-04-05T20:48:00.001-06:00

home, james

2010-04-05T11:25:00.000-06:00

it's dark in the mountains but getting lighter. nobody's up yet but me. i do love to make my early morning dispatches. i was going to sneak out for a short walk to starbucks, but the front door of this place has a bell that rings like the second coming when you open it. and i went out on the back deck (second storey, no stairs down, so no escape route there) and it was really cold. so never mind.

the time to think and write didn't materialize, but otherwise this was a great break from our little routine/rut. (those words (rut/routine) are surely related, no?) anyway, all was peaceful between family members, children were agreeable, and the house in the mountains is totally amazing.

now, time to get the bags together and fly home.

get me outta here

2010-03-31T22:05:00.000-06:00

this weekend, we fly the coop. andrew turns 30 (i know - i robbed the cradle), so we're shakin' the dust of this town off our feet and heading for the rockies. he's going to ski, ben's going to wobble around on skis, peter's going to do his thing, and i'm going to think. and maybe write some, we'll see. have a good weekend...

betty draper has nothing on my friends

2010-03-28T21:53:00.001-06:00

went to a mad men-themed cocktail party this weekend. we had a swell time! (yep, i do have the coolest friends. who doesn't love a costume party? it was super fun.) the cocktails were vintage recipes and were delish.

and it was fun to dress up and wear flaming red lipstick and (pretend to) smoke indoors.

but damn. there are some good reasons why america melted down in the '60s. here are a two:

the food was hideous in the 1950s. i found a recipe for lime gelatin with onions, mayo and tuna, yes, tuna, when i was looking for something to fix for the party. the preponderance of spam, processed cheese, ridiculous garnishes, the ever-present gelatin (sweet or savory, take your pick), and the general air of tormented perfection that accompanies the recipes is still haunting me. i settled on heavily-garnished pigs-in-a-blanket and a lime jello with maraschino cherries. no tuna, thank you so much.

uncomfortable foundation garments. wearing those 50's fashions is not for the faint of heart. getting a good silhouette involves all manner of compressing, clasping and holding one's breath. that's all i'm going to say about it. but no wonder those women are famous for their fondness of valium. being depressed about all that molded jello is only part of the story. the other part involves uncomfortable foundation garments. anyway.

see how cute everyone was? i love these people. cheers.

i never thought i'd date a girl who said, 'la-de-da'

2010-03-20T09:18:00.000-06:00

i could spend my life catching up on all the culture i've missed, being born in the late 70s and raised in a comfy, if censorious, christian bubble (although, now that i have two kiddos of my own, i think a delayed exposure to the cultural melee isn't necessarily a bad thing).

anyway, i'm a late bloomer, just finding the early woody allen films. yesterday i watched annie hall for the first time and loved it.

first, the look of the film is so fabulous. new york, circa 1977. the clothes, the hair, the apartments, the city. loved, loved, loved. diane keaton. fabulously awkward, knock-kneed and beautiful.

second, the writing. woody allen's humor (his whole persona, really) is fresh and so funny. mostly i just love the talk in the movie. the whole charm of alvy singer and annie hall's romance hinges on their little, stream-of-consciousness conversations; the chemistry of dorky, blathery talk. now i get where paul reiser and helen hunt's mad about you came from. and the conversational rhythms of the billy crystal-meg ryan and tom hanks-meg ryan films come from.

like i said, late bloomer. but better late than never.

on cleaning the same dishes again

2010-03-14T21:51:00.001-06:00

menial labor makes the world go round. why should i expect to be exempt from it? sometimes it makes me feel like i'm seeing my life through the wrong end of a telescope, wiping the same counter top with the same rag at the end of the day. but then, i always get the blues at night. so i have to not take that telescope thing too seriously.

sometimes keeping house seems like good, noble work. i fancy that it sets me in the company of women and men the world over who fend off disintegration and dirt with rags and brooms and elbow grease.

when that doesn't get rid of the housekeeping blues, i think about marilynne robinson's novel, housekeeping, which meditates on what happens when people don't dwell in and keep their houses.

what happens is, things get lost. children get lost, leaves blow in, mold grows, identity fades away. as melancholy and boring as housework can be, it's a damn sight better than that.

in the quotidian mysteries: laundry, liturgy and women's work, kathleen norris plays a little game i love. she looks at priests as housewives and housewives as priests. both wash the wine off the used cup. that's nice to think about.

am i over-thinking this housework thing? (yes, i know. moi? over-think?) it's just a big part of my life right now. it IS my life right now. the long shadow of genesis falls over this, of course; themes of manual labor, gardens, curses, fruit and thistles, subduing the earth, sweat of the brow, etc., are playing out whenever i, or anyone, sweeps up crumbs or works on a sticky spot with a soapy cloth. i just want to know there are other people out there, too, who are consciously choosing to dwell, to clean, to chop onions and wipe off the wineglass as an act of affirmation that creation means something, and is good.

