Just call me Noah.

Photo credit: puravida from morguefile.com

We're scrounging for wood. And nails. And chicken wire. And maybe a little paint. Because, ladies and jellybeans, the time has come...to build an ark. (Well, it's a "chicken tractor" here in the States, but the UK-inspired "ark" sounds like much more fun, dontcha think?) I never fancied myself a carpenter, but I did take Woodshop in middle school, and I'm hoping that the chooks won't be too terribly particular about their living quarters.

Believe it or not, this chicken-selection-process is pretty challenging. We at Littlegreenbums Ranch are looking for a flock of cold-hardy, kid-friendly, prolific egg layers, and I'm pleased as punch to share our secret chicken-pickin' tool with you, my loyal readers. (Hi, Jon! Hi, Karen!)  Based on our particular needs, we'll most likely be ordering a half-dozen Australorps and a pair of Easter Eggers.  The Easter Eggers lay blue or green eggs, and I just can't help myself.  The 'lorps will lay brown eggs, and plenty of them, and both breeds are purportedly docile and friendly.  We're being inspired by the folks over at Urban Chickens and Little House in the Suburbs, as well as loads of other chicken-keepers out there. 

I'll keep you posted as the chick-prep progresses!

While the cat's away...

 

The mouse will play. (And scare the living bejeezies out of her Mommy, who was innocently shredding zucchini in the kitchen. Until she was summoned by the cacophonous strains of Shani At Keyboard.)

My Creative Space: Working On It...

Now that we're surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and can't put our hands on anything we need, ever,
settled in the new house, I figured it was time to jump in to the My Creative Space game over at kootoyoo. This is the first time I've had an actual room of my own to work in, and I'm percolating plans accordingly.  My goal, naturally, is to use what I've got, or can score for free, rather than breaking the bank on furnishing and organizing my space.  Duh.

This breakfront used to live in our dining room, but Mrs. Doctor's streamlined design has made it redundant, and it's been liberated.  Mine!  Like most everything else in my "studio," it could use a nice, long sandpaper massage, followed by a brisk rubdown with a cheery coat of paint.  Like most everything else in my studio, it'll have to wait.  I tend to balk at big projects, in favor of those instant-gratification-type quickies that I can start and finish in the span of a 20-month-old's nap.  But believe you me, folks, as soon as the kiddos are all out of diapers and married off,  Mr. Benjamin Moore and I are going to town.

I lucked out on Freecycle the other day, and picked up a printer stand that accommodates both my sewing machine and serger quite nicely, with room to store my Dremel and a host of other power tools, to boot.  (Wait...is it PC to refer to the blender and the toaster as "power tools?")  Needless to say, this is Happy News.  (Especially for my boys, who snagged the old sewing table faster than you can say, "spray paint" to use as a nightstand in their room...)  I am truly all about function, but I need to know, people...when, exactly, do you expect 80's laminate will become as hip as my 50's retro dining table?

 I digress.  I'll bet you're starting to wonder if I actually make anything in my Haven o' Craft, or if I just talk about it a lot.   Well, to set your mind at ease, let me assure you that I have, indeed, made stuff in there.  Just yesterday evening, I attached a jump ring to a Scrabble tile pendant for Esti's friend's birthday present.  And last week, I whipped up those nifty bedskirts.  And some rice bags.  But, yeah, did I mention that the baby's trying to give up her naps?  And that all those kids who live here keep asking me to actually feed them?  Regularly?  And drive them places?  The Haven o' Craft isn't getting quite the workout I'd envisioned, but I'm working on that, too.

Bloggable?

You non-blogging folks out there just don't know what it's like:  You're walking through the grocery store.  Your 5 year old spies a blue-haired Granny at the checkout counter buying, say, for example, a package of Depends.  "Mommy, why is that lady buying diapers?  She's too old to have a baby!" she blurts out.  Now, any normal person would be assiduously dying of mortification at this point, but what's meandering through my mind?  "Hmmm...Should I blog about this?"

Just about everything is potential blog-fodder these days.  Shall I tell you about the homemade pita we devoured for lunch yesterday?  The beer bread I served with supper tonight?  The rice bags I finally checked off my list after I got the baby to sleep?  The fact that the baby's decided to flat-out ditch her naps and thereby deprive me of any semblance of time to blog?  The hysterical, thought-provoking book I'm in the middle of?  The equally funny, similarly-challenging book I just polished off?  The garden plans I've been mulling over when I should certainly have been asleep?  The blizzard that jumped out of nowhere and catapulted us back into Winter, just when we were starting to moon over Spring?

