Lars and Addie

Moving...

2011-07-22T09:16:00.004-05:00

I have a new blog here:

http://rhenatan.blogspot.com/

I'll be focusing more on actual writing of actual words over there. (I'm trying, trying, trying to do 500 words five times a week.)

I MIGHT update here too sometimes, but will be more often over at Rhena Tan. Change bookmarks! Come follow me!

Thanks!!

Stuff My Husband Says About the 5K That I May or May Not Have Run

2011-05-07T16:41:00.000-05:00

As I approached a long flat, curve through the University of Minnesota campus a thought occurred to me, "Can I finish this thing? What if I need to start walking? Would it be such a bad thing to start walking?"

A few weeks ago, I ran my first 5K, an inaugural event at the University of Minnesota that began next to and ended inside the new football stadium. In the days leading up to the run, I was nervous. I'd only been running for eight weeks or so and, while I'd run 3 miles before, I wasn't sure what would happen in an official "race." Would I burn out in the first mile? Would it be too hilly? Would I embarrass myself? I had to remember that I was running for me, I was running to meet my own goals and against my own best times. And so it was entirely in jest when, the day before the race, I asked my husband, "What if I win the whole thing?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "I'll suspect drug use."

He paused.

"If you win and they come to me and ask, 'How did she do it?' I'll say, 'Test her for drugs.'"

He had a point.

The morning of the race, he drove me to campus, our 15 month old blabbering away in the back seat. "We forgot the camera," I told him.

"Oh, yeah, I meant to grab that," my husband joined in my lament. My dream of the sweaty, tired but happy post first 5K shot was gone.

I hopped out near the stadium. They'd park and grab some food while I warmed up and figured out where I needed to go. We'd meet up again at the end of the race, after they'd watched me cross the finish line on the big screen on the football field.

I warmed up a little. I peed. I joined the throngs heading to the start line. I found a spot at the back amidst the strollers and, as it would turn-out, the walkers. This run wasn't chip timed, so I set up my Nike+ and found the music I wanted to listen to. The race began. It was anticlimactic. Those of us at the back walked a good distance to the start line. I took off at an easy trot as I crossed the line and started passing walkers and stroller-pushers. The volume on my iPod was too low and I knew that turning it up would involve a lot of fiddling, so I let it go. I listened to feet hit pavement and conversations around me. A little boy (yes, there were children in this 5K) was telling his friend, "You can do it!" I considered pacing myself to this duo if only for the little nuggets of encouragement.

I found a stroller pusher to pace myself to: a dad in a bold blue t-shirt that was easy to find. I kept him in the corner of my eye. At the halfway point, water and sport drink tables lined the student quad area. A decidedly unbusy medic team sat near the tables. "Wow," I thought, "Nice of them to have these things at this race, but if you need water and a medic on a 5k in the middle of campus, you're probably in a pretty bad way." But I stopped that thought as soon as I had it. No need to get cocky. What if I end up needing a medic?

And so it was that as we rounded the last long curve that I found myself wondering if I did, indeed, need to start walking. My iPod told me I had 1.5 K left. I can do this, I thought. I keep the stroller pusher in the bold blue shirt in my sights. There was a slight slope down to the stadium. 400 meters left, my iPod told me. "I'm doing this," I thought. I still had some energy in my legs and some hope that I'd finish in under 34 minutes. I pushed harder around the outside of the stadium.

And as anticlimactically as it started, the race was over. I'd crossed the line. "Congratulations," a voice said over my headphones. "This is Lance Armstrong. You've just completed your fastest mile." 9:40. Or something like it. My iPod offered to send my run to Nike+ as there was a wifi signal. I sent it. Later on in the day, I found it was lost in the internet-ether.

I searched for my husband and Ada as I grabbed a banana and bottle of water. I found them, staring up, hopefully, at the big screen.

"Eric! Eric!" I called. He'd missed me crossing the finish line on the big screen.

We headed back to the car and I checked my time. Under 34 minutes, or so I remember now. With no pictures, no Nike+ record, no witnesses, I might not have even run that race.

But I know I did. And I know how sweet it was.

Spring Break DC '11!

2011-04-01T12:19:00.006-05:00

Ada and I went back to visit my parents and brothers in DC last weekend. The day I arrived my mom said to me, "Think of this as your vacation." I promptly changed into a bikini, slammed three shots of tequila, and ate six crispy cremes.

Not really.

First, I went for a run. My first one outdoors. It's warm enough to do that in DC right now. It is in Minneapolis too, but not at 6 am: the time that our family schedule permits a run. Running outside, in the breeze, on the concrete kicked my butt. But it was also glorious: the sun was out, the daffodils were in bloom, and the puddles were few.

Granny and Ada and I also took a walk together, went to the zoo, and hung out at their house.

I love DC. I love staying a few blocks from a huge national park. Ada loved being near a playground with swings
... until she realized that said park also had wood chips.

Fascinating.

We chose this weekend to visit because my little bro, Pete, was running his second half marathon.

He rocked it. He rocked it really, really hard.

He picked me up at 5:30 at my parents and we headed down RFK in the dark. (Why must so much running take place in the early morning?) I stayed with him (mostly wide-eyed, taking in the thousands of runners out that morning) until he joined the herd and then waited at the start line to try to catch him passing. I could not.

Once the race had started, I figured I had enough time to ride the Metro to the mid-way point (actually about mile 7.5 out of the 13.1 miles he was running) to cheer him on there and still make it back to watch him cross the finish line. I knew exactly where I was going, I already had a ticket, and I was lucky enough to catch each train. I was walking toward the intersection, thinking about how I could stand there for about 20 minutes before I had to turn around to make it back to the finish, when lo and behold! there was my brother in his red, white, and blue American Cancer Society race shirt.

"Go! Pete! Go!" I shouted, still a good 20 feet from the intersection. He was sailing. "Run! Pete! Pete! Run!" I'm going to miss him! "Peter!" Finally he turned and pumped his fist once, twice before he was out of sight again.

I turned around and headed back to the Metro once again catching all the trains. I made it to the finish line to catch those finishing at under 1 hour and 35 minutes. I was watching these early finishers roll in, when I caught sight of, once again, a blurry red, white and blue figure, head shorn, racing sunglasses glinting in the light. Is he really already finishing?

"Pete!" I screamed. "You're almost there!" Those around me turned at my piercing shrieks. Pete did not. He sprinted across the finish.

1 hour, 36 minutes, 29 seconds. He shaved 11 minutes off of his last time and averaged 7:25 minute miles. (He also raised over 2 grand for cancer research.)

Way to go, little bro, way to go!

My lesson: when trying to get from RFK to Columbia Heights as fast as possible. Try running. It might be faster than the Metro.

With Granny still on Ada duty, I was able to get out for a cup of coffee with one of my oldest, dearest friends (whose baby kindly slept through our entire visit) without having to entertain Ada at the same time. It was luxurious. On my last day in DC, I made it out to the park for one more run. Three miles up and back to the horse stables, where the equine beasts were standing in the sun and a few of the younger ones were nipping each other's knees (didn't know horses do that kind of thing). A lovely visit overall, and almost long enough to do all the things (writing and fabric shopping and sewing and knitting and reading) that I'd love to have time to do at home, almost long enough to start to take granny for granted. I'll have to save that for the next one.

Sewing and Running

2011-03-23T09:49:00.005-05:00

Yesterday, I rewarded myself for sticking to my six-week "run for 30 minutes" program with a Nike +. It's mostly a glorified pedometer that is wirelessly linked to your iPod. You can track distances, time, calories and a soothing voice interrupts your music (or in my case audio book) to tell you when you're half-way through. Apparently there are also coaching options, but I'm not that advanced yet.
It has to be attached to your shoe to work and most Nikes have a spot built into the sole where the chip can comfortably sit. I wear New Balance. I looked around the web, however, and found this pattern at the Web Goddess Blog.
I grabbed fabric from my scrap stash and some velcro and did a really down and dirty Nike + holder.
It's not the prettiest thing I've made....

... but I used it this morning and it seems to have done the trick. I might sew closed one end of the tube so it looks a little "neater." Or maybe I'll work on my speed so I can run so fast that no one will notice.
Don't ask why I used chicken fabric. Maybe I was thinking "Chicken Run."

I might see how one in vinyl works for some weather proofing and durability.

Until then: sewing and running, together at last!

I Did It!

2011-03-21T09:37:00.004-05:00

This morning, the room still middle-of-the-night dark, my husband tapped me on the shoulder.

"It's 6:30," he said.

I rolled over, tried to ignore him.

Then I remembered why he was waking me up. This is the morning, I thought. I've got to get to the track so I can finish this program and run for 30 minutes for the first time ever. (Admittedly, my thought did not link to the Women's Health running program. That only happens on the blog.) I dragged my tired self out of bed and got dressed and watered before driving to the gym.

On the track, I fiddled with my iPod for a little bit, delaying, it would seem, the inevitable. There would be no walking warm up or cool down as part of my 30 minutes (although I did do both just for my own comfort).

I gradually fell into my slow pace. I watched the clock and, for the first time, I actually started counting laps. Rate times time equals distance, I chanted to myself as if I was back in the tiny windowless math room of my elementary school. If I counted laps, I could figure out how fast I was actually running. Rate times time equals distance.

Last night we had a few friends over for dinner. Mary is a marathon runner and her husband, Brad, recently took up running himself. The conversation turned to exercise.

"Are you running, Rhena?" Brad asked.

"Yeah."

"You should run the half marathon! I'm doing it. It's June 5th." Brad's better half is currently pretty pregnant and, therefore, not training for anything other then, well, creating a human being and bringing it into the world.

"I don't think I can do a half marathon by June 5th. I'm doing this program and I'm only going to get to about 3 miles tomorrow." It was really only a half-truth. I had no idea how far I was running, only that I was almost running for 30 minutes, but it seemed like a lot to explain.

"That's perfect," Mary said. "Most training programs start with a 3 mile base."

"It starts tomorrow," Brad said.

"I'll think about it. I'm really, really slow, though."

"We're very laid back. Very relaxed," Brad assured me.

"I get smoked by everyone on the track,"

"So do I!" Brad nodded.

The conversation turned towards how women runners are at their peak speed in their thirties, which, for me, is true so far. I mulled over the idea of a half marathon the rest of the evening and checked the website when our friends had left. Could I actually do this?

On the track this morning, mental and physical fatigue were starting to set in about 20 minutes into my run. The first two miles took me about 22 minutes to complete and I knew I wouldn't reach three miles in thirty minutes. Rate times time equals distance. My legs were getting tired. I don't think I can do a half marathon, I thought to myself. I imagined how it would feel to be two miles into a run, outdoors on the hard concrete with hills and the wind and the weather knowing I still had more than 11 miles to go. I can't possibly do that, I thought. I'm not even going to get to a base of 3 miles on an indoor, flat, climate-controlled track.

I watched the clock and then I tried to ignore it. I tried to calculate how long it would take me to finish three miles (34 minutes? 36 minutes?) and then let go of that thought. Five minutes until I hit thirty minutes. Four minutes left. Three minutes. Wait, I realized. I only have two minutes left and only a few more laps to get to three miles. Should I just keep going past the thirty minutes?

Yes.

I kept going. One extra lap. Another one. Three miles! This is it! I'm done!I did it! I finally slowed down to a walk at 33 minutes.

Three miles.

I had done it.

As I walked an extra lap and then made my way to the stretching room, I thought again about the half marathon. Maybe I can do it. If I can make it to three, I can make it to five. If I can do five, I can do seven and then I'm more than halfway there. I don't know if I'll have the time and the discipline. We'll have to see and I'll decide in the next week or so.

In the meantime, I'm basking in the glow of passing thirty minutes, reaching three miles, and knowing that if and when I decide to run a half marathon, I will get there.

Final Week of Running Program!

2011-03-19T09:12:00.000-05:00

A few months ago, I was having shooting pains and soreness in my hips almost everytime I carried Little A around. One day, I carried her out to the car and as I was putting her in the carseat, I nearly cried out in pain. I almost couldn't get myself in and out of the driver's seat because my hips hurt so badly. Having to get her in and our of her car seat felt nearly impossible. I started doing some lower back and hip stretches, but I still felt twinges and soreness at times. It was hard to sleep on my side for any length of time.

Then I started running.

Assuming all goes as scheduled, I'll be running 30 minutes by Monday. I wasn't able to run last weekend, so I'm one day behind on the Women's Health program. I've changed up the program in a couple of other ways. I go to an hour-long class at my gym twice a week instead of doing the at-home work-outs they recommend. I've also supplemented it with two one-hour yoga classes each week.

Thoughts so far?

I feel SO much healthier, stronger, and more energized. Sure, I'm sometimes sleepy in the afternoons, but I think that's just on the 5:30 wake up days. And the hip and lower back pain? Gone. Completely gone. I haven't felt that horrid shooting pain in my hips for weeks because my lower back and hips are stronger and stretchier.

I love doing yoga again regularly. I love the hour of quiet, meditative movement in the mornings. I love that I can really feel a difference in my flexibility and my strength. I can hold plank pose longer and can move from plank into chaturanga in one fluid motion and am close to being able to move from there into up dog without putting my knees on the floor. And I'm almost able to put my heels completely down in down dog and still keep my hips lifted. One of the things I love the most about a regular yoga practice is that there are so many modifications so when I'm having a "recovery" day, I can take an easier pose. There are always options and it's easy to see your progress.

I'm slow on the track. Really, really slow. But I'm learning that there's no shame in that. I get smoked by the other runners all the time, but I'm still running and when someone passes me on the track, I think, "Someday I'll be able to run like that." And I will.

In the first two weeks I was having some problems with a side stitch on my right. It brought me back to 7th and 8th grade when we had to run around the block for PE and I'd end up walking because of getting a side stitch (and out of pure laziness, I'm sure). I looked around on-line to find out how to get rid of them, but I kept running through them. Apparently, it's a pretty common phenomenon for beginning runners. I focused on:

drinking loads of water, not just before a run but throughout the day
breathing as deeply as I could as I ran
not eating anything heavy the hour or so before running

Lo and behold! The stitches have ended. I still feel a slight niggling every now and again, but I think that my diaphragm has figured out what it needs to do.

I'll do another update or two next week when I get to thirty minutes.

What's All the Buzz About?

2011-03-18T09:58:00.004-05:00

Around this time last year, Eric, Ada, and I went to the Bell Museum for a presentation about bees. I know, I know -- not exactly a wild a crazy night out, but it's close to where Eric works, there was a display about food there at the time that included pictures from Hungry Planet that I wanted to see and, with a new baby, we were taking the opportunity to get out of the house together for short jaunts.

The bee presentation ended up being, well, fascinating. We learned that bees feed over about a 2 square mile area, it takes 2-3 drops of nectar to make one drop of honey, and the queen lays about 1500 - 2000 eggs in a day. The presenter showed us how they extract honey from a hive. Eric loved the science and I loved the honey.

In order to raise bees in Minneapolis, you have to take a course about raising bees. Unfortunately, the next course at the U was full, so we signed up for October. October rolled around, we were starting to hunker down for the winter, and when the reminder about the bee course arrived in my e-mail inbox, we were decidedly unenthusiastic.

It's a weekend-long course! Who can sacrifice an entire weekend? Who can find that much childcare?

Turns out, we can. We switched to the March course and traded off attending -- Eric took the mornings, I took the afternoons. It was a mad dash to exchange information between sessions.

"Quick tell me what you learned before you forget," Eric would tell me.

"Um, the smoker demonstration wasn't very helpful because I couldn't see. I think we'll just have to practice. Raccoons won't bother the bees. We'll just let the parent colony die in the second year. By dividing the colony in the spring, you facilitate a swarm and create two colonies. The second is called a... oh, shoot, what is it called? A divide! That's what it's called."

We were frantic, full of information about bees and our kid as we swapped responsibilities.

It was fun. Once again, Eric loved the science (the adult bees maintain a temperature of 90-95 degrees in the brood nest!) and I loved the honey (we got to sample ones from around the world and I couldn't believe how many different flavors bees could come up with!).

By the end of the day on Saturday, we were texting frantically back and forth trying to figure out if this was something we'd be able to start this spring. Turns out, we should be able to. It's been a mad dash to get the Minneapolis honeybee permit and to buy the bees before the supplier in Stillwater, MN runs out of "packages" of bees, as they're called. We're taking the risk of ordering the bees before we have the neighbors sign off (we have to get 100% of the neighbors right next to our property to sign and 80% of neighbors whose property is within 100 feet of ours). We're also taking the risk in assuming that Eric is not allergic to them. He's never been stung in spite of being a country boy. I, on the other hand, stepped on a bee every summer in various backyards around the Washington, DC metropolitan area. Turns out (as we learned in the course) that bee venom allergies are very rare. A local reaction (including a lot of swelling) is not an allergic reaction.

So we're keeping bees! Watch this spot for more updates as this adventure begins and when we have a subscription to this journal:

Running Through Obstacles

2011-03-04T07:00:00.002-06:00

When I started this running program a few weeks ago, I knew that there would be struggles. At the time, I thought the main struggle would be getting myself up and to the gym. I thought I'd just be looking for excuses. I thought that I'd get so tired and winded by the time I was up to running for five-minute stretches, that I'd just lie down in the middle of the track and declare, "Turns out I'm not a runner."

So when Tuesday of this week approached, I was pleasantly surprised that I was still looking forward to getting on the track. I packed up Little A, drove over to the gym, got changed, and took her up to the babysitting room.

