{right now}

Right now I am...

...taking pictures of everything, anytime I get the chance.  Practice makes perfect sounds like a cheaper plan than photography classes and much more convenient at this time in my life.

...learning that I have a long way to go until I feel like a good picture taker.

...deciding that my pictures have changed and I'm getting slowly closer.

The rosemary bush that has beat all the odds and continues to thrive.

...wanting to write.

...having a lot to say and put out "there."

...trying to slow down and organize my thoughts.  

...wanting to compose those thoughts clearly and carefully.

...remembering Anne Lamott's "bird by bird" advice.  When her brother waited until the last minute to write a lengthy paper on birds, he sat overwhelmed.  His father sat down beside him and said, "son, just take it bird by bird."

...thinking that is good advice.  I might just write a post about strawberries.

It looks like I'm going to have a lot of hydrangeas again this year.

...reading over this little list and thinking, "gosh I sound cheesy."

...hoping that I learn to sound genuine and thoughtful, not arrogant and quirky.

...enjoying this blogging thing and what it means to me.

...defining what this blogging thing means to me.

...anticipating a series coming...me and blogging.

...thinking about what creativity means to me.

...dreaming of fitting it into my life.

This Week's Menu

I like to do little things in a fancy way.  It makes me feel fancy and special-in a small way, not in a big way.  That might sound arrogant, and I really don't mean it to sound that way.  The truth is, I think that we all do that in some way and I think that's great.  We might put a cute picture in the dashboard of our car.  We might always use that one special coffee mug.  We might take the extra time to write that grocery list in a nice, pretty print.  

One of the things that I've been doing for years is using my hands for the salt.  Salt shakers have been banned from this house.  In their place, I have this little terracotta dish with large, flavorful kosher salt.  I grab and pinch and sprinkle the salt on my food.  I feel so chef-like when I do it.  Even Burl uses it when we eat eggs, and he pretends-sprinkle when he's playing "eat."  {Which is about the cutest thing ever!}  It's like American's Test Kitchen up in here.  And I like it.  It's fancy.  It's fun.  

So, when I'm sprinkling salt this week, I will be doing it while making these meals:

5-bean chili
Chili-mac (with leftover chili)
Curry chicken and rice, broccoli
Cream of chicken and wild rice soup
Salad, fresh bread

Terrarium Fun

Recently, John and I read a NY Times article about terrariums.  They are becoming a high-priced ticket item and there are experts and people are making a lot of money making of sticking dirt, rocks, plants, and random objects in glass containers.  I'm not really sure what the exact definition is, but I have picked up on the theme.  

Naturally, I thought they were for rich people who were too good for potted plants.  That was until I read a post about them and how one mom let her sons make them out of random things from nature.  My mom-light bulb went off and I thought, "oh yes, this is going to be great fun for Burl and I to do while we're outside!"

I grabbed some random jars with small openings.  (I have a few of these that I've saved from buying applesauce, spaghetti sauce, jelly, etc.  Save those jars!  They have been so handy to have around!)  We dug for rocks, spooned in some potting soil, and hunted for moss.

I was the official digger, but Burl sure did try.  

Luckily, we have one of the five trees remaining that were here 6 years ago when we bought this house.  That tree creates enough shade for some nice, fresh moss to grow. 

Also, I added some monkey grass that seems to need no help of mine to grow and I found a wild fern growing in my flower bed.  Be still my heart, I could not believe that I found that gem growing in my dry, sunny front yard.  I got Burl's shovel and dug that sucker right up.

This was a fun activity to do with Burl.  Here were the benefits:

1. It was an outside activity.
If anything can become an outside activity, then Burl is locked in for the whole thing.

2. We had to go to the basement (where John keeps all his tools) to get the dirt, and this makes anything important in Burl's mind.  If it comes out of our nasty basement, Burl wants everything to do with it. Not only is it a chance to see the lawn mower and power drill, but he thinks that all-things-basement are awesome.

3. He got to dig up rocks with Mama, a favorite activity.
4. Burl can say moss.

5. Burl learned how to use his foot when shoveling.

6. Burl got to play in dirt.  The more opportunities that I can give him to get his hands in different textures, the better.  It means that he doesn't have to play with his food at dinner.

