Rox and Roll

On hiatus until Spring 2012

Rox is taking a blogging hiatus until spring of 2012 to focus on self-care, on family, and on work.  Stay tuned for a relaunch in a few months! 

The Rox and Roll Gift Guide 2011: Think Different

I have a confession to make: Generally speaking, I'm shopping-averse.  I'm not sure if it's because I'm approaching 40 and finally rejecting a culture of consumerism, or if it's because my favorite gifts are those of experiences; I'd always rather do something than buy something.  Or maybe, as a woman of faith, it is not lost on me that the Reason for the Season is not somewhere in Housewares, or even in Target at all.  But I do love this season in which I can choose little unique somethings to express my appreciation for family as well as for a family of friends who enrich my life experience every day.  And while I could show a dear friend that I am mad talented by gifting her with that very special carefully-selected something from her pre-approved Amazon wish list, sometimes I like to go off of the menu and show my appreciation differently.

So ... drum roll please ... I introduce you to theme adopted for this year's Rox and Roll Gift Guide: Think Different.  (Yes, I know that's an advertising slogan created for Apple in 1997.  I didn't say I made it up.  I said I adopted it.)

Here we go:

Subscription commerce: This is the new term for "_____ of the month" club.  Forget fruit: these days, there are options for monthly anything.  No matter who you're gifting or the price you want to spend, there will be something just right.  I ordered three to try in November for the purposes of this list.  Of the three, I recommend two: Foodzie (written up below) and Birchbox, which is monthly trial-size cosmetics box.  I'm also going to be trying Blissmo, organic and eco-friendly products that I discovered at San Francisco's Green Fest.

About my favorite, Foodzie: I squealed with delight when I opened my November Foodzie box, pictured at right.  When I subscribed, it was $19.99/month -- totally worth it.  I learned after the fact that the November and December boxes would be at that old price-point but jacked up to bigger sizes, and then the price woudl rise to match the box at $29.99, which, to me, is discouraging.  That said, I will give it as a gift on occasion for sure; it'll be a great teacher gift, hostess gift, birthday surprise, etc.  In November's box: pickled figs by Boat Street Pickles, dried cranberries by Willow's Cranberries; fruit and nut crostini by Anjou Bakery; garlic onion pistachios by Fiddyment Farms; pistachio and almond nougat by Vadeboncoeur Nougat; and cornmeal pancake and muffin mix by the Nitty Gritty Grain Co. -- ALL things that I'll enjoy immensely.  If there's a foodie in your life, this is the right gift.

(P.S. For more subscription commerce ideas, check out this link on Sean Percival's blog.)

***

Betabrand clothing: For years, the Guv has waned a DARPA hoodie.  Why?  Apparently, it's the fusion of science and fashion.  In other words, he's a nerd, and he only wears red t-shirts, so, dear God, please let someone buy him this for Christmas, maybe in blue?

Meanwhile, Betabrand is so crazy that they actually sell something called Discopants.  If anyone buys those for the Guv, s/he has to take him out when he wears them, 'cause I won't.

***

The morning-after basket: So you're going to a party, and you're tempted to grab a bottle of wine.  Or, if you're like me, you're tempted to stop at the store on the way to the party and pick up something like Ouzo, 'cause you know nobody else will bring that.  Unless your hosts are hard-core dish-breaking Greek alcoholics, they'll appreciate a morning-after basket much more; plus, nobody else will think of it -- so it's like Ouzo, but healthy!  Someone did this for us after a party, and it blew me away; she had baked huge, awesome muffins and packed them in a basket with fresh fruit, coffee, and a single-cup french press.  It was so nice to wake up in the morning to a special treat after a late-night of post-party clean-up!  And every time I re-use the basket or the french press, I remember who gave it to me.

***

A bald eagle: For my conservationist/ecology-minded friends, I'm giving them something they'll love this year: bald eagles.  No, not real ones, silly, that'd be dangerous!  Instead, I'm sponsoring some in their honor through Vermont Institute of Natural Science's bird adoptions. This place and its birds are very near and dear to my heart, as my kids have enjoyed summer camps at VINS for five years and counting.  Their raptor center is truly amazing, with rescued birds ranging from a pair of bald eagles to sawheet owls to songbirds.  Since Vermont was hit so hard during Hurricane Irene, I worry greatly that charitable giving to this phenomental center will suffer -- so I'll be supporting their holiday adoption specials this year for extended family and teacher gifts.  Why should YOU care about VINS?  Their environmental educators and wildlife rehabilitation specialists are among the best in the world.  When's the last time you saw a raptor center?  Protecting our natural habitat is paramount, and these folks are on the front lines.  I am grateful for their service to our earth.  (Psst: If you have a Harry Potter fan in your house, you can also adopt Hedwig, aka a barred owl.)

***

Uncommon Goods: Pick anything -- seriously, just about anything.  This is, bar none, my favorite catalogue from which I rarely order anything but covet everything.  My favorite things this year: The Corkcicle wine-chilling icicle; the 7 deadly sins shot glasses, because face it: everyone drinks boring old wine at parties, but you could be a hero if you brought these and a bottle of Old Number 7; and just so y'all don't start thinking I only conjure up gifts having to do with ETOH, here are some crocheted headphones for your teenaged babysitter who dresses like Janis Joplin.  

***

Prayer cube: Perfect for households of faith, especially for godchildren, we have fun with these "prayer die" in my house.  We use the table grace one, and there is also one for daily prayers and one for bedtime prayers.  This Episcopal Bookstore on-line has lots of nice faith-based gifts for those so inclined.

***

For the Occupiers: If you have a friend on the front lines of the Occupy Movement or on any picket line, here's a fun gift: a book called "Good Chants for a Lively Picket Line."  The website selling it, Syracuse Cultural Workers, has a lot of fun and unusual stuff, including a "Build Community" tee that is a wardrobe staple for me.

***

The Fiesta Disc Pitcher: A Piece of American History: Fiesta Dinnerware is made by the Homer Laughlin China Company in Newell, West Virginia.  You've probably eaten off of their dishes at restaurants galore and might be surprised to find out that instead of paying Macy's prices, you can shop factory direct on-line.  I grew up just down the street from the Fiesta factory and have eaten off of these dishes since my aunt and uncle gifted me with an overfull set for my wedding in 1997.  Using Fiestaware makes me feel closer to home, and, as I buy additions and replacements over the years, I feel really good knowing that Americans from my hometown are employed making this awesome stuff.  I'm big on "think global, act local" and stock my house with as much as I can in support of my native Appalachia.  (Fenton Glass is another West Virginian one for those who enjoy it.)

***

Fairy House Kits: There's something about this time of year that makes me want to hold on to the magical beliefs in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, leprechauns, and yes, even the Easter Bunny.  At the Dickens Fair in San Francisco, Petunia and I picked up a fairy house kit to build together.  While I'm not really sure I believe that fairies are putting knots in her hair just because she's not leaving her shoes pointed in the right direction before she goes to bed (someone told us that once and totally seriously too), I do like the notion of providing space for their imagination -- even at age 11.  The fairy house vendor linked to here is not the one from which we purchased our kit but looks very similar; she also sells on Etsy.  In any event, I think this is a great gift for anyone in your life who remains a dreamer, from school-aged through advanced-age. 

***

Prints Charming: Made by Etsy store Poppy and Pinecone, two prints hang beside our bed in both our East and West Coast homes: one of Vermont with a heart in the center, and one of California with a heart in the center.  It's an artistic expression of our bicoastal life and love.  Especially for someone living far from home -- perhaps a college student -- these prints are heartfelt reminders of a special place.  Equally special and surprising are prints by the big harumph, also on Etsy.  We own "rush less, play more," "imagination is everything," "today is the day," and some images.  I'm a big fan of little reminders.

***

A Three-Way Gift: Get your mind out of the gutter.  I'm referencing charitable donations here: a gift from you to someone else that benefits a third party.  Personally, I'm a big believer in supporting local needs, which is why we support Vermont Institute of Natural Sciences, mentioned earlier, as well as Vermont Foodbank, the Ecumenical Hunger Program here in Silicon Valley, and the Shelter Network, also here in Silicon Valley.  For ideas on charities to support, get some ideas from Charity Navigator, described thus: "Charity Navigator, America's premiere independent charity evaluator, works to advance a more efficient and responsive philanthropic marketplace by evaluating the Financial Health and Accountability and Transparency of America's largest charities."  Check them out to make sure that your dollar is being stretched as far as possible.

***

Thanks for checking out the 2011 Rox and Roll Gift Guide.  If you're still fishing for that perfect gift, might I suggest The 2009 Rox and Roll Gift Guide: Stuff for Adults or Stuff for Kids, or The 2010 Rox and Roll Gift Guide: Gifts for a Cause, Books, Movies, Games, In-Home Experiences, Out-of-Home Experiences, Play, and Gratitude.

Happy Holidays!

An Attempt at Meal-Planning

For someone who greatly enjoys experimenting with cooking, having a family that doesn't enjoy eating anything "funky" is a bit frustrating.  Since I'm wheat-allergic (not gluten-free, but close enough), another layer of complexity -- beyond picky eatering -- factors into our meal planning.  If I were to list the amount of things this family does *not* eat ... well, wait, that could be a twitter feed, kind of like "sh*t my dad says," just called "sh*t they won't eat."  I could make millions!  Just not dinner.

