7QT: Urban Homesteading Edition

1. We have chickens! Blogosphere, meet Bertie, Gussie, and Chuffy:

One day old, heading home

Named for characters in PG Wodehouse novels, these little ladies are living up to their literary titles and already have big personalities. Chuffy (brown) is a Speckled Sussex and clearly at the top of the pecking order. Until I met Chuffy I had no idea that a day old chick could have such an air of authority. Notice her coming right up to the camera and demanding an explanation for the new cramped quarters. Bertie (black) is an Australorp with frenetic energy and a bit of an attitude. Neither Bertie nor Chuffy likes to be held, but where Chuffy mostly squawks offendedly when I pick her up, Bertie moves quickly and with purpose and is hard to catch. And then there's Gussie. Sweet Gussie is a Buff Orpington who tags along behind the other two and is quickly becoming the family favorite. I've wanted a Buff Orpington ever since I heard that such a fantastically named breed existed, and Gussie has not disappointed!

The chicks were going to stay in a brooder in the garage, but I discovered a very active mouse living in the wall and since the chicks need round-the-clock access to food and we couldn't figure out how to keep the mouse from entering the brooder, we settled last minute on a spot on the front porch.

Sprout is as interested in the new pets as his short attention span will allow. We make him touch them gently and put the kibosh on "helping them fly" so he gets bored pretty quickly. Poppy is enthralled, and the one time she managed to grab Gussie it took some convincing to make her let go again!

Inspecting the future home and practicing chicken skillz

2. The garden is coming along nicely. Gardening is my favorite, and patience is not my strong suit, so I tend to plant early and cross my fingers, and for the most part this plan has worked.

 

For the most part the edibles and ornamentals are still separate, but this year I'm experimenting with combinations of perennials, annuals, and vegetables in one of the in-ground gardens (inspired in part by this book), while the raised beds are reserved for vegetables and herbs.


3. The coop will eventually be moved next to our garage, just around the corner from the rain barrel and the compost bin. Looking at that corner makes me feel like quite the urban farmer!

Under construction

Eric constructed the compost bin and we add kitchen scraps year round. In the summer we mix it just before mowing, and then fill it with lawn clippings and let the heat break down what's underneath. We repeat that cycle all summer and last fall I added 30 gallons of compost to our garden beds, and an additional 15 gallons this spring! 

4. Urban homesteading and backyard chickens are trendy right now, and similar to trends such as mindfulness and meditation, living local and eating whole foods, they are rooted in very basic human necessities. Silence, prayer, community, nutrition; recognizing both our place in order Creation, and our call to stewardship over it.

However, in order for "old truths" to be palatable to modern consumers they need to be wrapped in a progressive guise. And so we aren't going backwards and rediscovering what modern man forgot in his rush towards a "better life" - our decision to grow our food in the backyard is original and revolutionary.

Limited social commentary aside, Eric and I actually are trying to "go backwards" in a sense. We are looking around, trying to remember what the modern world has tried so hard to forget, and slowly learning how to implement those practices in our daily life. Rather than pining for the good old days, we are hoping to learn from the wisdom of our elders. The world looks and acts different, but truth is still unchanging.

5. On Memorial Day we had planned on grilling, but given the heat wave that was upon us, settled for a lighter meal and I headed out to the garden to put together a spring salad. Just getting to dig and plant and weed and tend is glorious to me - to then be able to feed my family with the produce is the icing on the cake. I added new radishes and the radish tops, mixed some fresh dill with cream cheese, and served home cured salmon (courtesy of Like Mother Like Daughter) with Ikea rye crackers. We're practically living off the land ;)

6. Last year I canned for the first time, and it was delightful to be able to pull out a jar of pickles or peach jam in the middle of a grey winter day for a little taste of summer. I experimented a bit with dehydrating and freezing peppers and herbs, and over the winter got a taste (pun intended) for what I would actually use, so as not to put too much effort into future compost. This year I am hoping to do a bit more all around, and put more effort into preserving herbs in oil and vinegar.

Not too shabby for a first timer!

