Squid Ink

I got a grill last weekend and I’m a little obsessed.  First night:  Grill everything in the fridge:

Grilled potatoes and onions are among the best things on earth.  I think I grilled and ate 6 whole onions over the course of the last 3 days.  We even grilled dessert that first night:

Second night, broccoli and tofu marinated in Soy Vey Teriyaki and grilled, served over rice.  YUM!

Tonight, pizza!   The kids got the usual tomatoes and cheese and it was fantastic.  But Steve and I had roasted tomatoes and fennel and red onions on ours.   oh….yummy.  It was a Cooks Illustrated recipe.  I’ll link you, but you may need to be a member to see it.  I have an on-line subscription and it’s so worth it.

So, grill mavens–tips?  must-grills?  As you see, we have your standard kettle charcoal grill.  and remember–no critter.

Those in need of non-stop hilarity just skip on down to the next posting. I was just at the fabric store and was in line behind a woman and her little girl, probably about 3 years old. The child was weeping and the mother was berating her “You do not deserve that because what you did was wrong. You are bad.” I’d encountered them earlier and had scurried away b/c the mom was speaking so very viciously to this very small girl. I couldn’t think what to do to help and really, it was making me die a little inside. I know that it can help to smile at the mom and compliment her child, but this woman never stopped her tirade of nastiness. When I saw they were ahead of me in line, I should have just gone to do something else for a bit, but I wanted to get home. So I got to stand there, literally choking back sobs, while this child asked, “Why did you spank me, mama?” and her mother replied “You know why. What you did was wrong.” Now, given that the child could not have been more than 4 at the oldest, she doesn’t have a morality developed enough to do the sort of wrong this woman was insinuating. And if a child does not know why the one person she trusts above all others has caused her physical pain, the least you can do is tell her. Okay, we know I don’t believe in spanking, but lord knows I have had some less-than-proud parenting moments. And really, it isn’t even the spanking that is bothering me. It was the callousness. The little girl’s face was just destroyed. She kept trying to get in good, to make up. “Isn’t this pretty, mama?” the woman wouldn’t give. At least when she said, while rubbing her sore legs, “will you kiss it, mama?” (SOB! from me) the woman said she would.

So. I admit I give advice better than I take it. I admit I have not always been the picture of patience and kindness, particularly when any of my kids was 3 years old (they’re a special kind of deranged at that age), but this is the sort of thing that helps me remember to be better. So I’m passing it to you. If you have a child, please remember: You are his or her world. Especially before they’re out in the world of other kids and adults, parents are the beginning and end of what they know. You get to make them who whey are, how they think of themselves. If you tell them that they are bad and undeserving, they will believe you. You don’t have to be sweetness and light every moment of the day. You can even be grouchy, but please please let them know that you love them, even when they do annoying things. Please don’t belittle them. Even when they’re big and irritating in new ways, don’t make your love conditional. Don’t tell them they are bad. Don’t withhold affection as punishment. And don’t make me cry in the Jo-Anns. Or I will follow you to your car and kick your ass.

Now, back to your usual merriment.

Oh, she’s cute.

That she continues to wear the green and lavender cowboy boots almost everyday brings me joy.  And that I had her hair in dog ears–if only for a few hour and if only to disguise the fact that the leave-in conditioner I’d put in her hair made it look greasy–made me happy.  And that she’s starting to read and write?  Utter delight.

Lily does “journal prompts” every day at school. There’s a sheet with room to draw a picture and then a few words like “At the doctor I” or “When I’m scared I” and then she fills it in. I get a week’s worth at a time and they’re about my favorite thing ever.

Here’s a week:

Dinosaurs r bad.

I love mom (with a drawing of her thinking of me)

When I’m scared my mom cums. (ahem.)

I am happy when my mom cisis me (kisses me. how cute is that)

If I could fly I wood fly to urooba.

Then this week’s:

At the doctor I got bedr (child hasn’t even been in a dr.’s office in years)

A teacher teachis

A firefighter savs pipl

A policeman yts donuts.

Steve said, “You know, police do more than eat donuts.” And she said, “Well sometimes they do, if they want a snack before bedtime.”