clear away the cobwebs and the sorro-o-o-o-o-ow

2010-02-24T17:27:00.000-06:00

let us ponder the good things:

bought pink tulips and put them in a beautiful vase (thanks for the vase, gina! if you could see it now, you'd wish you'd kept it).

gave ben a bottle of febreeze and let him go crazy spraying the couch and chairs. okay, they'll be wet for a few days, but he is so fond of spraying things. and it smells good.

washed the car.

had a nice half hour with peter, watching giada make pound cake. discussed pound cake. he totally got it.

speaking of peter, today i noticed that he has two extremely long hairs right on the top of his head. they're inches longer than the rest of his mostly non-existent hair. they look like sweet little bug antennas. i love them. but i also sort of hate them and might cut them off.

the. sun. was. out. today. cold as misery, of course, but still. let us sing a rousing chorus of "tomorrow" and keep the proverbial chin up. "the-e-e-e sun'll come out, tomorrow! betcher bottom dollar that tomorro-o-o-o-ow, there'll be sun..."

chicken curry soup for the soul

2010-02-20T14:10:00.000-06:00

the poor bok choy. i took out all my winter angst by chopping it to the too-loud and satisfyingly punchy strains of vampire weekend. i was in a really terrible mood this morning, and no amount of self-talk or introspection was getting me anywhere. so, time to DO something other than marinade in my wickedness. time to make soup.

it's a nice soup; chicken, mushrooms, coconut milk, red curry, fish sauce, lime juice, cilantro and the aforementioned bok choy. by the time the whole thing was prepped and assembled, i felt a great deal better.

the other fail-safe way to get the evil out is to bake bread. a nice double-rising recipe, where you get two opportunities to knead the living hell out of the dough, is good like therapy.

other suggestions for the easement of winter badness would most welcome.

the goods

2010-02-17T13:48:00.001-06:00

today i had two hours to myself (not counting peter, asleep in his carrier), so i hit the st. vincent depaul in search of buried treasure. my sisters and i grew up around women who excelled at the art of junking, that is, trolling for cool old things among ratty old things. my mom did it because she was always trying to make our house beautiful on a shoestring. her friends did it because they had "the eye." "the eye" is the magical instinct for junking.

two of my sisters are junkers par excellence. they find fabulous mid-century modern stuff (furniture, clothes, jewelry, dishes) for a song. the other two of us are aspiring junkers, which means we mainly look for old books. or old book shelves. or old dishes. but today i had a fever, and the only cure was junking. i found this sweet green bowl (soon to contain oranges) and this super sweet coffee pot (soon to contain coffee).
total cost: $9.65.
junking satisfaction: priceless.

terms of endearment...?

2010-02-12T16:00:00.000-06:00

yesterday ben called me "darby."
today he called me "big mama guy."

2010-02-11T08:22:00.000-06:00

7:51 am.
boys still sleeping.
miracle.

cleaning up the dishes from last night. listening to old over the rhine.
oh, here's ben.

the elegance of muriel barbery

2010-02-05T06:50:00.000-06:00

our wireless has been down for several days, and i have two little busters who need their breakfast, but i had to post that muriel barbery's the elegance of the hedgehog is a book worth reading. substantial, funny, articulate and full of charm.

i'm still alive...

2010-01-29T13:14:00.000-06:00

i'm just a little tired.

how are you?

ten songs in honor of virginia's birthday

2010-01-25T16:07:00.001-06:00

a hug and kiss to pastemagazine.com for this nice little piece, and a round of "for she's a jolly good fellow" for v.w.

with an intelect and a savoir faire

2010-01-21T17:03:00.000-06:00

peter and i are listening to prince. come over.

coffee will stunt your growth

2010-01-16T09:41:00.000-06:00

deep water

2010-01-13T07:02:00.005-06:00

thanks to caron and austin for posting links to marilynne robinson's interview on white horse inn (and thanks to michael horton for interviewing her). her voice, the precision and clarity of her ideas, and her grace are a drink of water for a thirsty mind and heart. the white horse inn interview focuses on her book of essays, the death of adam. it's a rich conversation about theology and christian thought.

she gives a few wonderful interviews, focusing on her fiction, on michael silverblatt's tasty podcast, bookworm. silverblatt definitely has a crush on her. i've never heard him giggle like that with any other writer. who can blame him?

snow on snow on snow

2010-01-08T10:57:00.003-06:00

haven't been out of my house since tuesday. keeping a paper bag handy in case i need to hyperventilate. baking a batch of sweet potato fries to try to get my toddler to EAT SOMETHING. ANYTHING. i did just get him to nibble on a crouton. literally. one crouton. the last few days, he's spilled more on his bib than he's eaten. what can i say? it's like -18 degrees, cabin fever is at a fever pitch, and we're all a little off.