For example, my entire family will not eat meat on the bone.  Imagining the standing rib roasts that will never be cooked in my wood-fired oven brings a tear to my eye, as did the chicken cacciatore I cooked with "boneless breast of chicken," which might as well be called "why bother eating."

So, we often solve this problem by going out to dinner.  There's a local Mexican spot that will make hamburgers for the Guv and for Petunia -- who didn't used to be fussy, but who has recently entered preadolescence and, is, therefore, Sick Of Everything.  When I'm there, I eat spicy sopes or albondigas.  At our favorite vegetarian South Indian spot, there are cheese dosas (we call it Indian grilled cheese) and idly (we call it Indian wonder bread) for the Guv and Dash; Petunia and I get a little funky and sample around the menu.  And we also go out for pizza.  Lots and lots of pizza.  (I usually am stuck with salad on these nights.)

With the exception of the South Indian fare, I cook better than most places I eat, so, unless I'm going out for something I never make (e.g. veal at Il Fornaio -- yeah, I know, baby cows, I'll probably get virtually paint-balled by PETA), I should cut back on the dining out as a solution for my picky eaters.  Dining out isn't exactly good for our collective waistlines, either, or for our wallet.  There's a better way, so, this week, I'm cooking.  And, like it or not, family, I'm going to push your palate a wee bit.

Inspired by my friend CityMama, and including one of her recipes, here's my plan for this coming week:

Monday: Turkey Tacos on organic blue corn shells topped with diced tomato, jack cheese, and guacamole; mixed veggies on the side

Tuesday: Crock pot night: something from The Indian Slow Cooker, steamed rice, and homemade mango lassis.  I'm assuming the boys are unlikely to eat whatever's in the crock, so I'll make a side of chicken nuggets, too, that they'll enjoy with the rice and lassis. 

Wednesday: CityMama's Yummy Balls (with oatmeal substituted for bread crumbs and Amy's tomato soup substituted for Campbells so that they're GF) with bread (sourdough baguette for them, homemade Pamela's GF white bread for for me) and a veggie crudite tray

Thursday: Crock pot mac-n-cheese and salad

Friday: Grilled burgers, baked potatoes, fresh tomatoes

Saturday: South Indian for lunch, so a light dinner is in order; possibly a date night since Grandma's here, so she'll have salad (she always does) while the kids do a pick-me-up of leftovers or scrambled eggs and toast

Sunday: No idea.  Leftovers wil be in order for lunch, and Petunia eats at our church youth group, so it's probably pasta night for the rest of us, since Petunia is always sick of pasta.  That's a win-win!

***

Wish me luck ... I'll report back next week on how this attempt at planning went ... Meanwhile, what are YOU cooking this week?

Holidays ... huh?

I cannot believe that it is November.  In fact, I cannot even believe that it is actually autumn.  I do not know how Halloween happened.  In fact, it barely happened.  I have two bins of Halloween decorations, one that remained untouched and the other cracked open moments before trick-or-treaters rang the bell.  Somehow we had some decorations, and the kids had costumes, and the trick-or-treaters happened ... and then today, someone mentioned Thanksgiving.

Huh?

Maybe it's being back to work that has me so uninspired ... but that has barely started.  Maybe it's the knowledge that we're alone for Thanksgiving, and alone for Christmas, and not travelling for either, that has made me this chill about the holidays.  Yeah, that's it, I'm chill.

Which is code for denial.

Friends are posting "pinterests" of skittle-flavored vodka gifts and holiday decor projects.  Family members have called to declare their shopping complete.  Complete! 

Which is code for: "Rox, you'd better get on that."

I'm thinking that this year, we need to wake up on Christmas morning with one thing in each stocking: a plane ticket to someplace unexpected -- someplace warm, someplace where our tiny dog is welcome, someplace where we'll all be happy to be.

But there are still a gazillion relatives to buy gifts for, and hundreds of cards that won't make or address themselves, and, and, and.

It's not that I'm all "bah, humbug," but, well, I kind of am.  I don't care for turkey -- none of us do -- and I try to express gratitude regularly, so Thanksgiving?  Contrived, to me.  And Christmas?  I believe in the Reason for the Season, and I really love picking special gifts for people -- really, really love making people happy.  But if I have to go to one more store where I already hear Christmas music playing before Thanksgiving is even here, I'm going to scream.  I shopping on-line this year, Macy's; leave me alone.

And just when I thought: okay, I have an action plan: start the photobooks next week, take the annual picture on the next sunny day, have gifts ordered by the end of the month, I get a message in my inbox:

"What are your kids doing for summer camp?"

In November.

Rox, you'd better get on that.

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, It's Back to Work I ... Went!

Today was my first day back to work at a paid, regular job in over eight years.  I wrote about wanting to do it, and now, I have.  It's a bit overwhelming, of course, but it's also more than a bit wonderful.  I'm not going to discuss the specifics of my job on here other than to say that it's akin to the career I had before staying home with our second child and puts to use my graduate degree.  It's like I took a time-out and am picking up just where I left off.  I feel blessed and very, very happy.

But I need to say something more than that, of course, because this is Rox and Roll.

To my sisters who are also home with their children who are also trying to go back to work, know that you can do it.  There will be a right job for you at a company who will value your experience.  Have patience, and heed the advice I was given by an unbelievably impressive female HR professional who is at the very top of her trade (truly, you might fall out of your chair if you knew who this person is): don't be girlie bout it.  Don't make excuses for being home with your kids.  Focus on what you've done in the past, and tell the company what you're going to do for them.  Be action-oriented, loading your resume and your interview responses with action verbs.  Don't waffle, and don't hesitate.  Don't "I think" -- be decisive.  Don't list the ways being on the PTA has helped you to be bigger and better; focus on your past and your future in your career.  And prepare, prepare, and prepare more -- prepare for interviews, prepare for writing cover letters, prepare by reading industry publications and by talking to folks in your business.  More importantly than anything: ask for mentorship.  A female start-up CEO (also huge and OMG impressive) rewrote my resume with me and prepped me for interviews, hard-core style -- and the awesome HR friend put my resume through the ringer again and also coached me on what might be the best fit job for my personal goals.  She heard what I was considering and offered insights on roles that I might've dismissed, thinking I was underqualified or overmatched.  In other words, surround yourself with hardworking, successful women -- especially moms -- who are already there, and ask them for the advice you know you need.  They will never turn you down; they'll be flattered, and then you can pay it forward by helping another mom find her way back.  We are all in the sorority of motherhood, and we can all help to lift each other up when needed.  (This is not to say that stay at-home moms need to be lifted up -- I'm only addressing moms who want to return to work here, supporting their desires and offering no judgment of those who make different choices.)  Fundamentally, know that you can have kids, stay at home to raise them, see them off to school, and still return to work -- and be a valued contributor to a place that knows it's lucky to have you. 

Today, I checked a big, huge box for myself -- it's probably one of the most significant dozen or so days of my entire life to date.  Because for me, and for my family, I wanted my kids, at a young age but old enough to know that I stayed at home with them, see me dress up, take a briefcase in hand, and leave for the day -- and I also wanted them to see that Daddy can pick them up from school and deal with snacks and homework and sports practices and dinner.  I wanted them to see that we both can do the same things, and that regardless of our specific roles at any point in time, we'll still love and care for them the same way -- even when the day comes when we're both working full-time outside the home.  I wanted them to see that there is no "mold," no one way of doing things -- that mommies and/or daddies can stay home, that mommies and/or daddies can go to work, and that kids will be happy and fulfilled no matter what the combination.  Today, I checked that box, and it felt GREAT!

An Alternative to the Occupation

Many folks responded to my last post either on Facebook or privately, and most didn't care for my tone.  To those I offended, please know that I approach much of my blogging as op-ed style journalism.  This comes from studying with Katie Orenstein's The Op-Ed Project.  When I share an opinion of mine, it is just that: my opinion.  And I welcome -- embrace, even -- your disagreement.  It's my firm belief that healthy dialogue among those with differing points of view is at the very heart of democracy. 

To clarify my viewpoint on the Occupation of Wall Street, I offer the following: I spent my first years of life in a trailer on a farm in rural Appalachia.  And I now live comfortably in a house I own in one of the most high-earning zip codes in America.  When it comes to the range of wealth in this country, I truly understand it, for I've lived it -- not to the tunes of millions, but I'm lucky in that, at times, I've had more than I've needed.  Enough said.  But what sticks with me from my youth, especially, isn't the feeling that I had less than somebody else.  (I don't think I ever felt that our circumstances were meager since I had a place to live, food to eat, clothes, and cousins with whom to play.)  It's the trips I took with my mom to deliver boxes of food to families in some pretty extreme circumstances.  Sometimes, we would drive these boxes down dirt roads to shacks in which the living conditions were comparable to the slums of India depicted in "Slumdog Millionaire."  I understand poverty in America, I really, really do.  I work, now, for the day when I can "retire" to a job that actually does something meaningful for the 535 American counties affected by something called rural persistent poverty.  As a native West Virginian, I see it as my longer-term calling in life to revisit the walk Bobby Kennedy once took with MLK through Appalachia, tying the fight against economic oppression to the struggle for civil rights.  I've studied it from an academic perspective, and I'm taking time to build my own service ethic and network such that I actually have the connections to effect change, whether in Washington or with nonprofit work.  If I ever do have excessive wealth, it is likely that it will be spent in and on West Virginia.