Because I have no interest in being in Jerusalem.  We’re in NJ for the seder.  This is the first one without Great Grandma, who seems to be fading fast.  It is, of course, sad in many ways, but really she’s been ready to go for years now.  In happier news, Grandma was moved to tears by Julianna’s first successful reading of the Four Questions in Hebrew with Ben providing translation.  Julianna also pointed out that there are actually FIVE questions, so I suspect we’ll have a new Haggadah soon.  But that goes without saying, since we’ve had a different one every year for some years running.  Back when I was just a Good Girlfriend and then an As Yet Childless Wife, the seder was the traditional one put out by Maxwell House and it went on for hours until you were so hungry you actually ate the parsley when it came around.  Once kids were old enough to participate a bit, we started messing around with different versions and shorted accounts and so forth (They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!) but they’re always…annoying.  Once we were subjected to “A Woman’s Seder.”  Oy. Just tell the damned story and pass the grub.  We can work for equality of pay later on.  We’ve had seders written for children, but all the adults get confused when things don’t come in the same order they’ve come in for the past 40-70 years.  And the songs have to be there.  No seder with out Dianu.   Funny aside–last night Ellen was kind of laughing that I was able to sing some of the Four Questions, even though I’m not Jewish and never went to Hebrew school…and then I realized, I’ve been to Passover seders more years than I haven’t.  Oh.

One thing that never changes?  The reading of the kippahs.  There’s a stash of yarmulkes in a drawer and inside each one is stamped the name and date of the wedding or bar/bat mitzvah that it came from.  It is written that each must be read aloud to the assemblage as it is passed around the table.  And then the reminiscences (lord, I had to look up how to spell that): “Who is this?”  “Oh!  I remember that party!” “Oy, that kid was a piece of work.”  It’s nice that at least some things remain the same.  Even if there is an orange on the seder plate.

I planted a square foot garden last month, look how pretty it’s getting!

The idea is that you make containers and fill them with a specially blended growing mix so that you get almost no weeds  With the grid, you can have little spots for various foods and rotate them  as they finish up.  So when that broccoli in the front is ready, I can harvest it and then plant something else.  I have several squares for lettuce mix.  Since I like to eat it when it is little, I planted a row between my rows today and then put some seeds in among my seedling so that it keeps coming.  I’ll just keep planting that all summer and as late as it will grow.  I have snow peas and sugar snaps in the back (I need to get the trellis up tomorrow or they’ll start climbing that bush…) and when they are done, I’ll put in some small melons or cukes and let them climb the trellis.  It seems like a great system, and designed for my lazy gardening–burst of effort in the spring, when I still feel like it, coast through the rest.

Traditionally, I clear out my garden, have dad come till it, plant like a fiend.  Then July hits and I cannot go out there.  Too hot.  Too far.  This year, I have the bed pictured above, and I just finished a deeper one today. In in I can plant carrots, leeks, potatoes.  My plan was to make a couple more down in the old garden, but now I’m thinkig I may just strew flower seeds out there…Maybe flowers and tomatoes.  Or, maybe just flowers…

I heard a new calling today. Tour Guide for Children. I chaperoned Julianna’s class tour of downtown Frederick (we figured I couldn’t get TOO lost, given that I’d lived there for 10 years [and can I say that I just re-read that post I linked to there and nearly had a panic attack reading it. But I was so cool about it at the time. I was on GOOD meds]). The school is downtown, so we just herded the kids out and a few blocks over to the Historical Society. One of my charges kept walking on her knees b/c she wanted to “be a gnome.” But I was kind and firm about that. Get on yer damned feet, child, and take comfort in the fact that you’re naturally short. I also had to–several times–point out to her that even IF the candy wrapper she found on the ground contained candy, she would not be allowed to eat it. I know, it’s like I’m the cruel headmistress from some English boarding school.

We arrived at the Historical Society early, but they were able to start our tour early, probably to keep the kids from rioting. We started out a couple doors down at Winchester Hall. She proceeded to tell the kids about County Commissioners–how many we have, what they do–the kids were, of course, riveted. What kid doesn’t love county politics? Matters were not helped by the fact that our guide was 100 years old, so the kids were suspicious from the get go. Generally, a cool thing about old folks is the onion on their belt–which, for our non-Simpsons readers (freaks) is their long stories that don’t go anywhere. The beauty of them is that they’re usually funny, if unintentionally. This gal’s onion was dried and powdered.  “This building was erected in 1742.  It burned and was rebuilt in 1822 but the steeple was saved so it was still original. People like to say the church is from 1742, but it is not, it is just the steeple…” Skxxxxxxzzzzzz. Look, I’m a pretty big history geek and I don’t care when a building was built.  You can give me a rough estimate for context and I’m good.  “Late 18th C” is good enough for me.