7. I am quite proud of my garden, but it's often hard for me to say that out-loud. I've already brushed off several compliments this year, and I need to work on accepting praise graciously, and learn to be more honest in sharing not only my pride but also the joy that the garden brings me.

It's been a struggle to balance my desire to be constantly puttering about the yard with my obligations to home and family, and with not feeling resentful when tasks are interrupted. I want to find that balance so that I can more effectively pass on to my children the skills, values, virtues, and joy inherent in tending to God's good and bountiful Earth!

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7QT: Spring in the Neighborhood Edition

1. The last day of April brought the only April shower that wasn't followed by piles of snow. And yet, the May flowers have prevailed!

2. I have been busy outside, planting, dividing, weeding, anything to get dirt under my nails once more.

It's much more difficult to find time with a toddler and a nine month old, but gardening is by far my favorite past-time and I am determined to find a way to continue even while the kids are young. I'm slowly figuring out ways to adapt my habits, and my expectations, to account for frequent interruptions ("Sprout, you are not a worm, stop eating dirt! No, you're not a worm. You can pretend to be a worm, but then you need to pretend to eat dirt.") and little helping hands.

I have several plant orders showing up in the next couple weeks and I am resigning myself to the fact that it will probably take a while to get them all in their settled places. My plan is to pop the flowers into pots to give the roots some breathing room while I work out where they'll all end up. The biggest lesson I learned last year is that garden soil and potting soil are not interchangeable and hopefully my container plants will survive, and even hopefully thrive, this year.

3. At Christmas we pass out little tins of cookies and fudge and the first year it clearly took people by surprise. Apparently people don't really do that anymore. One neighbor responded with an apology for not giving us anything that year, another stopped by with a plate of cookies and an air of annoyance that they "had" to reciprocate, and one was so touched by the simple gesture that we found a beautiful fruit basket and heartfelt thank you note on our porch the next day.

Eric and I talk a lot about ways to build community and authentic friendships, and this is a small way that we've chosen to reach out to our neighbors in an effort to foster friendly relationships, or even actual friendships. And so we passed out cookie tins again the next year, and are hoping to slowly make neighborly gestures a bit less surprising.

4. With that in mind, I found this idea for May Day baskets and decided to make a few for our neighbors. I made a dozen total and Sprout very helpfully pulled them along in his little wagon as we distributed them across the alley and down the block.

I am a decided introvert, with a true dread of small talk, and although I want to do my bit in the fostering of a kind, neighborly community, I set about delivering the May Day baskets with a terrible fear of running into any of the recipients. It turns out that delivering twelve baskets while carrying a baby and trying to guide the toddler-pulled wagon without upsetting the flower pots not only takes time, but is stressful even without a dread of potential small talk. By the time we got home I was shaking so badly I had to sit down for a while and decompress.

But the baskets were delivered, received, and hopefully brought a little bit of joy to the neighborhood!

5. If you're interested in building community, putting down roots, celebrating family values, and rediscovering the importance of Tradition, give this interview a read. I hadn't heard of Wrath of Gnon before, and am very glad to have been introduced! Eric and I read the interview together and were inspired by the simple and fundamentally important ideas presented there.

To be self-sustainable is not about growing your own potatoes and generating your own electricity, it is to provide a shared framework for belief and beauty: “Make your communities and towns lovely and lovable, for without love, who will they inspire to fight for them?” Unless you have that shared goal, not all the solar panels in the world will save you.

6. We don't live in a particularly walkable area, and what we can walk to is mostly up or down some pretty large hills, but this summer I am hoping to take advantage of what is near by and start building a habit of staying more local during the week. We have a small but beautiful library, a wonderful taco place, an inexpensive coffee shop, and a brew-pub all within a few blocks and I too often take them for granted or forget about them altogether.

Last week I surprised Eric with an impromptu date night. Or as an impromptu as an out-of-the-house date night can be with small children. His parents came over last minute to babysit and we walked down the hill to the taco house and then settled down at the brew-pub to eat our tacos accompanied by a Jalapeño Cream Ale. I found a list of date night questions and we took turns asking each other what our ideal room would look like or what skill we'd want to master if time and money were not an issue. We walked home laughing and reconnected, pausing every so often for a kiss, feeling like a couple young kids in love.