My cards are on the table now, and it should be clear that I care very deeply about this fight against poverty.  While it is not wholly incompatible with the "occupation" movement, depending on whose sign you read or whose perspective you believe, I do believe that the fight against poverty is a wholly different thing.  I am more bothered by poverty than I am by the widening income gap; they are related, but different, causes.  The United States is not yet living up to the standards demanded by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.  This is a very major problem, and we have to ask ourselves where the answer to that problem is found.  I think it's found in holding our politicians' balls to the fire.  (Not feet.  Feet aren't sensitive enough.)  Wall Street can't vote on a living wage.  Wall Street can't make sure early childhood education is strengthened throughout the nation.  Wall Street can't guarantee our citizens' healthcare.  And neither will our government unless our ire is directed at it.

So what do I think can be done differently?  I really like change.org's "Top 10 Ways to Fight Poverty" -- especially, as I mentioned in my last post, the call to volunteerism.  The Poor People's Economic Human Rights Campaign  is dated but still rife with information.   I also believe in tracking anti-poverty legislation.  My representatives in Congress know what I think; do yours? 

At the end of the day, I do respect people's right to protest on Wall Street -- of course, I do.  I still reserve my right to opine that there time would be better spent elsewhere.  Unless our entire government is going to be recalled, the point has been made; and now, it's time for people to start figuring out a way to "think globally, act locally" when it comes to concerns about the economy -- whether jobs, hunger, education, or whatever is your hot-button.  We have the world's attention now; and now, we can do some great things.  We don't have to wait for government action, though we can work locally to impact that.  There's so much that we can do ourselves to make a difference where we live.  That movement could be called "occupation backyard."  Or, as Gandhi says, "be the change you wish to see in the world."  Change starts with me -- and you.

Cross-posted on Rox on a Soapbox

The Hypocrisy of the Occupation

When I add up the man-hours wasted on the "occupation" of Wall Street (and other sites around the globe) over the last couple of months, I fear for the future of a nation growing more impoverished by the minute.

How many Habitat for Humanity homes could have been built in that same amount of time by the same amount of people?

How many boxes of food could have been packed at food pantries?

How much Hurricane Irene damage could have been cleaned up in Vermont, where there is still plenty of mud to shovel and roads to repair?

How much furniture could have been cleaned out of their own homes and donated to transitional housing programs for the homeless?

How many suits could have been collected out of their own closets and donated to Dress for Success?

How much could have been done to actively fight poverty in America?

All of the above are things that cost no money at all and are things that most of the entire 100% of the people involved in this occupation could do to alleviate poverty in our backyard.  If this "occupation" is at all about 1:6 Americans living in poverty, shame on every damn person who has stood there holding a sign when they could have used their own two hands and the same amount of time actually doing something about poverty.

I believe in the power of protest; I really do.  Most recently, during the last major election in 2008, I stood on a corner with my kids for hours demonstrating against Propostion 8, the proposition which, unfortunately, passed and, therefore, ended gay marriage in California.  Many people worked for months fighting for civil rights for all Americans, and I was proud to be among them.

But this, this "occupation," what is its goal?  To end corporate greed?  To change tax code?  To demand a distribution of wealth?  Does anyone believe that Wall Street itself is going to do anything about that at all?  Or might Congress actually effect some changes -- in which case, shouldn't the protest be there?

Shouldn't the protest be directed at a government which continues to fund costly wars while 1:4 children in America go to bed hungry every night?

Shouldn't the protest be directed at a government renowned for wasteful spending, where the cost of one state dinner is rumored to be close to half a million dollars?  How many soup kitchens could open and operate with half a million dollars in the bank?

Shouldn't the protest be directed at a government that promised universal healthcare, where the option to buy-in is still years away -- unless power shifts again, and that right disappears again?

Shouldn't the protest be directed at a government that is elected time and time again over promises to improve education in America -- then systemically panders to the interests of unions that protect workers, while children have no union to defend their interests?

The list could go on and on and on.  I understand this "occupation," I really do.  I understand that it is "showy" -- and it shows our children that when one is angry, one can show that anger.  If you want to have more money, you can ask the government to redistribute wealth.  You can blame the millionaires, for, if they paid more in taxes, little Johnny wouldn't go to bed hungry tonight.  You can believe in social revolution, in a world where there is no top 1%.  You can kill the American dream like that, just by waving a sign. 

Does anyone really believe that any of that is going to come to pass?  Does anyone believe that if millionaires suddenly pay more in taxes, fewer children will be hungry in America?

When I donate soup to our school's food drive for the local pantry this week, I know that fewer children will be going to bed hungry in my backyard.  Instead of going out and buying food for this drive, I used what was in my pantry and made cutbacks to my own grocery budget, so I didn't end up spending a thing "extra" on these donations.  (The point of that will follow, below.)

When I cleaned out my closet and gave dozens of suits to the local transitional housing shelter for borderline-homeless families last week, I knew that some ladies and gentlemen would look pretty spiffy for their next job interviews.  It cost me the gas to drive to the shelter.

When I volunteer this weekend for a group rebuilding a playground at a low-income school, I will be putting my two hands to work and expending a lot of energy, but not a dime otherwise.  The cost to me is just time and, again, gas money.

Look, I know I sound preachy, morally indignant, even.  While I apologize if that offends you, I don't regret it.  I proudly refuse to participate in this Occupy Wall Street movement, for if I had the time, the talent, or the treasure, there are other ways to effect change in this country -- ways that don't involve Wall Street, the government, or a single picket sign.  If you really care about poverty in America, I urge you to do something about it in your own backyard.  It may not cost any money at all (see above).  The way out of poverty is through working together to do what we can do to care for our own neighbors.  No picket sign will ever have the same effect as a Habitat hammer. 

I'm done looking to our government for solutions, and I'm ready to work.  I'll be occupying a local playground this weekend with my hammer.  What will you do to make a difference?

cross-posted on Rox on a Soapbox

Too old to play?

I'm having one of those "life must be working out just as it should" weeks, because, in several arenas of my life, one big question keeps cropping up: when is someone too old to play?

In recent days, I've been told by more than one parent of a teenager that their kids don't "play" anymore.  When they do have breaks from their hoards of homework, they go on-line, or maybe they watch TV.  If parents are lucky, maybe they'll take a walk.  But play?  Nah.  Too old.

Also, I've heard from parents of middle-schoolers that kids are "hanging out" these days rather than having "playdates."  "What do they do?" I asked.  The answers from my informal tiny-group survey were: Wii, YouTube, TV, movies.  Play?  Nah.  Too old.  Toys?  Nah.  Too old.  (Bluntly, this doesn't mesh with the amount of Nerf and Lego stuff I see labelled 12+.  Something's off.)

For my daughter Petunia's recent 11th birthday, parents asked, "What's she into these days?  You know, since they've outgrown toys?"  I tried not to cry.  I also tried not to "out" my daughter for her Earth Friend and American Girl dolls with which, yes, she still plays. Come to think of it, she still plays Playmobil and Legos with her brother, Dash; in fact, when she received the Lego Harry Potter "Burrows" from him for her birthday, it might have been her favorite gift.  They still build with K'nex and Tinker Toys, train tracks and Matchbox cars, blocks and paper.  They especially love building forts out of found materials and can spend all day making cities with sidewalk chalk and string and sticks and rocks.  When they're not together, Petunia still plays with her dolls on her own, or does crafts projects (which I consider playing much of the time), or writes stories (playacting in her head).  She does still play, and yes, sometimes with toys; when not with toys, she's still very much playing -- like last Thanksgiving, when she shocked us as she lashed together a real TeePee made from 2x4's and moving blankets (thank you, Girl Scouts!) then proceeded to dress as a Native American for our celebration.  In other words, she acted like a 10 year-old girl -- a pretty bada$$ 10 year-old girl, if I do say so myself!  And frankly, I hope she incorporates that whole act into her Thanksgiving routine every year until she's so old she has to ask a grandkid to do it.  Too old to play?  No. Way.

I grew up playing with cousins on a farm, and then with friends in a town, and often with family in a living room.  We played cards, and it's been super-special lately to teach my daughter the same card game ("Spite and Malice") that I used to play with my great-grandmother and my grandmother.  I would give up anything else to play that game with them, anytime -- still would.  I also remember many family Scrabble games, Trivial Pursuit, and much more far before video games and computers.  Nowadays, I play the occasional on-line game, and I do enjoy the Wii from time to time -- but give me that card deck, and it's what I'd rather do more than anything else.  Too old to play?  Never.