Socrates said that "The unexamined life is not worth living."  I wonder if this is what he had in mind?

Bedskirts? Check!

I'm delighted to inform you that, thanks to Anna over at Noodlehead, my beds no longer look as though their gotkes are hanging out.  Anna's  30-Minute Modern Bed Skirt tutorial was a breeze to follow and yielded 2 classy-looking bedskirts for $0 (I never use topsheets, but I always buy topsheets.  Score!) and only a moderate amount of effort.  (Would have been considerably less effort, mind you, if my flippin' presser foot didn't wiggle off every six minutes or so...what's up with that?)

Here's the Before:

And the After:  (I swear, the bedskirt didn't turn my comforter funny colors.  That's just my characteristically appalling photography skillset.  Sorry.)

And, as if a new bedskirt isn't exciting enough, I get to cross out an item from my list! The excitement never ends, folks.

With all my heart, I love this poem.

After Our Daughter's Wedding - by Ellen Bass

While the remnants of cake
and half-empty champagne glasses
lay on the lawn like sunbathers lingering
in the slanting light, we left the house guests
and drove to Antonelli's pond.
On a log by the bank I sat in my flowered dress and cried.
A lone fisherman drifted by, casting his ribbon of light.
"Do you feel like you've given her away?" you asked.
But no, it was that she made it
to here, that she didn't
drown in a well or die
of pneumonia or take the pills.
She wasn't crushed
under the mammoth wheels of a semi
on highway 17, wasn't found
lying in the alley
that night after rehearsal
when I got the time wrong.
It's animal. The egg
not eaten by a weasel. Turtles
crossing the beach, exposed
in the moonlight. And we
have so few to start with.
And that long gestation—
like carrying your soul out in front of you.
All those years of feeding
and watching. The vulnerable hollow
at the back of the neck. Never knowing
what could pick them off—a seagull
swooping down for a clam.
Our most basic imperative:
for them to survive.
And there's never been a moment
we could count on it.

"After Our Daughter's Wedding" by Ellen Bass from Mules of Love. © BOA Editions, 2002.

Compost Envy

Photo credit: jdurham from morguefile.com

Visions of rotting fruit dance in my head.  Seriously.  I spend my wee hours dreaming of black gold...that wondrous, crumbly stuff formed from kitchen castoffs which will surely yield crops so abundant that we'll never go shopping again. (I read too many gardening books, I think.)  We've stashed a 5 gallon bucket in a cupboard in the pantry, and we feed it all the scraps and peelings from our meals.  Eggshells, veggie peels, leftover curry--in the bucket.  Apple cores, tea bags, Friday afternoon haircut trimmings--in the bucket.  And today, I got a wonderful email in response to my Freecycle request for bagged leaves:

Hi Wendy!  I saw your ad.  I was wondering if you wanted some horse manure for your compost pile?  I have a lot at my barn and people are always wanting this  pooh for their gardens and compost piles. If you do or know someone else that would like some, you can call me at ***-****.  I can bag it, box it or if you have a tub.
This is NO joke, just so you know.  I just need to get rid of it! :)
Thanks
Lee Ann

You don't need to ask about my response, do you?
Like Jess always says, everybody needs a hobby.

Ancient Chinese Secret?

While our little clan is infamous for all manner of things, we're only famous for one.  Each week, Jess prepares a mind-blowingly delicious condiment we've affectionately dubbed "SPARGO."  It's an acronym and recipe all in one:  Salt, PARsley, Garlic and Olive oil.  We put it on challah, but it's amazing on pasta or potatoes, as well.  Here's the how-to:

Peel a head of garlic, and process with steel blade until finely chopped.
Put into a serving or storage container.
Add 1 cup dried parsley, and
1 cup extra light tasting olive oil (NOT extra virgin!)

You're done!  Drizzle onto the carb of your choice and salt to taste.  Enjoy, and remember...it's a "good" fat.  No, really, keep telling yourself that...

Slip-sliding away...