7. This afternoon we get to witness the wedding of one of my closest friends to a wonderful man and we are looking forward to celebrating the beginning of their marriage and reliving the butterflies of our own special day as they meet at the end of the aisle.

Find more quick takes here, and May your Day be filled with Joy!

7QT: The Many Crosses of Parenthood

1. As a true Minnesotan I feel I am beholden to begin by commenting on the weather. 6+ inches of snow in Easter week took the oomph out of the rejoicing. In fact, it took the oomph out of pretty much everything. And yet, despite the temperatures then dropping back to below freezing, Christ is still risen.

I think there's a profound thought lurking beneath the surface - something about the wisdom of Christ and His Church in recognizing the human need to engage our senses to really understand and appreciate mysteries and miracles - but I am too cold and tired to attempt coherency at that depth.

~The above is what I wrote Easter week. That's about as far as I got, time to try again.~

April showers seem to consist only of snow this year

2. All that snow melted (well, minus the shoveled hills and drifts that have been known to stick around until June) and was replaced, with interest, in the one true blizzard of our as yet unfinished winter. More than a foot fell over the weekend and we had a harrowing drive home through the beginning of the white-out conditions last Saturday.

I didn't take a picture of that snowfall because I won't need a picture to remember it by, nor do I want one.

3. The only people excited to see the spring blizzard were the kids. Snowpants and sleds came back out and fresh clean snow was eaten in abundance. So much innocent joy... And this is where the title of the post comes in. Because we live in a valley of tears, and the moments of innocent joy are pure gift, not to be taken for granted, because they are fleeting.

4. We found out on Monday that the youngest son of some dear friends of ours was run over by a neighbor's car while playing in the snow. He was rushed to the hospital where he later died in his parents' arms. He was just 17 months old, one of the jolliest little boys I'd ever met, chubby cheeked, bright eyed, always smiling...

And now he is gone and we're left trying to make sense of his unimaginable absence. Because toddler sized coffins aren't meant to be imagined. There's no way to make sense of it.

As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are God's ways above ours.

We can believe and take hope in those words, and yet it is still small comfort. Down here on earth, so far below the heavens, we look up and struggle to see clearly. Until we are in the presence of Infinite Wisdom, our limited minds simply cannot comprehend.

5. And now we're trying to understand how to live in the wake of this tragedy. I quickly discovered that as much as I want to love my children perfectly, to appreciate each moment, knowing that our time together is precious, I am still impatient, quick-tempered, distracted.

This week has been a cycle of sadness and anxiety leading to impatience and frustration followed by guilt and more sadness. I want to sit with my grief, holding my children close... and then my toddler elbows me and headbutts his sister and I snap at him and wish I could be alone. And then I remember, and I wish I could take back every harsh moment... but life doesn't work that way.

6. Between the new foot of snow, an ear infection, and high emotions we have been struggling mightily with spring fever, lack of sleep, and toddler destruction. Eric compared the spiritual load of parenthood to a room scattered with tiny crosses that have to be picked up and put away each day, rather than one large cross on your back. But an abundance of small crosses doesn't mean that the big crosses won't come too.

7. The suffering that our friends are experiencing is beyond anything I have ever known. Please hold them in your prayers, and hug your family a little tighter today.

7QT: Back At It Edition

1. Blogging is hard. Or more precisely, writing blog posts takes a considerable amount of dedicated time and brain space and both those things are in short supply around here. I started out with what seemed to be a fairly modest goal – weekly quick takes and occasional additional posts – and yet even that has needed to be pared down. It's actually been good for me to be able to fail fall behind for a couple weeks and realize that it's okay.

2. I have been craigslisting like crazy the past couple weeks. For better ($20 wheelbarrow! $20 Little Free Library! $9 seriously adorable birdhouses!) and for worse (if time is money then the savings margin has been greatly reduced).

Seriously. Adorable.

I am currently looking for a couch that isn't roughly the size of our living room so I will finally have space to use my (also craigslisted! free! antique!) secretary desk and stop having to use the dining room table as my work space.