Did we enter a single building?  No.  One of the churches has real Tiffany stained glass, it’s breathtaking.  Nary a mention.  Best moment: “This was an Anglican church which was the Church of England.  When the colonies broke with England, what do you think happened?” Boy in the class, “Soldiers marched into the church and killed everyone?”  Frederick, MD, son.  not Sierra Leone.  Did she tell the story about how Stonewall Jackson fell asleep in the Episcopal church and snored?  No.   That would have been interesting.  Mentions of Barbara Fritchie and her dubious connection to the Confederate march down Patrick Street?  Zero.  Discussions of Civil War Medicine advances (nice and gorey)? None.

I spent the whole time thinking of how to make it better.  It’s important to stew and plot the defeat of nice old ladies.  It keeps one young.  But really, all these kids now have the association local history=tedium.  And really, Frederick is cool and full of good stories.   I figure if nothing else, I can learn a tour to give to our school kids.  The kids at other schools can have the lame tour.

They’re down to seven girls.  Lauren is going home.  I’m calling it now, at under one minute in.  StaceyAnn is feeling her mediocrity.  She’s either going to be first called or the other one in the bottom two.  Ooo, and Fatima isn’t a citizen and can’t leave the country w/o a travel document.  Magic Tyra will pull it out of her butt.  Esp. now that she’s cried about it.  That was payment in full.

Paulina drops by.  She’s just in a black turtle neck with her hair pulled back in a pony tail.  Holy crap.  THAT is a supermodel.  She’s like 60 and still looks better than all the rest of the girls, stacked on a cracker.  She pretends to be Ms. DuBois and makes the girls introduce themselves.  Lauren blows it.  Then she pretends to be a VH1 type interviewer and asks them personal questions.  Whitney, who could got to MIT if this doesn’t work out, suspects that their challenge will involve interviews.

Lauren cuts her thumb, apparently badly, b/c it is required that at least one girl go to the hospital per episode.  Whitney is….gleeful about it.  It’s pretty creepy.  Lauren gets stitched up.

A big box full of lemons and limes–from 7up, of course–alerts the girls to the fact that they have a challenge at some party.  Some designer brings them dresses to wear.  Someone comes to do their hair.  They go to the party and have to run the red carpet gauntlet.  The photographers are smirking.  Dominique flubs the name of the designer’s name.  Lauren curses.  Ladies and gents, our bottom two!

Lauren chats up Rick Ocasik.  Nice try, but he has a real supermodel girlfriend.  We are shown how Whitney is just the belle of the ball.  The ball is entirely populated by past ANTM models and staff.  Anya is charming and poised.  Dom and Lauren get the predictable call out.  Stacey Ann thinks too much (gone!).  The winner is Anya.  In spit of the fact that everything they showed was her just droning on.  Her prize is another nude photo shoot, this time for 7-Up.  And they pay her 10K, which is sweet and much better than just getting leered at by Nigel.

Saleshia points out that Cover Girls vote.  When they can get away from the plant in Baltimore.

Fatima gets an appointment at the consulate to try to get her documents.  They say 9 am enough times that I figure she’s sleeping through it.  But, as it turns out, Tyra just tells them they have to pack or they’ll miss their flight.  But ladies, you have not had a shoot yet…  They stay up all night packing.  They head for the airport and get out of the cab at a small jet.  And yeah, they have to do a group shot about trying to catch a plane.  Fatima tells Jay that she has an appt. because she’s “a refugee.”  Jay’s annoyed that it hadn’t come up earlier and sends her off with the admonition to get back asap.

Whitney is nasty.  Lauren looks great.  Stacey Ann has never been colder and her eyes are very sensitive to wind.  She’s lame.  bottom two (I’m aware that I have far more than people than possible in the bottom two).  Whitney sucks also.  Anya is securing her 1st called position.