When I took up snowboarding at 35, I didn't do it because I'm crazy.  I did it because I like to play in the snow.  I did it because I wanted my kids to see me try to learn something new, to take a risk, to fall down, to get back up again, and to squeal with excitement the first time I connected a turn.  I wanted them to see that you're never too old to have that much fun.  It's a sport, but it's just playing in the snow. 

I know that play changes shape and form over time, and I do know that, for kids these days, a lot of it is virtual.  But we need to still send our kids to the park with a soccer ball.  We need to teach them our old card games.  Even if they're 16 and have 5 APs for which to study and seemingly no time for play, we have to get them to come outside with us and fashion the perfect pirate ship out of a cardboard box for the new 5 year-old boy in the neighborhood.  We need to find a way because we want to, because we know that happy, healthy people need to have something silly and joyful in their life.  Just think of Steve Jobs' words: not just to "stay hungry," but to "stay foolish."  Had he never played, would Apple exist today?

In closing, I'll share that the most fun I've had of late was at the Maker Faire taking part in a project to crowdsource the construction of a huge model drawbridge from recycled objects.  (I think it was from Berkeley Institute of Design, but don't quote me on that.)  For about an hour, my two kids and I worked alongside ages almost-1 to 90-something to duct-tape and string together a remarkable contraption that never really worked, but oh, how we laughed with strangers.  We were participating in a crazy experiment, perhaps, but it was even simpler than that: we were playing with the same stuff kids have always played with: materials at hand, repurposed into something amazing. 

Too old to play?  Never.  It's like saying one's too old to live.

 

My tribute to Steve Jobs

At the intersection of two of my favorite streets in Palo Alto sits a lovely house with a courtyard known for crawling with hired zombies at Halloween.  One of those streets is my favorite to drive, walk, and bike down in Palo Alto, its winding road and pretty homes making for a relaxing passage.  Many are bigger homes, but most aren't mansions; Steve Jobs' tudor house with its magical Halloween courtyard isn't.  It's a normalish house for here, for a normalish family, with kids who went to their neighborhood grammar school and a family who ate in our same restaurants, shopped in our stores, and whose friends are friends with my kids.  But, of course, it's not just any normalish house: it's the Jobs house.  And for the past month, as we passed by daily, we noticed the changes: security cars, a private ambulance waiting.  When Steve Jobs announced his resignation from Apple, the press suspected he was, again, unwell.  Those of us who live here saw the other signs, and we held our breath. 

Yesterday, we exhaled, with accompanying sobs and looks of shocks -- for even when you know it's coming, when the light of a great visionary is extinguished, it is rather dark and upsetting. 

A Buddhist, Steve Jobs likely would appreciate the continuity of the circle of life on the day of his passing: more babies are born on October 5 than on any other day of the year.  Somehow, that seems fitting, just like the rain that has beset Palo Alto over the last few days -- rain that is a bit unusual, as it's usually not this constant this early in the season.  My kids call rain "angel's tears," and I think they're spot-on.

Steve Jobs is part of why I love living in Palo Alto -- and I say "is" intentionally, for while his life is gone, his legend never will be.  Of all of the words he could use in his life, he used ones like "Stay Hungry.  Stay Foolish." -- words that actually weren't his own but, rather, were poached from a catalogue, adopted as a mantra and shared in a Stanford graduation speech in 2005 as a way to live.  In this and in many other speeches, he encouraged and challenged, but his advice never felt dogmatic.  It just felt simple, and straightforward, and do-able.   And though his legend lives on in a message of passion that can never die, Silicon Valley feels, right now, like a ship without a captain, the person who motivates and sticks with and inspires his crew.  I daresay that none of our other local leaders of high-tech industry have been as personally inspiring.  Jobs reminded us that we don't all need to found an Apple, but we do all need to remember that aiming to do something bigger than ourselves is a worthy goal, whether it's through work, service, art, writing or whatever brings us joy.  When I try to figure out what, to me, Jobs' legacy is, I don't think of Apple first; I am reminded that great things come from living one's life intentionally and with passion, purpose, and commitment.  If I can be remembered that way while living and once gone, then I, too, will have been a great success.

All that said, I will remember Steve Jobs, not only as our Captain, but mostly as a man -- the man who sat next to me in Fraiche, eating an order of oatmeal and blueberries, the same thing that I was eating, in companionable silence.  He took my oatmeal when it came up first, and I joked with him about it a bit.  With a twinkle in my eye, knowing full well to whom I was about to speak, I said, "hey you, you took my oatmeal," just as his (which became my) own order came up.  He apologized, also with a twinkle, and we complimented one another's great taste.  He sat, I sat, and there he was: the very skinny man in the St. Croix black turtleneck, old Levis, and New Balance shoes, the father, the husband, the friend, the Captain, eating oatmeal, just like me, thinking big, just like me, trying to make the world a better place, just like me, and mortal, just like me.  We were hungry; we were foolish.  We were part of this great place we call home, and it won't be the same place without him -- but we owe it to him to carry on and to dream big, to think big, and to create things we never imagined before.

May our Captain rest in eternal piece, and may his family be comforted in their time of loss.

* All photos above were taken on my iPhone outside the Apple store on University Ave. in Palo Alto.  We received a message from our daughter's school, where one of his daughters is also a student, that the family desires privacy; the road by their home has been cordoned off, and, though a memorial there is still forming much greater in size than that at the Apple store, I opted to steer clear and to take no photographs out of respect for their wishes.

Homework: A Play, with a Point

The Play

The Characters: Petunia, 11, 6th grade; Dash, 6, 1st grade; Mama

Act One:

Dash: "Mama, am I supposed to have Math homework?"

Mama: "No."

Dash: "I think I'm supposed to have Math homework.  The teacher is sending home math packets in my Friday Folder."

Mama: "That's right, the teacher is sending home Everyday Math homework sheets in your Friday Folder, but they're optional, and we're not doing them."

Dash: "Why?  Some kids are doing them and even handing them in, and sometimes the teacher mentions it."

What Mama wants to say: "@#$%^(U $(%&&#! !!!"

What Mama Does say: "Do you want to do math homework?"

Dash: "Not really."

Mama: "Okay, then, I'll check in with your teacher about that, but I also want to tell you that we're doing math when we play Monopoly City -- that's counting money -- or Yahtzee -- also counting.  When you grab the measuring tape at Ikea and measure things, you're doing math.  When we're working on your numismatism (side note: he loves that word)..."

Dash: "All that's math.  I get it.  So what's the deal with the homework?  Some kids need to do fun math instead of homework math I guess."

[end scene]

Act Two:

Mama: "Petunia, I'm going to back to school night!  Sitter Man is here.  See you in a few hours!"

Petunia: "Alright, Mom, I just started my math homework."

Three, almost four hours later:

Mama: "Thanks sitter man, I'm home!"

Petunia emerges from her room, bleary-eyed: "Mama, I'm still doing my math homework."

What Mama wants to say: "@#$%^(U $(%&&#! !!!"

What Mama does say: "I think I'd better take a look... (looks)... Umm, Petunia?  On each of these days, you're supposed to pick one of three assignments to do.  And since this syllabus covers the whole week, it appears that you've done every assignment on every day until ... wow, half of Thursday."

What Petunia does say: "@#$%^(U $(%&&#! !!!"

Followed by: "Why don't they have a class on 'how to read a syllabus?"

Followed by: "Whooo-hooo!  I won't have any math homework all week now!"

Followed by: "And now I need to go to bed."

[end scene]

*****

The point

I am a bit disturbed that my son, Dash, at age only-6, and in only-1st grade, is feeling some kind of homework pressure.  Perhaps I could choose to look at it as him just "noticing" that kids are turning in work; but, from his facial expression, I could see that it was causing him a bit of anxiety.  He thought he was not doing something that he was supposed to be doing.  Even though the homework is optional, he's noticing that kids are doing it -- and that's bothering me.  Are parents billing it as "fun" to their kids?  Or, more likely, knowing my school, are they selling it as academically important?  The kids, according to my son, have a sense of accomplishment as they wave their little papers around saying "I did my homework!" -- so, in turn, my son is not getting that sense of "hey, I did something to please the teacher" and, thus, has all of the awkwardness that comes with that when one is only-6.  Since I was a vocal opponent of this math curriculum when it was adopted in 2009, I feel pretty awkward about it, too.  I feel like trying to engage the teacher in a discussion about it risks being interpreted as my ongoing defiance about the program instead of my concerns about the tenor of the classroom when it comes to optional work. In the end, I'm not really sure how I'll resolve that, but I do know this: I will not buy into academic competition when my son is 6.  He will learn reading, writing, and arithmetic, and, as mentioned above, there are some ways we supplement that work (Monopoly, etc.) that he doesn't even realize.  But there are parents sending their kids for math tutoring in 1st grade.  I put my foot down.  And, also, @#$%^(U $(%&&#! !!!