Woke up to the melodic strains of my next-door-neighbor spinning his wheels in a valiant attempt to back out of his driveway. (As. If.) The Ice Fairy had gilded the metropolis whilst we slept, and it soon became apparent (to me, anyway) that nobody was going nowhere. (Ooh! Double negative! Take that, Inner Copy Editor!) We spent a good part of the morning watching Those Less Clever Than Ourselves sled down our street in their SUVs (and in one case, an absolutely stunning cherry-red '64 Chevy). No accidents, lots of close calls, and two visits from AAA.

After the novelty of the Ice Olympics wore off, I set about fortifying the troops. (We seem to eat a whole lot more when it's filthy out...no?) I put together an ambitious lunch of Red Lentil & Squash soup with homemade rolls. The soup, while relatively tasty, was a total flop. Too sweet for the lot of us, so I'll give you the recipe for Marci's Onion Rolls, instead. These are a longtime favorite of our family, and are based on a recipe from Marci Bernstein (no relation) of North Miami Beach, FL.

Marci's Onion Rolls

9 cups whole wheat flour (King Arthur's White Whole Wheat)
3 cups unbleached white flour
1 c. vital wheat gluten
4 T. yeast
3.T sea salt
1/3 c. maple syrup
2 eggs
4 cups water
1 large onion, diced
2 T poppy seeds
1 t. dried dill
1T. caraway seeds

combine flours, yeast, salt, syrup, eggs, and water until dough is elastic and well mixed. Add onion, dill and seeds. Allow to rise 40 minutes. Shape and bake at 350 till lightly browned. Try not to eat more than eleven in one sitting.
These keep fabulously in a ziploc in the freezer, and taste best when toasted, if you're not eating them straight from the oven. You can play with the flours if you're feeling less crunchy than I am...and with the flavorings if your kids are not keen on "stuff" in their bread.

Before I sign off, I beg your assistance in the little matter of Parts Identification. My vacation-day yielded all sorts of
surprises in the art room, and I finally managed to unearth the attachments that came with my sewing machine. Much to my chagrin, none of these seems to be a zipper foot. Can anyone offer some insight as to what, exactly, any of them might be? I'm flummoxed. So, without further ado, let's play America's Favorite Weblog Game:

You want irony?

 
I'll give you irony. We were unpacking a box of goodies this afternoon and came across a 1934 edition of The Modern Encyclopedia. I thumbed through, pausing here and there to read a definition out loud to the littles. Halfway through patience, I felt something cold on my leg. (Never a good sign...) Looking down, I saw that Shani's "art genes" had revealed themselves. She was painting. On my skirt. With applesauce. Got patience, Mommy? Not so much, kid, but irony? I've got that in spades.

A little bit of random

 

Busy, busy day today...filled with lots of niggling domestic-type chores that get undone so quickly that there's barely time to reflect on their having been done at all before you have to do them again. Grr.

No more frozen fingers...

I drink my water ice cold. And I drink it from a stainless steel water bottle. Which adds up to trouble, when you live in Des Moines, and it's January. I've been suffering for months with frostbitten fingers, and yesterday I had myself a little brainstorm. I made a dash for my felted sweater stash (What? You don't have a felted sweater stash? You don't know what you're missing.) Thirty seconds later, My water bottle had a new sweater, and my frosty fingers were a thing of the past.

Keeping Up With the Joneses (or whoever they are)

This morning, I opened the curtains to admire the view and was greeted by this unusual fellow on the Nameless (We'll assume, for now, that their lack of neighborliness is due only to the chill in the air. I'm sure we'll be fast friends come spring....) Neighbors' front lawn: A challenge, plain as the nose on his (oddly misshapen) face. I gathered the troops and finessed them into their various items of cold-weather gear. Under the guidance of Thing One and Thing Two, the munchkins descended upon the snowy slope outside our front door and tackled the task at hand: reclaiming our snow-sculpting claim to fame. They left me with a sleeping baby (yes!) and a still-disastrous craft-room. I turned a deaf ear to the siren's song of dirty dishes and a mountain of unwashed laundry, and made my way into my sanctuary. (See that scary-looking pile in the corner? That's my fabric stash. I promise you, it self-propagates.) Despite the overwhelming amount of work to be done, there's a happy little vibe in here. Itty-bitty corners of calm are emerging from the madness, and naturally, I'll share. I went around whacking at things with a hammer (mostly nails, no children, I promise...) and that seems to have had a soothing effect. Meanwhile, the loin-fruit were busily building the coolest snowman on the block. Mission accomplished.