When I signed up for a gym membership, a big motivation was the babysitting provided. I thought it would be a good way for her to socialize and for us to have some (very limited) time apart from each other. She did well the first few times, but a few weeks into it, I could see the slightly tortured looks on the babysitters' faces when I returned to pick her up.

"Did she cry the whole time?" I asked.

"Not if I was holding her," they'd answer.

She's a toddler, so technically she's old enough to just take one babysitting slot. They started putting her down for two spots, like an under-one-year old, because she had to be held the whole time.

My husband started calling her "Double Baby." Our needy, needy Double Baby. Still, it seemed a solution.

Then, on one trip to the gym and in the middle of a strength-training class, one of the babysitters found me. She'd been crying the whole time (Ada, not the babysitter). I had to abandon the class.

The next time, I tried to spend more time with her in the babysitting room before I left. I even tried to run around the track pushing her stroller, but she didn't want to ride in the stroller, she wanted to walk. I left the gym, having spent an hour and a half trying to get her to 1) not cling to me or 2) at least do what I wanted her to do, like sit in the stroller. I was disconsolate. I glimpsed flashes of my old life, when I could happily attend a yoga class or go for a walk without having to account for a 23 pound Double Baby.

We were mad at each other the rest of the day.

The next morning, I woke up early and went to a yoga class, leaving Ada in her dad's care. I breathed, I stretched, I laid on the floor and did absolutely nothing. I didn't even think about Ada until the last few moments of class when I sat up for a final "Namaste."

We had a much better day. I'd started out with time for myself so I was better able to focus on her when I was with her. We drew and bought a new toy and read books. I didn't resent that she was "getting in the way" of what I wanted or needed to do. As I walked with her up the stairs for the 50th time, I remembered, "She doesn't have glimpses of her 'life before.' This is all she knows."

My gut tells me that I can't take her to babysitting at the gym for at least a few weeks (maybe a few months). She's learning to walk and teething and is, after all, a Double Baby. And, for the time being, taking her there stresses both of us out more than it's really worth. Dad and I have arranged for how I can still get my alone time each day and, thankfully, a really generous friend who understands that moms sometimes need time away from kids has offered to take her for an hour here or there so that I can keep up with the running.

Was I using her as an excuse to not run that day? Possibly. Regardless, though, we've both worked passed it. Obstacle removed. No more excuses. Run.

My Friend Jess and THE Red Coat

2011-03-02T08:00:00.000-06:00

At the beginning of winter, I found a few cute items at Once Upon a Child, the second-hand kids store. The items were cute, but kind of plain Jane.

I sent them off to my friend Jess of My Friend Jess (I know confusing: our husbands always say, "We get it! Jess is your friend!" when my sister and I talk about "My Friend Jess"). Anyway, she worked her magic and transformed some cute items into some ridiculously cute items. I had to e-mail her recently and tell her that I get SO MANY comments on this little red coat that some days, if I know I'm going to be in a hurry, I wonder if I should put Little A in it because we'll get stopped so many times. I always end up putting her in it anyway because it's warm and so awesome.

Lately, after we've had some swim time at the Y, she'll practice walking while holding my hand in the lobby (why the lobby at the Y? who knows!) and every third person who walks by comments on the coat. I have to share the love and spread the word about the awesomeness that is My Friend Jess.

Running at 800 Feet

2011-02-28T08:31:00.001-06:00

I've been listening to an audiobook while I run/ walk around the track. Music would be an easier way to get into a rhythm, but, honestly, when you're only running for two minutes at a time, rhythm isn't too much of a concern. Music (or silence) would also be an easier way to "clear" my head, which, from what real runners tell me, is one reason why some people run. I am not a real runner. I clear my head in the shower.

So I've been listening to a book. It has it's benefits. As a non-runner running, I like to distract my mind from what my body is doing. Also, I've opted for Into Thin Air (by Jon Krakauer about his ill-fated summit of Mount Everest) as my first running book. It's a great book to run to because, as uncomfortable as I am running, I often think, "At least I'm not at 27,000 feet. At least I don't need an oxygen mask... yet." This is not an ideal way to "read" a book -- I much prefer to be curled up on the sofa where I can re-read sections I like (or sections I spaced out during) -- but as I'm getting to the really gripping parts of the book, I'm looking forward to finding out what happens next. I only listen to the book while I'm on the track. Ha-HA! I've tricked myself into looking forward to running!

Changes in the Air

2011-02-24T09:32:00.000-06:00

Last week, the weather went into the 40s, which, in Minnesota in February is a veritable heat wave. So Ada and I were able bundle up and take a walk together with the dog for the first time in months last week. The puddles were deep and sloppy, but Ada giggled the whole time, especially when she could see Juno out in front of the stroller.

Sadly, it had to come to an end and we were slammed by a storm that left a foot plus of snow this weekened. Poor Ada has been stuck inside. She's made the most of it: tucking into the easy chair with her books and "Animal Baby" magazine while the snow swirled and drifted outside.

Step by Step

2011-02-22T09:10:00.003-06:00

No, those aren't new shoes. In fact, I've had them for many years. These shoes are like an old person's car -- a lot of years, but not a lot of miles. This is because I'm not a runner.... yet.

But two weeks ago I started a six-week training program that ends with running for thirty minutes. I got this program here on the Women's Health website. The program is really gradual -- mostly walking so far -- which is just what I need. In previous attempts to become a runner, I'd go out and try to run twenty or thirty minutes right off the bat. It would kick my butt. This slow build-up will hopefully condition me so that the final thirty minutes isn't such a big deal.

So far, it's been, well, easy. Yesterday I was kind of dreading going to the gym. We had a huge blizzard this weekend, so I wasn't able to get into the gym on Sunday. For me, missing a day or two becomes an excuse to miss a few more days and then stopping my routine altogether. As I was scraping the ice off my car, I thought, "Maybe the end of two weeks is where I always hit a wall." I got to the Y and checked my iPod (where I have the regimen set up in my iCal) and saw that I only had to run in one-minute increments. I could do this! It was as if the Women's Health program knew that I needed an easy day at the beginning of week three so that I wouldn't dread the run/ walk. Lesson of the day: it's mostly psychological.

Update!

2011-02-15T13:38:00.005-06:00

These fabrics....

... became this little quilt for a new baby, Costa, who was born to my friends in DC on Christmas Day!

His birth snuck up on me, so it was a quilt-as-you-go quilt to speed things up and one side was a little crooked because I was rushing too much... but I'm just saying that it's an Amish "humility" block (aren't they the ones who it is rumored always put one intentional mistake in their quilts as a reminder that no one is perfect except for God?)

These greys....

... became a bowl for my brother, Pete. You can see it here.

I'm Blogging (and Quilting) Again

2010-12-15T16:31:00.004-06:00

Must be something about dramatic weather that gets me blogging. It's been many months since we got hit by that epic thunderstorm that Ada and I sewed our way through. Now we're hunkering down for another 3 inches on top of the 17 we got this weekend. This is how Ada feels about it.

Thankfully, I have several sewing projects to work on.

I've washed and pressed fabric for two projects: a baby blanket (a surprise for a friend who I THINK doesn't read this) and another gift. I can't say anything else. So I'll just show you.

These bright ones are mostly from the "It's a Hoot" line by MoMo for Moda. Gorgeous!
The greys must come from the doldrums of Minnesota winter (late fall, technically, I guess). I've been really getting into greys and monochromatics lately.

I'll update on project progress and snow melts as they happen. (Don't hold your breath on the latter.)

Sewing and Storms

2010-07-01T07:32:00.005-05:00

Last Friday, a series of dramatic storms ripped through Minneapolis. Cars floated down Lyndale Avenue in a flash flood, our basement got slightly flooded, and my hair got cut. (That last one is unrelated to the storm but true, nonetheless.)

While Ada and I waited for Dada to either call for a ride from the Light Rail station or walk in the back door soaking wet, we plopped down in the middle of the living room. She, with an array of brightly colored toys in front of her, and I, with brightly colored fabric and ribbons. I sewed (or ironed, cut, and pinned, actually) while she banged her toys around and practiced dropping and picking them up again. And we chatted.

I'm pretty sure she thought that we were playing together, which, in a way, we were. I thought that we were enjoying some mother-daughter sewing time which, in a way, we were. I hope that one day she'll be a willing sewing pupil. We can make beanbags and aprons and doll clothes together. I hope that she will learn the joy of using her hands to transform object, of making use where there was none before. I hope she will be curious about how things are made and want to make them herself.

In the meantime, I used the ribbons and fabric and a plastic bag to make her a new toy so that she can keep playing while I sew. Or so we can play and sew together.

Gardening in a Box

2010-06-27T08:43:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I write things here:

http://simplegoodandtasty.com/

This time it's about gardening but sometimes it's about food or farming, mostly in Minnesota. Other people write there too. If you enjoy local food, you should visit....

On Growing

2010-06-23T07:00:00.000-05:00

It's a time of growth around here. The garden is lush, almost too lush, if that is possible. Our radishes are three feet tall, flowering, and threatening to shade out the zucchini. The pea tendrils are wrapping themselves around the fence and neighboring lettuce. We haven't had a chance to put up scaffolding for it to lean into and clasp. We had an early spring, which no one in Minnesota can complain about. And now we've enjoyed lots of warm days and nourishing rains. The result is that our lilies are trying to put out five flowers at once. They've toppled over with ambition. Is it possible for our garden to be growing too quickly?

Yesterday I laid down on the couch with my daughter. I was on my back and she was belly to belly on me, her toes reaching my mid thigh. We laid like this, me watching her, while we waited for Dada to get home from work. Her hair is still whispy but thicker than it was even a few short weeks ago. She looked around the room as I watched her, trying to make sense of the sound and sight of the shadows shifting as cars drove past our front windows. She seemed to be listening to the sound of a bird's whistle as it drifted through the window. She lifts her shoulders and belly off the ground easily now. Crawling is just around the corner. She sits up on the rug, reaching for toys and her dog without Mama's help. Sometimes, when she's in my lap while I'm sitting at my desk, she bangs her head against my sternum. Hard. It was only a few months ago that we were all so concerned about the safety of that little head that she's now using as a weapon. And she eats. A lot. I am putting off giving her solid foods. Nursing is just so easy. And giving her solid foods means we're one day closer to not nursing at all. Already I miss the way she reaches for my fingers while she's eating and grasps them tightly, so tightly, in her chubby hands.

I was in the garden the other day (or was it a few weeks ago now?) weeding. It feels impossible to keep up this season. We pull up the little buggers or turn them over with a hoe, but they're growing impossibly fast. Will we ever be able to eat that much spinach? The cilantro (which is really from last year's seeds that were cast about in the wind) is knee high. Eric warned me the other day that we might have to pull up the radishes. The roots are still spindly, but the leaves and stalks are threatening to crowd out other plants. But I resist such a rash move. Surely there's time and space for all of it, right? Can't I have my radishes and peas too?

We're thinking a lot about growing around here: what to hold on to, when to let go. But I've answered my question. Yes, it is possible for things to grow too quickly; plants and children both. So I rub my girl's downy hair and pluck some lettuce leaves from the ground. I watch her watch me through the garden fence.

Shopping From the Edge Redux

2010-06-21T13:15:00.003-05:00

A month or so ago, I did a little experiment in which I shopped for one month solely from the perimeter of the coop (and from anywhere at the farmers market). This included: produce, meat, bulk, dairy, and bakery (which I didn't end up using).

Here's what I learned from this largely successful experiment.

- Shopping bulk can be a pain in the butt, but it's totally worth it in terms of savings at the register and in the wasteful packaging department.
- To make shopping bulk easier, have containers with you on each trip to the market. I've ended up using bulk for certain items, so I have one container already measured and marked with the tare (the weight of the container so they don't charge you for it) and the PLU (price look up so they charge you for the right item). Once I had those containers (mostly mason jars) set aside for staple items (brown sugar, sliced almonds, dried cherries and, yes, malted milk balls) refilling at bulk was almost as easy as buying prepackaged items off the shelf.
- I am NOT a bread baker... yet. I've now tried to bake bread three or four times with little to no success. The thing is, I've made pizza crust a bunch of times successfully so I know it's not the yeast or where I'm letting it rise or anything like that. I'm still convinced I'm going to love baking bread I just have to figure out how to do it.
- Shopping the perimeter meant that we had fewer processed foods and snack around the house, which was totally worth it. We saved money by not buying pricey spritzers and sodas and were (probably) eating food that was healthier for us. (OK, not the malted milk balls.)
- Using dried instead of canned beans is shockingly easy. Sure, it took some planning ahead because I had to soak them overnight, but they were WAY tastier and cheaper.
- I definitely made more items from scratch and even learned how to make paneer (Indian cheese), which was super easy.
- Bulk tea leaves are fancy and satisfyingly ritualistic. I was worried that I'd miss the ease and Britishness of pouring hot water over a tea bag, but I was surprised that I actually enjoyed using bulk tea on a regular basis. I just pulled out the old tea balls and away I went! A little extra cleaning up, but well worth the savings and deliciousness.

Will we continue? For the most part, it's so easy in the spring and summer to shop from the edge because we practically live on produce anyway (and because our farmers market offers SO much). I still have a bit more kitchen organizing to do, but I'll probably stick to trying to buy from bulk as much as possible.

Quinoa: It's What's for Breakfast

2010-05-27T08:00:00.005-05:00

In my last post I mentioned my trip to DC where my mom and dad live. In the week leading up to my visit, my mom asked if there were any foods she'd like me to stock up on. I gave her a list of things (steel cut oats, soy milk, yogurt, english muffins) that I've been eating for breakfast lately and my mom being my mom, she went out and bought EVERY last item on the list. I was not staying for a month and I was not bringing an army with me so, needless to say, there was an excess of breakfast foods. I did manage to at least eat a little bit of each thing and to introduce my mom (who regularly eats rolled oats) to the wonders of steel cut oats.

For those of you who haven't tried them, these tasty nuggets of flavor and texture can be found in the hot cereal aisle (or bulk food aisle) in vintage-like cans.

God bless the Irish.

They take longer to cook and require more babysitting than traditional rolled oats, but the pay-off are chewy, yet crunchy whole grains that put their mushy (processed) cousins to shame. My mom was sold.

Leave it to my youngest brother to kick it up another notch. While we were discussing the relative merits of steel cut oats, Andrew, who is a cook at a brunch place, mentioned that they serve quinoa for breakfast. While quinoa is often cooked like couscous (covered in a pan of boiled water while the grains soak up all the liquid), he said they cook theirs like pasta which makes for more consistent cooking. Cooked quinoa also refrigerates well. So I cooked up some quinoa for breakfast this morning. It took a mere ten minutes compared to the 20 to 30 for steel cut oats. I mixed it up with a little cream, brown sugar, and dried cherries. It soaked up the cream a little more readily than oats do, making it harder to play with the consistency, but the grains were delicious. They stick to your ribs a little less than oats do so they're a great warmer weather, quicker cooking alternative.

Next up: a cardamom- anise seed addition to my morning cereal.

Shopping the Edge With the Better Half

2010-05-25T21:45:00.002-05:00

First, a confession. I was back in DC (where I'm from) last weekend and the shopping from the edge experiment took a back seat. I didn't do much shopping there, but the little I did do (with my mom) did violate some of the rules I've laid out for myself. The night I made pizza for my parents, I did a pretty good job: only the pizza sauce and olives were from a center aisles. But when I was shopping for a party that my parents were having for their newest granddaughter, I was less able to adhere. It's not my household (anymore) and, thankfully (for my parents) I'm passing (slowly) out of the stage in which I think I know more than they do. Besides, they conserve in other ways like doing all their dishes by hand even though they have a dish washer.

In my absence, my husband was instructed to at least try to keep our house a center-aisle free zone. It was a risky maneuver.The first time we went shopping together, he asked if he had to adhere to the rules when he was shopping. "Do what your conscience tells you to do," I told him. "You don't want me to do that," he retorted. "My conscience will let me do pretty much whatever I want to." Clearly I'd forgotten who I married. My husband's mantra is, in the famous words of South Park's Cartman, "Whatever. I do what I want."

But to my pleasant surprise, what the old man wanted to do this time was actually participate in the experiment. I expected to find telltale frozen pizza boxes and soda cans in the house, garbage, or recycling but instead E stuck with eating leftovers, frozen pizza crust, and grilled burgers. His veg intake might have been a little low but so was his consumption of over-packaged, processed foods. Yay old man!

The good news is that we're down from averaging about three bags of garbage a week to two. But the biggest difference is probably in the number of items we're putting into our recycling bins. Yes, you say, but recycling is good! And reducing is better!

Shopping From the Edge: First Trip to the Coop

2010-05-12T16:30:00.000-05:00

By far the greatest success of this first trip to the coop was purchasing both brown sugar and dried cherries in bulk for two reasons: I remembered my containers from home and it couldn't have been easier. In fact, I love that I don't have to deal with moving the brown sugar to a more resealable container because it's already in a mason jar.

Mason jars, which I do sometimes use for actual canning, make me feel warm and fuzzy and nostalgic for a time that I have no memory of. They make me want to grow and ferment things and store items in my pantry that I bought out of a bin at The General Store along with a few yards of calico, a spool of grosgrain ribbon, and penny candy. The make me want to hold chicken eggs up to the light to determine whether they've been fertilized. In fact, I have so many mason jars used for so many different things in my kitchen (making yogurt, storing food, growing sprouts), that sometimes I have to remind myself that I do not live in a little house on a prairie.