Meanwhile, Fatima gets her documents and heads for the shoot.  It’s 1pm.  They’ve been at it since 7 ish.  Lord that must be a tedious job.  They’ve had to look like they are attractively trying to catch a plane for 5 hours.  7, by the time they wrap.  Not so glamorous now, is it?  Katarzyna looks awesome, but she is apparently dead to the show.  Panel is right there, waiting for them.  Fatima isn’t back yet.  When she arrives, Tyra tells her that girls that miss a photo shoot usually go home.  Well, I don’t think it’s going to happen today.  I’ll be surprised if she’s even in the bottom two.

They swoon for Lauren’s shot and tell her how awesome she was at the party. So I was wrong.  Not bottom two.  They love Dom.  For whatever reason. Stacey Ann gets slammed, so she’s at the bottom.  Whitney is pageanty.  Because she’s from the south.  She’s not real, either.  Anya is beloved by all.  For whatever reason.  Fatima doesn’t have a photo.

So. 7 girls, only 6 move on and go to Rome.  First called, Anya of course.  Then Lauren, then Dom the tranny, then Katarzyna, then Whitney.  StaceyAnn and Fatima in the bottom.  Which was not what I guessed, so either the CW is getting better about not telegraphing the end in the first minute, or I’m just not paying attention.  So in the end, Stacy Ann goes home, which is not a surprise by this point.  How much does it suck to get cut right before you get the trip?   A lot is my guess.

Nice, Tyra totally makes the girls think they’ll get a private jet and then sends them off to fly coach.  hee.  So, to come–commercials in a language they don’t speak!  This time, Italian.

Steve flew to California today and had to sit next to this guy.  He was even wearing the purple suit covered in question marks.  “I had absolutely nothing to say to him,” said Steve.  No?  Not “dude.  Seriously.  What the hell?”  or “So…Batman still up in your face?”  Or I know! “If there’s so much money just laying around for the taking, why are you flying coach?”

We need a new segment.  So, with a reverential nod to “Steve, don’t eat it!” I bring you:

Hey, kids!  Try this!

When I shop at the Asian Market, I am always just bowled over by the amount of weird crap they sell.  Weird crap that, presumably, someone eats.  They are packed to the rafters with products from Korea, China, Taiwan, Vietnam, Japan, India…So with such a wide clientele to please, they must be choosing what to buy, not just saying “eh, fill up a shipping carton with what you have,” so these must be things that they assume are desired.  Apparently squid, in its many forms, is a hotly desired product.  Pressed, chipped, dried, frozen, pickled…Short of “dipped in chocolate on a stick” I’ve not seen a way it isn’t prepared.  Alas, my vegetarian children are not willing to be subjected to squid, but they ARE almost always willing to try new things that might be sweet.  So today, while buying fresh tofu and frozen dumplings, I got some snacks.

First up:

“Toasted Wheat Cake” also “with purple yam and crispy young rice”  Yet they are wrapped like bon-bons.  How can we resist?  This snack from the Philippines is stamped “Export Quality”–so at least there’s quality control.  We unwrap one.  It’s really pale and looks like pressed whole wheat flour:

Tentative tasting…and YUM!  The texture is just divine, it crumbles to powder and then melts in your mouth.  The flavor is also great and kind of familiar.  I look at the ingredients: Wheat Flour, skim milk, cane sugar, purple yam powder, pounded young rice, and butter.  Oh, it’s shortbread.  Well there you go.  It is met with “Can I have another!” from all three kids.  Sorry children, we have science to do.

Next up, Barquiron!

…with cashew nuts!  Also wrapped like candy.  Also an Export Quality product of the Phillipines (which, I’ve decided, we should pronounce phil-IP-pin-nees.  While I”m getting things pronounced).  Unwrapping these gets a lot of squeals as they are  very crumbly when broken. When whole, they seem to be a cookie with something powdery (and not unlike the wheat cake) inside.

Taste?  Good.  Almost very good, but so close on the heels of those yummy shortbread things that it doesn’t quite measure up.  But tasty and of an interesting texture, which is always good for a bonus point.  All three agree that the wheat cakes are better, though.