When it comes to Petunia, my commentary is more general.  Wow, does she ever have too much homework.  She's hitting her stride when it comes to math now, and she's figured out how to read the syllabus, but there is so. much. to. organize.  Binders and books and papers and files and sports equipment and gym clothes and one very cumbersome trumpet.  The Guv is bothered that she's not biking to school, and I'm trying to invent a UHaul bike trailer, 'cause that's how much crap she takes back and forth.  I finally bought a second math book (used, $16, whoo-hoo!) to leave at home, but that doesn't take care of the rest of the stuff.  When I was in 6th grade, I had little if any homework, a desk in which I kept my papers, and I didn't change classes.  Petunia has two lockers (one for books and such, one for gym) and changes for every class.  Her backpack is too heavy with no signs of lightening.  Perhaps because she's in private school, she has 2x the homework any of her public school friends have -- AND, unlike them, she doesn't get a packet on Friday that she can start doing over the weekend (apparently, that Friday Folder thing continues for public school kids, and the work in it isn't "optional" later on).  So she lugs stuff after sports practice (her self-proclaimed "release") every day at 5:15, all the way to my car, 'cause it's too heavy.  They have four no-homework days per year.  She is living in a halfway place, perfectly balanced between being happier than I've ever seen her at her all-girl school and more stressed than I've ever seen her or than any sixth-grader should be.  I wonder: is it worth it?  She'd say yes.  The reasons we put her in this school, most especially the all-girl thing, are still the most important ... but I have to wonder: is this much homework at age 11 necessary and important -- or possibly detrimental to her overall wellbeing, even if she's not staying up to do four hours of math per night as she already once did? 

I have no answers, just a bit of vexation, for I've heard that the bigger kids get, the bigger their problems get, and I'm having an inkling of that from both kids.  Somehow, without all of that work they're doing, starting "optionally" in 1st grade, I still ended up with an Ivy League diploma on my wall.  I didn't have much academic stress, ever, and I'm not that much smarter than them, if at all. 

As their mom, I can say "no" to the optional work, and I can make Petunia turn off her light, go to bed, and encourage her to not see grades as the be-all and end-all (and make sure that we're reflecting that in our reaction to bad ones) ... but no matter how much I do for them, I wonder: how did we get to this point?  Is it good for our kids?  And how would we ever change it now?  Are there schools out there (middle school and high schools, esp.) that have NO homework?  Do those kids get into Yale too? 

Something seems very wrong, here, with this homework business.  I smell a rat, or a ruse, and I suspect the problem is not with our kids at all and maybe not even with their teachers but with Other Parents making their kids do more, better, faster, higher-level, etc.  That scares me more than the federal deficit or war or poverty or hunger because here is something we can control, and we've made it it's own out-of-control thing.  How do we get back to an age of reason?  Is it too late?

Eleven

Today, my daughter, Petunia, turned 11, though we kicked off the celebration yesterday at 9:17 p.m. PST, which is equivalent to 12:17 a.m. EST, which is when she was actually born.  (Follow that?)  That 17 minutes made the difference in my ability to stay in the hospital with her a whole extra day, so I'm pretty glad that I was on EST then.  Since that was my first baby, I wanted that extra day of hands-on help from a lactation consultant, especially, and I'm grateful for it, even though Petunia was nearly two weeks overdue and should've been home already.  And come home, she did, on September 26, to a tiny little one bedroom apartment in New Haven, Connecticut, where she lived her first nine months smack dab in the middle of us -- the Guv, a b-school student, and me, a b-school admissions officer, and about 200 of our closest friends who were always holding Petunia. 

Now, I have a theory on the effect of that crowdsourcing of child-holding on Petunia's nature: it made her love the world.  She never has friends who are just like her.  She has friends from every walk of life, of every color, of every faith, of both sexes, from every imaginable kind of home, from all around the world ... friends who are rich, friends who aren't, friends with disabilities, friends to whom she's their only friend ... she just loves people.  And she loves them for who they are, for all the good things they have inside them.  And she'll find that good in just about anybody.  She even finds that good in people she shouldn't, but I'm probably never going to try to fix that because I don't think that's a broken thing.  If I add up all of those 200 people who were holding her for her first year of life, I can see what they gave her: the man who really wanted to be a dad, who carried around Purell in his shirt pocket just so he'd be ready and clean if she came around (even though I was never that disciplined about carrying Purell myself!), gave her the sense that people that weren't family could care for her.  The girl who had never held a baby before, who was so nervous when she held Petunia -- Petunia helped give her confidence, and she gave Petunia the sense that not knowing your way is okay sometimes.  The coworker who I really wasn't sure whether or not s/he liked me (I have to be ambiguous here) was among the first to show up at my house with food for me and gifts for her -- showing Petunia that help can come from unexpected sources.  All these people together, and many more, taught our whole family that it the best way to raise a child is in a village.  And in that village, we were all loved -- but most of all, Petunia was.  She was everyone's baby, and she was all good, all easy, all smiles.

And she has stayed exactly the same for 11 (actually, beginning the 12th!) years. 

Our first family village is back in New Haven this weekend, celebrating their 10th b-school reunion.  The Guv opted to stick around here in NorCal, not wanting to leave Petunia on her birthday, even with her blessing.  I'm bummed for him -- for all of us, actually, 'cause those are some good friends -- but I know they understand.  But to that village, I offer a humble note of thanks, because they are part of what made our kid what she is today.  I appreciated the many gifts they gave to our family that year.

And to the kid who, due on 9-11, arrived 13 days late, on 9-24, I offer these special thoughts as she embarks on her 12th year of life:

Petunia, never forget that you are part of something bigger than yourself.  You are growing into womanhood and, with that, developing some skepticism, even some cynicism at times, about some big topics like war and government and what "rights" are fundamental for people -- and how those views vary from person to person.  You're coming to realize that there are a lot of things on which people don't agree, and some of these may be Big Things.  You may feel you have to make a choice or take a side -- and, with that, it may feel like your Village is not so Whole after all.  But, actually, I hope you'll go back to the Village from which you came to pick up on those simple lessons: people can be from very different walks of life, but they can still hold you, they can still feed you, and they can still help you to find your way on this crazy path of Life -- even if they're very different from you.  What makes those differences okay is your acceptance of them, which is something that has always been central to your life.  In this world that is divisive, you are inclusive.  It is a real blessing for you and for all who know you.

As you embark on your 12th year, my wish for you is simple, though it is actually a very Big Wish for a pre-adolescent: just be who you are, for who you are is a beautiful young woman who brings so much happiness to her Village.

Love you - Mama xo

 

So, the thing about parenthood ...

Someone recently told me that I'm not writing enough about my kids anymore.  Yeah, so, about that ... two words: Middle School, and one more: Dash.

When I think back to 6th grade, it was the last grade of elementary school where I lived, not the first year of junior high (which, where I live now, is called middle school).  So it wasn't a big deal, except for me, because my parents sent me to a Catholic school across the river that year.  It's not that I'd been rotten or anything; my siblings were in school there, and it was an opportunity to be in a different social situation.  It was also an opportunity to eat the world's best grilled cheese and tomato soup on Fridays as well as an opportunity to realize how very un-holy nuns can be.  (I know, God strike me down for saying that, but, really, they actually did rap knuckles, including mine, once, for taking out my retainer without permission.) 

So, anyway, besides my being in a different school whose motto was "grilled cheese with a side of corporal punishment and Eric spitting out the sacrament and learning what a visit from the holy spirit really meant" ... 6th grade wasn't such a big deal.

But now, Petunia has started middle school, at a new school -- at a new all-girls, seriously academic school -- and whooo-eee, do I miss Sister Mary Beatyoulikeadrum, 'cause that was easier to deal with than this homework.  And sports schedule.  And "Mom can I study in the library 'cause I want to be gone from 7:30 a.m. - 5:30 p.m. everyday" schedule.

Petunia is happier than she's ever been in her life.  She's working harder, and I actually heard her say the words, "I don't know why, but I'm actually excited to do my homework tonight!" last Thursday.  There must be something in the water at that magical school, or maybe that's the place on which Hogwarts is based.  Anyhoo, she's happy, she's working hard, and she's gone.  G-o-n-e.  When she is home, she's working, and if we squeeze in an hour of family time each day during the week, we're lucky.  It is what it is.  She's growing up, quite well, and she even has a weekly grilled cheese and tomato soup lunch without the side of yardstick across her knuckles.  Girl doesn't even know how lucky she is.

As for that other kid, the dementor Dash, there is First Grade.  He has the teacher he hoped for, declaring her "the nicest."  But he pretty much hates it.  He's reading Harry Potter at home; he has no patience for Chrysanthemum.  He does not feel he needs to write, or write neatly, because, as Petunia has shown, in 6th grade, he'll have a laptop.  So who cares about his stupid penmanship?  He's going to be an archaeologist someday and needs to know hieroglyphics.  What is the point of first grade, anyway? He's not thrilled to be there, and he's also not eating his lunch, again.  Since the school day is longer than it was in kindergarten, when he could eat a Luna bar and be content, this is a big deal.  It is an even bigger deal because some little asshole girl told him that Luna bars are made from luna moths, so he's been eating bugs for a year.  Since he can't take almond butter with honey -- total peanut and tree nut ban in effect -- he's been experimenting with starvation.  One day, he'll eat a cheese roll; the next day, he'll declare the same thing inedible.  Then he'll eat plain ravioli; the next day, nothing.  It's a stop-and-start experiment that is failing.  On the "nothing" days, he comes home angry.  As I sit him atop the kitchen counter, forcing him to remain there until he's eaten a healthy mini-meal, he screams things at me like, "Mom, you're ruining my happy life," or worse, "I won't starve to death, and I'll prove it."  (Oh, but he will.  He is the kid who would rather starve than eat, and we're sooooo not going there.)  After he finally does give in to ingesting a modicum of food, twenty minutes later, he finds me (usually curled up in a ball in my closet hiding from his fury) and apologizes.  "Must've been hungry," he says, as he hugs me.  "Love you mom."