I have to admit that my first trip was rough. I was tempted by each of the middle aisles, especially the one that has bars of really dark chocolate. I was panicked that I would be hungry for a snack and there'd be nothing to eat at home, which, of course, is silly because there's always cheese or yogurt or fruit. I even perused the bulk section for snack foods. I was impressed by the array of items I'd never noticed before: all shapes of pasta, olive oil and maple syrup, and more types of teas than even in the tea aisles.

I will return to the bulk section. And I will like it.

First Mama's Day

2010-05-10T21:21:00.003-05:00

It turns out that even when you do things like entertain yourself by placing your daughter's shirt part-way on and then taking pictures, you get spoiled for one special Sunday in May.

In our house, this means that husband wakes up early to go to the coop to buy fresh ingredients for breakfast which includes a bowl of fruit; light, lovely pop-overs; my favorite tea AND orange juice; and Eggs Benedict replete with the best darn from scratch Hollandaise sauce you've ever had (which says a lot since you order it almost every time you go out for breakfast). I'm wondering if I should be worried that my current reign as Queen of the Kitchen might be threatened by my husband who until now has specialized almost exclusively in baked goods. (Although this might have been his crucial mistake: now that I know what he's capable of, I might be demanding more food stuff drenched in Hollandaise.) To top things off, he only bought one thing (the English Muffins) that was in violation of my current "shopping from the edge" experiment.

I even got to enjoy a little of the New York Times (Sunday!) in bed before the little bug woke up, rolled over, and won (demanded?) my attention.

I only had to do ONE load of diaper laundry the whole day, had a lovely scenic paddleboat ride down the Mississippi River with my best guy and my best gal AND got to take a nap.

I might even have more kids just so I can get multiple special Sundays each year. That IS how it works, right?

May Food Experiment: Shopping From the Edge

2010-05-06T09:25:00.002-05:00

For four consecutive weeks (beginning this past Tuesday) I'm shopping exclusively from the perimeter (and the bulk section) of my coop (and, of course, the Farmer's Market). What do I hope to accomplish by doing this?

1) Healthier Eats. Even at the coop, where they stock the shelves with local and generally more healthful foods, the aisles in the middle of the store are filled with items that are more processed than items on the perimeter. Some "health experts" even advise avoiding those middle aisles to lose weight. Since I'm breastfeeding right now, losing weight isn't a goal as much as eating healthy, but if that ends up being a side effect, I probably won't complain.

2) Less Packaging Waste. I'm going to be shopping from the bulk section a fair amount and hopefully I'll get better about bringing containers from home to pack in the store. Right now we average about three kitchen-sized bags of crap that we throw out each week (plus our recyclables). I'm hoping to see a decrease.

3) More "Experimental" Cooking and Cooking From Scratch. Most of the items I'll be buying will be raw ingredients, which means if I'm craving, say, granola bars, I'm going to have to figure out how to make them myself. Amongst the other items I'm going to have to learn to make from scratch: polenta, pizza sauce, vegetable stock, mustard, and mayonnaise.

4) Less Food Waste. I find that the more involved I am in the process of making food, the less likely I am to let it go to waste. So, for example, I might let a container of Chinese take out sit in the fridge until it grows alien life forms and has to be tossed, but my homemade yogurt is a precious, precious commodity that I will not let go to waste. I also hope that by learning to cook more from scratch, I'll be able to cook more meals just with what I have available in the pantry and fridge without having to make extra trips to the grocery store.

What, exactly, will I be "able" to buy. Produce, eggs, milk, butter, (and cheese -- I could perhaps learn to make it , but that's a little too hardcore for me), meats and fish, and whatever is in the bulk section plus whatever I can get at the farmer's market. Even though the frozen food section is on the perimeter of the store, I'm going to be skipping that part (especially since I can get fresh produce these days). I'm also going to skip the bread section and learn how to make bread from scratch.

What do I anticipate happening?
1) By about week 2, I'm going to wonder, "Why the hell am I doing this?"
2) I'm going to love baking my own bread, but it's never going to be as good as the bread from local bakeries and it's never really going to be time effective.
3) I'm going to succumb to desires for: cereal, pre-made chicken stock, and condiments.
4) I'm going to be forced to organize my kitchen to stay on top of bulk food purchase.

Hall and Oates Lives!

2010-04-07T17:36:00.002-05:00

The Bird and the Bee have a kick-ass cover album out. Here's one performance - not great quality, but I love that Inara George is super preggo here. The rest of the album is great. As Eric pointed out last night, "Hall and Oates just put out hit after hit." And The Bird and the Bee did them one better.

A scene from "More Things My Husband Says"

2010-04-02T11:07:00.003-05:00

Late winter. Eric, the tall, dark-haired husband sits in a cushy red rocking chair next to a sunny window. The newborn baby resting on his shoulder, nuzzles his neck. His wife sits on the edge of the bed.

Eric [laughing]: It feels so funny when she roots around on my neck, looking for a nipple.

Wife [distracted]: Mm-hmmm....

Eric: What if she finds one?

Wife [attentive]: What?

Eric: What if she finds a nipple on my neck?

Wife: You're so weird.

Eric [concerned]: What am I going to do?

Wife: You're so weird.

And scene.

February, still?

2010-02-24T09:36:00.002-06:00

I did not long for summer, until I saw this video:

... and until yesterday when some women at mom-baby yoga were talking about the joys of having a naked baby in the house.

Thank you for all the kind thoughts and congratulations after my birth announcement post. Ada, Eric, and I are doing great -- adjusting to the joys (and rescheduling) of being together in the world. I'll hopefully be able to start posting more often again (and include baby pics!).

Where there was no person, now there is one!

2010-01-28T19:10:00.005-06:00

I've taken a rather long break from blogging. We've been busy. I hope this is a reasonable excuse.
This is Ada Christine. She took one year of TTC, 42 weeks of gestation, 28 hours of pitocin-induced labor, and four hours of pushing to make.

It was well worth it.

She weighed 10 pounds 5 ounces at birth and was 22.5 inches long. She's bigger now at four weeks.

She was born on her dad's birthday, New Year's Eve.

She's named for her dad's great aunt and her mom's mom.

She was pretty much the best thing we've ever made.

And we're pretty sure we're going to keep her.

More Stuff My Husband Says 3

2009-11-29T19:14:00.002-06:00

I've been spending a lot of down time around the house picking up the various books we have on tables and bookshelves and nightstands about pregnancy and birth and early childhood development. I often dip into them haphazardly, pulling out tidbits about what causes stretch marks, about how big our baby should be by now, about postures and ways to breath during labor. Every so often, I'll come across something that involves the birthing woman's "partner" and the role they play during the birth.

As I peer up over the edge of a book at my husband, I'll often ask "Do you think you can do this during labor?" Sometimes I'll show him an awkward-looking posture that involves him holding up most of my weight while the baby is born. Sometimes it's something simpler, like wiping my brow. Other times we'll be lying in bed together or hugging each other in the dining room and he'll be rubbing my back or my arm or my belly. "Do you think you can do this during labor?" I'll ask. Or he'll rub my shoulders while I'm seated at the computer. "Do you think you can do this during labor?" It has become something of a mantra. Fortunately, most of the time, the answer is yes -- other than the one time I asked if he'd be able to pick up my entire (large) pregnant body off the floor and heft me into a supported squat should this be required. He wasn't so sure his back would take such a maneuver and I'm still hoping that I don't require such assistance.

My husband has a big final due on Tuesday and he's been spending a lot of time in front of the computer, typing away with shoulders hunched over the keyboard. This evening, I stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders, working out some of the tension in his upper back. "Ahh....." he sighed. "That feels really good."

His sighs stopped for a moment before he asked, "Do you think you can do this in labor?"

He says that when the doula comes over after labor starts, he wants her to find me rubbing his back, giving him water and snacks while he rotates his hips on the birth ball just so he can tell her: "The information that you gave us is SO helpful. I feel great!"

I am left wondering: at what stage of labor is my husband's sense of humor going to make me want to hit him?

And the winner is....!

2009-11-12T14:46:00.008-06:00

Tara M.!

Congratulations, you've just won the first Lars and Addie Blog Giveaway with a surprise prize!

The prize is....

(drum roll please)

... a felted soap of your choice.

Blog Readers, read until the end of this post for a special one-time offer for you loyal followers!

Why Felted Soap?

- It looks beautiful!

- No washcloth required.

- Exfoliate as you cleanse.

- Keep it dry between uses, and it will last longer than an unfelted soap.

- The wool will shrink as you use it. You’ll be left with a deliciously scented piece of wool that you can stash in a drawer to keep your clothes smelling lovely.

Lars and Addie felted soaps are lovingly felted using pure, soft merino wool in a variety of colors and designs. I felt soaps from Lusa Organics in a variety of scents.

Here are the ones you can choose from:.

The first is the blue, light pink, and deep pink marble in Tofani, which is warm soap scented with Vetiver and Patchouli. (value $10)

The next is a pale blue green Lullaby soap with the outline of a winter tree needle felted on to the front of the soap. Lullaby is a relaxing combination of lavender and chamomile. (value $12)

Third, is a yellow, green, and purple pastel marble felted over Gitchigumee, which is an invigorating combination of eucalyptus and mint. (value $10)

Next is a light blue soap with white snowflakes needle felted onto the front. This soap comes in Lullaby, which is lavender and chamomile. (value $12)

Last is a dark purple and light purple felted soap on a rope in the Sweet Soul Sister scent which is an uplifting combination of Tangerine and Peppermint, perfect for a morning pick me up. The rope allows you to hang the soap over a shampoo bottle or shower handle for quick and easy drying between uses. A dry soap is a longer lasting soap! (value $12)

For those of you who read the blog or participated in the giveaway, many thanks for your enthusiasm! If you're interested in any of the soaps listed here, I'm offering FREE SHIPPING for blog readers only on these soaps! This will be available on a first come, first served basis (after Tara picks her prize, of course) until Monday, November 18th. Just send me your desires and address to larsandaddie at gmail dot com.

First Lars and Addie Giveaway: How well do you know your handmade?

2009-11-03T08:24:00.005-06:00

Welcome to my first giveaway! What's in it for you? The chance to win a surprising new Lars and Addie product. I'm introducing a new line of products that I've dropped a few clues about over the past few weeks here on my blog. You will receive one of these items (you'll be able to choose from a few) valued at $10-$12. You can enter up to three times:

1. Leave a comment on this post. (But, shhhhhh... don't leave a comment about what the new product will be.)
2. Become a follower. (Followers will be automatically signed up for this and future giveaways.)
3. Send me an e-mail at larsandaddie [at] gmail [dot] com with your guess as to what this new product line is going to be. Hint: check back over old blog posts for hints about supplies I've been stocking up on lately.

Enter before next Tuesday November 10th!

If you're super curious, you live in the Twin Cities area, and you want to get a jump on the competition, visit Lars and Addie at the Oakwood Bazaar this weekend where I'll be selling these new items.

Friday, November 6th 3 pm- 8 pm
Saturday, November 7th 9 am - 5 pm
1388 Point Douglas Rd.
Saint Paul, MN 55119

Make sure that either your profile includes a way to get in touch with you or check back here next Wednesday (Nov 11th) to see if you won!

Good luck to all and check back for more future giveaways!

More Things My Husband Says 2

2009-10-27T09:55:00.002-05:00

Eric usually wears contact lenses, but first thing in the morning and last thing at night, he wears his glasses. Eric has had the same pair of glasses since the 8th grade. Not just the same thin, wire tortoise-shell frames with dull gold accents but the same lenses too. And no, he's not blessed with the eyesight of an 8th grader. He has become more myopic, but he still wears these glasses so that even with them on he can barely see five feet in front of his face. His eyewear situation is not helped by the fact that he hasn't cleaned those glasses since the 8th grade.

At some point the left arm of his frames fell off and he lost the pin. In a rare MacGyver moment, he repaired them with a straight pin. He clipped the pointy tip off and curled it up so that it would stay in place, but needless to say, it is still pokey and threatening. When I lean over to kiss him in the morning, there's always the risk that, in some Twilight Zone version of The Gift of the Magi, I will suffer permanent ocular injury inflicted by my husband's 8th grade glasses.

The other morning, we were lying around in bed enjoying the fact that we didn't have anywhere to be and don't (yet) have a child/ baby demanding our weekend morning attention. Eric was, of course, wearing his 8th grade glasses and staring at me lovingly.

"Do you think the baby will have your mouth and nose?" he asked.

"I don't know. Why?" I was setting him up for a gracious compliment about the beauty and fullness of my lips and the aquiline slope of my nose. No such comment was forthcoming.

In fact, the conversation from there spiraled into unloving comments about the attributes we wish our baby would inherent from ourselves -- thereby pointing out the other person's shortcomings.

"I hope the baby has my eyelashes," Eric commented before noting how difficult life would be for the baby if it had my short, sparse eyelashes.

"I hope the baby has my personality," I retorted.

"I hope the baby has my SMARTS!" Eric followed his come-back with an "Ooooooo!" to increase its potency.

"I hope the baby has my non-prematurely grey hair."

This, of course, lead to a discussion about what I would think if Eric came home one day and he had dyed his hair entirely black using "Just For Men" to cover up the grey around his temples, which he knows that I find debonair.

There was a silence as we both sat there thinking about "Just For Men" and other artifacts of our 1980's upbringing.

And, finally, Eric:

"I hope the baby has my 8th grade glasses."

Lars and Addie This Fall

2009-10-23T12:00:00.003-05:00

Just completed an order to stock a brand new Minneapolis shop with fabric bowls. Shoppe Local is the brainchild of the owners of Patina and features exclusively local Minnesota artists. The new store is located at the intersection of 50th St and Bryant Ave -- just a few doors down from the Patina location there.

Some of the bowls that are available only at Shoppe Local:

Eric asked if we could keep this one:

He sometimes asks "Why can't we keep any of the stuff you make?" Sometimes he asks while he's wearing the sweater I knitted him. He's kind of greedy.

My apologies for the sub-par photos; I was eager to get these sent off.

I'm hoping that my sewing machine, which started acting up last week, is in working order in time for my next craft fair so I can stock up on these one of a kind bowls in time. In the meantime, I working on other, non-sewing projects that are keeping my hands wrinkly with water and my kitchen smelling quite nice. More on that to come...!

Two weeks until my first show of the fall!

1st Annual Oakwood Bazaar
Friday, November 6th 3 pm - 8 pm
Saturday, November 7th 9 am - 5 pm

There will be food and live music. Shop handmade this holiday season!

1388 Point Douglas Road South, Saint Paul, MN 55119 (yes, I'm crossing the river!)
If you need more information, you can contact Cheri Brown at lovealwaysxox at gmail dot com.

More Things My Husband Says

2009-10-14T17:03:00.001-05:00

"I wonder if after you give birth, you'll suddenly feel lighter... like when you get your haircut in the summer. Yeah. That's probably what it's like. Giving birth is like getting your haircut. I've basically given birth."

Yum!

2009-10-09T15:31:00.003-05:00

I just received 40 bars of this delicious soap in the mail from LuSa Organics.

If you could smell and touch these, you'd be very jealous. But instead you'll just have to be very jealous of how luscious they look.

I received five scents (Tofani, Sweet Soul Sister, Lullaby, Gitchigumee, and Gaia's Garden) and wish I could just luxuriate in a warm bath enjoying these little gems. BUT I've got plans for them... and I've got to get working!

Do it your own darn self!

2009-10-06T10:04:00.004-05:00

Today you can play spot the Lars and Addie item in Better Homes and Garden's Do It Yourself Magazine in their "Best of Show" section of their winter issue.

It feels pretty great to be included amongst a whole gaggle of incredible etsy artists!

Madison Reece Designs kindly listed those she found in the magazine in a recent forum post.

www.Olofsdaughters.etsy.com
www.urbanposture.etsy.com
www.penguinandfish.etsy.com
www.feltedstyle.etsy.com
www.handmadepretties.etsy.com
www.olive.etsy.com
www.msslippers.etsy.com
www.greentrikepress.etsy.com
www.enhabiten.etsy.com
www.wildcardpottery.etsy.com
www.mayluk.etsy.com
www.happyko.etsy.com
www.pinkkiss.etsy.com
www.greenwaredesign.etsy.com
www.pilotdesign.etsy.com
www.yokoo.etsy.com
www.bellabeedesigns.etsy.com
www.vikki0908.etsy.com
www.feltsewgood.etsy.com
www.fray.etsy.com
www.larsandaddie.etsy.com
www.sewzinski.etsy.com
www.tickledpinkknits.etsy.com
www.foundling.etsy.com
www.boiledart.etsy.com
www.luckybeepress.etsy.com

Enjoy browsing!

Things My Husband Says

2009-09-22T22:16:00.002-05:00

My husband,
on when I give birth to our first child:
"It's going to be fun!"

On Happiness

2009-09-21T22:40:00.004-05:00

Aside from fame and copious dollar bills, one of the perks of writing the occasional A-List for the local alt-weekly, City Pages, is that I can occasionally get free tickets to events. Sometimes those are even events I want to attend. Thursday night the husband and I went to the Policy and a Pint event at the UBC forum at Minnesota Public Radio. Policy and a Pint is an event put on by MPR and the Citizen's League in which attendees listen to (and partake in) a discussion about a policy-related topic and drinks pints of beer. Well, a pint each - so things don't get rowdy.