And finally, remaining in the Phillipines, but straying from the comfort of Export Quality food, We get:

Regardless of how they turn out, I think “cracker nuts” needs to enter conversation.  “Dude, she went totally cracker nuts on me!”  I was hoping for Adobo flavor, but I was denied.  These are nuts in a thin crispy shell.  Kind of….crackery.  There’s a slightly spicy powder on them, but nothing smoky.

sorry it looks a bit “last known photo.”  Ben loved them.  I kind of like them but think the aftertaste is pretty nasty.  The girls were unimpressed.  They are all looking forward to finishing dinner to score another wheat cake.

First, update on Chile-gate. A message from Mom’s Chilean friend:

“Hi Susan, we are ok, actually we are in Chile right now !! we traveled on
Wed and arrived yesterday here very tired it was a long trip i had forgotten
how long it was… my parents and all my family are very exited and happy
with us here…
The correct pronunciation would be more like… Chelay, i know lot of people
call it chili, or chilee, but actually, the sond of the I is the american e
and the sound of the E is the same sound of the e in the word elephant…”

So, if I’m interpreting correctly, it’s chellay….but I’m not sure what “l is the american e” could possibly mean. That’s like “orange is the new black.” Thus, henceforth, it shall be known as South Peru.

–”Organic bananas” sounds like a back-up band. “Herman Menderchuck and the Organic Bananas: Live at the Fillmore”

–When you show up at the 4-H center in linen and chunky jewelry, people look at you askance. Even if you’re hauling a sewing machine. Who knew the 4-H crowd would be so stringent in a “no linen before Memorial Day” rule?

–While the Muppet Movie is just as awesome as ever, maybe even more, Ms. Piggy is still unbearable. Such a gross misstep from the Henson/Oz team. I think Frank Oz probably blackmailed Jim Henson into letting him do Ms. Piggy. I will accept no other theories. Also, it is amusing to see the “celebrity” cameos throughout and note that the kids only knew Steve Martin. Who’s a big shot now, Elliot Gould?

–My fattest pair of fat pants are now too big. Woo!

–I am reading (still. The book is a billion pages long) Jonathon Strange and Mr. Norrell which is set in the early 1800s. I’m afraid is it making me a bit bitter that I do not have a household staff. How lovely to have someone anticipate that you might be hungry and offer a snack. To wake ahead of you and stoke the fire and make coffee…It would be like having an overindulgent mom. I’d promise to treat them respectfully. Really. I’d never beat them and I’d let them have an extra hour with their own families at Christmastide.

First, a bit of business: I had a lovely and hilarious post about last week’s ANTM and WordPress ate it.  I seemed to have been publishing at the exact moment that they were upgrading b/c my post vanished and when I logged in again, everything on the control panel looked different.  And I don’t like the new set up.  Hmpf.

Second, for the title of the post, I owe gratitude to Brawndo. And also to my sad competitive nature.  I was never any good at any sports and thus quickly stopped participating in them (b/c how fun is it to suck at something?  not).  This leaves me competing at utterly stupid things like bulletin boards.  I must create the best board in the school.  The teachers, when they walk past, must know that they have been soundly defeated.  They must know that I am the coolest parent in the school and they must beg the principal to put my kids in their classes.  It helps that putting up bulletin boards and doing art projects gives me excuses to go into the educational supply store.  I long to fully equip an elementary classroom with cool supplies.  But no children may mess them up.  Shoo, messy children.  Where was I?  Oh yes…I win!  For this month’s art class, I introduced the kids to Keith Haring (funny story: Lily’s teacher looked up Haring on the internet to see how to spell his name.  The site she went to had an advisory about mature content.  She was relating the tale of our class and her search to the principal who exclaimed, “She didn’t show explicit material to the kids, did she?”  Nice.  yeah, if I don’t show the kids a poster of two cartoon men jacking one another off, who will?).  I had them pose in front of an overhead projector and another mom and I traced them.  Then we each took home a pile and gave them a thicker outline and cut them out.  Then I arranged them on the wall!  Behold:

I love it.  I’m hoping that a photographer at the school can take a photo of it more straight-on so that we can blow it up and sell it at the silent auction.  The kids, of course, have much to say about it, they were far more engaged by the end-product of this project than any of the others we’ve done.  Which is nice, of course, but the important thing?  I win.