So, the thing about parenthood, is that it's hard.  In times like these, it's hard to write about.  To my friends who have not yet entered preadolescence, to my friends who don't have a child with an eating disorder (which is what it is), they don't get it.  I get useless advice like "just make him eat."  Or "have you tried...?" which sometimes leads to a great suggestion but, usually, is just someone trying to prove me wrong -- that, actually, my child does eat enough to live, even if it's only a few things, not understanding that he won't even eat those few things consistently so, therefore, it actually is a crisis.  Every other day.  And that's hard.

Parents of newborns?  You have it easy.  Your colic, witching hour, sleepless nights ... that's the easy stuff.  Just wait until they grow up and you have bigger problems.

See why I haven't been blogging?  It's not nice for me to say that.  And frankly, it's not nice to my kids, who are both, in the end, doing wonderfully.  Petunia is happy, and Dash thinks he's going to Hogwarts in sixth grade.  I'm just very, very tired and in need of a week in Hawaii with no one demanding anything of me except the pool boy, wondering if I'll have a pina colada, a lava flow, or a strawberry daiquiri.  Decisions, decisions...

So that's my parenthood update for this week.  Another one is coming soon, because oohhhhh boy, Petunia is turning 11.  I can't handle the truth. 

Where's that daiquiri?

Marking ten years, for Todd

For the past five years in which I've been blogging, I've offered up 9-11 tributes here on Rox and Roll.  In some ways, these posts are the hardest to write, since we lived in the greater NY area and saw, smelled, and felt the devastation of these attacks from too close-by.  In other ways, these posts write themselves, for I just let myself share what I'm feeling a little more freely than usual. 

This year, much of what's in my mind to share are snapshots and bits and pieces, not so much of the Towers falling but, rather, of friends -- and not so much of friends who perished that day, but of friends whose lives were changed forever, many of whom I saw at my high school reunion earlier this summer.  Beyond the indescribable horrors many living friends saw that day, there are little things, like the voice of my friend calling, the one who worked on the 80-somethingth floor, telling me she's alive -- and the voice of another friend, calling to ask the fate of that one who lived as well as that of another who died, and the silence that followed.  I can close my eyes and hear those conversations in my head as if it were yesterday, not a decade ago, and if there's one thing I know, it's that I'd never wish those phone calls on anyone -- and, that day, I had dozens upon dozens.  I was home with my baby, and everyone knew it.  I was the listmaker, the tracker of lives, and every last phone call was the same, "do you know?"

Do you know?

Over the last decade, I've had friends who stayed in New York out of a need to prove that they can survive there, friends who left in fear, and friends everywhere in between.  We've had family stay on their same block smack dab in the middle of the single most diverse zip code in America (that would be Brooklyn, 11218).  We moved away for work, but we still do the same thing every year on 9-11: we go to the beach.  We do this because I drove to the water, ten years ago, as the horrors of 9-11 were unfolding, to get away from my ringing phone, to take in some peace in something concrete and beautiful.  The tide comes in, the tide goes out, and that never changes.  There are rip currents and hidden dangers, but the tide doesn't sleep.  It comes in, it goes out.  I breathed with the tide that day, in, and out.  It was all I think many of us could do: just breathe.

A decade has passed since 9-11, and, unfortunately, I don't think a single day has passed without my remembering every feeling I had that day.  I doubt a single day ever will.

I also am attuned to every feeling I've had since.  I'm a person who needs to fundamentally believe that people are good and that we live in a just world, I can't help but wish that the tragedy of 9-11 hadn't given birth to war abroad as well as domestic battles that pit crosses versus mosques.  I've heard more hate in the past decade directed toward "others" than I've heard in my life -- hate directed at some of my friends, just for being born Muslim.  It is sometimes very hard to bear the amount of hate that came out of that day; hate has no part in its legacy.

Fortunately, our alma mater started a scholarship fund in honor of our lost friend, and the legacy of a boy from a hardworking single mom in New York going to prep school and a fine college then ending up working atop the world, at Cantor Fitzgerald, can be remembered through the recipient of his scholarship: another kid given a chance.  And each year, what I hope for that kid is that he sees a day when people aren't judged by the color of their skin, or by their creed, but by the content of their character -- something Martin Luther King Jr. called for decades before these attacks, in a time when those who were black, like my lost friend, were held to a different standard, just like American Muslims are today.  It's just not right, and we owe my friend, and his scholarship recipient, and each other (in general) better than that. 

Thus, this year, I offer an affirmation from the United Presbyterian Church, the church of my childhood, based on Dr. King's teachings:

I refuse to believe that we are unable to influence the events which surround us.

I refuse to believe that we are so bound to racism and war, that peace, brotherhood and sisterhood are not possible.

I believe there is an urgent need for people to overcome oppression and violence, without resorting to violence and oppression.

I believe that we need to discover a way to live together in peace, a way which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of this way is love.

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. I believe that right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant.

I believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality and freedom for their spirits.

I believe that what self-centered people have torn down, other-centered people can build up.

By the goodness of God at work within people, I believe that brokenness can be healed. "And the lion and the lamb shall lie down together, and everyone will sit under their own vine and fig tree, and none shall be afraid."

I offer this post in memory of all of those affected on 9-11, and especially in memory of Todd.  Friend, rest in peace.

Back to School Recipe(s): The Easiest Pulled Pork Ever (and what to do with it)

My daughter Petunia and I love love love pulled pork, but, I confess, I'd never actually made it myself until this week.  Since Petunia just started middle school and is overwhelmed with the giant step up in homework, activities, and everything else, I thought I'd try to make it for her as comfort food.  (Don't get me wrong: she's very, very happy in her new school -- just very, very busy, too!)  I scoured the internet for recipes, and I didn't find any that were just right -- so I made one up from "best practices," greatly simplified.  I am not so experimental with meat -- plainly, it costs too much if I screw up! -- but felt like this would work.  I'm glad I went with my gut, because I came up with:

The Easiest Pulled Pork Ever!

Ingredients:

• A 3-pound pork shoulder butt: yours might be labelled pork shoulder, or pork butt, but, trust this farm girl, it's all a reference to the lower part of a pig shoulder (also known as pork blade shoulder butt), which is actually called "shoulder butt" for short
• One sweet onion, sliced in rings (optional; I just like some cooked sweet onions with my pulled pork)
• One 12-ounce can or bottle of root beer (I used Virgil's)

Directions:

• Lay half of the onion rings in the bottom of a slow cooker (crockpot).
• Place the pork shoulder butt atop, fat side up.  (There's always one side that's fattier.)
• Place the rest of the onion rings on top and around the sides.
• Pour the rootbeer over the roast.
• Set your crockpot on high for four hours.
• Then turn it down to low for four-six hours.  (Alternately, you could set it on high for an hour, then turn it down to low until dinnertime, 10-12 hours later.)
• Remove the meat from the cooker; turn cooker to "keep warm" setting if you need to keep the meat warm for a while, or turn it off if you're going to eat right away.
• Through a colander, dump out the liquid (don't retain it).  Place onions and whatever tiny bits of meat remain in colander in a bowl to serve alongside the pork.
• Scrape off any remaining fat from the pork and discard.  (Most will have melted away.)
• Using two forks, or even your fingers, shred the meat.

THAT"S IT! 

Serving ideas:

My family made several meals out of this. 

Meal One:

• Shredded meat heaped on a plate with toppings on the side: cooked onions, cole slaw, barbeque sauce (we used Organicville, a new brand at Whole Foods, which is gluten-free and very good)
• Baked golden potatoes: I stab small golden potatoes with a fork all over, rub them lightly in my hands with olive oil and a tiny bit of kosher salt, and microwave four of them at at time on a plate ... my micro has a setting for "baked potatoes," so it times itself (about 5 minutes).  You'll know they're done when a knife passed through them like butter.  Because of the olive oil and salt, we often eat these plain, or with a small dollop of butter or drizzle of olive oil.
• Peas: We've been loving English peas, which we hand-shell at the table and eat raw

Meal Two:

• Pork tacos: microwave corn tortillas under a damp paper towl for 30 seconds; fill with warmed pork, guacamole or sliced avocado, and chopped tomatoes or pico de gallo (we often skip the cheese ... they're flavorful enough without it, and it just adds fat and calories; I'd rather the kids get calcium by drinking skim milk)
• Mexican rice: I confess, I bought it at Mi Pueblo, where I also bought the guac and salsa
• Muskmelon slices: The kid who eats veggies wanted a break from greens, and this yummy thing came in our CSA box ... it took care of a fruit serving and felt like dessert (which we don't eat every meal, so that's a good thing!)