Thursday's event featured Colin Beavan, author of No Impact Man, a book which started as a blog in which he chronicled his and his family's attempt to live one year having zero environmental impact. Beavan, his wife, and his toddler went to fairly extreme measures from foregoing NYC's mass transit in favor of bicycles to turning off the power supply in their apartment and relying on a single solar panel for their computer, candles for light, and elbow grease to clean their clothes. What was, perhaps, most surprising about the experiment is that sacrificing take-out and store-bought bread, TV and electric lights actually made their lives, well, better. In spite of the fact that he was baking his own bread daily, Beavan found that he seemed to have more time in the day. There was less running around, fewer late nights at work, more time spent playing games with his family and friends.

One of the things that Beavan touched upon in his talk at Policy and a Pint is that there was, however, a limit to the improvements that came from these sacrifices. There was a point at which too much sacrifice, too many limitations on resources, merely lead to misery. He pointed to the night that his daughter got sick, threw up on the bedsheets, and then threw up again on the second pair of clean bedsheets that he'd replaced the first set with. He caved. He used the washing machine in the basement of their apartment. Having to do laundry by hand was one of the greatest hardships during this experiment.

One of the points that Beavan has been using his experiment to make is that doing away with wasteful consumption made him and his family happier. On his blog he wrote, "I believe, as Professor Tim Jackson of the University of Surrey discussed in his 2005 paper "Live Better by Consuming Less?," that there is a "double-dividend" to reduced consumption. One dividend is that it helps maintain our health, happiness and security as it depends on our planetary habitat and the other is the increase of happiness that can come with a lesser emphasis on accumulating stuff."

In his talk at Policy and a Pint, he suggested that this idea that less consumption can lead to greater happiness is a selling point for people not already part of the environmental movement. And to a certain degree, I buy this. Sure. Tell people that using less resources will make them happy and they just might sign on.

The problem I have, however, is using this notion of "happiness" as a selling point. The word happy is two-dimensional and superficial. "Happy" lacks depth in the same way as other words that have gotten into this global warming situation to begin with: convenience, money, status. Happy seems unsubstantial.

And being "happy" can mean so many different things to so many different people. For Beavan, playing cards with his wife by candlelight made him happy. For some, driving a large SUV makes them happy. Roasting marshmallows around a backyard fire with my family makes me happy but so does a long, hot (water wasting) shower. This difference is that one leaves me feeling fulfilled and the other makes me feel fuzzy and relaxed.

It strikes me as oddly lacking in depth that our founding fathers included the phrase "pursuit of happiness" as among our inalienable rights in the Declaration of Independence (and that Will Smith made a movie by the same name. C'mon, Will!). Surely there are words and pursuits that get at a greater depth of human complexity and emotion and that would convey something more permanent, less transitory: contentment, joy, satisfaction, fulfillment.

Beavan pointed to the ways in which increased access to and use of resources can increase happiness for those at the other end of the spectrum. A father in a developing country who is finally able to access enough coal energy to hang a lightbulb for his student daughter is, according to Beavan, happier for it. But he's much more than just "happy" -- he's fulfilling a biological imperative to take care of and improve the lives of our children.

The resource that my husband and I use that is perhaps the most contentious in our household is the air conditioner. After listening to Beavan, my husband noted that doing away with air conditioning would make him very, very unhappy. In this way, he tried to justify using it. He's (mostly) joking, but I think he found the point at which the whole "living an eco-friendly life will make you happy" sales tactic falls apart. Happiness is something of a selfish emotion. I do this because it makes me happy (because I feel cool or warm and relaxed) right now. I don't do this because it makes me unhappy (sweaty or shivery). Asking people (and corporations and manufacturers) to be thoughtful of the environment is going to take a lot more than telling them, "It will make you happy!" It will require more self reflection than that. It will require that we ask ourselves the question that Beavan opened his talk with: "Have I lived a life where I've done more good than harm?" Sometimes doing good is about making tough choices, making sacrifices and sometimes it leads to a sense of satisfaction that is much longer lasting than mere happiness.

Eat Your Curds and Whey

2009-09-17T09:25:00.005-05:00

After living in virtually dairy-free Thailand for three years, I returned Stateside to find that I was utterly intolerant. Intolerant of lactose, that is. Eating dairy left me doubled over with cramps. I soldiered on, vowing to make myself, well, less intolerant.

Six years on, I can eat most cheeses and even some ice creams sans problems. Milk? Bad idea. When I found out I was knocked up this past spring, I amped up the calcium supplement. Still, I was worried that this little bugger was sapping all the calcium I was ingesting and then some.

And so began the yogurt experiments. I'd had bad experiences eating yogurt in the past so I was reluctant to try again. But after making it through a few small, handy containers of the good stuff without any problems, I decided yogurt was safe. Perhaps I'd just had bad yogurt (i.e. that with milk solids in it) in the past or maybe my bad reactions had been coincidental... or psychological.

Since spring the old man and I have been plowing through containers and containers of yogurt like nobody's business. I was making trips to the co-op just to buy yogurt: large tubs of vanilla for my morning cereal and a variety of smaller, fruit-bottomed ones for our snack through the day. Unfortunately, this was costing not just us but the environment. The number 5 on the bottoms of the white plastic might have been "666": the mark of the unrecyclable.

Just as I was beginning to lose faith that we'd never find a way to feed our craving in an eco-friendly way, my mother-in-law brought a copy of the Star Tribune with an article about making your own yogurt. After I let the article float around from pile to pile of junk in our house and to appropriately needle my guilty conscience, I pulled it out, checked the directions and bought the two ingredients I needed for yogurt: milk and a small container of plain, sweetener, and stabilizer-free yogurt.

I opted for the unhomogenized milk in the glass bottles and "Cultural Revolution" yogurt. My first batches, I've made with whole milk because it seems to be the easiest. Well, turns out making yogurt is pretty easy in general.

I boiled a quart of the milk in a saucepan until bubbles began to form (about 180 to 190 degrees). Then I waited. And waited. I needed the milk to cool to about 115 to 200 degrees -- or, as some recipes indicate, until I was able to stick my little finger in there for ten seconds without burning it. Since I only have two pinky fingers, I prefer to use a candy thermometer.

(You might be able to see the bubbles forming in this picture if you look closely.)

Once cooled, I removed about 1/2 cup (I used one ladle full) of the warm milk to a bowl and stirred in about 1/2 cup of the yogurt (some recipes suggest only a few tablespoons are needed). I mixed well and then slowly added it back into the saucepan of warm milk, combining well.

I poured the milk/ yogurt combo into a large quart glass container (there was a little left for one smaller pint container), covered, and set it on top of my fridge wrapped in dishtowels. No need for a fancy yogurt incubator! I left it there overnight and in the morning: voila! Yogurt. I poured off the whey and put the containers in the fridge. The longer it sits in there, the more tart it becomes. Now that I have my own yogurt, I can just set aside a little bit each time to use to make the next batch -- so they only thing I have to buy is the milk. I've done two batches now and both have worked out great -- perfect with granola and fresh fruit in the morning and now that my yogurt is in handy glass containers, I don't have to worry about the waste! For the husband, I mixed some up with some berries and some honey for a little container on the go. (Although fresh fruit does make homemade yogurt a little runny.)

Next up: experimenting with lower fat content milk and making strawberry-flavored kefir (a yogurt drink) for my husband.

If this doesn't excite you, you might need to check your pulse...

2009-09-16T13:49:00.003-05:00

... or you just might not be a wool nerd like I am.

Just got a big bundle of wool from Blue Goose Glen. It's super soft and colorful merino that I'm testing out for some upcoming projects. I usually use and rougher roving for felting, but this is so nice to touch and work with that I might have to start using this softer stuff.

These guys flew over just as I was outside taking the pictures of the Blue Goose Glen wool. It seemed auspicious somehow.

Minnesota State Fair Redux

2009-09-15T10:05:00.007-05:00

I stuck to my State Fair plan and (at least of the first visit) only ate the one thing at the fair that stands out above all else (and that is hard to come by outside of those two weeks): pork chop on a stick. I don't have a picture of that. But I do have this:

and this:

and Eric eating a corn dog on a stick (he's decided to go with the pronto pup in future years):

We also have Conan on a stick made from seeds (perhaps you have to be a Minnesotan or a Minnesota State Fair attendee to really appreciate what's going on here):

I'm not sure if this was what the seed artist was referencing...

Lastly, and certainly the best part of the State Fair this year was stumbling across this guy playing Dance Dance Revolution at the arcade. It will take a moment to "buffer" but it's well worth it. (S0rry for the pretty low quality.)

What you might not be able to tell is that this guy was getting perfect scores -- even when he had his back to the screen. SOMEONE's put A LOT of time into practicing DDR.

Curtains: The Symbol of My Reintroduction into the World of Selfish Crafting

2009-09-09T17:35:00.005-05:00

It's often said that when your "art" or "craft" becomes your living, you no longer do that art or craft for fun. There are the cliches of the carpenter with the crumbling house, the plumber with the leaky faucets, the chef who's dinner consists of canned ravioli and iceberg lettuce eaten leaning over the kitchen sink. Try as I might, I cannot avoid this cliche. My husband's clothes sit un-mended and the parts of various textile-related household projects (like making covers for pillow forms) are shoved into a corner while I sew products for my shop and gifts for other people.

No longer!

I am turning over a new leaf and giving just as much priority to those incomplete household tasks. Just this weekend I finally completed the curtains for our second floor bathroom (the one that looks directly into our neighbor's house).

The "before" picture might be some indication of why it was one of the more pressing projects.

I even used some of the left-over material to fashion a panel curtain for our backdoor and to replace the unfortunate floral one that was, I think, slowly driving my husband mad. But I'm digressing into another post. (In an upcoming post I'll give a quick tutorial for making a super easy panel curtain for a door.)

In the meantime more pictures of the completed curtains.

Please pardon the lack of trim on the window. Thankfully, my husband is a scientist, not a carpenter and that project should be complete before the turn of the next century!

What's that smell?

2009-08-28T11:44:00.004-05:00

... That's something that my two year old niece says every so often when she encounters something olafactorily offensive.

With this new deodorant that I found on etsy, she'll hopefully be less inclined to say it around me. I know, I already posted about etsy deodorant, but it turns out I have sensitive pits (or maybe it's just pregnancy hormones) and I was itching up a storm.

So I tried some of the "No Offense Deodorant" from Mum Mum's Crafts in the plumeria scent. This stuff smells delicious. Seriously. Every so often since I've started using it, I'll think, "What's that lovely smell?" And, well, it's me! The plumeria is gently floral, clean, and a little tropical. And in the past week since I started wearing it, my husband has not once said "You kind of stink," as we've climbed into bed. Either we're really making progress in our relationship or this stuff really works. The only downside I've come across is the one day that I put it on with a black tank top -- some of the white stuff showed up. But I'm also pretty careless about that sort of thing -- and, besides, tank top season is almost over. At $7 for 3 oz, it's quite a bit pricier than any store bought stuff, but I don't mind paying extra for handmade and the stuff is so thick that I'm confident it will last me a while. Although, I might be buying before I run out just so I can check out some of the other scents!

Fence Building 201

2009-08-25T22:32:00.006-05:00

The adage (or perhaps it's just a poem) goes "good fences make good neighbors." Our last couple of weekends of working on the fence beg me to ask "do fences make good families?"

Unfortunately, I only have pics from a few weekends ago when our mission was to finish getting the rails up and start placing the pickets on the first panels. Since then, we've (by which I, once again, mean "Eric's family") finished all the pickets and the three gates.

It basically went something like this:

Eric and his dad discussed the plan of attack: a conversation which I'm sure involved Loren offering all sorts of sage advice but then reassuring Eric that "it's his house" and that they should do it the way he wanted to. At which point Eric mulled it over for about two seconds before agreeing with his father. (Although to be fair, Eric did pretty much all the designing.)

Eric did most of the measuring and the math because he's supposed to be good with numbers, although, honestly, the calculator his mom carries in her purse (and gets teased for doing so) came in handy.

Dane did lots of cutting because he's meticulous.

Lu and Loren put the pickets up. I hope this fence didn't come between them.

That's supposedly that guy's middle name, but....
... it was Loren who was taking the real risks by ripping boards so that they would fit precisely at either side of each panel using a guard-less table saw.

But not to worry, the only major injury was incurred when Loren drilled into his own thumb.

A few weeks later, the crew reunited along with youngest brother, Tyler, who took on much of the drilling because, well, he's tall. Sorry, Ty, no pictures from this weekend. Loren's thumb had healed quite nicely.

I did a little measuring here and there, since I do so much when I'm sewing anyway, but mostly I found inventive ways to use my pregnancy as an excuse to not do much of anything at all. Or, as my five year old nephew pointed out his weekend when he dropped by with his mom and siblings to see the fence, "Let's leave the men to the work and go inside where the ladies are lounging." 'Twas true. We were lounging.

I'm still not entirely sure that good fences make good families. At least one member of my family is already jealous that I married into a family that is so handy, not to mention a little obsessive compulsive when it comes to home renovation. So I guess at the very least "good families make good fences."

Next time in the fences trilogy: pictures of the final product (we still have a few more finishing touches to put on) and the pros and cons of having a puppy running wild in the backyard.

Pardon the absence, but the beach comes before bloggin

2009-08-21T08:18:00.008-05:00

Sorry for the long silence. I was busy doing this:

Which is to say, posing for photos with my family on the front steps of beach houses. Not really. Mostly we were:

Hanging out with family at the beach house. (Lest you feel like you might nee to call child protective services, that's a mosquito bite over Addie's eye.)

Picking (and eating) A LOT of Chesapeake Bay Blue Crab. We are probably mostly responsible for the decline in the population. Sorry, crab lovers. (Also, turns out that sitting in a chair picking crab for three hours is NOT a great activity for a pregnant lady's feet.)

Laughing with our siblings. (Most likely at the expense of another sibling.)

Hanging out in the water.

And learning to boogie board (and how to dodge jelly fish).

Taking lessons on how to make a train whistle sound from Granny.

"Reading" on the beach. (And, yes, Ladies, he's single.)

Trying to look glamorous in the sand.

Lying around with siblings (and looking wistful).

And spending a lot of time "upseedown."

I spent a good portion of each day enjoying being buoyant in the salt water and eating ice cream.

Strictly Collard Greens and the Occasional Steak....

2009-07-31T10:38:00.003-05:00

.... is all that's on my plate.

Not really, but it's always a good idea to quote Tribe Called Quest whenever possible.

For those who want to get more greens on your plate but aren't sure how to make these tough leaves palatable, here's a super easy recipe from my CSA.

2 lbs collard greens, tough stems discarded, leaves chopped
2 T medium onion, chopped
1 large garlic clove minced
2 t bacon fat
2 T olive oil
2 T dark sesame oil
chili pepper flakes, salt, sugar

Use a large skillet with a tight fitting cover. (I use our Creuset.) Melt bacon fat and heat olive oil on medium heat. (My coop doesn't always have bacon fat, so I render the fat from a few strips of bacon and then sprinkle the bacon bits on the greens at the end.) Saute onion until transparent, a couple of minutes. Add garlic and saute until fragrant, about 20 seconds.

Mix in the greens, sesame oil, chili pepper flakes, salt, and sugar to taste.

Cover and cook until tender, about 8 -10 minutes. This is crucial collard greens can be very tough and it takes time and heat to soften them up.

Enjoy!

Guest Blogging Over There...

2009-07-28T10:09:00.001-05:00

I meant to post this last week but I kept checking the "Random Splashes of Thought Blog" and didn't see my post. Today, I scrolled down and lo and behold, there it was! Turns out, some blogs are set up so that the most recent posts are at the bottom! I guess you learn something new everyday when you start out as silly as me.

Here's the guest blog post that I did over at Random Splashes of Thought.

Enjoy!

A "Soursweet" Weekend Getaway to Lawrence, KS

2009-07-23T10:52:00.008-05:00

It was that time of year for my pilgrimage to Lawrence, KS. This time, my friend Sarah was getting hitched, finally, after dating the fellow since she was 16. My husband came on this trip and handled most of the 8 hours driving each way. In spite of having his companionship it was a "soursweet" weekend.

I know. The phrase is "bittersweet." But lately I've been thinking about all things sour and sweet, like my husband's rhubarb dessert made from the red stalks grown in our backyard, or sour cherry jam, or the perfect pluots I finally found at our neighborhood stand. I love sour. I'd spritz lime on my pizza if it weren't for the funny looks. I'd bathe in vinegar. There's something slightly masochistic about a love of sour. Sour foods cause a whisper of a twinge at the back of the mouth, a feeling that borders on pain. You know, the whole, "make it hurt so good" thing.

There's nothing better to soothe the pang of sour than sweet. "Bittersweet" makes no sense because bitter can't be eased by sweet. Trust me, last week I stumbled across no less than two bitter almonds while munching on my midafternoon snack. Sweet almonds did nothing to erase the foulness on my tongue. Only time erases the feeling and taste of bitterness. Sweet and sour, on the other hand, are a bit like ying and yang, one easing the other.