7.  I got to learn how to teach Burl a process.  I'm not sure how all moms are on this, but I'm still learning how to teach Burl to do things that requires attention to details.
Specifically: I'm working on how to give clear instructions without saying 1,000 words a minute; how to redirect and encourage instead of saying "no" constantly; how to relax when he doesn't get it right; and how to be more patient with him.  I feel like I am learning this with every activity that we do.

8. Even though he dumps one over and we have to start from scratch,
Mama breaks a jar while watering them.

If Burl's lucky, then he might get to have one in his room.  On the top shelf.  Where he can't reach them.  For now, they're in our living room and I think he's eyed them.  I wonder if he even remembers assembling them?  Well, he is only two years old!  

...Maybe by the time that he's 8, we'll be assembling some impressive terrariums.  

...Maybe we can have a digging birthday party and each of the guests can make one of these.  

...Maybe I can have my friends over and we can have a plant party and everyone makes one.

...Maybe these will quickly die and I realize that I have no business making one of these at all.

...or maybe this goes so well that I'll appear in the NY Times.

Either way it goes, I'm already declaring it a success: free, dirty, free, creative, free, cute, and FREE.

Terrariums, they're worth a go in my book, whether rich people pay hundreds for them or toddlers spend half an hour creating them. 

Beautiful Beets

I think that I found the remedy for every illness out there: beets.  

Twice someone has brought roasted beets to cooking club, and I finally remembered to make them for dinner this week.  They are delicious.  I can't get enough.  Especially with some creamy goat cheese spread on them.  It makes me want to slap my mama, which she is going to need after reading this.  She's probably passed out on the floor after reading that I LOVE beets.  

When I was a child, we ate a local restaurant that served endless salad.  The salad had beets on it, and she always asked for extra beets-it was awful.  I tried one every time that we went, and never liked them.  (That was my mom's eating rule: we don't have to eat it, we just have to try it.  Which turned out well, because my brothers and I will eat just about anything.)

Yesterday, I started the process of roasting them.  I googled a recipe and found one that seemed easy enough.  

I ripped off the stalks.  With my bare hands.  And let out a little growl.

I rinsed and scrubbed them.  And took a picture while I did that.

I placed them in foil, drizzled some olive oil, sprinkled the salt, and covered them in foil.  I roasted them for 2 hours (because they were pretty large) at 400.  They were nice and safe in their foil home.

After letting them cool, the skins peeled off easily.  I chopped them into cubes for salad and wa-la.  The cure for cancer.  Or the common cold.  Or the cure for feeling bad about myself.

One bite of these and I know that my body was thanking me.  All that color and texture, I just know it's packed with nutrients to the max.

Burl even got some on his little salad plate.  I was worried how this would go over with John and Burl.  Since Burl mimics everything John does, I whispered a little something to John, "Ok, I'm going to give Burl beets.  Don't act like it's a huge thing.  Play it cool.  And if you don't like them, then don't let him see you NOT eat them."  

I set the salad plate in front of Burl, along with his soup.  "Burl, here's your soup, some lettuce, and beets."  I played it cool, like getting him to eat beets is totally normal.  Inside I was wondering, "Is he going to eat them?  Is he going to spit them out?"  He ate them.  All of them.  Like it was his job.  He loved them.  Outside-I didn't acknowledge that this was huge.  Inside-I was high-fiving and fist-bumping myself for getting him to eat all the goodness!

Burl's little salad plate.

I've never been a fan of the maroon and dark green combo.  Until I saw these leaves. 

To be honest, I'm not sure that I would have liked beets if someone had served them to me in any other setting than cooking club.  I would have politely turned them down.  With all the great cooks at cooking club, eating and enjoying everything, and raving about them, my prejudice was set aside.  The little girl who tried them so many times was told to give them one more chance.  

And grown up Meg was impressed.  When John told me that he was not a fan, I was a little sad.  Oh well.  I can eat them for lunch when he's not here.  He might think they taste like dirt and roots, but I think they taste like long life and good eye sight.  And I plan on using them to cure any illness that comes our way.