There were eye drops involved. No coincidentally, there was screeching and red-faced struggling, as well. In his defense, halfway through the appointment, he did stop, unprompted, to say, “I’m sorry I said mean things.” That’s my Gabe: shoot first, apologize later. (And, also in his defense, Sam did corroborate his story that the drops stung.) The eye doctor was very gracious and said that, aside from the drops tantrum, Gabe did very well. He even refrained from saying “I told you so” when she told him he didn’t need glasses (he had insisted quite loudly that this was the case, as she stood over him with the eye drops)…though he did barely restrain the eye roll when she had asked him to tell her when the letters on the screen started to “turn all fuzzy.”

“I know what ‘blurry’ means,” he said, sounding slightly offended.

So, I think that’s all the body parts that need checked, cleaned, or trimmed before school starts next week, which is a good thing for my nerves. I can tell they’re really fraying, because I lost my temper and laid down the freaking law last night at dinner. Among other things on their plates was a tiny slice of grilled zucchini, and you’d have thought it was fresh excrement from their reactions. After one too many rude remarks from Sam, I made a decision: “That’s it! I have one more zucchini in the fridge, and it’s for dinner tomorrow! And I’m hitting the farmer’s market for more zucchini, and there’ll be zucchini at every dinner from now on until it gets eaten without a fuss!”

Anybody got any good zucchini recipes? I’m thinking a gratin, maybe…

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Just made these for a choir potluck tonight. Started as a thing where I thought, okay, I’m making my own baked beans to take tonight, because in years past, all kinds of beans showed up and smelled so gosh-darn good but were full of meat, so instead of feeling sad, I’ll bring vegetarian ones. So that was settled, but I wanted to bring something else, too, and since my mind was wandering along vegetarian/vegan options anyway (I’m making the beans from The Veganomicon), it landed on Katie’s Fudge Babies and how I’d been wanting to make them for a long while.

I went with the Cashew Cookie Bar and the Peanut Butter ones, since, truthfully, I don’t really like the Larabar recipes that combine dates and chocolate. It’s never either “chocolatey” or “datey” enough for me; the flavors fight and both lose, in my book. No chocolate in my “babies,” then. And they are goooooood. Oh, good heavens. Too easy, too. This could get dangerous. On the other hand, they have just about perfect proportions for long trail-running fuel (I know lots of people who use trail mix, dried fruit, or even Fig Newtons already), so now I’m wondering about that…

Have to get started on these beans now.

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Sam ate…cornbread. Apparently, the bean soup wasn’t what he thought it would be. Gabe wouldn’t eat it, either. Surprisingly, he was willing to eat a chard stem. Only one, but, hey, it’s the small things. Sam wouldn’t even touch them with his utensil.

But we didn’t go out to eat. Yay?

I think I’ll just enjoy this glass of red zinfandel, here – purchased before the budget went into effect, naturally.

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It’s basically wheat gluten, which has all the starch and whatnot washed away from it. (In other words, not a celiac-friendly food…but then, if you’re in a situation where that’s relevant, you probably already knew that. ) In its finished state, it makes a credible “mock meat.” Theoretically, you know. I’d never even eaten it before, let alone made it from scratch. The ingredients for it couldn’t be more basic, though, so I was perfectly willing to give it a go. Whole wheat flour + water. What could be simpler? Many of my resources suggested I could do things more easily and quickly by starting with vital wheat gluten instead of whole wheat flour, but that seemed to defeat the purpose for me, since it would add cost and a grocery trip to the mix. We usually have whole wheat flour on hand, so if I could make this work the minimalist way, it would be best.

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Myself, I don’t eat nearly as much meat as I once did. In fact, I’ve unconsciously moved to a place where I usually eat only a small portion of it, once a day, if even that often. Eric eats more; his meals at work often have meat, and his favorite splurges are meat – wings, for example. I proposed to him that he cut back to once a day, and he suggested going to once a week. Okay, I can work with that.

Today he forgot and accidentally had some grilled chicken at lunch, but dinner was meatless. I roasted cauliflower, made fresh guacamole, and curried some beans, peppers, and onion (which somehow turned out drastically WRONG until Eric got home and saved it with a few alterations). It was a satisfying meal; it even worked out okay for the boys, who ate the cauliflower and quickly-assembled quesadillas. Now Eric’s at the gym, which also seems to provide an immediate blood sugar lowering effect. I don’t know what he’ll do tomorrow; Tuesdays, he plays Scrabble at a bar with friends, eating wings for dinner there. I don’t think there’s an extensive vegetarian-friendly menu, unfortunately. I forgot to ask him about that.

Anyway, it’s not a huge change for the family, in most regards, but it’ll be something to consider. Thank goodness the Farmers’ Markets will be opening up again soon!

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Results: I had several large mugs of coffee this morning, with no food to cushion the blow to my system, as I flung together random ingredients and made this:

Red pepper and goat cheese frittata. I think it looks good, but I also think my computer chair is softly bouncing as I type this. Or maybe it’s the computer screen. Bounce, bounce…

Gabe is dressed up for MOPS, for some reason. He wore a necktie last night for our church portraits (side note: it takes a special kind of optimism on a photographer’s part to push forward in trying to sell packages to couples who burst out laughing, harder and harder, with each take shown to them. “I look completely drugged!” “Sam looks like he’s about to barf!” “So…we can do twelve wallets, and a lovely eight-by-ten for you?”), and now he’s taken with the idea. Never mind that one doesn’t usually sport an ivory necktie with a long-sleeved tee-shirt; he thinks he looks “fancy.” Well, I suppose he does, at that.

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I’m up this early not for the usual reason – that is, to go running. It’s a rest day for that. No, this morning we have MOPS, and my small group is to bring food to feed everybody, and I have this weird compulsion not to bring the same stuff that everybody else always brings: sausage and egg casseroles with tons of cheese, Kringles, mixed fruit. Last year, once, I brought steel-cut oats in a crock pot, along with some items to top it with. This morning, I’m bringing the crock pot again, this time filled with warm fall fruits and walnuts. I hope it works out; I should know better than to try out an untested recipe or preparation on other folks, but I didn’t get up the energy to make it for the family earlier. Smells good, though. I can’t decide if I need to go add more liquid or not…

It’s funny how you can go from being so on your game to being completely flummoxed, and then back again within a single day, or even hours – or minutes! – isn’t it? Right now, these days, I feel like I’m doing an excellent job parenting Sam, but my skills with Gabe? Half the time, I feel like I want to crawl in a hole and hide when other people witness me trying to mother him. He’s nuts! Now, as usual, I hear from his teachers and caregivers that he’s just fine for them, but the moment I appear, he starts going berserk, throwing things, running away, cackling and hooting like a madman. I can’t get through to him! He turns off all receptors for me, just spinning crazily around me and being a wildman. Sam, on the other hand, is definitely having his moments, but I can handle them; he gets angsty, but it’s a very short-lived thing, and I can almost always say to myself, “This is only going to last five minutes, tops; keep your cool!” After the angst bubble bursts, his inner pendulum swings back into sweetness and honest remorse for anything he said in anger. With Gabe, there is no predictable pendulum, no way to pace myself. He goes to eleven, if you know what I mean.