The weekend started with dropping off our nine-month-old Juno (a dog, not a child) at her boarding facility. J and I had had a rough week. She was acting the typical adolescent for days -- misbehaving on walks, not listening to commands that she's "known" for ages. As I drove her to the facility, I was thinking, "We need a break from each other." I was almost looking forward to the time apart. Sure enough, as soon as the boarding employee grabbed her collar to lead her down the narrow hallway to the play area, she freaked out, slipped away from his grasp and ran back to between my legs. She took a seat on the floor next to me and gazed up. I read her eyes. "Don't leave me!" Of course, I'd read her all wrong. She was just afraid of the hallway and the relative stranger grabbing her collar. As soon as I lured her down the hall and she found her way through the door and to the other dogs, I was but a faint smell on her thick coat. It was a soursweet departure.

I think, too, there's something soursweet about weddings. It's a joy to see old friends and to watch a friend make this commitment, but it's a reminder about how things change. My friend from graduate school and fellow Lawrence weekend pilgrim, Aura, reminded me of how it was back in graduate school when husbands, marriage, houses, and kids were the farthest things from our minds. And there I was, my baby-filled belly protruding while we waited in the hotel lobby for my husband. Not that I don't love my life now, but it's a hard lesson to realise you can't have it all. I can't be foot-loose and fancy free and settled and secure at the same time. Perhaps it was all the more striking of a lesson because we were in Lawrence, a place that reminds me of Madison, WI, the town where I went to college and that I love almost as much as any town I've lived in.

We spent our day and a half eating perfect French Toast at Milton's, mediocre seafood at Angler's, and memorable bbq at Arthur Bryant's (sorry no food pics this time); watching crappy movies in our hotel bed; wandering into craft stores along Lawrence's Mass Street; and visiting the Haskell-Baker Wetlands where area universities study ecology, I took most of these pictures, we decided we both like cattails, debated stealing a few osage orange fruit (hedge apples) to deter spiders in our house (we did not), and considered the relative merits of fording the river versus building a raft. We did not die of dysentary.

With no dog and no housework, we got to sleep in in the luxurious king-sized bed. The rooms had been recently re-done so everything was clean and stark. It wasn't home.

On Friday night we laid in bed and I felt the baby tumbling around inside my belly. At a scant 19 weeks, I was sure it was my imagination when I thought I felt a kick on the outside of my taught skin. But sure enough, when Eric put his hand on me stomach, he felt a nudge. He smiled a surprised smile. Finally, I think he's beginning to believe I really am pregnant. The weekend wasn't entirely "soursweet;" some moments were just perfectly sweet.

Canning Lessons

2009-07-17T08:00:00.000-05:00

At the end of last summer, I took a course at a local farm on canning and preserving the harvest. Winters in Minnesota are rough, to say the least, and a spoonful of local fruits and vegetables in the dead of a near sunless February can mean the difference between survival and gauging out your own eyes with said spoon. I did not imagine myself doing much freezing and processing this winter until a friend showed up at my doorstep with a trunkload of canning jars a mere two weeks before my sister's sour cherry tree went into glorious fruition.

I pillaged the tree, pitted and cut the cherries, washed the mason jars, filled giant vats of water, and set them to boil on the stove. Soon, I had all four burners going for sterilization, cooking, and processing. Such projects are best done with the husband at work or otherwise away from the house. The kitchen grows quickly hot and humid and the male disposition is not well suited to such conditions. Besides, canning is best done with a heavy dose of either solitary meditation or womanly gossip.

I followed the directions in The Blue Book to a "T." It warns to not mess with the proportions or to even try doubling the recipes. When botulism is a danger, I tend to do what I'm told. I was, however, a little disappointed that my batch came out to less than half the amount the recipe promised. Still, I plunged them into the roiling bath and set them to process for ten minutes.

I'm sure the seasoned canner is more nonchalant than I about this, but I still wait close by in anticipation of the little pop that will indicate that a can is sealed. The instructor in my class had warned that sometimes the seal doesn't take until after the can is removed from the canner and starts to cool. Still, the moments of pop-less silence are filled with a minor dread. Did I do it wrong this time? Am I going to have to store all of these jars in a refrigerator instead of neatly lined up on the shelves of our canning room? Will I poison a gift recipient?

But I should have more faith in the women who canned before me and who wrote gospels like The Blue Book. There's nothing that hasn't already been tried. And, in the case of preserving food, that's a good thing. The gentle pops started as soon as I pulled out the cans until each shiny lid was dimpled. I should remember the next time I can: everything worth doing involves a dash of risk and a whole lot of faith in the ones who came before.

My Best Pregnancy Craving So Far...

2009-07-14T18:16:00.009-05:00

When we were kids visiting our relatives in Thailand, there would come the inevitable afternoon or evening when a large tupperware container was brought out from the fridge and placed on the lazy susan in front of the hungry eyes of a group of adults.

"Do you want to try some?" someone would invariably ask me and my American-born siblings. The first few times, we were, of course, curious enough to hang around and see what mysterious Thai delight the container held but cautious enough to not make any promises.

The seal on the container would be broken with a satisfying gasp of air that released an odor so horrific that it momentarily blinded us from seeing the golden egg-like pods nestled inside. Durian. The dreaded Durian: a Southeast Asian fruit which odor is reminiscent of rotting fish or garbage on a hot day or the Bangkok sewer system. It was enough to make an 8 year old gag.

"Do you want to try some?"

"You're going to eat that?"

We'd flee to the bougainvillea-covered corners of the yard while the adults savored their fruity treat. It's what some might call an acquired taste.... or an acquired smell.

Durian, or the "king of the fruit" as it's known in Thailand, is famous through Southeast Asia for its pungent odor, its intimidatingly spiky exterior, and it's rich, custard-like flavor and texture. It is the odor that makes it banned in many hotels, on some airlines, and in various public places. As an adult living in Thailand, I finally got the gumption to try some. It was love at first bite. It's surprisingly creamy for a fruit, reminiscent of perfectly ripe avocado. And the infamous odor reveals itself in a surprisingly floral taste on the tongue. It are these subtleties that are missed when you smell without tasting the fruit.

Needless to say, Durian is a little hard to come by in the States and so it was not without some bittersweet disappointment when I woke one morning a few weeks ago thinking of nothing other than the sweet yellow nuggets of fruity goodness.

Fortunately, there is an Asian market near us that rivals the best markets Stateside. Unfortunately, all of their Durian is frozen -- either as the whole fruit or already dissected and hermetically entombed in plastic containers.

After reading some on-line commentary, I opted for the whole fruit, which, some claimed, was more likely to retain the taste through the freezing process.

Needless to say, my husband was not thrilled when he saw the porcupine-esque shape sitting on our kitchen counter. He tried to ban Durian from our house. "I'll eat it outside," I promised. A day later it was thawed out enough to take my clever and cutting board out back.

Durian is the reason why I adore Anthony Bourdain and loathe Andrew Zimmern. Bourdain revels in this tropical delight. (Fast forward to 5:45 or click here to see Bourdain enjoy durian.)

Respect.

Zimmern, on the other hand, has the gall to spit out the King of the Fruits in front of a durian farmer.

I'm not suggesting that everyone needs to run out and try durian, but if you're the host of a show about eating strange and unusual foods, surely you can choke back a piece of fruit. He fails to do this not just one time, but a second time when he runs across his arch-nemesis again in Chinatown.

It was in the spirit of Bourdain's culinary adventures that I broke open the frozen durian on our picnic table. Frozen, it had lost a little of its structure and potency, but it sated my craving and, as I promised my husband, I finished all six magical pods contained within in the first 24 hours of cracking it open. I had a few nuggets that had to be stored in the fridge overnight. In spite of wrapping them in plastic wrap and foil, my husband still complained that the kitchen smelled like a landfill. I had to agree.

I'm sure that some of my Asian relatives would have warned me that it was a bad idea to eat durian, which has heating qualities, while I was pregnant. Or at least they'd say that I should balance the heat with the cooling effects of a fruit like mangosteen. As much as I'd love nothing more than to gorge myself on mangosteen, they are only recently available in a few places in the states and exorbitantly priced. Besides, I like to keep in mind a more Western idea that what your baby is exposed to in the womb and while nursing can shape the eating habits they'll have during their lifetime. I'm hoping ours has a whole lot more Bourdain and a whole lot less Zimmern.

Rhena and Eric Plus One

2009-07-10T14:30:00.006-05:00

First comes love.

Then comes marriage.

Then, after a year of trying, comes two pink lines on a stick.

16 weeks and counting down to mid December. Updates to follow...

Christmas in July Sale at Lars and Addie!

2009-07-09T15:01:00.004-05:00

Lars and Addie is participating in the etsy-wide Christmas in July sale. I'm offering 10% off of all regularly priced items (priced as marked). I've got more fabric bowls listed and more in the hopper....

Stop on by now through July 22nd to enjoy these discounts and check back for daily additions during the weekdays of the sale!

To find other Etsy shops participating in the sale, search "christmas in july," "christmasinjuly," or "cij" on the front page of Etsy.

Thanks and enjoy!

Urban Eden Deodorant: Fresh and Citrusy

2009-07-06T08:00:00.000-05:00

It's been quite some time since I've worn antiperspirant. While there are those out there who would only make such a drastic move based on scientific evidence proving that the chemicals that keep us from sweating cause cancer or Alzheimer's, I relied on a much more readily-accessible source of information to make this decision: my gut. What my gut told me was that the human body was made to sweat to keep us cool and, absent an excessive sweating issue, trying to keep the body from sweating seemed unnatural. Besides, my t-shirts were getting yellow pit stains from antiperspirant and, as my sister recently pointed out, antiperspirant always seems to leave a film on your pits that never washes off. Who wants a sticky film?

My aversion to antiperspirant, however, is only slightly stronger than my aversion to my own stank. My trip down the deodorant aisle was increasingly becoming an exercise in frustration. Is there a deodorant out there that not only smells good but keeps me smelling good for longer than three hours?

It was only when I saw a Tweet from a fellow etsian about a shop called "Urban Eden" that I realized that there were options beyond Toms of Maine and "The Rock." I ordered up some of her lemon myrtle deodorant.

The 1.65 oz container of yellowish, easy to rub on deodorant has a citrusy scent that verges on astringent. I mean that in the best way. I like slightly astringent deodorant because it makes me feel like it's working. "Astringent" means "clean" and is in direct opposition to "funk."

I have to admit that when I finally go to bed at the end of the day and I throw my arms over my head, even I still find the odor permeating from my pits pretty offensive. But I think I'm coming to accept that that has little to do with what deodorant I'm using and more to do with my own sweat stinkiness. I think I'm a twice a day rub under the pits kind of a girl. And that's fine by me -- as long as I can keep finding deodorants has easy and fragrant as those made by Urban Eden.

Make These Popsicles

2009-07-03T08:00:00.002-05:00

I stumbled across this recipe on The Mama Dramalogues blog and after experimenting with it once or twice, combining it with another recipe I found in Bust magazine, they've quickly become a fav around here. When I say "fav," I mean I eat them everyday at least once a day and I don't feel TOO guilty about it as they have yogurt in them.

(Any)Berry Cream Pops
from Lorraine Starks

1 pint berries (about 12 oz)
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/4 cup water
1/2 cup cream (heavy or light)
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 cup vanilla yogurt
8 5-ounce waxy paper cups or 12 3-oz bathroom cups
popsicle sticks

(I those reusable popsicle containers)

In a saucepan, bring the berries, sugar, and water to a boil. Let simmer for 8 minutes or so (until the berries are soft and begin to break apart). The other recipes have you drain the berry juice, but I love berry seeds, so I left in all the goodness.

Layer the popsicle as follows. First: a few dollops of yogurt with a whole berry or two thrown in. Let freeze for about two hours. Second: Mix about 2/3 of the berry syrup with the cream and mix well. Pour a little over the frozen yogurt. Freeze for an hour or so. (I let it start to get solid, but not so solid that I can't poke the popsicle stick in place.) Third: Mix the remaining berry mixture with the lemon. Pour that on top. Stick the sticks in the popsicle. (If using paper cups, the Mama Dramalogues suggests using a tin foil cover to keep the stick from toppling over.) Freeze for two hours. I do the mixture backwards - the Mamas do it yogurt, berry-lemon, then berry-cream but I like having the most refreshing one at the bottom.

Remove and enjoy!

We've tried both blackberry and raspberry to great success. They hubby has put in a request for strawberry and I'd like to see if we can make blueberry work so those will be the next two flavors. I'll let you know if they're an utter disaster!

Fence Building 101

2009-07-02T13:51:00.004-05:00

Our poor pup has suffered in our fenceless yard long enough. We (and when I say "we" I mean my husband and his family) are building a fence and she will be able to run free through the crab grass, dig holes in the black earth of our garden, hunt bunnies, squirrels, and cats, and generally wreak havoc in every corner of our yard.

The first steps? Dig up the old chain link and centuries old wooden posts and put in new holes. I wish I had pictures of my father-in-law pulling up the old posts with the Bobcat that his work recently (and conveniently) bought. It was truly a vision of machine versus nature (or at least machine versus urban lot). Of course, we missed most of it because we had various wedding and parties to attend while Eric's father toiled away. It would not be unfair to compare us to Cinderella's stepsisters -- except for the fact that Eric's father pretty much has a huge grin on his face the entire time he's working heavy machinery.

Next, the menfolk had to dig 25 post holes using a rented auger. Getting the auger, the posts, and the flats of 80 pound bags of cement into our yard was enough of a feat. The digging was a whole other story. Turns out that repeatedly pulling this giant metal screw four feet out of the ground is hard work. Not that I'd know -- mostly I just took pictures and found any excuse to stay inside the air conditioned house. I am a delicate flower.

Eric insists that the pictures don't do justice to the amount of effort it took to lift that thing around. Lest you think Dane (in the blue shirt) did even less than I did -- he was waiting for hole to be drilled so he could pour gravel into the bottom: not the most romantic job, but necessary nonetheless. We're currently working on getting the poles straight and level and setting them with concrete. More pics to come...

Etsy Sellers: Make a Light Box! Go! Now!

2009-06-17T08:00:00.000-05:00

After one too many cloudy days or late evenings meant I had to put off shooting items for my etsy site, I finally relented and decided to make myself a light box. I followed the directions from the strobist blog. Two afternoons later (I ran out of "scrounged" up tissue paper), I had a light box.

So far, it's so good. In fact, it's awesome to have. I don't have to wait for sunny days to take photographs and it looks like I'll spend less time editing in photoshop. The first pictures turned out pretty well. (I used the wide angle lens for the first few just 'cause that's what was on my camera at the time.)

I switched to the macros lens for the next two shots.

Other than resizing to make it easier to download here, I didn't edit these photos at all. I still have to get at least one and maybe two more desk lamps so that I can have the option of having light on one (as on this picture where you can see the shadows under the sachet), two, or three (to create that "floating" effect) sides. I'm also really looking forward to playing around with different backgrounds.

I had to make this one pretty big so that I can shoot my bags, but I think I'm going to make another smaller one and remove the bottom of the box so that I can shoot on different surfaces. I'll post here once I make that one.

Weekend Project

2009-06-15T20:11:00.004-05:00

The old man kindly installed a retractable clothesline in our backyard and laundry has now become one of my favorite things to do. OK, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but hanging clothes out does remind me of when I lived in Thailand. Except for that then we didn't have any electricity or running water so we washed our clothes by hand and hung them to dry because there was no other choice, not for the fresh smell and to save a few bucks a month. Still, there's something deeply satisfying about hanging out clothes to dry.

I feel like I should have a big wicker basket, wear a "housedress" and tie my hair up with a scarf to fully inhabit the quaint vision. The only down side is that we miss out on the extra benefit of the lint trap on the dryer: somehow it sucks up all the little white hairs that cover our clothes (the source of which can be seen in the lower left hand corner of the second picture -- sort of like that photo of Elvis where he's sitting inside the screen door of his house at his own funeral).

I'd Taken a Long Break, but I'm Feelin' the Love

2009-06-12T08:57:00.005-05:00

I'd taken a little break from etsy this winter and have gradually gotten back into the swing of all of the creating, posting, listing, and commenting that is etsy. It feels good to be back and feels extra good when other etsians choose your items to be featured in treasuries, blogs, and front pages.

Here are a couple of treasuries that made it to the front page. The first was designed by Birribe, a Swedish etsian with a very electic mix of charming items including jewelry, shawls, and mossbrushes in her shop. The second plum themed one was by Ear Candy Arts who makes bright beaded earrings. I think the last might have been an admin front page...

The next two are currently in the treasury. The first is by Beadin' By the Sea, a Washington State based jeweler with gorgeous pictures of her work.

This one is by beezmiller who creates hilarious, colorful sock creatures in Chicago.

Lastly, Angie of Handmade by Angie, featured Lars and Addie on her blog as part of her regular Friday Feature of etsy sellers. Apparently her muse appreciates the power of alliteration more than mine does!

Thanks, all!

Ultimate Minnesota Comfort Food

2009-06-12T08:00:00.002-05:00

The recent plague of unusually cold and grey days have begged the question, "Is it June in Minnesota or October in London?" When you spend a few weeks out of every year in subzero temperatures in a state where snow on the ground six months out of the year is a very real possibility, summer is sacred. A few days of mid-June cloud cover is enough to send even the most stoic soul into conniptive fears that an ironic Mother Nature is punishing us for global warming by taking away our summers. This calls for heavy doses of warm milky tea and a serving of serious comfort food. "Hot Dish", which is our fancy phrase for casserole in Minnesota, is just what's needed to cure the grey day doldrums.

The marvels of Hot Dish have been documented by local artist Adam Turman...

