Happy Birthday to my not-so-baby

I'm off to see my Mum and the rest of my family and peeps in New Zealand next week, so I am going to miss Jeff's birthday and Easter and Charlie's birthday and Annie's birthday. 

Method to my madness, ya think?

Anyway, my kids know not to expect a big fuss every time there's a birthday, but once in a while I like to do a special post for one of my darling offspring.

And this is one of them.

This is for Sam, to prove that I did take some notes on Charlie's arrival! Sorry if it contradicts some of my earlier info, Sam, I had to think a few things through.

Charlie was a surprise. 

Just want to put that out there.

It had been five years since our last baby and, well, we weren't trying not to, if you know what I mean, and suddenly, when Jeff was out of town on a business trip, I discovered I was pregnant.

We were happy about it, but I soon became violently ill, as in raging nausea and vomiting, and then my left leg got swollen and painful again and, by three months, I was in the hospital with phlebitis. My leg was full of blood clots and my longevity was in question. Ten days in the hospital and a new regimen of two Heparin shots a day in my stomach pretty much nixed the blood clots. Jeff struggled along with the other three, with help from friends, and got grumpy again. 

Plans for another home birth were shot and I started seeing a high-risk doctor at Kaiser. He was a doll and as kind a man as I have ever met and I fell half in love with him, what with Jeff still being grumpy and all. 

The nausea didn't abate one whit and I got big red spots in the whites of my eyes from the force of throwing up everything I ate. My growing stomach became bilious shades of purple and green from the subcutaneous shots of blood thinner. I survived, but did not thrive. I sent the three kids off to school each morning and went back to bed until Annie came home from Kindergarten. Jeff cleaned the house and took care of everything as well as he could, with me pitching in when I was able.

We had already planned a trip to New Zealand and bought the tickets before we knew of the pregnancy, so, with permission from my doctor, when I was five months along, we went. I had to travel back home with the three older kids alone, as Jeff had returned to work earlier. The trip included a night in Honolulu, which was not awesome, dragging three kids and our bags back and forth from the hotel. Checking our luggage onto the flight, after waiting in line forever, the handlers refused to lift the bags onto the conveyor belt. I promptly broke into tears and some of our fellow travelers rescued me. I've had a bit of a disdain for Honolulu Airport ever since.

Charlie was due on April 1st and, if I didn't go into labour spontaneously, the plan was to induce on the 2nd. I was determined not to have an April Fool's baby and also didn't want to be induced. I guess I was due for some goodness, because I started labour in the wee hours of the morning of the 2nd. We called Jeff's aunty to let her know, as she was coming to stay with Jonnie and Annie. Bethany was to attend the birth with my good friend, Kathy. Don't come yet, I said, we just wanted you to be prepared. Well, she was over shortly and shooed us off to the hospital. I'd never had to be in a car while I was in labour before, and we had to go all the way into Portland. It was the one time in his life that Jeff actually exceeded the speed limits. 

I was expecting my usual long, drawn-out labour, and when things got kind of intense I got some Demerol, thinking I would never make it through the day. My lovely doctor had just come on duty and I felt like I need to push, but figured it was too soon. Nope, he measured and I was ready. Off to the delivery room we went,  all of us. It didn't take too many pushes and out he came, with his little ears all squished to the side of his head and red patches in his eyes and on his face from coming down the birth canal so quickly, and my dad's dimple in his left cheek. He was so beautiful, and we named him Isaac Charles.

"Isaac?" exclaimed my Uncle Charlie, when I called to tell him. "That's a Jewish name!"

"Hmmm, no, Uncle Charlie, it's biblical," I said.

And I sat and looked at him in the hospital for three days, while they regulated the blood thinner, and tried to call him Isaac.

But he wasn't an Isaac.

So we called him Charlie, which fit him perfectly and made my uncle very happy.

The Marines owned Charlie for his last four birthdays. 

We are so glad and grateful that he made it home to us. I know there are stories we will never hear about his time away, and we are proud of him for his strength and resilience. 

I am sure that having Sam waiting at home kept him sane. And now she, their beloved Wrangler, and baby-girl-soon-to-arrive London are motivating him to work hard and study hard and be the man he was always meant to be.