The scary part is that in three years, when Gabe is (hopefully!) hitting the easier stage at which Sam is currently, Sam may be nearing puberty, which could well be even more terrifying. It never eases up, does it?

Hmph. Where did my coffee go? Why is this mug empty? Bah.

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Lady next to me at the coffee shop is working my nerves. She has a book, but every few seconds, she stops to lift her head and stare at me. I’m simply not that interesting, and it makes me want to stop and yell, “WHAT?!” when she does it.

In other news, Gabe apparently informed the kids in his preschool class that Eric and I are vampires. One mom had to grab me this morning at drop-off and introduce me to her little girl, who was frightened. Oh, Gabe…mind you, this is the same kid who kept flashing his light in people’s eyes at the candlelight hike this weekend (oh, such fun! I have to get back there to run those grassy trails!) and only stopped when he’d reassured himself that they weren’t aliens. He confessed that near the end, and it busted up the Earthmen who happened to be passing us at the moment and who’d passed the test of planetary orientation, I suppose. There’s really never a boring moment.

Sam and I are diving into the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series; we tried it a while back, and it didn’t capture him, but this time it has. Well, it took convincing; his teacher wants him reading to us about 20 minutes a night, and last night he decided that all the books at his reading level on our shelves were crap. Tears and shrieking ensued before Eric finally stepped in and convinced him to give it a shot. Five minutes later, Sam was apologizing and full of remorse for his overreaction. Love that about him; like me, he tends to blow up quickly and cool down just as fast, and he’s usually able then to realistically grasp what happened and what he did right or wrong. I know adults who have trouble with that.

If it stays this cloudy and dark all day, I’m thinking soup for dinner. Chicken noodle for the kids? Squash for us? Needs thought.

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This morning, I took my usual Sunday bike ride, and I managed to get all the way up into South Milwaukee before having to turn around to get home in time to be ready for church. I didn’t feel like I was pushing a lot harder than usual, but I averaged an extra mile per hour for the ride than I usually maintain, and my quads were feeling it for a few hours afterward. Sadly, I didn’t leave myself enough time to make my coffee, so the harder-than-usual ride plus no caffeine led to a sleeeeeeepy morning in the pews. Sorry, Pastor, if I yawned a bit; I promise, I did absorb everything you were saying!

Eric went on his own bike ride this afternoon. We’re trying a new schedule to incorporate more endurance training for him, too, and I think it’s going to work, but it’ll take tinkering. One thing I’m planning: on Mondays, since he’ll work out after work and therefore get home late, I’ll use the time to prepare a groovy meal for just him and me and not have to worry about it being “kid-friendly.” Heck, it may even “backfire”; if the boys see Mom and Dad having a “treat,” a special meal that they don’t get to share, maybe they’ll start taking an interest in it, as a whole forbidden fruit sort of deal. Ooh, food with sauces…

Speaking of interesting food, Eric is doing this with dough as I type. Glad it’s him; if it was me making that bowl of soupy dough, I’d totally have chickened out by now.

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(Something tells me that movie made something of an impression on Sam, since he only watched it once or twice, at least a year ago. Or maybe Eric and I have quoted it around him once…or twice…)

Tonight’s dinner is experimental. The boys won’t touch it, I know, so they got orzo with cheese and asparagus; I’m nibbling on the asparagus while I cook a pumpkin saag, based on the Veganomicon recipe, only with chard and slightly different seasonings. Heck, this recipe is just lucky I couldn’t time the roasting of the beets I’m also doing to coincide with the pumpkin’s finishing time, or else there’d be those in there, too. Very experimental. Eric is playing Scrabble tonight, so I’m the only one to witness either the success or epic fail. I’ll have it over the last of the orzo, for purely authentic what-on-earth. I’ve been enjoying The Man Who Ate the World quite a lot, and the desire for the new has seized me – even if I don’t have access to blowfish sperm at my local grocer.

Later…
This might have been better before I added the chard. It was smelling and looking pretty good. Still cooking.

Still later…
No, sir, it isn’t great. The chard is way more, well, “chardy” than spinach would have been “spinachy,” despite my best efforts. My excuse is that the whole reason for the dish is that I had the chard, and it needed to be used before it went bad. Well, it’s been used, and it’s certainly edible, so I guess we’ll call it a success in that respect – if in not many others. If Eric had been here, he could have saved it, I’m sure, but he’d have done it with seeds and other things that aren’t even labeled in their containers, so I wasn’t going to try that route.

Oh, well. Tomorrow’s another day. Gabe’s first day of school, in fact, so I have other reasons to remain optimistic.

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Soup, then.

Confession: I can’t ever just add the amount of garlic that a recipe recommends. If it says “two cloves,” you can bet there’s at least three or four in there. You ever come to my house to eat, and I’m cooking, and you don’t like garlic? Better let me know ahead of time.

In other news, it was all rainy this morning, and I liked it, because it suited my mood at the moment: tired, slow, a little pensive. Now the sun’s out, and the kids are celebrating, because that suits their moods, which makes me feel all irritated. Bring back my clouds! I want the sound of raindrops hitting the porch and roof! I want a cool, damp breeze blowing in my screen, wafting the smells of onion and garlic around me. I think…I want fall.

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Sam doesn’t want to hear my explanations about how this is all part of growing up, because, as I’ve mentioned, he doesn’t want or plan to do that. Grow up, I mean. He’s still this kid, two years after I recorded it:

(Sheesh, look at Gabe!)

We’re going out tonight to get him some new pants, since he’s rocking the Pee-Wee Herman look lately. (I pulled up the old Tequila scene to show him what I meant, and he watched it with raised eyebrows, just taking it in with solemn bemusement; suddenly, I felt really, really old, imagining the same thoughts going through his head that went through mine when Dad would listen to “old guy” radio in the car.) He’s pessimistic, though.

ME: “So, where do you think you want to go?”
SAM: “Um. Not Sears…”
ME: “Okay. What brought it to mind, then?”
SAM: “They had a commercial. They have all ‘rocker clothes’ that I don’t really like.”
ME: “Maybe you should tell me what you do like.”
SAM: “Um. Nature clothes? Things with animals on them.”

Somehow, I doubt he’s talking about alligator shirts. My big kid still wants to wear the adorable jungle prints of his toddler years. I hope to be able to find some more conservative clothes that won’t make him feel rushed into the teen world; I think that’s what he means by “rocker clothes.” In anticipation of his frustration, I’m already secretly planning an ice cream consolation prize for after our efforts tonight. A kiddie cone somehow manages to make almost everybody feel small again.