Meal Three:

• Pork melts: One piece of bread (I use spelt, since I'm wheat-allergic) topped with pork, barbeque sauce, and a very light dusting of Kraft 2% shredded cheddar cheese, toasted in a 350-degree oven for about 15 minutes (this varies widely, so check in about 10 minutes) ... alternately, warm the pork first, and broil for < 5 minutes.  (I dislike broiling -- too hot!)
• Baked potatoes (again)
• Veggie crudite (also known as cleaning out the fridge!): baby carrots, broccoli, celery, tomato wedges

And that's it.  Next time, I'm going to make ropa vieja -- which is spicy shredded beef with many more ingredients, so it won't make my back-to-school list!  (But if it's good, I'll post the recipe.)

Bon appetit!

 

 

 

A Prayer for my beloved Vermont

For five years, our family has owned a home in the woods of Vermont, in a fantastic little town called Quechee that has nearly been severely devastated by today's floods.  I don't even have words to describe the way my heart broke as I watched video of our little covered bridge being torn, plank by plank, by the raging fury of the Ottaquechee River.  Simon Pearce, the renowned glassmaking shop and restaurant, built originally as a mill and made of brick, may have to come down before it's rebuilt.  And I hear our realty agent's office, our post office, and a host of other sites are all but gone.  Neighboring Woodstock fared little better, with its Farmers Market (where, each summer, we buy the most amazing tiny little delicious strawberries) underwater, and its legendary Inn evacuated and flooded.  Over these years with whole summers spent in a small radius, I've befriended shopkeepers, waitstaff, farmers -- and oh, the farmers, what have they left? -- cheesemakers, artisans of many sorts ... and I can't get my arms around what may have happened to so many of them, to their life's work, to their homes.  Vermonters are hardy, but how hardy can they be when they call "home" a place that may no longer exist?

In 1928, Vermont native, U.S. President Calvin Coolidge, toured Vermont, addressing its citizens in part to discuss successful recovery from the last horrific floods to hit the area, in 1927.  (That's right -- there is likely to be no one alive who remembers the last floods of the proportions witnessed yesterday in Vermont.)  His words, they stick to my ribs like sustenance.  President Coolidge said, "I love Vermont because of her hills and valleys, her scenery and invigorating climate, but most of all because of her indomitable people.  They are a race of pioneers who have almost beggared themselves to serve others.  If the spirit of liberty should vanish in other parts of our Union, and support of our institutions should languish, it could all be replenished from the generous store held by the people of this brave little state of Vermont."

I choose to spend time in Vermont because of the beauty of its land and the character of its people.  The landscape will never be the same after yesterday, but the people remain.  Thank God, the people remain.  They will rebuild, and I hope to help them.  Us.  For while I do love California, my heart stays in Vermont.  It's there I would be if I could be anyplace, even today, even yesterday. 

If you are the praying kind, please join me in this one for my beloved Vermont:

Dear Lord,

Please replenish the stores of strength of the citizens of Vermont, for they are going to need plenty extra in the days and weeks ahead as they begin to rebuild.  Especially bless, keep, and help the rescuers who are working, tirelessly and selflessly, to mitigate the danger wreaked by these floods.  For those who have lost homes, loved ones, animals, their livelihood, and more, please wrap them in your love as they grieve and help them to find their way when they are ready.  Bless them with comfort and, eventually, peace, so that they can return to the best life they can craft out of this chaos.  Remind them that they are capable, brave, and, above all, Vermonters: indomitable pioneers who can always begin anew while never losing a sense of belonging to the history that will always live in these Green Mountains, a past of virtue, fierce independence, freedom, and unity that can never be taken away.  Remind the world, Lord, that Manhattan may have escaped these raging waters, but Vermont and its people did not.  Shine your light on Vermont, so that the world may see the help it needs to rebuild and to care for its people again.  God, please bless, keep, and restore to health the brave little state of Vermont.

Amen.

Back to School Recipe(s): Sports Snack Ideas

When it comes to post-game snacks, I admit that I'm a bit of a dictator.  I'm proud to be raising athletes, kids who know already that a commitment to physical fitness is of high importance to both physical and mental health.  When I was a kid, there was no post-game snack; we played hard, received our pats on the back, and went home with our parents for dinner.  But when my kids started to play, I noticed that parent after parent was bringing junk food -- each family very obviously trying to one-up the prior week's offering.  One week, there'd be homemade frosted cookies that looked like soccer balls; the next, Krispy Kremes, or cupcakes, and always accompanied by a sugared drink.  When it was my turn, I brought clementines, yogurt tubes, and water (in a jug with some extra cups, since most kids have bottles that can be refilled).  And I was quite surprised: instead of balking at my healthier fare, the kids woofed down clementine after clementine, and almost all of them had a yogurt, too.  Not a single kid complained that there was nothing involving frosting.  It dawned on me that I needed to do two things going forward: one, e-mail the coach before the season commenced with a request for a healthy snack policy; and two, volunteer to be the snack schedule coordinator. 

So, for about 6 years, I've been Snack Mom.  (No one else wants to volunteer for something that requires sign-ups and reminders, it seems.)  I give a speech at the first parent meeting about what's acceptable and what's not, and I ask the coach to reinforce my message that sports are a healthy habit, so the related snacks should be, too.  If someone shows up with Krispy Kremes, I ask them to put them back in their car, and I always keep a healthy option in mine.  (Yes, I go to almost all of their games, so that might not be possible for everyone; but the coach is always there, so you could ask him/her to do it.)  One parent, early on in the season, will break the rules, and that parent will serve as an example.  They will not hate you forever, and they will not make that mistake again.  Someone will complain, and you invite them to bring dessert to the end-of-season party.  I also have a no-nuts rule, which can be controversial since nuts are a great post-workout snack; but it's just not worth the risk to allergic children, IMHO.

My approach may seem draconian, but I promise that it works.  Since I am also a coach (girls' basketball), I can tell you that what's restorative to kids post-exercise is most certainly NOT sugar.  They need hydration in the form of water, specifically, and they need some restorative protein and maybe a little carbs.  So, here, I share my list of:

Good-for-them Post-game Snacks

Yam-and-jam muffins

Low-fat cream cheese spread on celery sticks and raisins

Low-fat cream cheese spread on mini whole-wheat bagels and grapes

2% mozzarella string cheese and an apple; maybe add in low-fat Triscuits or Wheat Thins if it's far from mealtime

Yogurt tubes (the best, lowest sugar are the organic varieties like Stonyfield or Horizon) and a clementine or strawberries; add in a small low-sugar granola bar if it's far from mealtime

Baby carrots and sugar snap peas with mini-tubs of hummus (they sell these at CostCo)

Air-popped popcorn, a Babybel cheese, and raisins

Homemade trail mix: Toss cheerios, pretzels, raisins/craisins, broken-up graham crackers, and just a few dark chocolate chips.  Serve with a protein (skim milk, cheese cubes, or yogurt).

Hard-boiled eggs, cherry tomatoes, and reduced fat cheese crackers (this is a far-from-mealtime snack, as it's very hearty)

***

I'm working on some recipes now for post-sport baked treats, like nut-free granola clusters with dried fruit.  As they work, I'll post them here.

Meanwhile, please add your own ideas to this list!  And most importantly: best wishes for a fantastic season of whatever sport you or your kids love.

 

 

Video Game Review: The Smurfs Dance Party

When I was 8 years old, the Smurfs debuted on TV, and they were a very big part of my siblings' and my TV-watching experience for years to follow.  We made up games about Smurfs, and, once, I convinced an unsuspecting much-younger sister to go underwater in the swimming pool by promising her that she'd see Smurfs on the bottom of the pool.  (She still hasn't forgiven me for their absence!)  So, when given the opportunity to review The Smurfs Dance Party, I leaped at the chance, recruited my kids to dance with me, and we partied like it was 1980-something again! 

And oh, did we laugh, and laugh, and laugh -- in fact, I think we did more laughing than dancing!  The songs are so fun for kids and the grown-ups dancing along, especially the smurfed-up parodies like "Who Let the Smurfs Out?" or "Mr. Smurftastic."  The game itself is much like the Just Dance games, with points for following the choreography correctly, but the game seems more lenient somehow when it comes to the moves, which feel simplified for kids.  My daughter, Petunia, age 10, loved that there was a Katy Perry song ("One of the Boys"), and my son, Dash, age 6, really did not love the "Barbara Streisand" song, but I noticed that he played along anyway, which is remarkable, as he wanted nothing to do with other dance games we've tried.  (He refused to be photographed playing it, though, so the picture at left is only of Petunia, who later invited a friend over to try it.)

Weighing the pros of this game, I especially like that it inspires movement, a big PLUS in my book, as opposed to passive, sit-there, point-and-shoot kinds of games.  It's also silly fun, and I like that you can just play it for a song or two and enjoy it without some big hurdle to get over or level to pass.

As for cons, well, it's a game for kids, really.  I can't see playing this on my own.  (Just Dance, on the other hand...)  And if you don't like Smurf music, well, you're outta luck.  Lastly, since there are only 23 songs, too, I think it'll get old after a few more months, just like many other song-based games.