3. Eric and I are a classic case of opposites attract. He's choleric, I'm phlegmatic; he's an ENTJ, I'm an INFJ; he's a filer, I'm a piler; his love languages boil down to doing, mine to being. Routine and flexibility, head and heart, justice and mercy. Some days it seems that the differences between what defines us individually are endless. Many days this leads to misunderstanding and friction, and the occasional sullen stand-off. It also leads to many moments of intentional togetherness, conscious decisions to love one another, and humorous anecdotes.

Some stories require a bit of time to pass before they can be laughed at together (like the time he found me hiding under a blanket in the closet after an argument) and others are just plain funny right off the bat. Take this week for example. Eric is the type of person who, when moving into a new place, sets all the furniture down and leaves it in that arrangement until it's time to move again. I, on the other hand, like to rearrange. And then rearrange again. And then again. I keep tweaking until the arrangement is “right.” And then I leave it be. Until something changes (new piece of furniture, new baby, Spring Fever) and, well, it's not “right” anymore.

We learned fairly quickly that it is much less stressful for both of us if I don't try to explain my “vision” ahead of time. Instead, I simply rearrange and Eric finds out when he walks in the door. The long, aggravating discussions of whether, and why, the shelves need to swap places have been replaced with a quick shock – like ripping off a band-aid, but without warning. Given how frequently I rearrange at least a little the shocks aren't usually too bad. But this week I went all out on our living room. Eric knew I was looking for a new couch, but what he didn't know was that buying a new couch was going to entail a whole new arrangement, and that I'd need to try out said arrangement ahead of time so as to know precisely what size couch I am looking for.

When Eric – aka Mr. Consistency – comes home from work he puts the mail on the radio (big, old-fashioned, craigslisted!) and his lunchbox on the little green table by the door. When he came home on Wednesday the radio had moved across the room and the little table was tucked behind the coat-tree and the giant couch. After the shock subsided and the glazed look left his eyes, he marched across the room, put the mail on the radio, and then marched back, leaned over the giant couch, and squeezed his lunchbox around the bulging coat-tree and onto the little table.

Our individual definitions of adaptability are yet another chance to grow - and laugh! - together.

4. Spring has been slowly (oh so slowly) creeping upon us. There have been several warm, sunny days over the past few weeks, teasing us with the promise of good things to come, and then disappearing under grey skies and more snow. We are supposed to get another inch or more tomorrow, which is just plain depressing, despite the simultaneous 40 degree forecast.

This is what a Minnesotan childhood looks like

And yet! I saw a robin today! There are green spikes poking out of the garden! (I tried to take pictures but I'm not much of a photographer and everything just looked brown.) And despite the persisting snowbanks there are puddles galore! Sprout has new-blue-puddle-stomping-boots and a spiffy "fire-stomping" rain jacket. I haven't reminded him of his umbrella because that is a battle I am not yet ready to fight.

5. Do you say boulevard or hellstrip? Or something else entirely? I hadn't even heard of the term "hellstrip" until I started looking up ideas for a boulevard garden, and I'm still not clear on where or why they're called that.

However you choose to say it, my biggest plan this year is a boulevard garden, complete with Little Free Library (craigslist! $20! Did I mention that already?) and complimentary edibles. I scored a large variety of free pots and planters from a downsizing neighbor and plan to put them to use in a front yard experiment. I want to surround the LFL with a flower garden, interspersed with potted peas, beans, cherry tomatoes, etc. and topped off with a little sign welcoming passers-by to nibble as they browse for books. I'm calling it an experiment because (1) although we get some foot traffic we're in a sort of urban peninsula and I'm not sure often our LFL will be frequented and (2) despite the general quietness of our neighborhood, this is the city and hooliganism happens. Stay tuned for updates over the summer!

6. I have always been a better baker than cook. Partly because I grew up baking and have been familiar with the basics for a long time, partly because I was cooking for one for most of my twenties and kept the grocery list small and the recipes simple, and partly because I've always loved to bake but until fairly recently cooking made me nervous. For most of my adult life I was apprehensive about trying any seasonings outside my comfort zone - salt, pepper, onion, garlic - and despite making a mean chili I shied away from soup, convinced that it was a complicated, all day affair.