He is a patient and tireless uncle...

...and a loving son, and we are so proud of him.

We often give him a hard time about the hard time he gave us in his youth, so I wanted to say this, just a little bit early.

Happy Birthday, Charlie!

We love you.

Freecycle and two lovely chairs

You know me, always with an eye for a bargain, so when I learned about Freecycle a few years ago I was very interested in joining our local group. The only catch was, you had to have a Yahoo account, as Freecycle runs in Yahoo Groups, and Yahoo and I can't seem to get along, so it never happened.  

Well, I've been so active in bartering and garage saling (the correct spelling, according to Wikipedia, the Fount of All Knowledge) lately that I decided to have another go at it. I somehow managed to navigate the perils of Yahoo Groups just enough to register and get on their email list. To this day, I have not been able to remember my moniker and password, so all I can do is respond to emails, not post anything. 

But I did score two heavy wooden kitchen chairs, made in Yugoslavia, a couple of months ago, with the intent of re-finishing them and taking them out to Vista House. A coat of de-glosser, courtesy of Bethany, five coats of light yellow satin wall paint, and three coats of polycrylic finish later and my lovely chairs are sitting with me out at the house and my heart is happy every time I look at them.

Too bad I didn't take any before photos, but trust me, their varnish was ragged and they had seen some rough times. I should have primed them, hence the many coats of paint and still they were not hardy, so further hence the coats of polycrylic, which is my new secret weapon.

Before the coats of finish, I applied some whimsical transfers that I had floating around the spare bedroom.

Really, I did! 

Proving my husband wrong, once again!

They fit the bird theme quite nicely, and all they cost me was a bundle of hours and about $25 for the can of finish and a good paintbrush. But, as Bethany kindly pointed out, when I use them for my next project, they will be free.

And free is a very good price.

Those rainy days of March

I've been thinking about the day we left Southern California twenty-nine years ago on March 15th in a rainstorm. It took us three days of driving to get here and it rained for a month after we arrived. I was in my eighth month of a very unpleasant pregnancy and developed phlebitis shortly afterwards.
My two little tykes were unsettled and unruly and I recall that I just sat on the couch and cried while they rampaged around the house. The carpet in the living room was a nasty orange shag and the windows were single-paned and cracked from the house being moved onto the lot. They were always covered with condensation and sometimes ice when it was really cold. Jeff had a low-paying job and was working nights. We had no bed (we had to leave it behind because there was no room on the moving truck) and were sleeping on the sofa bed. Money was almost an abstract concept.

Yes, things were dim indeed.

After a weary, dreary, month of March, the morning of April 14th dawned bright and sunny. Jeff was in the National Guard and was gone on his once-a-month weekend duty, but I had heard of a park that was nearby and decided to take my poor wee babes for a walk and a play. This, in spite of the fact that my legs were swollen and painful and I could hardly walk. We started up the road, and when I walk that route now, I shudder to think how long it took us to walk a hundred yards or so. There was no park in sight, so we stopped to ask a neighbour for directions. We were headed the wrong way, which made me want to cry, but we turned around and soldiered on, hobbling a few steps and then stopping to rest. We finally got to the park, although I have no memory of the kids actually playing. All I remember is the painful walk.

That night, I started labouring, probably a result of all that exercise. I sent Jeff off to his Guard duty in the morning, fully expecting to be in labour all day. Which I was, but the midwives called him home in the afternoon. By late evening, Annie made her appearance, all nine-and-a-half pounds of her. I had to push her out all the way to her dainty toes.

I spent the next week in bed with my legs raised above the level of my head, to encourage the blood clots to dissolve. Kind people from church brought us dinners and took Bethany and Jon home to play with their kids, but Jeff was tired and grumpy and I was tired and grumpy and I got annoyed with him for not taking care of me as well as I thought I deserved.

So if I get a little angsty this time of year,  you'll have to pardon me. The inevitable grey days of March somehow tickle my senses and pull me back to that first year in Oregon.

But the good part of it all is that, in spite of the frequent discouragement of that time of our lives, we stuck together and ....

Wait! That makes me think of a song!