I booked my flight for Marine Corps. Looks like I’ll be hitting DC around 10:30 AM on Saturday, October 24th, racing on Sunday, and then hanging around with the folks there in town until my 6:30 PM flight on Monday. Not looking forward to flying on my own (which I’ve never, ever done; I’m as scared of missing the flight or ending up on the wrong one as I am of crashing and burning…); is it odd that the marathon seems like small potatoes compared to the travel?

We also booked our hotel for our mini-vacation to Green Bay next weekend. It even has a tiny little water park in it, as well as a hot tub in our room! And the price isn’t obscene, for that! There looks to be a ton of things to do in the town while we’re there (not a tourist attraction, but I can’t wait to eat at this place), though we learned from last year’s Dells trip that keeping no plans at all is what works best for us for now. If we leave the hotel at all, and nobody is shrieking about it, we’re ahead of the game. (Hence our desire for the hot tub and the water park that don’t require travel beyond crossing the hotel grounds.)

Of course, between now and then is my tooth extraction. Focusing on the other side of that particular event is what is keeping me sane right now. That, and these cookies.

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I’ve been eyeing this hat at Copacetic for a month or two, and I finally bit the bullet and got it. It’s specifically designed for running! I’ve actually been pretty lucky so far this summer not to have gotten burned while running, primarily because most of my runs have been pre-dawn or in the first hour or so of daylight, but I’ll feel better having this hat in my arsenal for the occasions where that’s not the case. Besides, I don’t have to use it just for that purpose. I wore it out a couple of times so far, and, dude, in combination with my sunglasses, I feel positively shaded. Why did I and my pale skin and blond retinas wait so long?! I could use another couple, for when this one’s in the wash!

We went out and did Sam’s school shopping this afternoon. Predictably, there were a few squabbles, mostly over a pencil sharpener he really wanted but which wasn’t on his list. Kid, at least ten percent of your teacher’s complaints last year surrounded you fidgeting with things in your desk, and many of those incidents involved your pencil sharpener. If this teacher doesn’t specifically request that you have one, then we’re sidestepping that trap altogether! He still needs a few new items of clothing and some gym shoes, but we’ll do that when Gabe isn’t a complicating factor; he also needs a new lunchbox, having beaten the bejeezus out of his old metal one. Land’s End is running a sale on one that will hold his current water bottle nicely, and I have a coupon for free shipping, so we might go that route if I don’t find something better locally (the pickings are fairly sour, from what I’ve seen). I have no idea or recollection of what Gabe will need; there’s a school open house in a couple of weeks (the week before his school starts), so if I don’t hear anything before then, I’ll at least have a cushion after that to scramble for those items.

Ouch. My lips are burning from the pepper I put on my sandwich at lunch. Every time it dies away, I mindlessly touch my mouth, and the oils around my nails from chopping it up start the burn anew. If I were smart, I’d go wash my hands, especially before I rub my eyes or something, but… We have a bunch of peppers that need used up fairly quickly; what would be a good trick for that? (Putting them into salsa, for example, might not work because I probably wouldn’t work through it any faster than I will the whole peppers.) Cucumbers, too; Eric’s dad brought us a whole bunch of pickling cucumbers, and all the uses I’m finding call for English cucumbers that are somewhat sweeter. I don’t love pickles that much, and Eric hasn’t shown enthusiasm for making anything beyond the refrigerator pickles that take up valuable fridge real estate. And then there’s the corn, which both Ronnie and I purchased accidentally and which my boys (gasp!) don’t love, or at least not on the cob…

Sam is outside with my old digital camera, experimenting. He was feeling sad that his neighborhood friend hasn’t come out to play, so I sent him on his way with it. Wonder what he’ll return home to show me?

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(Sorry, a little Westing Game reference.)

So I had a fridge slightly brimming with leftovers, and the groceries are being delivered this afternoon in preparation for a visit from my father-in-law. Clearly, something needed to be done. Of course, for most folks, cleaning up might have been higher on the list than, say, making a GIANT PURPLE MESS in the kitchen, but what can I say? I gotta be me.

What to do with a bag of leftover roasted beets? I didn’t feel like just eating them, though they’re quite tasty with honey or masala curry spices. I wanted something a little different – something (dare I say it?) that the children might actually be willing to eat. Pink pankcakes? Well, maybe, but they use so little puree and make so many that the diner winds up consuming about a quarter-serving of beets. Beet gnocchi? Tempting, tempting!

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Read the rest of Purple waves… (82 words)

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I could have put this over at the foodie blog, but I want to share the love far and wide. I Twittered about doing this yesterday, and I got mixed reactions of horror and intrigue. Mind, it’s far from my own original idea! Near as I can tell, the first person to blog it may have been Polly, but it’s been adopted by many people across the net, and I was eager to try it myself.

Spinach oats.

Now, now, I need to be crystal clear: it does NOT taste like spinach. That big handful of spinach leaves that I blended to bits in my pot of oat bran and sliced banana just…vanished! The oats were dyed green, and all the nutrition stuck around, but the flavor? Gone. And I was more than prepared for a spinach taste to remain, as I love spinach and would have been fine with then searching out a way to flavor the bowl to complement a more savory profile. Nope! No “green” taste at all! Yesterday, I then added some pumpkin, granola, and walnuts; today, as pictured, I added cherries and blueberries, ricotta cheese, and slivered almonds.

In fact, I’d say that the bigger adjustment I had to make was getting used to the oat bran I prepared in place of my usual steel-cut oats – an unnecessary change for the addition of spinach, but a choice I made based on finding a big bag of bran at my health food store. They’re very nutritious, and they cook up super fast! But they are much stickier than regular oats, which Eric, for one, found disagreeable; he plans to mix oats with oat bran, rather than have straight bran in his bowl. I don’t mind the new texture a bit, so I’m happy to have an alternative cereal choice for days when I’m more pressed for time.

Anyway, why not give it a shot? I promise, if you like oatmeal, you will like spinach oats. Heck, eat ‘em in the dark if the color freaks you out.

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I didn’t even try to surprise Eric, since I usually fail at it. Sam mentioned the idea of getting him a new mixer, and I decided to explore that. A little searching led to a sale on refurbished mixers with higher wattage, and after checking with Eric to make sure it would be exactly what would serve him best, I leapt on one, even scoring a coupon for free shipping (on a very heavy package!).

That’s the old one on the left. It still works, for the most part (though a bit roughly and loudly), so we’re searching for a good home for it. The new one has yet to be christened – got to find just the right idea to start. The first mixer made her maiden voyage with Eric’s Chinese dumplings, so maybe we could do a repeat performance of that.

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Meh. I’m just feeling out of sorts today. Had horrendous stomach cramps last night after dinner, and while they were gone by the time I woke this morning, I still had a blah kind of run. Was intended to be a tempo run – slower warm-up and cool-down, with twenty minutes of race pace in the middle – and it was that, but the slow felt very slow, and the fast felt sluggish to me, like running through wet concrete. Oh, well.