... and also on postcards and dish towels over at Keep the Faye.
But even these feats of visual artistry cannot convey the powers of a good hot dish; it really is something you must try yourself. And so I give you my mother-in-law's recipe for Tater Tot Hot Dish, perhaps the most popular hot dish in Minnesota or at least in our neck of the woods because, really, who doesn't like tater tots? It's a recipe that's so easy even a bachelor can handle it (the recipe card that we follow is from my husband's single days when this dish was a welcome break from a steady diet of frozen pizzas). Still, like a (tasty) blank canvas, it can be varied enough to meet anyone's preferences -- you can skip the meat and use another can of cream of celery instead of the cream of chicken to make a vegetarian version, add some sprinkles of truffle oil if you want to go a little bourgie, or use spicy Italian sausage or chorizo in place of or alongside the plain hamburger if you want to go ethnic.

Tater Tot Hot Dish

1.5 lbs ground beef (we use ground turkey to great results)
1 small onion diced
1 bell pepper diced (we don't always include this because my husband doesn't love them)
1 package frozen mixed vegetables
1 package tater tots (because you'll be throwing the whole thing in the oven for a while, it works out fine for the tots and the veggies to both be still pretty frozen)
1 can cream of chicken soup
1 can cream of celery soup
1/2 can of milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. While browning the meat, onions, and peppers, line the bottom of a 9 x 13 pan with a single layer of tater tots (save a handful for the top). Add the can of cream of chicken soup, the can of cream of celery soup, vegetables, and 1/2 can of milk to the browned meat. Mix well. Pour the mixture into the pan and place the remaining tater tots on top.

Place in the oven for about 45 minutes. After the check-out guy at our local market recommended it, we started adding grated cheddar cheese to the top for the last five minutes or so. It's a great addition because, hey, everyone likes cheese and because we've got to somehow make up for the animal fat that we've lost by using turkey instead of beef.

Eric eats his with just a little black pepper on top. I like mine with ketchup (because you know what I say: you can never get too many vegetables) and some hot sauce (because my favorite comfort foods all have a little spice to 'em). It's tasty when warmed up too!

Enjoy! And thanks, Lu, for the recipe.

Right as Rain Creations: Aptly Named.

2009-06-09T19:51:00.005-05:00

Months and months ago, I started what I called "Friday Feature" wherein the goal was for me to feature an etsy product every Friday. Well, I've come to realize that regular blog themes based on alliteration and days of the week just doesn't work for me. My muses don't follow a seven day pattern.

So I've opted to feature when the muse strikes... and boy, the muse bopped me over the head a good one.

Megan at Right as Rain Creations makes luscious lotions that I cannot say enough about. Minnesota winters are cold and dry. Really, really dry. But even in the middle of winter, with chapping and chaffing at its worst my husband (who washes his hand often at his job in a research lab) and I only had to reapply once every few days. When the skin on my knees and thighs got red, itchy, and flaky, I put on some of Right as Rain's lotion and -- I kid you not -- the next morning I saw a marked improvement. After a few days, my skin was as soft and silky as a newborn baby. (OK, maybe not that much, but did you really expect a miracle?)

After we finally used up our first 4 oz, I was ready to place an order for a larger bottle. My first bottle was "April Showers." I liked the scent well enough, but wanted something new. I e-mailed Megan and asked her for advice on a gender neutral scent since both my husband and I were hooked. She responded promptly with a few suggestions and I decided on Green Tea and Cucumber. When it arrived, I feared it was a little too feminine for my husband, but I didn't say anything and let him smell it for himself. He asked if it was too masculine for me. Needless to say, I was impressed with Megan's olfactory insights.

It's probably a little pricier than what you might pick up at CVS or Walgreens, but we have to use it so infrequently that we can't afford NOT to buy it. Our four ounce bottle lasted both of us through the winter. Besides, it's well worth it for the personalized service and the comfort of knowing that there's a person behind the product working to make sure ingredients are as natural as possible. ... Oh, and with our 8 oz purchase she included a sample of her "Chai Tea" body cream -- thick and sweet enough to eat!

When you have to eat crow... eat cod instead.

2009-06-05T15:04:00.005-05:00

I have to admit that when my mom gave me and Eric The Everything Cooking for Two cookbook by David Poran, I was dubious. The food snob in me would not allow that a good recipe could come from a cookbook that did not have glossy, full color photos or was not a tradition-laden tome like The Joy of Cooking or the magazine Cooks. Two years later, after countless meals from this handy little, now grease-stained book, I stand corrected. I stand so corrected, that I'm posting two recipes from the book: one for flavorful, light cod cakes topped with a refreshing papaya salsa and the other for basmati rice with peas and cumin. Together, these recipes make a relatively easy summer meal and, just as the title of the book promises, they provide exactly enough sustenance for two. Enjoy!

Caribbean-Style Cod Cakes

3/4 pound cod fillet 1 T grated fresh gingerroot
1 1/4 cups plain breadcrumbs 1 T fresh thyme leaves
1/4 cup mayonnaise 1/2 t cayenne pepper
1 egg lightly beaten 1/4 ground allspice
juice of 2 limes 1 c peeled and small-diced papaya (mango works too)
6 scallions, thinly sliced 2 T chopped fresh cilantro

1. Simmer the cod in salted water until it begins to break apart. Drain in a colander and break apart well. Let cool.

2. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Lightly grease a baking sheet.

3. When the fish is cool, mix together the fish, bread crumbs, mayonnaise, egg, half the lime juice, half the scallions, the ginger, thyme, allspice, cayanne, and salt and pepper to taste. Form into 4 equal patties and place on the prepared baking sheet. Bake for 20 minutes.

4. Meanwhile, make the salsa by mixing together the papaya, the rest of the lime juice and scallions, the cilantro, and salt and pepper to taste. (I let the salsa sit for at least a few minutes for the juices to work their magic.) Serve the salsa on top of the fish.

Cumin and Sweet Pea Basmati Rice

1 cup basmati rice
2 T butter, divided
1 small white onion, finely diced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 t cumin seeds
1/2 c frozen peas (he recommends defrosted, but I use them frozen with fine results)
1 1/2 c chicken stock
salt and pepper to taste

1. Wash the rice under cold running water until the water runs clear. Soak the rice in cold water for 30 minutes.

2. In a small saucepot, heat 1 T of the butter on medium and saute the onion, garlic, and cumin seeds for about 3 minutes or until the onions are lightly golden.

3. Drain the rice, add it to the pan, stir well. Add the peas and broth, and bring to a simmer. Immediately reduce the heat to the lowest setting, and cover the pot.

4. Cook for exactly 15 minutes. Remove from heat, and add the remaining butter and sale and pepper. Stir gently to avoid breaking the grains of rice. Serve immediately.

Thanks, mom! And thanks David Poran.

Grunge Zombies Unite!

2009-05-26T21:57:00.003-05:00

Adel over at grungezombie.net kindly included a Lars and Addie set of coasters in her random entry finds feature. I'm psyched to be in such good company.

New Addiction.

2009-05-20T12:39:00.003-05:00

A few months ago I started making these fabric bowls. They're vaguely reminiscent of those coil pots we all had to make in art class in grade school -- only hopefully a bit less clunky.
After covering thick cotton line with cotton bias strips, I use my sewing machine like a potters wheel to shape the bowl, holding it together with a zigzag stitch.

These combine the two elements that I love about sewing and crafting and art: utilitarian practicality and creativity. Form and function.

After a great Crafstravaganza weekend here at the State Fair Grounds in St Paul, I only have two bowls left. I've posted them on my etsy shop and will be adding more as I get back to the wheel... er... machine!

A Block. And New Blog.

2009-03-24T07:55:00.004-05:00

So apparently I was having difficulty getting above 100 posts for a while there.

This is my excuse for not blogging for so long:

But I'm back blogging now two fold. I've started another blog just for her. It's located here. I'll be back blogging here too.... but check out the Juno the Dog blog for our training, raw-feeding, canine-loving antics. You won't be disappointed.

Puppy Love

2009-01-07T22:45:00.006-06:00

We just brought home our new 12 week old white German Shepherd from K9 R and R Dog Rescue. We named her Juno (for the Roman Goddess who was the "protector of Rome" -- we hope she becomes protector of our home). Mostly she just sits around and looks cute and poses for pictures.

Actually mostly she tries to kill her toy squirrel, makes an effort to pee and poop in the right places (sometimes not so successfully), eats food, chews on toys and follows us around from room to room.
Fortunately, she takes lots of naps, otherwise I'd be even more exhausted than I already am.

A Little Etsy Love

2009-01-05T08:55:00.004-06:00

Mud thrower Amy Esther included the Small Turtle Bag II on her blog, In the Night Kitchen, today. Thanks, Amy!

Julie Garland (no relation to THAT Garland as far as I know) created this treasury which ended up on the front page. Thanks for including the Small Maroon Guitar Bag, Julie!

Phil Hansen = Official Grammy Artist

2008-12-29T15:29:00.002-06:00

St. Paul-based artist Phil Hansen, who I wrote this profile of last year, is the official artist of the 51st Annual Grammy Awards.

Nice work, Phil.

Blog Love, Treasury Love, Gift Guide Love

2008-12-17T09:55:00.006-06:00

One of the scarves from my etsy shop was featured on this really cute blog, On the Dot Creations.

... and a bag in this really bright Treasury West.
... and some coasters in a Gift Guide (a really handy etsy tool) ... although they were bought up pretty quickly.

I Should Not Be This Excited About Soap Scum Removal... But I Am

2008-12-16T10:07:00.004-06:00

With the bathroom being the one newly and entirely completed room in our house, it gets treated something like a family member... or at least a loved and lovable pet. We look forward to seeing it in the morning. We clean it lovingly. We train ourselves on best bathroom maintenance practices. After months of using our tiny, dark temporary basement shower, the new upstairs shower is something of a jewel in our bathroom crown. The sleek new glass doors are a point of pride and allow sunlight to stream onto our carefully selected tile.

And so it has been the thorn in my side to watch thin filmy layers of soap scum build up on the glass doors as the days and weeks have passed. The thickening layer has blocked the light and generally disrupted the morning ritual of standing under the warm rain-like stream of water from our low-flow shower head. It irks me.

Before I proceed, let me say that never before has soap scum bothered me. In fact, I probably have never really noticed it. When you rent, such trivial matters are the concern of the landlord or the next renters. I'd be out of there in a year anyway, so let the soap scum build! I had nary a thought for what would happen after years of soap scum build up. But now, owning a house, I imagined the scum, five years down the road, having accumulated to a thick mass that not only block sunlight, but space and the very air we breathe.

Soap scum had been the domain of those women in the commercials with the generic but well cared for coif who clean their homes in pastel button down shirts and khaki chinos.

But here I was, fretting over a clean shower.

At first, Eric and I decided that regular cleaning was the way to go. We'd spritz the shower with a bathroom cleaner and squeegee the door every day. I was reluctant to rely on such a chemically solution at all, but was even more turned off when I saw that it wasn't really doing much to keep the scum at bay. The scum was building and I was helpless against it.

I went on-line. I researched. I squeegeed extra hard. I read message boards and eco friendly housekeeping sites.

Some of the information must have entered my subconscious because this Saturday standing in the shower, I suddenly had the urge to rub shampoo all over my shower door. I started with one corner section. I rubbed. I waited. I rinsed. Sunlight streamed in through the glass. I paused. I blinked my eyes. "What the...?" I tried another small section. Waited. Rinsed. More sunlight. "How the...?" I gained speed and momentum. I hummed as I rubbed shampoo on the other sections. My squeegee slid easily across the glass, unhindered by the scum. I rubbed and I sang and I rejoiced.

It was all so easy. It was right in front of my face the entire time.

Shampoo (or at least this Aussie stuff that I've been using) removes soap scum from shower doors.

So now once a week I will rub, rinse, and squeegee shampoo on my shower door. I will daily spritz the tiles with vinegar to prevent mildew from growing (and update you on whether that works). I will shower and I will be happy.

PS Opting for liquid soap instead of bar soap also apparently keeps the scum from building up in the first place -- but we haven't quite gotten there yet.

Christmas Has Come a Little Early

2008-12-12T20:39:00.004-06:00

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

... this JibJab (brought to my attention by my BIL, Dane) had room for five elves... so how could I resist putting on the faces of the five Tantisunthorn kids.... it brings me back to my wedding day.

And, of course, there are five LaFaves...

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Annual Trip to the Grain Elevator

2008-12-11T10:23:00.004-06:00

Every Thanksgiving weekend for the last few years, my sister and her family have come out to my in-laws place for lunch and a visit to the farm (and to play video games-- these kids are so deprived that they have to ride in a car for two hours to touch a game controller). The annual trip includes the feat of climbing the end-of-harvest pile of corn...

... and run-sliding back down. Gus is basically an advertisement for "Fun." Next year we have to remember to bring sleds.

Ads spent most of her time picking up and handing out kernels of corn.

The soy beans were still drying, so they just climbed up the smaller pile.

Soybeans are like little ball bearings so they're even more slippery.

The kids were nearly as tired as Bailey -- who spent most of her day being "loved" by a little 17 month old.

Alternatives to Dryer Sheets

2008-12-10T11:07:00.006-06:00

How did we get to this:

?

I don't like dryer sheets. I don't really know why. I think I must have read enough about how toxic and bad for the environment they are that I finally started to believe what I read. Sure they make clothes soft and sniffable, but they also give them that sort of greasy coated feeling. But Eric likes that they make his clothes not staticky and in dry Minnesota winters, static electricity can be a real problem.

As if I hadn't already read too much vague on-line information, I plunged into reading more about how to make clothes static free cling without using dryer sheets. One obvious answer is to air dry. I air dry some of my clothes but not all and not household items like bed sheets and towels.

Along the same lines as air drying is not letting your clothes get over dried. This means pulling out your clothes or turning off the dryer as soon as they are dry, thereby not giving static a chance to build up. Fortunately, we have one of those dryers with the "less dry" option.

To further prevent static and to (in theory at least) cut down on drying time, I also opted to throw a few tennis balls in the dryer. The theory goes that they keep the clothes separate and allow more air to move between them. I didn't time it, but my clothes seemed to be as fluffy and static-free as ever. Also tennis balls aren't made of PVC like typical dryer balls.
The one downside of the tennis ball method is that tennis balls have that same pungent, rubbery smell as bathroom mats when thrown in a warm dryer. Fortunately, I have a few lavender sachets around, so I threw one of those in. It nicely covered the rubber smell.
Should Eric find his clothes still too staticky, we'll move to Phase II, which includes adding a ball of tin foil to the mix. This is meant to reduce the number of electrons running errant through our synthetics.

Phase III is adding a quarter cup of vinegar to the wash cycle. Vinegar dries odorless so we needn't worry about smelling like a vat of pickles in our clean clothes.

New Scarves on Etsy.

2008-12-09T18:26:00.003-06:00

... as promised in my last post. Here's a sneak preview. Check my shop for more pictures of each scarf.

Don't forget to sign up for the Lars and Addie newsletter and enter to win a $40 gift certificate to my etsy shop. (See the post below for more details!)

No Coast Redux and Giveaway

2008-12-08T21:19:00.003-06:00

I break promises sometimes. Last week I said I would post more No Coast items and I didn't. I failed. Excuses are for politicians caught in compromising positions in seedy motel rooms and airport bathrooms but, honestly, I pretty much spent every waking (and some non waking) hour sewing last week.

My fingers didn't bleed, but my sewing machine did become possessed. On no less than two occasions, the machine started sewing on its own accord while I was on the opposite side of the room. And on one occasion, sister Laura and husband Eric were in the room, so we know it wasn't a craft-induced hallucination or wishful thinking that my bags would start sewing themselves. I think my machine was staging some sort of half-hearted protest.

No Coast ruled. Thanks to all who stopped by my table and to Laura, Eric, and Jess for manning (or "womanning") the table at various points during the two days. Doing craft fairs is awesome. It's fun just to talk to people and get feedback and to get out in the world after a long period of being holed up in the sewing room. The ideas for the next one are already flowing. Watch this space for updates.

I'll be adding more items to etsy this week. Here's a sneak preview.
Lastly, a give away to lure some of you lurkers into the light of day. Sign up for the Lars and Addie newsletter and enter to win a $40 gift certificate to Lars and Addie on-line. Forty bucks is enough to buy a Lars and Addie scarf, which I'll post both here and in my shop. I promise. Sign up by either leaving your e-mail address in a comment on this blog or (for those shy lurkers) send it in an e-mail to larsandaddie at gmail dot com by Wednesday, December 17. (If you already signed up at my table, you've already done your duty.)

The newsletter will be sent to your e-mail address and will include updates on sales, give aways, and other Lars and Addie related info. I won't clog your inbox. The newsletter will be sent out not more than once a month. I promise.

No Coast Coasters

2008-12-01T09:17:00.003-06:00

Here's a quick glimpse of a few of the coaster sets I'll be selling at the No Coast Craft O Rama this weekend Friday December 5th from 3 to 8 and Saturday December 6th from 9 to 5.

I have some in darker browns and blues that I'll post later this week.

I hope to see you at the Lars and Addie table at the Midtown Global Market this weekend!