sweet potato fry, anyone? is it too early for a sam adams? oh wait, i drank the last one yesterday...

haus werk*

2010-01-04T16:04:00.008-06:00

today's been a good one at the homestead. not to brag, but i thoroughly dominated in the kitchen. i made two lovely soups (one for supper tonight and one for lunches throughout the week) and a chicken marbella. and i cleaned up the mess. and i burned through the laundry like a house on fire. it felt good. read it and weep, christy energy!

peter's been dozy all afternoon and ben's getting his hair cut at nanny's. that's the only reason any of that stuff got done.

been thinking about work.

actually, i've been thinking about those agonizing margins between work, when you want to get something done, need to get something done, are longing to get something done, and for whatever reason, can't.

my reasons for not working are usually fatigue, children, indecision and ennui. not in that order.

don't you love to tie up your shoes, literally or metaphorically, and zoom through your tasks? i adore that feeling. it doesn't happen too often.

mostly work's a maddening confrontation with the second law of thermodynamics, which states that the moment you tidy up a room, your two-year-old will dump his mister potato head bucket all over the floor and mix it with pieces of random puzzles. as kathleen norris says, "the daily you will always have with you."

having the courage to face the daily - therein lies the rub for me.

reading proverbs 31 sometimes helps and sometimes doesn't; sometimes i'd like to ask the woman whose "lamp does not go out at night" which prescription drug she's abusing. but more often it helps to see the work of the household framed like an epic poem, as in the proverb. productivity, strength, commerce, management...these are appealing ideas.

of course, she also has "maidens" to help out (vs. 15)...

no matter how exhausting, there's a good deal of satisfaction in "looking well to the ways of the household."

* the actual german word for housework is Hausarbeit. i justified the linguistic butchery in the title by deciding it was a little more recognizable, even if it's completely incorrect. :)

speak ye comfortably

2010-01-03T14:15:00.002-06:00

i've been thinking about the king james version of the bible recently. mainly because it provides the libretto for handel's messiah, and we listened to it a lot during advent. from a poetic standpoint, it is so nice. i grew up around adults who rejected the king james primarily because they grew up with people who said it was the only version good christians could read.

so it was all new international versions and new american standard versions at our house, and later, a few copies of "the amplified bible" and "the message" (ugh) floated around. i know there are translation problems with the king james, but for sheer beauty, i challenge you to find better than this:

Isaiah 4o:1-5

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.

Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the LORD's hand double for all her sins.

The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain:

And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the LORD hath spoken it.

for auld something something...

2009-12-30T17:21:00.003-06:00

lo, the end of the decade approacheth. a girl starts patting her pockets, searching around for her compass and astrolabe at a time like this. where am i? where am i going? where the hell's a device that will make those calculations?

i feel the itch to resolve things, plan things, organize and prepare for things, but i don't know what things. i can't really think too well right now. i'm super tired. but like a phantom limb, the itch itches. illusively.

no new year's plans. i'm thinking, kids to bed early, maybe a little champagne. maybe a little conversation about our life and times. maybe a little kissing. hope you get whatever you want for new year's. it's my favorite holiday.

the best cigarette

2009-12-20T13:40:00.004-06:00

leaving church, we noticed our pastor standing by the back door of the church, in the cold, chatting with a congregant while she took a smoke break. lots of people at our church run outside after the sermon to smoke, and although i'm pretty sure our pastor isn't numbered among the smokers himself, it was enormously endearing to see him there, hanging out while the wiry woman in her bowling jacket wrapped herself around her cigarette.

and just now, our neighbors to the back, anna and chet, settled into their plastic chairs for a mid-winter smoke. they have little kids, so they don't smoke inside. i like to see them out there, together, lighting up for a few minutes of parallel quiet, even though it's bitter cold.

it's interesting how something semi-disgusting and indisputably bad for your health can also be sort of nice.

an aside: when i think of you readers who occasionally browse by hausfrau, i suspect you might think in one of two ways about it:

1.) "cigarettes are not semi-disgusting, they're full-on disgusting."

or

2.) "what's disgusting about smoking? it's a great pleasure and a creative necessity."

for the record, i know the aesthetic, sensory and social charms of the occasional smoke all too well. i also know i never, ever, ever want a cigarette when i have a new baby because babies are sweet and clean, and smoking is gross and filthy. that's just how it seems to me. context is everything. summer night, cicadas thrumming, on a porch with friends, light it up. alone, in the winter, or when sweet little souls are around, no way. hence a middle position. anyhow. where was i.

oh yes. smoking is a nice way for people to slow down and be together. it gives you something to do, instead of being awkward. it offers a sort of comradeship. spurgeon smoked and defended his smoking in sermons and print.

but i'm not really interested in being an apologist for smoking. i was just noticing today how it sometimes works as a vehicle for common graces, like a little conversation between a pastor and congregant, and few friendly moments between a husband and wife.