I have a doctor’s appointment this morning that I’ve been dreading and delaying, but it really shouldn’t be put off any longer, so duly I trudge office-ward. Without getting too much into details (and wasn’t I the one who referenced Colon Blow cereal yesterday?), let’s just say that systems that should be working like clockwork (presuming a really, really big clock with a dial spanning about four weeks) aren’t. I figured I’d give it a month past the marathon to fix itself, but it hasn’t. Hurrah. Let’s hope there’s a simple answer and, more importantly, a simple solution?

I made cookies yesterday that Gabe won’t touch. That’s flattering. I guess they’re too obviously wholesome for his tastes; even with the carob chips, there’s visible FRUIT in there, and that’s just unacceptable! Sam says he likes them, but he’s unreliable as a food critic…and he hasn’t gone back for a second one. Eric said, “Not bad.” Sigh! Anybody local want some cookies? I don’t feel up to consuming them all myself before they go stale. I promise, they’re decent; I even used real butter this time instead of subbing in flaxseed meal.

Tomorrow is the choir potluck, and we’re signed up to bring a “hot dish.” We still have no idea what it will be; we’re not really the casserole type to any extent. Also, we don’t want to kill off half the choristers via flaming esophagi, so that eliminates a segment of our repertoire, right off the bat…

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Fasting for the exam did not make me smile, but my scrambled eggs with scallions and peppers that I made after we were done? That did, as did the coffee I’d been craving since waking.

And this:

…Well, it might look mysterious and not so exciting to most, but it’s a four-day-old starter for sourdough! It smells deliciously fruity. Tomorrow I’ll feed it some more flour, sugar, and milk! Eric remains dubious. I just wish it would be ready in time for me to make some bread with it for my babysitting friend, but, alas, it won’t be mature by then. Oh, but I don’t need reasons to spoil people with bread!

I have fresh pink Kalanchoes in bloom on my dining room table.

I’m experimenting with a chickpea and caper salad for dinner tonight.

I bought a domain and can’t wait to put it to use.

The sun is shining, and I don’t need to wear a heavy sweater anymore.

What’s got you smiling today?

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So! What should I make for her?
Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Please feel free to elaborate (what kind of cookies/cake/muffins/bread/whatever?) in the comments!

We’re going to take the train into Chicago and walk around, just hanging out together.

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Tonight I made a white bean soup. I’d have pictures, but it was so delicious that it was almost entirely gone before I thought of it. It was a pureed soup, so although Sam’s enjoyed bean soups in the past, I wasn’t sure how this one would go over; I mean, it was essentially a pot full of velvety white gravy-like liquid, and gravies have never been his thing. So I brought him in and had him taste it – and he actually danced. Loved it! Then I let him read the ingredient list – a dangerous step, but calculated – and he was stunned that it had onions in it, when he swore he hated them. Many kids might have switched their opinions of the soup, but Sam actually rejoiced all the more at discovering that he didn’t hate onions, after all. Hurray!

(In case you’re curious, the recipe was very simple. White beans, cooked (3/4 cup) and set aside; two onions, 4 celery stalks, and a parsnip sauteed together in a little canola oil; beans added to the veggies, with a quart of stock; mixture simmered until veggies are soft, then pureed and reheated. Season with salt and pepper; garnish with cilantro and paprika.)

But my sweet child has been having behavior “issues” again, and again I find myself confused and unsure. Instinctively, I find myself in his corner, because hey! He’s a seven-year-old kid, and seven-year-olds wiggle in their seats! It’s not like he’s shooting spitballs or putting tacks on chairs! On the other hand, intellectually, I know that I need to work with him on focus and concentration, because this isn’t something that can continue, and I see it in person when I do violin lessons with him. The other kids sit and listen; Sam taps his bow on the floor, plays air guitar, examines his hands…

There’s a time and a place for goofiness, and he’s having difficulty discerning when it’s the wrong time. How does one teach that? Rhetorical question, that; I know that if there were an easy answer, we’d have a darn sight fewer behavior issues in schools. I also know that I was that kid, too, and I outgrew it…though not without several years pretty much an entire elementary school career’s worth of tormenting my mom and teachers. Is that what we’re going to have to endure? Because it didn’t look like fun from my mom’s end of things. Then again, Sam may be me, but I was not my mom, at least then. Should it be easier on me…or harder?

I just need to survive mostly sane, because you can place your bets now on how it’s going to be when mini-Eric hits the school years. Today, he was eating a scone, and I asked him if it was yummy. “Yes, it is. Do you have any more questions?”

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I can’t help it. They’re fun to peruse, studying the ingredient lists to see what would be feasibly attempted without additional shopping; it’s entertaining to piece together entire menus full of dishes that I’ve never made but which sound intriguing. Lately, it’s become even more fun to see which meals include ingredients I’ve never tried (even basic ones; I only recently started eating cottage cheese!), and which ones will be both nourishing and drool-worthy.

Back on Earth Day, people were twittering about what they do, or were planning to do, to be more earth-conscious. I’d seen the stats trotted out about how if everybody in the US went vegetarian for one meal a week, it would have enormous positive impact on the environment, so I considered doing that. And then, after consideration, I realized that we already do that. Well, how about another meal added? How about going veg one day a week?

I like vegetables an awful lot. I even have a number of ways that I enjoy preparing them, outside of boring old steaming or boiling. But, as with meat, I do find myself getting a bit restless. Eric’s very good at experimentation in the kitchen, but while I can do some of that with baking, I find it less intuitive for cooking and meal preparation. Hence…cookbooks.

We are not, as I said, vegetarians. As of today, though, I will be studying and working from my two new cookbooks:

Quick Vegetarian Pleasures looks like a simple go-to book for fast meals or dishes. The recipes are plainly assembled, and the ingredients are mostly common. Flipping through at random (mmm, polenta with spicy eggplant sauce…), I see very few items I don’t have on hand, and many of those are just because I don’t typically keep heavy cream or many different oils around for use.

Veganomicon: “…But just to be safe, don’t read this cookbook backward at the stroke of midnight.” Now, how could I resist? I compared it, talking to Eric, to his beloved Joy of Cooking, in that there’s a heck of a lot of assistance given beyond the selection of recipes. How to cook various grains, veggies, and beans; what to stock in your pantry; and really helpful tips and information about various ingredients in individual recipes. The recipes themselves look more complicated than in Pleasures, but they’re not obscenely so; any cookbook with full pages of ingredients gets put back on the shelf with no further glance, as far as I’m concerned, and there are plenty of recipes in Veganomicron that top out at five or six. I love that there are little icons indicating which recipes are low-fat, gluten or soy-free, prepped in under 45 minutes, or “supermarket friendly.” It’s possible, in the end, that I could have been persuaded solely by the White Bean Aioli; Eric loves aioli, but as an anti-mayonnaise-ite, I’ve remained opposed. Now I can join him!