Feature Friday: Another Day, Another Lotion

2008-11-28T08:00:00.003-06:00

I was once again lured to another lotion based on the packaging. Stud Bud's cute red and green tins proclaim it's contents to be "a salve for hardworking hands." I'm not sure if using my hands to knit and sew qualifies them as "hardworking" but I reckoned it was worth a shot.
Stud Bud, from Bawdy Botanicals, is a thick balm that becomes soft and spreadable on contact with warm hands. Unfortunately, my hands are very cold much of the winter. (You know what they say though: cold hands, warm heart.) With a little rubbing and digging, even my cold mitts can get this stuff going.
I found the salve to be a little thick and greasy for everyday use. It took a while to rub in completely. However, in recent days, the backs of my hands have become painfully dry and sore. I keep jabbing them with needles and scissors as I furiously prepare for the No Coast Craft O Rama. Dry skin is easily broken and tough to heal. A little of the Stud Bud rubbed on the backs of my hands has eased the discomfort and made my skin more resilient. I'm keeping the tin in my purse to rub on the backs of my hands every now and again lest they become reptilian again in this cold, dry Minnesota November.

You Should Be Jealous

2008-11-25T09:40:00.008-06:00

Eric's lab had a graduation celebration for one of his lab-mates so he spent a good portion of Sunday evening baking a cake and some cupcakes. The cake was chocolate mayonnaise which sounds horrible until you realize that mayo is just eggs and oil and until you taste the moist deliciousness. I didn't take any pictures of the cake because by the time I pulled out the camera, I'd already ruined Eric's masterpiece with my unfortunate foray into the world of pastry decorating. Eric brought some of the leftovers home after the party. (Not that we needed them -- his parents had visited on Saturday and had brought loads of homebaked goodies with them. It's not even Thanksgiving, I haven't yet encountered those peanut butter cookies with Hershey's kisses on them, and I've already consumed enough sweets to put the average person into sugar shock. I'm doomed.)
The cupcakes were cream cheese filled. His mom calls them "Hostess Cupcakes" but that name really doesn't do them justice.

They should be called Chocolatey Cakey Creamy Awesomeness instead.

The recipe was included in this amazing collection of favorite recipes that Eric's mom compiled for us for our wedding shower in her impeccable handwriting. It included little notes about where she found the recipes or when the family had eaten them and my future husband's eating habits.
Here's the recipe in my mother-in-law's handwriting because it's better than my typing (and because you need to see for yourself how awesome this recipe collection is).

Eric swears it's an easy recipe and since he's the baker in our family, I trust him. Between my husband and my mother in law, I will weigh 300 pounds by New Year's Eve. It's going to be awesome.

Friday Feature: The Search for Hand Lotion

2008-11-14T08:00:00.001-06:00

With the dry days of winter upon us here in Minnesota, I set out on a quest to find a handmade hand lotion on etsy to soothe my chapped mitts. I ordered four different lotions and I've been putting them through their paces on both my hands and my husband's. I'll review these four over the next couple of weeks in an attempt to make up for my sadly inadequate Friday Features as of late.

First up is Least Likely 2 Breed's "Hand Job." Especially when ordering on-line, I'm all about the packaging and Least Likely 2 Breed has really cute packaging. The lotion arrived in a cute red box and accompanied by a charming freebie lip balm.

I like lotions that come in a tube -- it makes it easier to throw them into a purse or bag and carry it along. Unfortunately, I found Hand Job to be a little too greasy. My hands were shiny and slippery for a while afterward so that I wouldn't want to put it on right before I have to drive lest the steering wheel get too slippery or I leave a greasy coating that my husband might not appreciate.

When I left Hand Job unused to too long, it was difficult to squirt out the lotion - as if the tube had gotten gummed up. I had to use a skewer to poke a hole through and loosen up the contents.

The good news is that in spite of not finding the perfect hand lotion with Least Likely 2 Breed, the freebie tube of peppermint "better than average lip balm" was an unexpected hit. It goes on smooth, but feels light, has just the slightest hint of soothing peppermint, and gently moisturized my chapped lips.

While I didn't find my perfect hand lotion, the lip balm will keep me going back to the shop to try out other scents and flavors (of which there are many) and some of the cleverly named mother and child balms.

Bittersweet sale...

2008-11-13T14:07:00.003-06:00

I make and post things on etsy because I want to sell them. So I was thrilled when I saw that someone had ordered two bags the other day and happy to send them off for someone else to enjoy and use (rather then them just sitting in my stock box). Sometimes making a sale is still accompanied by this feeling of "Wow, someone really wants to buy something that I made!" But I have to admit that sometimes it's hard to send off items that I really love and put a lot of time, energy, and creativity into. It's a little bittersweet -- especially when shipping off two bags that have gotten as much love as these two.
Like pushing baby birds out of a nest or something. Hopefully it's a feeling I'll get used to. And it makes me want to get working on some new felted bags.

So, good-bye and good luck, green felted bags. Make us proud.

Demagnetizing magnets!

2008-11-12T09:40:00.000-06:00

Back when I was young and naive and thought that ebay was a good place to buy supplies, I purchased a giant bag of these magnetic clasps to use in hand bags.

When said giant bag arrived, I realised that the magnet on them was way too strong and using them in my bags would risk ripping the lining when trying to open the bag. They sat in a magnetic and metal mass in a jar. They attraced each other from across my crafting table. It was almost impossible to separate them from each other much less from the male and female halves.

I found a work around and planted the magnetic clasps inside the lining so that there would be a piece of fabric between the two halves of the clasp. Problem solved.
But this process is somewhat time consuming and I didn't think it looked as neat as I wanted it to. So I started looking into how to weaken magnets on the world wide webs. I read that heat can weaken and even demagnetize magnets. I started experimenting with heating the magnets in both the oven and bowls of boiling water. After some testing, I found that the best way to weaken the clasps was to put them in the oven at about 300 or 350 degrees for a ten minutes or so. (I put them on a piece of foil to keep them from slipping through the wire rack and to make it easy to scoop them up. CAUTION: they are very hot when you take them out.) I completely demagnetized only one clasp during this experimentation process. They're still strong enough to clasp but not so strong that you have to dig a fingernail in between them to separate them. I'm in the process of putting some of my "new" magnets into bags, so I'll post here about how they turn out in real use. Thank you, Internets!!

Front Page #2!

2008-11-11T13:42:00.003-06:00

My red poppy felted bag made the front page! Thanks to Cork and Cotton for including me in the mix.

It's just the kick in the pants I need to really plug away at all the work I still have to do for the No Coast Craft O Rama!

Halloween -- a little late.

2008-11-10T22:26:00.006-06:00

I spent a good week working on my nephews' costumes this year, so I figure that even though it's late, they deserve at least a little time on the world wide web. (I had nothing to do with the creepy giraffe trainer costume on Mike in the back.)

I also didn't have anything to do with making this giraffe costume.

The hours of work, aching back, and bleeding fingertips were totally worth it when Des first tried on his costume, checked it out in the mirror, and declared, "I look just like a real knight!"

It was surprisingly hard to get Gus to do a Power Ranger fighting pose given that it's his standard MO when the cameras are off.

The kids joined a neighborhood parade -- they were waiting for it here:

Our trusty knight finally takes care of the creepy guy (aka the giraffe trainer) who'd been following us all evening. I wish I could take responsibility for the sweet, sweet cape that Sir Desi is wearing but that was a gift from Granny from many Christmases ago. A shiny, sparkly Liberace-inspired cape offers hours and hours of entertainment -- and the kids like it too.

Making History

2008-11-04T21:52:00.003-06:00

The pictures pretty much tell the story of our morning from about 6:45 to 7:45.

I'm not easily suckered...

2008-10-30T09:52:00.002-05:00

... but Barack Obama is awesome. I know, I know... this was an infomercial. I know he paid tons of money to have this aired. I know that he's still a politician. I know that he's not perfect. I'm a pretty critical viewer of news, advertisements, and propaganda, but for the time being, Obama's thirty minutes made me really excited to be an American. After eight years of fear, divisiveness, and power mongering, he reminded me of what America is really all about. Hope. Opportunity. Community. Innovation. Unity. Barack Obama will reweave these ideals into the fabric of our culture.

Vote.

The Facts of Life

2008-10-14T09:48:00.003-05:00

There are some weekends when you just have to take the good with the bad. A few weekends ago, my brother, Dan, rolled into town from Thailand for a visit full of good food and much nostalgia. In addition to taking us out to a delicious meal at the Oceanaire, Dan ventured to a local soccer game where my nephew Desi was juking jokers and scoring goals.

Dan was hoping to make a cameo appearance in the blog and we were hoping to get a pic with him lurking somewhere in the background, but none of those came out, so here he is one of him with Ads.

A few hours after the game, we all reconvened at my sister's house for dinner. The boys were out and about with friends, Dan was asleep in front of the TV, and Mike, Laura, and I were hanging out in the kitchen while Addie started her dinner. She'd been pretty quiet and a little warm throughout the day, but was fairly cheerily gnawing on a piece of pizza. All of the sudden, she put down her sippy cup and her arms went rigid. Her eyes went kind of blank. My sister and I called her name, but she was totally unresponsive. "She's seizing," my sister said.

She picked her up out of her high chair, but Addie was still not responding and her limbs were jerking lightly. Her breathing was labored. "She has a fever," my sister noticed.

They were going to hop in the car to take her to the ER, but quickly decided that an ambulance would be faster. Laura carried her daughter outside to wait for the ambulance and talked to the 911 operator on the phone. Addie's eyes were rolled back in her head and her skin looked mottled. When Laura turned her over, saliva ran out of her mouth. She was making small, "uh" sounds every so often.

The ambulance arrived quickly -- more quickly than we'd expected and the EMT led Laura and Addie into the back while a few neighbors came out of their houses, panicked that something had happaned to one of the neighborhood kids.

While Mike got ready to go to the hospital, we took an inventory of where the other kids were. Poor Dan was asleep through all of it, so I woke him up just as my parents called. I described what happened to my mom through a lot of sobs. She put my dad on the phone -- he's a pediatrician. I told him what happened as the ambulance pulled away. "Did she have a fever?" he asked. I told him that Laura said she was warm when she picked her up. "Yup," my dad said reassuringly, "we see this all the time. It's a febrile seizure."

Sure enough -- we got a phone call a short while later from Mike and Laura at the hospital saying that Addie was alert. The EMTs -- who Mike and Laura said were the nicest people ever -- said that they have about one a day come into the county hospital. They happen to children between the ages of 6 months and 5 years and are caused by a sudden fever. In the aftermath during a conversation with my mother-in-law, we actually found out that Eric had one too when he was a little kid. He'd had a fever and so his mom put him in a bath of cold water. We're guessing that it might have been the sudden drop in temperature that caused it in his case. We're fairly confident that he has no long term effects from the seizure -- but now when he does something strange, we just blame it on the seizure.

It was probably one of the most terrible things I've ever seen -- especially because it seemed to take her so long to recover from it and because it felt like there was nothing we could do. God forbid any of you should have to be witness to this, but if you are, rest assured, it will end and they'll end up being just as cute as they were before.

A Note from Minnesota: We're Not All Ignorant

2008-10-13T08:43:00.005-05:00

Some of you may have seen the footage from a rally in Lakeville, Minnesota this weekend. In the clip, a Shakopee native, a 75 year old mother of five and grandmother of seven, asks a question of John McCain in one of his town hall-style forums.

"I can't trust Obama," she tells McCain. "I've read about him and he's not... he's not..." she stammers before lowering her voice conspiratorially. "He's an arab."

McCain's efforts to allay the woman's fears were in the right spirit, even if he was a little misguided when he suggested that the opposite of an Arab is a "decent family man." In an interview after the forum, CNN asked the woman where she heard that Obama was an Arab. Apparently she read it in a letter. If we saw said letter, she insisted, we'd be as scared as she was. After further questioning from CNN, it was clear that the woman had conflated "Muslim" and "Arab" and was worried that Obama would turn the United States into an Arab/ Muslim country. Even when the CNN reporter told her that Obama is not a Muslim and is, in fact, a Christian, she insisted that because his father is a Muslim, it's in his blood.

Let me assure you that not all of Minnesota is so ignorant and not all of us would be so bothered by having an Arab or even a (gasp!) Muslim in office. In fact, Minnesota's fifth congressional district elected the first member of congress, Keith Ellison, in 2006. He was sworn in on a Koran once owned by Thomas Jefferson. In spite of this, the fifth has not dropped off the map, we are not burning in hell, God did not smite us. We're doing pretty well, actually.

So please come and visit Minnesota. Please don't write us off as another bunch of ignorants worthy of nothing more than a fly over. Just because one of us is ignorant doesn't mean it's in our blood.

We're going to No-Coast!

2008-10-07T22:46:00.002-05:00

So first off, sorry for the long hiatus. I've been distracted by pigs, pitbulls, lipstick,... oh, and the end of the world as we know it vis-a-vis the financial crisis.

But it's official: Lars and Addie are going to be a the No Coast Craft O Rama this year, December 5th (3 pm to 8 pm) and 6th (9 am to 5 pm) at the Midtown Global Market here in Minneapolis.

I'm currently working on figuring out which items that will be available there -- but my stock will definitely include many bags and a few items for the home (some of which will make great stocking stuffers) and a few new designs. I'll keep you posted here.

Even if you're not coming to No Coast to see the Lars and Addie stall, you should come to check out the one hundred vendors that are going to be there. All handmade, all the time. Hope to see you there!

I was on the front page!

2008-09-25T10:24:00.005-05:00

.... OK, not me... but one of my bags... the little one with the raindrops.

For those of you not in the know, being on the front page of etsy is kind of a big deal. It drives traffic to your shop and increases views and sales... or at least, that's what the mythology is. In reality, based on my experience and from what other people say, it makes views of items shoot up (it also depends upon what day and what time of day your item is up there.) Many people add your shop and items to their favorites list, but it's hard to say whether it leads to any actual sales. I suppose all exposure is goood exposure. Besides, it's sort of a thrill to see your item on the front page.

This collection was chosen by one of the etsy admin people, HeyMichelle, for a storque article. For many of you, I might as well have just written, "gieoafne a;ruth 488477fna." Sorry.

And also another bag (upper right hand corner) was in a Treasury West called "Chouette" by fleurfatale:

Loot Loot Loot

2008-09-18T15:30:00.003-05:00

Two weekends ago, I was pulling down a small part of the ceiling in our sketchy basement bathroom, when I found these next to a little access hole.

The husband who lived here before spent a lot of time doing little home renovation projects. Now we understand why many of them were done very poorly.

I imagine that when he put the ceiling in the bathroom, he left that little opening to stash his vodka bottles, out of sight of his unwitting wife.

Or maybe I'm the unwitting wife and Eric has been popping down to the basement for a little nip every now and again. Thankfully, I'm pretty sure the bottles are pretty old -- or at least pre-date our July move in.

Twin Cities Parade of Coops

2008-09-16T09:30:00.004-05:00

The afternoon I headed out on the Parade of Coops, a gentle mist was falling which I assumed would keep the crowds away this obscure Twin Cities event. I was wrong.

The blurb in the Star Tribune, which my mother-in-law had spotted and thoughtfully e-mailed to me, had said that chicken enthusiasts should meet at an address in Seward where we could get the addresses for the rest of the tour. Like the organizers, I imagined a manageable group of a dozen or so. During the course of my visit to the first yard, no less than 60 to 70 people ventured into the backyard to gawk at the chickens, to ask the owners how they keep the water from freezing in the winter, and enjoy warm tomato soup and zucchini bread.

The organizer, a young man in a jaunty plaid cap, quickly ran out of address lists and had to run off several more batches on the family's home computer. It was a long wait but it was free and a means to see other people's backyards without being creepy.

I only had time to visit two more homes. Each had four or five chickens, although some had permits for many more than that. All of them had children, as if raising chickens was a way to teach caregiving to their own offspring. All collected their eggs and ate them and all had charming coops. One of them had a dog, which, being a herding and not hunting dog, got along fine with the chickens and did not appear tempted to bite and shake them. They ate the eggs, but their children had grown too attached to the feathery critters to kill and eat them. Indeed, one of their daughters pet and held her chicken, perching it on her shoulder for visitors to admire.

At the third and final house I visited, the owner explained that he and his wife's reasons for having chickens had evolved over time. Initially they named them and kept them as pseudo-pets. Now they ate their eggs (they get about one or two a day) and when the chickens egg-laying months are behind them, they slaughter and eat them. In the corner of their yard, they were canning tomatoes over their turkey fryer. They had me sold. This is the attitude with which I would one day keep animals.

One of the things that struck me and that I keep trying to tell my husband is that none of the coops took up much space. One of the families had a very small backyard and the coop definitely dominated it, but they still had room for tomatoes and piles of firewood. The other two yards were large -- they both had extensive vegetable gardens, but also enough room for the kids to run around.

I also try to remind my husband that his pop-overs get extra pop with farm fresh eggs. How much fresher can you get than your own backyard?

John McCain and Sarah Palin Think We're Stupid

2008-09-12T09:17:00.005-05:00

I am not a democrat and never have been. I'm an independent who, in the past few elections, has considered voting for the democrat but has been more strongly pulled toward third party candidates like Ralph Nadar.

This year is different.

From the beginning of this election, I was an Obama supporter. I saw him speak in St Paul. I tuned in to all his debates and primary victory speeches along the way. I watched the DNC. I like the guy. I think he's smart. I think he has great ideas for service (tuition breaks for college graduates who take less than glamorous, but necessary positions in under-served communities and creating "Energy Corps"), education (keep teachers accountable, but give them the resources they need), and foreign affairs (diplomacy first, military only as a last resort). Perhaps just as importantly, he's made me excited about the future of America. He's made me think that a united America is possible.