I now have a variety of recipes in my repertoire, use exotic seasonings such as cumin and tarragon, and make most of our dinners (including weekly soups) from scratch. The top three things that have helped to widen my culinary horizons are

1. A CSA the first two summers of our marriage, forcing me to find a variety of new recipes to use up the piles of vegetables that took over our kitchen;
2. Seven months of elimination diets (cutting out dairy, wheat, soy, tree nuts, cruciferous vegetables, nightshades, coffee, chocolate, and joy in various combinations) when we thought Sprout had food allergies taught me all about using substitutions;
3. And of course, Pinterest.

I made one of our favorite Pinterest finds for the feast of St. Joseph on Monday. This oven fajita recipe is easy and delicious, and never fails to bring back memories... After making it and loving it the first time, I wrote the recipe in my family recipe book and (to illustrate just how little I knew) I wrote 8 tsps. of cayenne pepper instead of 1/8 tsp. Eight teaspoons of cayenne pepper in one recipe. I made many mouths burn and one small child cry before I realized my terrible mistake. It explained why we always made sure to have a lot of sour cream on hand for fajita night!

7. I taught third grade catechism at our parish for several years a while back, and recently came across a notebook with some of my favorite class quotes jotted down. Among the best:

(After explaining the Trinity using the analogy of an apple) "So who is the First Person of the Trinity?" "God the Skin!"

"What does it mean that our bodies are a temple of the Holy Spirit?" "Our bodies are dove cages?!"

"The church is made of marbles?!? It must have taken a million!"

And the moment that hopefully took some time off Purgatory... Have you ever tried explaining Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery to a bunch of 9 year olds? With my first class I decided to talk about respecting our and other people's bodies and the response was: "so, what you're saying is, modesty is adultery for kids?" Followed by, "I saw a girl commit adultery at church, she didn't have any sleeves!" Followed by panicked visions of angry phone calls... I think I clarified enough to avoid any awkward comments stage-whispered during mass, but I'll probably never know!

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7QT: Lenten Stay-cation Edition

1. Winters in the Midwest tend to drag. (Understatement of the year.) When I was growing up there were several winters where my parents would take all seven stir-crazy kids to a small town hotel for one night of swimming, junk food, and Cartoon Network. It gave us something to look forward to in the bleak post-Christmas months and I have one particularly fond memory of swimming in a warm pool, surrounded by snowbanks that had drifted halfway up the glass walls of the pool room.

With that memory before me, in early January I proposed we plan a similar getaway to break up the Spring Fever insanity. A regular old pool is pretty limited fun for a two year old, so we decided to spring for a couple nights in one of the regionally famous indoor waterparks of the Wisconsin Dells. We'd never stayed in such an exotic place before and the pictures looked magical and full of warm, summery promise.

2. Enter The Cold That Will Not End. As we limped through weeks of dripping noses and hacking coughs I put off booking our rooms just in case sneezes turned to the flu. We settled on a Sunday-Tuesday trip for the cheaper prices and day-of availability. Eric requested PTO, but only because he knew he could revoke it if we had to cancel our trip.

Long, crabby, congested, teething story short - we didn't make it to the Dells. We went ahead with the time off but settled last minute on one night in a much more expensive local waterpark hotel, and despite a morning of epic tantrums, snapped responses, and sullen silences, a Plan and multiple Expectations still managed to slip in among the swimsuits as I packed. These harbingers of doom stayed behind at the hotel, laughing at our slumped and feverish backs as we trudged home hours earlier than expected Monday morning.

Getting our hopes up before we head to the splash pad

3. The rest of Monday was spent staring at screens, walls, and the occasional pillow. Eric slept off his fever on the couch with Sprout, who watched Land Before Time on repeat. I begged an uncharacteristically crabby Poppy to please just take a freaking nap, and sulked around the house to make sure everyone realized just how ruined my vacation was.

My inner monologue revolved around snarky comebacks to justify my petty attitude.  
It is Lent after all, go figure it ended up being a penitential vacation, I should probably just offer it up *dramatic eye-roll*. 
Yes, I know it's Lent so I shouldn't binge on leftover snacks, but I barely slept last night!
Oh, perfect, Poppy woke up again. Good thing Eric's too sick to help. At least he gets a vacation.