If I make any real winners over the next few days, I’ll be sure to post. Looking forward to this!

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Also stirring that compulsion is that I don’t feeeeel good [sniffle]. *Coughswineflucough* No, really, I’m just hoping it’s not the Post-Marathon Sick that strikes down a whopping large sector of people who run long. You tend to not get sick during training, but right afterward, it whaps you upside the head. Um, sort of like the clothes iron I accidentally pulled down onto my right temple yesterday while trying to organize a closet. Well, maybe that explains the headache, but it wouldn’t cover the slightly runny nose or the touch of a sore throat. Never mind, though; the cookies will heal. Yes, they will.

And I got to run today, so that’s good. IT band pulled a touch during the second mile, but I have faith that continued stretching will bring it back in line.

With that, I think I’ve successfully emptied all that was in my mind. Cookies, running, and sick [achoo]. I think I need a nap.

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So I made steel-cut oats in the crockpot for this morning, complete with raisins, and they were delicious. Even Sam enjoyed a bowl, which he topped with more dried fruit and a banana. But there were a ton leftover, since I apparently lack the ability to figure out the quantity of dry oats necessary to feed one adult and one child (or, for that matter, any other number of diners of any age; I’m really winging it over here, folks). Last time I did this, I made bread. This time, my freezer stash of muffins happened to be dwindling, so I decided to replenish that.

I opted not to follow any particular recipe this time, as an eventual goal of mine is to be able to bake “off-book.” I perused a few muffin recipes and came up with my own strategy:

Dry ingredients:

• Flours – half whole-wheat and half cake. I used 1 cup of each.
• Sweetener – Splenda Baking Mix. Half a cup.
• Things to make it rise. 2 teaspoons each of baking soda and baking powder.
• Salt. 1 teaspoon.

Wet ingredients:

• The oatmeal. I had about 2.5 cups.
• Oil – applesauce. I used 1 cup of unsweetened.
• Fat – Egg Beaters. Two eggs worth (6 tablespoons) of the whites-only version.
• Extra flavoring – maple syrup. Sugar-free, 2 teaspoons.

Extras:

• Raisins. About 3/4 cup, what was in the oatmeal.
• Dark Chocolate chunks. I had a 3-ounce bar that included espresso beans.

Stir together dry ingredients; mix together (separately) the wets. Add wet to dry, mix just until moistened. Throw in chocolate last. Bake at 350 degrees for about 18 minutes. My amounts made 24 of the most absolutely moist muffins I’ve had in my life. Seriously, were they any more moist, I’d say I needed to add more flour, but as they are, they’re just perfect! The applesauce just shines through, and the chocolate isn’t overpowering, but provides a nice contrast. And, to boot, they’re less than 120 calories each. Win!

(Gabe won’t even try them. Pbbbbbt. More for me! )

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Doesn’t help when wrenches are thrown into the few plans I’m actually almost able to see through to fruition. Last night, Eric came through the door as I was taking dinner out of the oven, and he announced that he wanted to go out for Japanese. Sam leaped on that like a cat on a bacon-wrapped mouse (do cats like bacon? I do.), and I swiftly wound up packing up the dinner and heading out the door. Mind you, that was an entirely welcome little wrench. Eric took the high road and ordered hibachi so that Sam could have it (they don’t tend to allow parties to have only one member request to fire up the hibachi grill, especially when that one member is still regularly offered crayons at many places), but he spent the evening gazing enviously at my purty little plate of sashimi. “Mommy likes fish!” the chef crowed to Sam, who politely edged away from my ika. Yum.

This morning, I did about four and a half miles, and I somehow did sub-eight-minute paces for each of them. Milestone, dude.

I don’t believe I’ve mentioned that Eric is traveling to freaking Mexico next week. My poor kids; Mama’s going taper-crazy, and they won’t have Daddy around to buffer them through the worst of it. He’ll be back on Friday night, just in time for the race the next day. I don’t think I have to tell you what will happen to my head if his plane is delayed. Only worse timing I can picture would have had him MIA for the race itself.

I’d like to use up a bag of black beans tonight. Enchiladas? Burgers? Hmm. Not that the kids (at least Gabe) are likely to touch any of it, but I can try. I could also do a soup; I discovered that an acorn squash makes a divine little soup bowl and turns almost any soup or stew into heaven.

Sam finished Bible Blast for another year.

This year, he got two trophies: the participation one, and one for doing well on all the quizzes. Gabe is technically eligible to start doing Bible Blast next year, too, but we’ll wait until the end of summer to decide whether he’s up for the challenge of staying calm and focused that much. Mostly, kids start in kindergarten, but there are a handful of four-year-olds in there, as well. (The learning requirements are scaled by age, so he’d have easier questions and memorization than Sam, although they’d be using the same materials and covering the same basics.) It might make for a nice way to incorporate the whole family into the studying. We have time to decide, though.

It’s a lovely day (warmish weather; I’m wearing a skirt!), and Gabe and I will take a walk in a bit. Rain for the next four days, though, and as of now, they’re calling for showers on marathon day…

I think I used up my parentheses allotment in this entry. Better stop now.

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Yesterday was a gorgeous day, and it was 47 degrees at 6 AM, so I wore a new pair of running shorts to test them out. They worked well.

We finally bought a dishwasher today. I think it was a Whirlpool? I can’t remember. White, and it’ll hold my dishes. Eric handled the details, once I ascertained that it looked decent, was Energy Star whatever, and fit the price range I had figured. I’m not hard to please. Now, if we’d been oven shopping, it would have been another matter. So long as my dishes are clean and my hands can not resemble prunes for large portions of the day, I’m good.

I’m super-jealous of everybody running Boston tomorrow. I’ll be there in spirit.

Yesterday having been warm – seventy-some degrees in the afternoon! – I put on shorts…and discovered that I wasn’t as small last summer as I thought I was. Whoops. Had to locate my belt again and make another shopping list. But it’s rainy and more seasonably cool today, and it’ll stay that way for a while, so it’s not a pressing issue. I had to take a shawl to church, which I’d been wishing I’d done for every service for a while. Church is always especially cold. I told Eric I ought to buy a Snuggie and store it under a pew.

Well into my taper now. Only short runs this week, with a “long” run of eight miles on Saturday. This is ridiculous, feels excessive, and my next training program won’t include a three-week-long taper, I can guarantee.

Where’s my cookbook?

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Made cupcakes with the boys this morning – reduced sugar cake, reduced sugar frosting. Reduced sugar taste. And they stuck massively to the liners. The boys don’t care, but I won’t be tempted to eat many.

On the other hand, I got a package from a swap partner this afternoon, all the way from the UK, and it contained this and this. Excuse me while I hide them from the kids…they can eat the cupcakes, you know.