Just desserts

Chevi earned a special ice cream date with the 'rents this afternoon. (Seven solo sleeps in the top bunk!) Then Mommy came home and neglected to feed her brood while she futzed with the computer till she figured out how to make a Picasa collage. Life is sweet.

I flunked...

...my own Bookmarkable Blog Assessment.  That smarts some, but it's true.  To earn my "CTRL-D" a blog must meet each of my Rigorous Standards of Excellence:

1.  Tutes?  Sweet!    In the world of the craft-blog, tutorials and giveaways are absolutely de rigueur.  I seem to be sadly lacking in both departments, at the moment.  However, once I dig my way out of the rubble that is my craft room , I'll make an attempt to rectify this lamentable state of affairs.
2.  Great Photos  I'm looking for clear, well-cropped, and relatively germane pictures. Ahem.  Well, at least I've got photos...let's just say I'm working on it.
3.  Je ne sais quois  Call it voice, charisma, or just plain personality--if it's not there, I'm gone after the first click.  Make me want to read about your coffee, your carpool, or your new drop spindle. (Getting there, I think...)
4.  Spelling Counts--use your spellchecker, folks.  And if you truly can't differentiate between you're and your, they're, their, and there or its and it's, then it's probably time to get a new hobby.  (I give myself full marks in this small regard, at least.)

'Kay.  That being said, I offer you, my unsuspecting readers, an utterly gratuitous snap of tonight's supper:  Kirk's Curry (I can get my kids to eat most things by sticking a Trekkie reference into the name.  Try it...) 

Swamped

I am buried in boxes. Surrounded by stuff. Engulfed in ephemera. You get the picture? I've been a very good girl, and held off unpacking my craft stuff till it was all here. Well, now it's here, and I'm officially overwhelmed. (I've also confirmed my ADD suspicions, in case any of you were wondering. Actually, you could establish that diagnosis just by looking at the way the boxes are packed, without so much as casting a glance at the poetry in motion that is me, putting stuff away.)

At this rate, I figure might be ready to make something by June.

For Chava: Fat-Free Pumpkin Muffins

My kiddos call these 'Pumpkin Pasties,' and they eat them straight from the pan. They'll keep, theoretically, in the freezer, for months...just pop them in the microwave for 20 seconds and enjoy! You can also make this recipe in a loaf pan or Bundt pan.

1 large can pumpkin
1 c. applesauce
8 eggwhites or 4 eggs
2 c. brown sugar
3.5 c. whole wheat flour (I like King Arthur's White Whole Wheat)
2 t. baking powder
2 t. baking soda
1 t. salt
1 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. nutmeg
2 t. ginger
1/2 t. cloves
2/3 c. orange juice (I use Rice Dream)
1 c. raisins, craisins, nuts, chocolate chips or chopped dates (the chocolate chips kind of kill the "fat-free" deal, but they're yummy!

mix, fill (sprayed) muffin cups 2/3 full, and bake until done. :)

Before and After

Subzero temperatures seem to lend themselves to leisurely Shabbos preparations. (So leisurely, in fact, that I almost forgot to make the salmon!) Luckily, this week's recipe (from Old Bay) was super-quick and foolproof:

Zingy Dipping Sauce
Ingredients

1/2 cup honey

1/4 cup ketchup

2 teaspoons lemon juice

2 teaspoons OLD BAY® Seasoning

Directions
In a small bowl, mix honey, ketchup, lemon juice and OLD BAY until well blended.

I use this on salmon and chicken with equally great results. Brush it on and bake till done.
(No, that's not the salmon in the photo above. Those would be the chicken stew and the quinoa, respectively, which for some reason proved far more photogenic than the fish.)

After havdallah, it was time for a quick tidy-up. (Denny, if you're reading this, will you please come install my dishwasher? My dishpan hands are waiting...) Thankfully, the littles have developed an affinity for sweeping, so with their help, things got done in twice the time no time at all.

Say, "bubbles!"