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, stuck like glue, You and me baby we're stuck like glue.
Listen to it. You'll be happy you did.

Melodies that get stuck up in your head. Oh yeah!

The girl is crackers for crackers. Graham, that is.

I've had a long-term addiction to graham crackers, particularly those of the Keebler variety, because they are more redolent of honey and vanilla and, IMO, have a more gentle crunch.

Unfortunately, I've become a compulsive label reader, and the partially hydrogenated oils and high-fructose corn syrup and preservatives and lack of anything remotely resembling a whole grain in the commercial product has pushed my craving for graham crackers over the edge.

Google to the rescue, as usual!

I found this recipe at Smitten Kitchen, and wasn't too happy with the sugar level and lack of whole wheat, so I changed it up a bit. We love my altered version, with its whole grain and no sugar, unless you count molasses and honey! I also simplified mixing directions and am not nearly as picky about the look of the finished crackers. And I don't sprinkle them with cinnamon sugar, although I'm sure Jeff and the grandkids would love it if I did!

Graham Crackers

In a medium-sized bowl, preferably one that has a lid, place 2 1/2 c soft white whole wheat flour, 7 tbs soft butter, 1/2 c honey, 1/4 c molasses, 1 tsp B. Soda, 3/4 tsp sea salt, 5 tbs milk, and 2 tsp vanilla. I also add about 1/2 c of coarsely-ground, soaked and dehydrated nuts, because I like the flavour, nutrients, and texture they add to the crackers, but they are totally optional.

Mix like crazy with a wooden spoon until there are no recognizable lumps of any kind. The mixture should be slightly sticky. 

Put the lid on the bowl or cover with plastic wrap and leave for a few hours. This will allow the dough to mellow. I don't know how else to describe it, but, like soaked bread, the finished product will have a better texture, so don't question or doubt me, just do it! 

After resting, the dough should stiffen up a bit and look like this.

A Silpat or similar silicon mat is essential for this next step, although I suppose parchment paper would work. 

Dust the mat lightly with flour.

Form half of the dough into an oblong.

Roll out to fit the mat, being careful to keep the thickness the same at the edges as the middle, or the middle crackers will be soft and the outer ones over-baked.

I am not too over-zealous about having tidy edges, obviously. When the dough fits the mat, score lightly through the dough to outline the cracker shapes. Be careful to not cut into the Silpat. Lift the mat and dough onto a baking tray.

Bake at 325 for about 15 minutes. The crackers will be a golden brown and they will crisp up as they cool. To be honest, you might have to got through a bit of trial and error on the baking time until you figure out how you like them. I used to bake them at 350, but found that the edges got too dark. 

Repeat with the remaining dough. When cool, break into squares and store in an airtight container.

I have to restrain myself from making these too often, because they are incredibly more-ish, especially when used as a base for butter or cream cheese or frosting or dunked in a mug of hot chocolate. They are not my beloved Keeblers, but they are an acceptable substitute.

Darn it!

But I am happy with how I "healthied" up the recipe. And I think it is fairly forgiving, as I am not very precise in my measuring and they have turned out every time.

Happy baking!

P.S. We're closing on our house tomorrow! Yippee-yi-yay!

Piano teacher Nana

Bethany's oldest four are all in piano lessons now.

Daniel is rarely enthusiastic but bears his burden graciously, most of the time.

Natalie loves it and begs for extra lessons.

She is also learning to sing Castle on a Cloud, which is unbearably precious.
I think she should be the next Broadway Cosette.

And, it seems, Natalie's taking lessons spurred Josh into wanting the same. He is a natural, and at his lesson last week he made me laugh. Instead of counting "one, two, three, four" to begin a piece, he counted "three, two, one, GO!"
He will always be a sportsman, first and foremost!

Kenzie has a new-found enthusiasm for the piano since the two littles started lessons, but on the day I was taking photos she was lounging on the couch.

But here is an older one.

And here is Thomy playing his piano at home. He may be short, but he is awesome.

Little Jeff informs his Daddy that he wants piano lessons too, but that will have to wait until the summer.

Whew! Thank goodness we have a few years before Madelyn and the unborn London will need lessons.