I’m grilling out tonight. Hot dogs, baked potatoes, possibly some leeks or whatever else I find to throw on there. Very simple. Anybody care to join us?

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Funny part was when Sam saw the video, heard me talking to him, and fell for it. “I was there? You said my name! When did we have a wolf?” Small, gullible kids mollify me when my jokes aren’t bought by other people. Yesterday morning, I woke up Sam by saying, “Why did you go back to bed?! Get up! It’s dinner time, and we’ll be late for Bible Blast!” For a good ten minutes, he was believing he’d managed to completely forget an entire day of school somehow – until I had him check the calendar, then stared meaningfully at him for a bit. Then he was mad, so I pranked Gabe for a while (“There’s a mouse on your head! Ooh, he just ran down your shoulder – he’s in your ear!”) to cheer Sam up and get him into the spirit of the holiday. Worked like a charm. I hope my kids carry the spirit of playfulness with them forever.

In the time that I was offline, we had plumbers out to the house again. Started running the dishwasher, only to hear Eric call from the basement that water was streaming from the ceiling. Plumber said it was the dishwasher, not the pipes; repairman said that there was a leak around the motor, but that the dishwasher was so old (possibly about 15 years) that repairing it wasn’t worth the cost of a new one. So we’re appliance shopping. Feel my enthusiasm? Yup. But I loathe doing dishes by hand, so it must be done. I’m a very grumpy girl at the moment, and one with dishpan hands already.

Oh, but we made Dirt Cake for preschool. That was a fun diversion.

And I registered for the Marine Corps Marathon yesterday! I’ll be bouncing around over that for a while. Have to get into planning now, though; I think we’re driving down, but when? And where to stay? (Around my folks for a bit, but we’ll need to stay in DC at least the night before.) And, most importantly, who will I be able to meet up with while I’m there, at least for lunch or something?

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Last night was chaotic. I had originally planned on briefly enjoying Sam’s Safari Night, then taking the family out to Jimmy John’s for subs for dinner. Well, the “tasting menu” for the night wound up being a largish buffet, and, well, NOM NOM NOM. As much as I like the Unwiches at JJ’s, I’m am so much more a fan of foreign cuisine, and there were stews! And a peanut soup! And noodles! And, and, and…well, I decided it was dinner, and I enjoyed. Gabe did, too – to the tune of about five bananas and a whole bunch of bread. Sam and Eric ate lightly, but every time he evaded our sight, Sam was drinking another cup of proffered juice (it was hot in the crowd), so he upset his stomach that way. By the time we were leaving, Gabe was bonkers, Sam was irritable, Eric was grouchy (he hates crowds), and I just wanted to send everybody to corners for towel-offs and a break. Gabe wound up with an early bedtime; Sam suddenly remembered a homework assignment he hadn’t even begun, so he roped Eric into helping with that. I snacked. Gah.

On SparkPeople, one of my teams has started a message thread about weight loss/maintenance for runners. I asked about the whole evening snack thing this morning, since it looks like it’s just the way of life that I’m going to get peckish a couple of hours after dinner, but I don’t want to just head for sugar like I seem to do. Another runner, though, advised me that it may be exactly what I need, considering that I then get up very early and run most mornings; I often do that before breakfast, and my body might have adjusted to craving the sugar I need to fuel those runs before I go to sleep.

Well, fine. But I think we can do better than a microwaved Pepperidge Farm cookie, in that case.

I sort of cobbled together various muffin techniques with some healthier ingredients, and came up with these Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip muffins. Le yum. For the record, I intend to freeze these, so I can have them as I see fit instead of needing to see them gone over the next couple of days.

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::scrambling to find something else to feed them::

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So Wednesday nights have officially become “improvise nights” with regards to dinner. Last week, I ordered pizza, timed to arrive at the beginning of that hour. This week, it’s Lentil Chili in the crockpot. (I have no delusions that Sam and Gabe will enjoy or even try this, so there will also be salad and some leftovers available to them. Nothing terribly fancy, though, as I do want to encourage them to at least try the chili. Sam is doing his best to become a fan of beans, so he was already intrigued by the lentils, but the large amount of tomatoes and onion will likely scare him off. But darn it, I wanted to try this, and I get to do that once in a while!) As a side note, I find it funny that two of the five reviews mentioned adding meat or a meat replacement to the recipe – can’t have chili without it, I guess! I’m not adding any meat, but I plan to top it with a bit of cheese, so I guess that blows the “vegan-ness” out of the water.

I’m feeling odd today. This morning, I went on my run earlier than usual; last night’s forecast was wishy-washy about whether there’d be rain this morning, so when I woke early and it was dry out, I got out as fast as I could. (Now the rain has been pushed back to noon, of course.) It was very dark and early, therefore, when I was coming down a somewhat major in-town road and saw ahead of me in the streetlamps a man, weaving wildly across the sidewalk. He was so drunk, it was patently obvious from a quarter-mile away; it was a miracle he was upright. Had I been a man…larger, stronger, more intimidating…I’d have stopped. I had a cell phone. I could have seen if there was somebody to call for him, someone who could come get him. But I’m not a man, or even a large and intimidating woman. And so, instincts buzzing, I crossed the road and turned. He called out to me: “Hey-eeeeeeeey…” in what I think was supposed to be an enticing way; I kept going.

I don’t know. Later, over breakfast, it occurred to me that perhaps I should have called the non-emergency police number. It was after 5 o’clock when I saw him, and traffic was beginning to pick up; this guy could easily have wandered off the sidewalk and in front of a car. Eric pointed out that if the police had sent somebody, the drunk would probably have been arrested. That’s not what I would have wanted; I just wished somebody could have shepherded him to a safer location, preferably with a bed and a nearby bucket. “Saint Patrick’s Day brings out the amateur drinkers,” Eric mused. I sort of hope that’s the case, and not that this guy lives like that full-time.

What would you have done?

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GABE: “Mom. I told you I just wanted cheese on my burger.”
ME: “…there’s just cheese on it.”
GABE: “But what’s under the cheese?”
ME: “A burger? Bread?”
GABE: “And I didn’t want them!”
ME: “…you didn’t want a burger on your burger? Gabe, you are bizarre.”
GABE: “‘Bizarre’ means ‘scary.’”
ME: “No, it means ‘strange.’”
GABE: “Oh. That’s bizarre!”

Whatever. Mine was better.

With onions and mushrooms, cooked with turmeric, cumin, and paprika in vegetable broth with a splash of Worcestershire; some balsamic roasted eggplant; served over a bed of baby arugula. I assure you, there’s some beef in there someplace…

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It’s been a good morning. Eric had a medical appointment and some vacation time to use up, so he took the day off work, which meant that I didn’t need to bust my butt to get in my run before he needed to leave. It was an awesome run, mostly in the warm sunlight – nearly fifty degrees! – and I came to the decision that, you know, I’m just not going to do Daylight Savings this year. I don’t care what y’all do, but I’m just leaving my clocks as they are. I like my mornings sunny, and I couldn’t give two craps whether it’s dark at dinner time. (Makes it easier to convince Sam to come inside to eat, anyway.) It’s not fair to change it just as it started getting good!