For age range, I'd recommend this for family play, from a preschooler who can hold the remote properly all the way through grandparents.  I also think it'd be great for preteen sleepovers coupled with a screening of the movie or the old TV shows (just think of the theme: blue punch, blue ice cream, blueberries...).  For entertainment value, I give it a 3.5 out of 5 stars -- fun, and lots of laughs, but a mid-range rating because the game is fixed to only 23 songs and not super-exciting graphics-wise.  (In all fairness, I wouldn't rate Just Dance much better, though... The only dance game I prefer, because you advance to unlock more complicated numbers, is Michael Jackson: The Experience.)

You can purchase your own copy of The Smurfs Dance Party through this link at Amazon.  Enjoy!

Thank you to Ubisoft for sponsoring this blog post. Please click here to learn more about Ubisoft. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective. All opinions are my own.

Our Peanut Butter Pie for Mikey and Jennie

It didn't take long to notice post after post on Facebook made by many of my sisters in blogging about their peanut butter pie plans for tonight.  I finally had to click a link to find out what this "meme" was about.  Moments later, I found myself tearing up, for all of these friends were posting of their plans to bake a pie in memory of another blogger's husband, who passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. And that blogger, Jennie's, request was that we bake her late husband, Mikey's, favorite dessert today, share it with our loved ones, and hug them tight.

It sure didn't seem like a lot to ask.  No, I don't know Jennie Perillo, and I didn't know Mikey, but I do know loss, and I know how it feels for a community of people to come together and lift you up.  There are no words for that.  I hope that Jennie feels some of that sense of communal caring and healing tonight.

Through my laptop and blog and from the bottom of my heart, I send this gesture of love and sympathy to Jennie and to her family.  It's not just a peanut butter pie; it's a symbol that we're all in this together.  This blogging family is a big, funky bunch, but we sure do know how to take care of each other.  May we circle our virtual wagons -- and our real pies -- around Jennie tonight and send her tidings of comfort, and may Mikey rest in peace.

Back to School Recipe: Homemade Power Bars

I've already professed my love of oats, so it's no surprise that I'm continuing to experiment with oat-based recipes.  But this time, instead of catering to my own tastes, I'm trying to cater to one very hard to please client: my 6 y.o. son, Dash, who eats almost nothing.  And I don't mean "almost nothing" in that "I'm part-Italian and think everyone is starving" kind of a way; I mean "almost nothing" as in he's been in and out of nutrition programs all of his short life because he really. eats. nothing.  And since we're about to start the lunchbox wars again, noting that, bar none, my very least favorite part of parenting is packing lunches, I thought I'd get a jump on finding something he won't throw out or throw up.  Iron Chef has nothing on this challenge.

Since Dash loves a good granola or cereal bar, he spent last year toting Luna Bars and Clif Z fruit twists to school for lunch.  Wanting to pack more of a nutrition punch and avoid prepackaged excess, I turned to another recipe from Heidi Swanson, this one from her book titled "super natural cooking" for Do-It-Yourself Power Bars.  (For anyone interested in natural cooking, Swanson's cookbooks are a must-have; and here's a link to her blog, 101 Cookbooks.)  These power bars did not disappoint.  Dash scarfed one down and asked for more; Petunia thought it could stand to be sweeter (and she's right, but that's kind of not the point...), and the Guv didn't care for the ginger.  I loved them.  If you make these, tell me what you think!

Do-It-Yourself Power Bars *

Ingredients:

1 Tablespoon coconut oil (for greasing pan)

1 1/4 cups rolled oats (I use Bob's Red Mill)

1 1/4 cups chopped toasted walnuts

1/2 cup oat bran

1 1/2 cups unsweetened crisped (NOT puffed) brown rice cereal (I use Erewhon)

1 cup dried cranberries, coarsely chopped

3 Tablespoons finely chopped crystallized ginger

1 cup brown rice syrup (I use Lundberg's organic, which is gluten free)**

1/4 cup natural cane sugar

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

 

Greace a baking pan with the coconut oil.  If you like thick power bars, opt for an 8x8-inch pan; for thinner bars, use a 9x13-inch pan.  (We used a 9x13 one, and the bars were the thickness of Quaker granola bars, which was just right for little hands.)

Mix the dry ingredients -- oats, walnuts, oat bran, cranberries, and ginger -- together in a large bowl and set aside.

In a small saucepan, combine the brown rice syrup, sugar, vanilla, and salt.  Stir constantly as you bring it to a boil; after boiling, it'll take several minutes to thicken.  In our case, the mixture frothed up bizarrely, so we turned it off then -- and it worked just fine.  So don't be alarmed if it gets a bit foamy!

Pour the syrup mixture over the oat mixture and stir until evenly mixed.  Pour into pan.  If necessary, grease hands with coconut oil to press into pan gently.

Cool to room temperature before cutting into bars.  It's hard to say how many this recipe makes, as it depends upon the size of the bar -- but this would easily do for lunch for Dash and snacks for Petunia for at least a week.

*Note: I don't use Swanson's exact words and terms, but the ingredients listed are hers and the methodology is generally the same.

**A note on brown rice syrup: It's not as sweet as sugar, honey, or agave, but you have to remember that this is a "super natural" recipe; and the bit of natural cane sugar in the recipe tweaks the sweetness north a bit.  Since brown rice syrup is a low glycemic-index sweetener and a source of some minerals like magnesium, potassium, and iron, plus B-group vitamins, I really like it for my kids.  It is an acquired taste but is one worth acquiring if, like me, you're starting to get very concerned about the evils of white sugar.  (Read this article by Gary Taubes, and you'll worry, too.)

Enjoy!

The Best Oatmeal Recipe Ever

These days, I'm on a food kick.  Actually, who am I kidding: every day, I'm on a food kick.  According to my husband, the Guv, and a few chef friends, I'm a "supertaster" and a "supersmeller" (that's the Guv's term).  If you pour me wine with notes of cherry and plum, I can distinguish the two.  It's a gift, and it's a curse, because I don't like plain stuff at all.  (Or cheap wine.  Or bad coffee.  Anyway...)  Thus, it might be a surprise to share that my very favorite food is oatmeal.  I know -- gross, right?  I made oatmeal for the Guv once to treat a hangover, and let's just say that he swore off oatmeal for life, or at least until last weekend.  I get it: some people don't like oatmeal, or "gruel" as a friend calls it.  My suspicion is that they've never had good oatmeal, and that makes all of the difference.

To me, the miracle of oatmeal is its versatility.  If it's cooked right, with a combination of water and cream (or milk, soy milk or almond milk), and sweetened with just a hint of something yummy (the traditional brown sugar, or maple syrup, agave, honey, or chocolate chips), sprinkled with just a bit of cinnamon, and given a wee bit of crunch with some toasted nuts (walnuts can't be beat in oatmeal) -- well, that's just heavenly.  And while I prefer steel-cut oats, even plain old quick-cooked in the microwave oatmeal can be fantastic if topped right.  If you travel around my town, restaurants try to funk it up even more: fruit compote at Mayfield Bakery, or the "Chronicle Special" at Fraiche yogurt with it's myriad of toppings and dollop of fresh or frozen yogurt.  At home, I've hosted many a sleepover at my house with an oatmeal "bar" for breakfast.  Pretty much every kid will eat oatmeal if you offer a bevy of fun toppings.

Always on a quest for new oat recipes to try, I came across one in San Franciscan Heidi Swanson's "super natural every day" cookbook that promised to be fantastic -- and it turns out that it was even better than fantastic.  It's my favorite oatmeal recipe ever, and even the Guv scarfed it down and helped himself to seconds.  Petunia ate the leftovers for several more days, as did I.  So even if you don't think you like oatmeal, I encourage you to give this recipe a whirl.  It'd be great to make for your morning coffee klatsch or a special brunch.  Enjoy!

Baked Oatmeal *

Ingredients:

2 cups rolled oats (I recommend Bob's Red Mill)

1/2 cup toasted and chopped walnut pieces, divided in half

1/3 cup maple syrup

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea-salt

2 cups milk

1 large egg

3 Tablespoons melted butter, cooled slightly and divided in half

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 ripe bananas, cut into 1/2 inch slices

1 1/2 cups blueberries (or any berries), divided into 1 cup and 1/2 cup

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees with a rack in the top third of the oven.  Grease (with butter) an 8-inch square baking dish.

In one bowl, mix the oats, 1/2 of the walnuts, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt.

In another bowl, whisk together the maple syrup, milk, egg, 1/2 of the melted butter, and vanilla.

Layer the bananas in a single layer on the bottom of the pan.  Top with 1 cup of the berries, followed by the oat mixture.  Slowly and gently drizzle the wet mixture atop.  Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 of the walnuts and 1/2 cup of berries atop. 

Bake for 35-45 minutes until the top is golden brown.  Remove from oven and drizzle with remaining 1/2 of butter.

Serves 6-8 generously.  Reheats well if you add some milk to it.

*Note: I shortened the directions and ingredients where I wanted ... if you want all of Swanson's directions and words, pick up her great cookbook!  It really is quite good.  The next recipe I'll try from there, later today, is her granola -- which I suspect will be great sprinkled atop this dish.