The snark quickly devolved into self pity, made worse by the fact that I knew I didn't really have much to complain about. There's nothing like self-awareness to ruin a good pity-party!

4. Tuesday burst upon us with sunshine and dripping eaves. Eric let me sleep in as late as a hungry Poppy would allow, and then we broke out the sunglasses and headed outside for a long family walk.

A few good puddle stomps washed away the remaining crankiness and we all made peace. We spent the sunny hours playing Pooh-sticks in the curb rivers and building a Snow Bear to protect the back yard from heffalumps and woozels. A dinner out to Chik-fil-A topped us off and our family vacation came to an unexpectedly graceful conclusion.

Sprout dressed up for the occasion

5. One of my Lenten resolutions this year is to have a couple pieces of chocolate every evening. It sounds a little funny at first, but our "penitential vacation" re-emphasized the importance of what I have come to call my "kindness chocolate." I am not just a seasoned pity-partier, I am also quite talented at taking it to the next level: self-loathing. For various reasons which I will not get into now, I tend to move quickly from "I messed up" to "I am a mess." And that's putting it nicely.

The idea behind the "kindness chocolate" is to think of it as a gift from God the Father himself. No matter how my day went - no matter how much or how little I accomplished, how loving or short-tempered I was, no matter how loveable I felt - I am to receive this chocolate as a sign of my inherent worth and God's unfailing love for me. Eric often brings it to me in the evening which serves as an added bonus, reminding me of his love even on difficult days.

Looking back, I realize that not only did I skip the chocolate on the crappy vacation days, I kept that decision carefully on the verge of my consciousness. I "knew" I didn't deserve the chocolate, but I also knew that was precisely the point. I didn't want to have that conversation with myself, let alone with God, so I kept it shut carefully in the cupboard, along with the chocolate, to wait for a "better" day.

If nothing else, it has served as good reminder that healing takes time and effort, even when chocolate-coated.

6. I fell off the band-wagon with all my other Lenten resolutions during our vacation, and it's been hard to pick back up again now that I've lost steam. On the one hand I want to beat myself up about failing yet again, because I do this every year, and what made me think I would actually be good at Lent for once... and on the other hand, here's yet another reminder of why God and chocolate are better than God alone. (I'm quoting Teresa of Avila there - maybe she had her own stash of kindness chocolate!)

7. Sprout has been upping the toddler logic lately. He's got an answer for everything and we're having to carefully pick our battles so it's not a constant fight.

Preparing an argument for the defense.

Me: There are oranges and cheese stick on the table for snack.
Sprout: I don't want oranges and cheese stick!
Me: You want something else?
Sprout: Yes, I don't want that.
Me: Well, what do you want?
Sprout: I want that.
Me: You want oranges and cheese stick?
Sprout: Yes, that's what I love. 

Eric: Stop waving your feet around, you're bonking your sister.
Sprout: I have to fly my feet in the air, that's why my socks have helicopters on them.

Me: Stop kicking the table.
Sprout: I always kick the table, that's why I have feet.

"I always, that's why" has become the standard response when he's told to stop doing something, and when I re-read the following poem by A.A. Milne last night I had to wonder if Christopher Robin was coming up on 3 years old when his dad wrote it:

Christopher Robin goes
Hoppity, hoppity,
Hoppity, hoppity, hop.
Whenever I tell him
Politely to stop it, he
Says he can't possibly stop.

If he stopped hopping,
  he couldn't go anywhere,
Poor little Christopher
Couldn't go anywhere...
That's why he always goes
Hoppity, hoppity,
Hoppity,
Hoppity,
Hop.

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7QT: Memorial Edition

1. This article is more than 10 years old, however I read it only recently and it's been quite timely. Always go to the funeral. Do it for the family.

2. On January 14th I picked up my phone to find a funny text to show my mom and was shocked instead to read that Fr. Bill Baer had passed away unexpectedly. Although I can't imagine he would have known who I was if I had gone to shake his hand after mass, Fr. Baer had had a profound affect on my life. At a time when I was spiritually lost and alone, I walked into his confessional; Fr. Baer looked up at me, smiled, and said, "welcome home."