Anyway, I finished that, had a nice breakfast and put on a lightweight dress (because it’s almost fifty degrees! Yay, Wisconsin heat wave!), and Eric and I took Gabe out for errands together. Gabe just ate up his daddy’s attention, not having to share it with Sam, and when I finally had to put him down for his nap a little bit ago, he was…reluctant. Vocally so. Sorry, neighbors.

Eric headed off for a nice workout at the gym (in daylight!), and he’ll be making pizza for us tonight! There’s a ball of whole wheat dough rising in the sunlight on my kitchen table, and it’ll be turned into a curry pizza later on. I’ve already been asked for the recipe, so I’ll have to beg that from him later. All I know is that I’ve been fantasizing about it since waking up…

Could the day be any better? And the weekend should be a little slice of all right, too, since we’ve already made rainy-day plans involving the Titanic exhibit at the museum (courtesy of Sam’s request, since his school field trip to the African exhibit quite unfairly didn’t involve any scenes of shipwreck). Maybe I can add on a sidestep into the Butterfly Wing, too! I bet Gabe would enjoy it.

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Gabe is better today. I kept him home from school because we hadn’t passed twenty-four hours without a fever or fever-reducing meds, but I probably could have sent him, as he’s fine. Well, he’s healthy. He’s also as ornery as a beestung grizzly bear. When I told him he couldn’t watch the TV channel with the commercials, he screamed and threw pretzels at me. (Earned himself some “calm down” time in his room for that.) I’m glad he’s feeling better, but, boy howdy, was he more pleasant to be around when he was queasy. Strange kid.

As for me, I’ll just be relieved when everything returns to normal, my husband is home with me, and I can get back to the occasional sense of predictability.

(On the other hand, when Eric isn’t here, I get more leftovers after dinner. Last night, I made an Amish Beef Stew that I expected to be good, but which turned out divine! Even Sam ate it, and he’s not a fan of red meat. I just had some for lunch, over cornbread – almost out, must make more – with cheddar cheese on it, and it was even better today.)

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I like my chocolate dark, and I tend to like it exotic. Given a great chocolate bar, I can make it last for weeks, savoring each half-square as a luxurious treat at the end of a day. My current bar is a Lindt Dark Chocolate bar with Chili. It’s got just the right mix of sweet and burn, and I love it.

But I kept coming back to those cookies.

(...)
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We now enter a second solid week of Sam dressing to the nines for school. Today it was a black dress shirt and tie. This girl must be exceptional (though now he’s suggesting that there may be a second girl catching his attention, the little player). Of course, the alternative is that he’s enjoying the attention he gets from adults in the school for looking like this, or that he’s relishing the role of “boy interested in girl.” He tried to insinuate that I was proud of him because he “finally found a girl to like!” but I shut that down in a hurry. Good grief, Mister Seven Years Old. On Friday, he went with his dress shirt open at the neck, with a hematite cross pendant around his neck; he looked like a member of a church praise band. I’d take a picture, but I don’t know how much I care to encourage this. On the other hand, he did choose to dress like a complete slob all weekend long…

Eric has taken to heading to the gym on a regular basis! He’s going in the evenings, which works nicely with my morning running preference. He’s actually doing a walk-run thing on the treadmill, and he’s musing about possibly eventually working up to being able to do 5Ks. It’s a struggle, now, not to want to talk about running ALL THE TIME with him, which would be a complete turn-off for him…but, like I said, it’s hard not to. He does need new shoes, fitted properly, so that lines up nicely with my desire to get up to one of the big running stores soon and check out fuel and hydration systems for the marathon. My Crush Fuel Belt isn’t going to do it, I think I’ve decided. Just too much of a pain to get the bottle in and out; once, this past run, when I tried, I managed to accidentally rip the whole belt off my waist. Suggestions for an alternative, and one that hopefully carries more than a single packet of something besides the bottles? (I hate gels, so need to carry Beans, Blox, etc.)

Been running a smidge earlier in the morning than I have to, so that I have time to sit and eat breakfast with Eric in the morning before he heads to work. (Meaning that he, too, is rising before he had been, so he’s not rushing and eating a few bites while standing over the kitchen counter.) It’s nice – so much more satisfying than an extra 15-30 minutes of sleep time would be.

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Tonight, we had kale. I ordered a large bag of Dole’s Fresh Kale, purported to be washed and ready to cook. Eric prepared them as usual, and we loved them a lot…until Eric suddenly said, “Hmmmm. Don’t think I’ll trust that ‘ready to cook’ business anymore.”

Why was that?

(...)
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The wind is quite strong, too. When I was running, I kept getting hit with blasts of air that would nearly stop me in my tracks, and I wound up having to take off my hat to keep from losing it entirely. Oof!

Here’s a random confession: when I’m tracking my nutrition, I get a little thrill to see that my meal total will bring me in under my daily calorie and sugar goal, since that means I can snack with more abandon. Today, I had one of the pretzels that were leftover from Gabe’s preschool snack. We made them yesterday, and I was a bit disappointed that I hadn’t budgeted my kitchen supplies to be able to make extra for the family; we ran down to the very bottom of the box of baking soda with the batch we made. Luckily, Gabe brought home the extras, so I got to enjoy them after all! Very good, they were, and simple!

Dough:
4 c. all-purpose flour
1.5 tbs. sugar
0.75 tsp. salt
2.5 tsp. yeast
1.3 c. water
2 tbs. butter

Cut the dough into strips, roll into ropes, and shape. (We made the letters of the month – P, Q, and R – and various shapes.) Cover and let rise on a greased baking sheet, about 45 minutes.

In a non-aluminum pan, bring 4 cups water and 1.5 tablespoons baking soda almost to a boil. (We used an electric skillet for this.) Gently lower the pretzels into the water for about a minute, turning once. Remove and return to the baking sheet; sprinkle with coarse salt. Bake at 475 degrees for about 12 minutes. Easy-peasy!

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Chopping brussels sprouts, checking the recipes for dinner, listening to music. Tonight: punk and ska. Suitable for baked tilapia: y/n?

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I’m now in for the night, having picked up the stocking candy when I hit the grocery store during my run. (Had to make sure that not all of it was chocolate; Gabe has decided to forgo any pretense about abiding it.) Eric and Sam still plan to run out for last-last-minute shopping in a bit. I’m making another Pepperoni Loaf, as well as some cookies for Santa; Eric is just now finishing up some dumplings for Amanda’s clan to enjoy tomorrow. Lots of little things going on, miniature hustle and bustle all around us.