The cream of the crop from the almost-annual Bernstein Family Torture Photo Session:

My Book-stack

There's always a Pisa-esque stack of books threatening to topple off of my night table. The fruits of my frequent library raids keep me entertained while I nurse the baby, and in the (highly unlikely) event that I have a few minutes to spare, I bury my nose in a book. While I do read my fair share of fiction, my book-stack tends toward the how-to, DIY variety. You can gauge my obsession-of-the-month (week?) by scanning the stack at my bedside. (My bookmarks kind of echo my library pile in that regard.) Right now I'm enthralled with the whole urban-homestead movement. I'm planning our garden with a vengeance borne of cabin fever, and the kids are drawing up increasingly complex chicken-coop plans.

Now you tell me: what's in your book-stack?

Guest Blogger: Rachmy B. (age 7)

I drew some pirates on a boat. The Captain said, "Get ready to fire!" Before he could fire, the second-in-command said, "Stop it, you crewman! You're not even a captain." Then the second-in-command threw off the cannons. They were shooting at a sea serpent because it broke off the one of the crew-mates' legs at the hip. That's it.

Yup, that pretty much says it all. Hope your day has been uneventful and that all of your sea monsters are behaving themselves.

Back to civilization

When the well is dry, we know the worth of water.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, (1706-1790), Poor Richard's Almanac, 1746

It's my firm belief that anything I want to say, Ben Franklin has already said, and said it better. This exciting episode of the Wendy Files has been no exception. By the time Denny the Wonder Plumber gave us the all clear this afternoon, I was just way too excited at the prospect of doing dishes. And laundry. And washing the floors, for heaven's sake. Anyway, the pipes are fixed, so we can check that little item off of yesterday's list. Now, we'll just have to see about the floor. And the walls. And and the ceiling.

On a lighter note, I finally got around to taking pictures of the presents I made for Esti and Chevi. Esti's corkboard is based on this tutorial:If I didn't know my kid would be reading this, I'd tell you I got the corkboard on clearance at Mal-Wart for a quarter. And the canvas is a Home Depot find...I bought a huge dropcloth that should provide me with all of my material needs (had to!) for awhile. Black acrylic paint from my stash and a doily from a pack I bought eons ago...easy-peasy, and definitely budget friendly.

Chevi's name-art is as basic as it gets. I bought the frame at Goodwill, primed it, painted it, and cut a piece of scrapbook paper to fit. Printed out her name in a font that pleased me, printed it as a mirror image, and glued it to the back of the scrapbook paper. X-actoed it out, and put some contrasting paper behind the cutout, and voila! I've stopped lusting after Pottery Barn trappings. (Well, mostly.)

My Very Long List of Things to Do

Cover ugly milk crates. This is a house of many crates. They are muy ugly. Must. cover. crates.

Make bedskirts. Simply have no desire to look at hideous boxsprings for another moment. Ick.

Make more rice bags. My feet are always freezing, but if I pop a rice bag under the covers before I go to bed, it'll keep my toes toasty till I fall asleep. We all use them...we all love them.

Set up studio. This is what it looks like at the moment: (Kind of forlorn, isn't it? But fear not! I have prodigious plans!)

Make belly bands ... avoid TMI moments.

Finish moving. Still.

Finish unpacking. Still.

Laundry. Dishes. Again.

Feed kids. Again. Yes, that's snow we're melting on the stove to make supper. Yes, I feel like Ma Flippin' Ingalls. No, the water's not fixed yet. Which brings us to the piece de resistance:
Fix busted pipes.

Before and After

This week, my Shabbos preparations got off to a particularly slow start, since I'd left my shopping till Friday morning (and because we finally got around to bringing the fridge from the rental to our new house after my grocery run.) Anyway, I found myself baking challah less than 2 hours before candlelighting, which is a little too close for comfort in my book. A certain klepto-child helped herself to a sample of the rising dough: We made our first meal on the wacky fold-down burners: and Esti worked a little magic wit our new, eco-friendly cloth napkins: Anyway, everything got cooked in time, cleaned in time, and ready in time. We had a lovely supper and a pleasant evening and woke up to a very chilly an almost-Arctic basement. Now, those of you who live in colder climates know that this is a resoundingly bad thing. We shut off the water to the house, and the plumber will be spending his Sunday with us. Not ones to be deterred by a little thing like busted pipes, we gleefully deferred the sinkful of dishes and popped some sweet potato fries into the oven: Jess fired up the gas-fire, and from there on out, it was all books, games, and Star Trek, the Next Generation.

Norman Rockwell, eat your heart out.