His funeral, which I was blessed to be able to attend with my family, was an incredible celebration of hope and joy, both of which he radiated during his time on earth.

3. On January 30th my Great Aunt Grace passed away after a short but intense battle with bone cancer. She was diagnosed late last year after going in to the doctor for back and chest pain. They discovered that the cancer had weakened her bones to the point that they were cracking from everyday use, and all they could do was try to ease her pain in her last few weeks.

She was my Grandmother's only sister and best friend and the loss has been hard to bear. Adding to the burden, there was no memorial service or funeral to attend. Although I'm not sure what all went into the decision not to have a service for her, I do know that Grace believed in the power of the Universe rather than God, and if she believed in an afterlife it was probably reincarnation. She was offended by offers of prayers, and so in my last Christmas card I wished her comfort and joy and didn't mention that she had made it to the top of our nightly list of intentions.

4. Less than a week ago my uncle's best friend died, also of cancer. They had been friends, more like brothers, for 40 years. Both passionate and talented musicians, they played in several bands together and jammed with friends every Saturday night for many years. Although I only met him twice at concerts, I grew up hearing Kurt's name, and I know how deeply my uncle is hurting with this loss. My husband and I went to the memorial service last night and I read Kurt's obituary out-loud on the way. Beautifully written, it made us both wish we had had the chance to sit down with a few drinks and enough time to hear a few of the many stories he had to tell.

It was a strange experience going to a memorial for a man we hadn't known. At first it felt like an intrusion, but after a few stories were shared it began to feel more like an honor. After the time for sharing, I was able to spend a little time talking to both of his parents, to hug his mom and listen to a few of her own stories, and to let them know that we're holding them in prayer.

Humans are storytellers. It's our way of obtaining immortality on this side of heaven, and I think there is a fundamental need in those of us who are left behind to keep our deceased loved ones close, even just a little longer, by telling the stories that we shared with them.

5. I sent the lyrics of this song to my uncle. I don't know if they'll give any comfort - I do know they won't fill the void - but I hope they'll speak the hope that I don't know how to say.

6. In a way it's fortunate that this winter (and February in particular) has been so difficult. Lots to offer up! However my toddler doesn't see it that way. Sprout gave me a hug yesterday and said, "Mommy, can I go out into the wonderful world of snow?"

7.  We're back on the cold train and haven't been out of the house for days. It's been a long, snotty, tired week cooped up together and patience has been running thin. My mother-in-law graciously came to babysit last minute so we could attend Kurt's memorial. Sprout threw me under the bus when he announced to his Grandma, "Mommy says she's going to throw me in a snowbank!" Thanks, kid. Sunshine and 40's predicted for next week! I'd be ok with March coming in like a lamb.

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7QT: Penitential Birthday Edition

1. Today is my 33rd birthday. I am now what some people say is the perfect age - the age Christ was when he died - and so it seems somewhat appropriate that it falls on this first Friday of Lent. This is also the last year I can claim to be in my early 30's... I'm having a little trouble wrapping my mind around that.

2. Since Valentine's fell on Ash Wednesday and my birthday is a Friday in Lent, we did most of our celebrating early. Sunday was my "official" birthday celebration, complete with brunch, Tres Leches cake, and a beautiful new sewing box. Eric ordered it for me from Poland, via Etsy. The detail is beautiful and after years of needles and thread all jumbled together in a shoe box I am thrilled with the various compartments, not to mention the beautiful design.

The kids surprised me this morning with two more gifts - Disney's Tangled and Vivaldi's The Four Seasons. How's that for variety?

3. We combined Valentine's and Mardi Gras and celebrated with a breakfast-for-dinner feast. I've never been a big fan of the romantic interpretation of Valentine's day; I'll never turn down a gift of flowers, but I'd rather celebrate as a family (or before having a family of my own, with friends). And so on Valentine's we might have gifts or cards, but the main celebration is a special family dinner.

I grew up eating Norwegian Pancakes on many a special occasion, and introduced Eric to their odd deliciousness on our first Valentine's day together. This has now become the tradition, and the fresh strawberry topping makes them especially festive.