Initially, I was fairly neutral towards McCain. His "straight talk express" made him seem trustworthy and set apart from the average politicians. His service to the country indicated a love for his country that I think is important in a leader and yet, at least initially, he was somewhat humble about the experience. I didn't agree with a lot of his policies and ideas (he's pro-life, he voted against equal pay, and he supports school vouchers) but I didn't find him offensive... until three weeks ago.

When McCain selected Sarah Palin as his running mate, he made a decision that was purely political and had nothing to do with what was best for this country and its people. He was clearly pandering to the Republican conservative base and hoping to win over one-time Hilary Clinton supporters. What other reason could he possibly have for selecting such an underqualified candidate with a shoddy track record?

McCain obviously thinks that women voters vote with their uteruses and, seeing a woman with five kids, would automaticaly reward his woman-friendly choice with their votes. But one woman cannot simply be traded in for another.

On the campaign trail, Palin has been repeating her line "I said 'thanks but no thanks' to that Bridge to Nowhere" ad nauseam as late as Wednesday, her last day campaigning this week before she returned to Alaska.

In the meantime, every major news outlet -- from USA Today to NPR from her home state Anchorage Daily News to ABC -- was reporting that her statement was less than accurate. In fact, when running for governor in 2006, Palin supported the Bridge to Nowhere. Even once it was shot down (which, admittedly, Palin helped do in the end), Alaska, under Governor Palin's leadership, still accepted the $200 million for unspecified projects.

She said 'thanks but no thanks' the the Bridge to Nowhere and 'yes, please' to the Bridge to Wherever.

According to the AP, Palin is looking for another $200 million for similar projects for next year.

In spite of the fact that so many news outlets were pointing out the truth of what happened, Palin continued to tout her so-called refusal to accept Federal funding for the bridge on the campaign trail. As if we're not paying attention to the truth. As if we don't care. As if we are easily duped. As if we're stupid.

Prove them wrong.

Three Signs that Summer is Gone... Gone... Gone.

2008-09-11T09:26:00.003-05:00

1. Eric and I scrambled to complete the one house project that, left incomplete, would have meant a giant hole in the side of our house.
I wish I had pictures of the actual process of replacing this bathroom window with glass block. But actually, if I did have pictures, it would reveal that truth -- that Eric's dad, Loren, did all of the real work. Loren removed the old window and then grinded down the concrete in the wall to give us a nice, smooth space to work on. He also did all the math and measurements to make sure that the blocks would fit precisely into the opening.

Installing a glassblock window is surprisingly easy -- if you have a handy, multi-talented father-in-law. We still have to grout the blocks, but at least now we won't have a big opening in the wall this winter and we won't have water dripping all over a wood window once our new shower is installed. (Our house previously had only one bathtub. How did people live with only baths?)

The next thing will be to get the fireplace in working order and load up on some firewood.

2. We're preserving the harvest in our giant freezer. I packed away some corn and raspberries this week: blanching and cutting the corn and washing and freezing the raspberries on cookie sheets before vacuum sealing them into plastic bags.

This isn't nearly enough corn for us, so I'll probably be doing more in the next week before the corn is all gone. Apparently, my timing is pretty good. I heard at the farmer's market that you want large corn kernels for freezing. I'm not sure whether or not this is true -- I'm going to experiment by freezing some young niblets next summer and seeing which turns out better mid January.

Hopefully I have enough raspberries so that I can make some preserves when things are a bit quieter around here. I already have some blueberries and peaches in the freezer, which means fruit and berry cobbler in the middle of the winter this year. (When I take my pathetic, last grabs for summer even in the middle of two feet of snow.)

I tried to vacuum seal them using my sister's Foodsaver Vac 550, but the darn thing vacuumed and sealed about ten bags and then broke -- it just stopped sealing. Laura, I know you hate it when I use my blog as a means to communicate with you, but I think it's the best way to tell you: your foodsaver is broken.

But don't worry, I went out and bought a Foodsaver v2440 yesterday and I think it's much better than the one you had. It's chugging along and, although pricier, seems to be overall a better machine: a few more bells and whistles, but more importantly, it feels more solid. We can share it -- you know -- like those pants that you bought last year for us to "share" that I haven't seen for months and months?

Who are we kidding? When are you ever going to vacuum and seal food items?

3. The Canada Geese are passing overhead, honking loudly with a course set due southwest. I wish I could follow them, but I have cobblers to bake and stews to stir and fires to stoke.

I really need to quit the pig licking.

2008-09-09T09:50:00.012-05:00

The old man wanted me to post this picture with the caption "The ultimate in local eating." So here goes.

The ultimate in local eating.

This was from the miracle of birth center at the State Fair. Those piglets were something like nine days old. All the mothers were just laying on their sides, half asleep while the piglets furiously rooted and sucked, sucked and rooted.

It made me crave pork chops and bacon.

Fortunately, I was at the State Fair where pork products are abundant. After visiting (warning: gratiutous use of the best beauty contest name ever) Princess Kay of the Milky Way, we headed to the porkchop on a stick stand. Porkchop on a stick was one of the first things I had had at the State Fair many years ago when I visited with my sister, her husband, and our friend, Jess. It was delicious and gave me the impression that every food item at the State Fair is solid, simple, delicious street food. I was mistaken.

Last year I made the mistake of trying something new. The week before I went to the State Fair I had read about the Ufda Brat -- a brat wrapped in lefse (Norwegian potato flat bread) with mashed potatoes and sauerkrat. I love brats. I love mashed potatoes. I love sauerkraut. I love lefse. Why wouldn't I love an Ufda Brat? I wouldn't love the Ufda Brat because it was a bland, flavorless goo. It was as if they thought that because they were packing so much stuff into each Ufda Brat, they needn't use any salt. Big mistake. You always need to use salt.

This year, I vowed to stick with the tried and true. I was not disappointed. Porkchop on a stick is an incredibly simple, spicy, salty porkchop grilled with a jerk-like rub and stuck on a stick for easy, portable enjoyment. Here I am enjoying it in front of the snake zoo.

Eric got a corn dog, like he always does and I had a bite, like I always do. So far the vow to only eat the tried and true was working out.

At the day wore on, I started to feel my defenses weaken.

Perhaps it was my Al Franken sighting.

Perhaps it was the seed art depicting Barack Obama in a quaint Sambo-like way. (Maybe it's just one of the constraints of the art form?)

Perhaps at was registering to vote. (We moved which means we had to re-register.)
Perhaps it was the totally random Loreal tent that was plopped down right next to the eco-building and the church coffee stand and was pumping techno over its totally State Fair inappropriate red carpet.

The sights and sounds of the State Fair must have gotten to me because suddenly I had the urge to break my vow and try something new. We made a beeline for Famous Dave's.

Pig Lickers had been the talk of the State Fair. Bacon dipped in chocolate. Need I say more? Yes I do.

A few years ago, I celebrated New Year's Eve with my friends Yas and Dean in DC. Yas is a pastry chef. A great pastry chef. For dinner they had cooked up a lovely honey baked ham. For dessert, Yas had melted a giant bowl of chocolate and laid out a tray of cut fruit and her amazing olive oil pound cake. We dunked and ate -- lucious chocolate dripping off of sweets -- and enjoyed our 1970s fondue flashback. We ate more and drank more and the menfolk got to talking about how much they love ham and other pork products. Someone pulled the ham back out.

More chaos ensued and in a "your chocolate's in my peanut butter" moment, bits of ham ended up getting dipped and eventually drenched in the chocolate. Most of the rest of the evening consisted of Dean sitting on the floor next to the coffeetable moaning with pleasure over the bowl of the now grease-stained chocolate.

A few years later, I was at another gathering at Yas and Dean's house. I'm not sure if the inspiration was that New Year's Eve, but Yas had refined the bacchanal experience into a neat little truffle. Peanut butter, chocolate, and bacon. In a word? Yum. She'd been making the truffles for the cafe where she worked and they flew off the shelves -- and with good reason. A perfect combo of salty and sweet.

I was hoping too recreate the whole experience at the State Fair with these little guys.
No such luck.

The problem with the ham dipped chocolate of New Year's Eve was that the warm ham grease ended up in the warm chocolate. But on New Year's Eve with a few drinks, no one seems to mind.

The problem with the pig lickers is the opposite: in order to keep the chocolate solid, the whole thing has to be stored and served cold. The result is that the bacon is congealed. It is possible, apparently, to ruin mother nature's candy.

The congealed ham completely threw me off my game because then I went and tried something else new (to me). Smores on a stick are gooey marshmallow and chocolate neatly contained in a graham cracker dough shell. Good in theory. Gross in reality. Nothing redeeming about this. The dough was sour (but not in a good way) and undercooked. I took a bite. And then another just to make sure it was really as bad as I thought it was. And then I threw it away. I should have done what Eric did and just gotten a butter sugar lefse.

He's so much happier with his sweet treat than I was with mine. Even the guy behind him covets the lefse. At least it looks like he's coveting something.

Next year I'm sticking to: porkchop on a stick, walleye on a stick, corndogs, lefse, and honey ice cream and maybe mini donuts. I promise.

Locavore Experiment Might Be Over FOREVER.

2008-09-08T16:14:00.004-05:00

So technically my month-long eating local experiment is over (more to come on that), but I was hoping that I would be able to continue to imbue my daily eating habits with some local treats. Now The Man wants me to stop eating local. What a jerk that guy is.

In her Minnesota Monthly column, Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl (our local James Beard awarded writer and all-around Minnesota food champion and critic extraordinaire) has come across at least one restaurant that is being told it can't buy its food directly from the farmer's market or from the farmer. They MUST buy from distributors.

She's following up on what's going on and I'm going stay up to date on what she finds out. I'll post update here so the outrage can commence.

The MN State Fair: Butter Sculptures For All

2008-09-08T12:15:00.000-05:00

The State Fair (aka "The Great Minnesota Get Together) left town last week and, sitting in 64 degree weather, I fear summer went with it.

Really I meant to blog about the fair last week, but the old man and I have been busily renovating the home (demo, installing a glass block window, organizing the basement and various storage areas).

And so begins the State Fair blogging... a little late.

The thing that Eric and I always make a point of visiting is The Princess Kay of the Milky Way area of the dairy building. Yes, I did just write "Princess Kay of the Milky Way." Say it outloud. You will feel like you're in a Japanese cartoon.

Every year a handful of women are selected from various counties to be the faces of the Minnesota dairy industry. Minnesota produces more cheese than Wisconsin. We just don't wear those silly hats. (In the interest of full disclosure, I lived in Wisconsin for five years -- longer than I've lived in Minnesota. I have never worn a cheesehead.)

Here is this year's Princess Kay of the Milky Way, Kristy Mussman, in a parade with a chipmunk and some of her milkmaids.

Eric enjoys the ice cream in the dairy building next to the Princess Kay exhibit. I enjoy the exhibit itself, which features Linda Christensen making busts of each of the Princess's heads out of 90 pound block of butter. Yes. Butter. Yes. Ninety pounds. Nine. Oh.

Here's the artists working her magic in a chilled rotating glass display case.

I feel personally connected to the whole affair because last year when I got married I had a brief interaction with the illustrious Ms Christensen.

My sister, Laura, was the one who set me and my husband up. Needless to say, this was, in my sister's mind, the best aspect of my relationship with Eric. She spread the story of her yenta ways amongst friends and family alike with a large slice of pride and a dash of humility. Of course, we were happy that my sister had had such insight and wanted to pay homage to my her abilities. Around this time one of our friends, Jess, made a comment about the significance of my sister in our relationship. "They should have a butter sculpture of you at their wedding!" We thought it was a brilliant idea.

I called around trying to find someone who was adept at butter sculpture. turns out there aren't too many people who can do it. There was a woman down in Iowa who had sculpted a last supper scene and cows out of butter, but she was mostly out of the dairy art game.

I tracked down Linda Christensen in California. (The women at the State Fair had a big laugh when I told them why I needed to get in touch with her. I'm not sure if they were laughing with me or at me.) In order to accomplish such a feat during her annual trip to Minnesota (which was about two months before our wedding), the artist would need a freezer space to work in, pictures of my sister, and a 90 pound block of butter.

Could we just go into the co-op week after week, collecting pounds of butter to melt and reshape into a giant block? Can we just call land-o-lakes and order that sort of thing? Did we know any restaurateurs with walk-in freezers? Where would we store it for the months leading up to the wedding? What would we do with this giant block of butter afterwards? Could Eric bake that many pies even in a lifetime? In the end, as much as we wanted to pay homage to my sister's yenta-ing, it just proved beyond our capabilities.

We had a great wedding. It was amazing to see all the friends and family who came from near and far to celebrate with us. The band rocked. We danced all night. But still, part of me thinks about that 90 pound block of butter that could have been.

Sarah Palin makes me sad. Very, very sad.

2008-09-04T08:52:00.003-05:00

Barack Obama's speech last week made me want to go out and be involved. He made me want to vote and knock on doors and encourage others to vote. He made me want to volunteer. He made me want to give my fellow citizen the benefit of the doubt even when I'm in a really crappy mood. His personal story made me think that maybe this country is the land of opportunity. He made me think it was possible that we'd start to rely more on alternative energy, that everyone might have access to health care, and that one day, the United States might regain its reputation on the world stage. He made me actually kind of proud to call myself an American.

After watching Sarah Palin's speech last night, I want to crawl into a very small, dark hole and never come out. It made me hate people. It made me think the world is a very smug, snarky, sarcastic, bitter place where it's every woman for herself. She made me feel like this is a last push to exploit natural resources, live it up, and do whatever we want because the world's going to end any second any way. She made me ashamed to be an American and she made me sad that she's the only woman on either ticket this year.

And then she air kissed her own children. She air kissed her children. Who does that?

I might be an anarchist...

2008-09-02T13:22:00.012-05:00

Over this past weekend during the lead up to the RNC, several homes around Minneapolis were raided by the Ramsey County Sheriff. The occupants of the homes, which included one in my sister's neighborhood, were suspected of preparing to violently confront the police during the anti-war protests in downtown St Paul during the RNC.

My sister's neighbors have a house that is, well, seemingly overflowing with stuff and ... dare I say... crap. According to twincities.com, the police found and confiscated a number of items during their search. The implication being that these items somehow showed that they intended to attack the police and destroy public property. I made a quick search of my own house to see which of these items I might have on hand. Here's the evidence that I might be an anarchist and that I might, at some point, riot in downtown St Paul.

Materials to create "sleeping dragons" (PVC pipe, chicken wire, duct tape), which is when protesters lock themselves together

A machete, hatchet and several throwing knives

a gas mask and filter

Empty glass bottles

Rags

Flammable liquids

Homemade caltrops (devises used to disable buses in roads)

Sledge hammers

Kryptonite locks

Empty plastic buckets cut and made into shields

So I'm not a perfect anarchist. My caltrops can't be turned over in any direction and still work. I don't technically have gas masks -- they're just dust masks. I haven't, technically, cut those buckets into shields. And, of course, I'm missing a few of the items that the police confiscated:

Rappelling equipment

Metal pipes

Axes

Bolt cutter

Material for protective padding

An Army helmet.

Wrist rockets (high-powered slingshots)

I'm missing the key item:

Large amounts of urine, including three to five gallon buckets of urine.

But the "anarchists" whose house got raided weren't perfect anarchists either. Turns out that the buckets contained rain water that the occupants had been collecting to flush their toilets and, indeed, some urine from a man who lives in a nearby garage that doesn't have a toilet. It's sort of sad that it was assumed that the urine was there for something nefarious when it was there because someone is poor.

There's still a chance that I'm not an anarchist. From the state of things on my second floor, there's still a chance that I'm just a homeowner doing some demolition (or supervising while her in-laws and husband do all the actual heavy lifting).

In fact, that switchblade pictured above was underneath some built-in cabinets -- likely tucked there decades ago by a kid whose parents didn't want him owning a switchblade or auditioning for Westside Story or perhaps an anarchist.
I took the picture of the knife next to the dusty remains of a bat that we found in one of the walls that we knocked down. Or I maybe I'm a witch...

Either way my house should definitely be raided.

Making Pickles

2008-08-27T17:21:00.003-05:00

My nephew, Desi, didn't have summer camp or any other plans for this last week of vacation, so his negligent parents left him with me. I had a giant sack of cucumbers that needed pickling.

Desi and I spent the afternoon cleaning and chopping and boiling and packing and all the things that are required to make the sour treats. Here's Desi having at a head of dill.

Many hours later here's the product.

They all appear to have sealed properly, which I was psyched about because it was my first canning experience. The one thing I'm wary of is that there were some air bubbles in there after I processed them. I might not have done a good enough job getting them out before sealing them. Also, I'm not positive about how good they'll taste. These ones are supposedly ready to eat in 24 hours, so I'll find out this evening. At least if they're not good or they harbor some kind of bacteria, I have a seven year old scapegoat.

Update: I went ahead and cracked open one of the jars. The good news is that the seal was good and the pickles tasted great (dilly and spicy and just a little salty). The bad news it that they are soggy, soggy, soggy. Maybe I'll make them into some kind of relish? (But who eats that much relish?)

In the meantime, after a little research on the world wide webs I think I've found one of my problems and one good piece of advice. Next time I'm going to soak the cukes in water in the fridge overnight before I can them. Also, I might have overprocessed them this time (perhaps a typical novice fear of botulism mistake alongside not being absolutely sure that I started the timing at the right point). Next time I'll be more careful with the processing time. If anyone out there has some good tips or knows of anyone in desperate need of some relish, contact me here...