Who am I kidding?

I LOVE TEACHING PIANO TO MY GRANDKIDS!

And I don't care who knows it.

The girl is crafty like ice is cold

I've been needing a Kindle cover, but was loath to fork out any cold cash for the deal, so I did a bit of Googling, 'cause I'm crafty that way, and came up with this:

No moolah needed because I already had the yarn and fabric and buttons. Just a simple single crochet rectangle to fit the device, skip a couple of stitches for the buttonholes, and slip-stitched the lining in place. I make it sound easy, don't I? I won't mention how many times I ripped out the stitching on the lining before I got it right!

See, Jeff? I will use all my fabric and yarn stash. Some day!

Jeff and I were apart on Valentine's Day, no doubt our fate for several in the future. But, the next day, I made these brownies, not-from-a-mix, and baked them in some cute heart foil pans I have been forgetting to use for years.
Years, I tell you!
And I took them out to The Ranch the day after.
Yes, there is one missing. And soon there were two.
Why do you ask?

The recipe is quite basic and isn't overly fudgy or caky, but somewhere in between. I like it because it is pretty foolproof, unless you overbake it, which almost happened in the little heart pans.

And just because I'm a giving, sharing, sort of a person, here is the recipe. 

Brownies

Grease a 12x8" pan. Melt 1 c butter and 4x1 oz squares of unsweetened chocolate in a pan. Remove from heat and add 2 c sugar. I cut it down to 1 1/2 c. Stir till shiny. I like that bit.

Add 4 beaten eggs and 1 tsp vanilla. Stir in 1 1/4 c flour, 1/2 tsp salt, and 1 c chopped nuts. Or chocolate chips. Or peanut butter chips. Whatever you please.

Pour into dish and bake at 350 for 25 minutes.

And while we're on the subject of craftiness, a piratey girlfriend sent me this lovely beaded thingy to hang in the window at Vista House.

You see, we see the sun almost every day in the winter out there, unlike our main abode.

And at the right time of the afternoon, the beads catch the sunlight just right.

And even when they don't, you can see little upside-down reflections of clouds and snowy mountains in the clear beads.

While I was out there, I cleaned up most of the dried and silk flowers. 

They were everywhere, all dusty and cobwebby and dangling from shelves.

Then I rearranged some existing artifacts.

This is the new-and-improved kitchen wall, which is worlds better than formerly shown on this post. 

We are rather fond of birds, so the theme suits us quite nicely.

And just to prove my point, here are a few things from last year.

Pans of tomatoes and peppers and onions, to be slow-roasted in the oven and added to spaghetti and pizza sauce on cold winter nights.

Pureed tomatoes, alleviating the stress on my poor little freezer.

Still in process, but almost done, bowling ball gazing globe, in colours of the sea.

Lovely strawberry pot, planted with little succulents filched from a friend's pot.

I've been eating a lot of soup lately, with Jeff being gone most of the time.

Sometimes it's a good thing, like this bowl of veggie and sausage soup, which was scrumptious.

Sometimes it's not such a good thing, like the bowl of lentil soup I am working on this week.

And the piece-de-resistance, proof that I am the world's best giant bubble-blower.

I rest my case.

Just playing ketchup, my fate (of late)

Miss Madelyn celebrated her first birthday two months ago.

Yes, I know, I am derelict in my duty as most frequent blogger in the family.

Spurts and spasms describes my style lately.

Yet still I soldier on, in spite of the lack of Pulitzer Prize or even a Mommy Blogger award.

Sigh.

Bethany made a most delicious chocolate cake that is much more than the sum of its ingredients. It is layers of chocolatey-cream cheesy heaven. If you want the recipe, check out the yumminess here. 

Funny, I could have sworn that "yumminess" was a word. I'm getting lots of red scrawliness today.

Apparently, scrawliness isn't a word either.

Anyway, here she is, as yet unaware of the bliss she is about to encounter.

Mmmmm......

Is there any more?

Please, please, let there be some more.

Nope. All gone.

And then she opened her presents, with a little help from Mommy.

And then Charlie did some strange things with Littlest Grand-dog.

And then everybody went home.