I will never be a food blogger

Norwegian Pancakes

1 c. sour cream

1 Tbs. white sugar

2 eggs, beaten

1 c. white flour

Whisk together until smooth and add a little bit of milk, just enough to thin the batter a bit. (1 or 2 Tbs.?) Pancakes are dense and should be small (2 inches or so across). Fry on greased pan until golden brown. Use a low heat to ensure middle is cooked through. Eat with butter, powdered sugar and fresh berries or jam. Enjoy!

4. Since we are not having cake today, I had chocolate chip banana bread for breakfast and have been slowly finishing off the loaf over the course of the afternoon. Even though I didn't give up chocolate, the bread is so good it feels like cheating somehow.

I love to bake, and quick breads are a regular occurrence around here. They're consistently delicious, easy to improvise, and both freeze and gift well. While zucchini and pumpkin are my personal favorites, banana is the most common because, well, bananas are cheap and go brown fast. Here is my go-to recipe (written with the assumption that you have some baking experience and don't need detailed instructions. Sorry if that's not the case.)

Easy Banana Bread

3 bananas, very ripe
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
½ cup canola oil
1 ¼ cup flour (white, whole wheat, or blend)
½ tsp. salt
¾ tsp. baking soda

Bake at 375 for 45-60 minutes. Makes one loaf.

I like to blend the bananas with the wet ingredients before mixing in the flour; it cuts down on banana chunks and the infusion of air from the blending makes the finished product lighter. As I mentioned, I typically add chocolate chips for added yumminess.

I also like experimenting with substitutions, and last time I actually remembered to write down the adjusted recipe after it turned out oh-so-good. The coconut sugar adds a nice crispness to the top, the flax egg adds a hearty nuttiness, and the yogurt keeps it moist while maintaining just the right density.

Easy Banana Bread - Substitution Version

3 bananas, very ripe
½ cup white sugar
½ cup coconut sugar
1 egg
1 flax egg*
1 tsp. Cinnamon
¼ cup canola oil
¼ cup Greek yogurt, plain
1 ¼ cup flour (white, whole wheat, or blend)
½ tsp. salt
¾ tsp. baking soda

Bake at 375 for 50-60 minutes. Makes one loaf
*flax egg: combine 1 T. ground flax seed with 2 T. warm water. Let sit for a couple minutes before adding to other ingredients.

5. Today is the feast of St. Onesimus. He's the slave for whom Paul pleads in his letter to Philemon, which was my favorite book of the Bible even before knowing I shared a special day with its subject. I chose it as a favorite not because of its incredible brevity, but for verse 12: "I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you."

6.                            The glory of God is man fully alive. ~St. Irenaeus 

In my adult life I've taken to making resolutions on my birthday rather than at New Year's. It's the beginning of my new year, and therefore more personal and more likely to "stick." Since the beginning of this new year corresponds with the beginning of Lent, it seemed natural to combine the resolutions. The object of both, after all, is to grow in virtue and become "more fully alive."

This year my resolutions are aimed at becoming kinder, gentler, and more self-disciplined. Although not part of my Lenten resolutions, per se, I have decided as of today to make time management a real goal this year. I tend to be late as a matter of course, and it wears on my poor husband's timely nerves to no end. I could (and may have been known to) say I'm helping him to develop the patience of a Saint, but I should probably turn the focus on my own sanctity for this one.

7. In typical two year old fashion, Sprout has been wanting "to be hold" whenever both my hands are otherwise occupied. And when I have to set him back down after a snuggle he's been wrapping his arms around my neck and saying "I've yocked you in a yife of yuv!" (Darn those tricky "L"s!) As I was disentangling myself for the third time yesterday, it occurred to me that he has come up with the best description of parenting I've heard so far... locked in a life of love. The wisdom of the pure(ly mischievous) of heart!

These two! Locked in their love is an okay place to be :)

I've done a bit of blogging besides the Quick Takes and have already managed to touch on the controversial and deeply personal. Despite plugging them here I feel a little conflicted about encouraging anyone to read my other posts... so first check out the other Quick Takes here!