I hope everybody reading this, and everybody they love, and everybody who doesn’t read but whom I love, and everybody with whom I happened to come into contact this season – yes, even those people who splashed me – have a happy holiday. God bless us, every one.

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Pepperoni Loaf

Roll into a rectangle:
1 loaf of frozen bread dough, thawed and raised Presumably, one could make one’s own dough, but we went with frozen for authenticity’s sake.

Spread with:
1 T. margarine
1 1/2 c. mozzarella cheese, shredded
1 1/2 c. pepperoni

Roll up from long side and seal edges. Brush with:
1 egg beaten

Top with:
pepper to taste

Bake at 350 degrees on greased, foil-lined cookie sheet for 25-30 minutes.

  

We cut into it almost as soon as Eric came through the door, and the boys got their first taste. The entire loaf was gone within minutes. Minutes, I say.

ERIC: “It is exactly as it should be. Now I’m sad.”
SAM: “It was awesome!”
GABE: “Do you know why I ate it all? Because I’m the Foodinator!”

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They are delicious, every bit as good as I remember from when we’d visit her for the holidays. (Eric says, “Just like I remember, except not in a red Tupperware box.”) I worried that somehow the magic would be gone, that without her, the food would be lacking, but her notes proved true.

Rita’s Marble Squares

Mix together:
8 oz. cream cheese, softened
1/3 c. sugar

Add:
1 egg

Mix well. Set aside.

Combine in a sauce pan:
1/2 c. margarine
3/4 c. water
1 1/2 squares (1 oz. each) unsweetened chocolate

Bring to boil. Remove from heat and stir in combined mix of:
2 c. flour
2 c. sugar

Add:
2 eggs
1/2 c. sour cream
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt

Mix well. Pour into greased 9×13 cake pan. Spoon cream cheese mixture over batter; cut through batter with knife several times for marble effect. Sprinkle top with:
6 oz. semisweet chocolate chips

Bake at 375 degrees for 30-35 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. Cool and cut into squares.

Unfortunately, reactions were mixed. Eric and I love them, but Gabe refuses to try them (“I hate chocolate!”) and Sam said they were “too chocolate” and wanted a banana to “get the taste out of [my] mouth.” Weirdos.

For most of the day, though, Eric has been occupying the kitchen, preparing for the “Day of Feasting” at his workplace. On the last day before the holiday shut-down, everybody brings in food to share, and people move through the building, grazing and socializing. For the past few years, Eric’s dumplings have been a hit, and now he even has permission to use the industrial steamer in the cafeteria to cook them. He made them in big batches today – mild beef ones, medium-spiced pork ones, and kill-me-now cream cheese ones – and froze them in batches before packing them in bags. It’s an assembly line process, and very streamlined. I wish I could be there for the actual feast, but these darn kids…

Tomorrow I may try a different Rita recipe and see if it fares better in the tastes of my little critics. Stay tuned!

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Also, I can get a special reserved spot in a “Cheesehead Corral” (separated starting area, usually organized by pace times) if I’m willing to at least start the marathon in some sort of cheese-related apparel. I have no idea how to approach that. The fun of the idea appeals, but I don’t want to deal with anything like a Cheesehead hat (the ponytail holder could be a possibility, though), and I can’t find anybody selling technical shirts (no running in cotton!) that have anything to do with cheese. Could make my own…

Mmmm, cheese.

I want potatoes to go with the honey mustard pork roast I’m making for dinner tonight, but all we have are these freaky little fingerling potatoes Eric picked up for God only knows what reason. Seriously? What the heck am I supposed to do with these? They look like what grows into potatoes, not like real, y’know, potatoes…

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And now I’m fighting off something trying to take root in my throat. Not going to even hint that “I’m getting sick,” because I’m not. Y’hear? Not going to happen! So what if I needed an extra cup of coffee this morning, just because the warmth felt so good in my throat? Whatever works is fine by me!

I hate winter, y’all.

It’s our turn to take in snack to preschool on Tuesday. They’re currently studying fruits and vegetables, and it’s nice if the snack goes along with the lesson. Somebody already did fruit skewers, though. Also, that’ll be the day they celebrate Gabe’s birthday at school, so I’d like the snack to be something special for that. Carrot muffins? Not sure yet. Ideas?

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Just so you know. (Recipe here. Our oatmeal was cooked with raisins, so those are in there, too.)

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Eric is an awesome, awesome husband, and he has done his best to make today’s prep better. He turned my white bread into nearly fat-free croutons, cooked my clear broth with vegetables (strained out) and seasonings to make it yummy, and baked me some flounder with spices so that it was delicious. My stomach still feels crazy-empty, but he worked mightily to save me from mouth boredom. It’s been a very long day, though; tomorrow will be longer. And I feel so much better than I did even a couple of days ago, so I know in my heart of hearts that this test is freaking pointless.

I added a run tracker to the sidebar. We’ll see if it’s user-friendly enough for me to maintain it or not. I’m not retroactively adding runs, that’s for darn sure.

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And Eric called to say he’d be home very late.

I don’t know how to carve a chicken.

(By the time anybody comments, it’ll be mutilated, but it’ll still taste good. )

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And then he goes and takes them and turns them into this:

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Read the rest of Reason #116,628,256 why I love my husband (9 words)

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1 c. peanut butter, 1/2 c. honey, and enough powdered milk to make it doughy.

Yummy fun, and a good way to have kids occupy themselves on a day when Mama feels under the weather.

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Second: what spices do your kids actually like? If you were going to marinade or spice chicken for the kids, what would go over well (not just be something you maybe could coerce them into eating without too much trouble)?

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If you picked something like red meat or fish, go ahead and comment as to whether it’s the whole genre or only specific culprits that turn you off.

POSTSCRIPT: This is funny. Tonight’s dinner, for a treat, is “diner’s choice,” and all three of us (Eric being out for the evening) are grossed out by what the others are eating. (Well, not me, so much, but they wouldn’t have been my choices for dinner.) Gabe: Frozen chicken nuggets, pretzels, juice (V8 Fusion, with the “hidden” veggies). Sam: Instant oatmeal, juice. Me: Leftover bison meatloaf, done jelly-roll style with spinach and cheese, and water.

(The boys will be hungry again in a while, I predict, at which time I may try to cajole them into eating vegetable soup. )

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And because the cupboards are pretty bare of things with which to make sweet baked goods, and because I’m too lazy to want to brave a grocery store, we’re going here. Geesh, look at that list! Which ones should we get?

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Car going into the shop in an hour for a transmission check. Why is my husband able to feel and hear odd noises and sensations that I can’t sense at all? Is it a testosterone thing? I’m pretty sure my ears are in perfect working order.

I’m running the Hank Aaron State Trail Run/Walk tomorrow morning. I hope it goes better than today’s run did (feeling like a “natural woman” might be a good thing for jeans advertisements, but it doesn’t work so well for exercising one week out of every four), and I’m optimistic that it will; I seem to be on a rotating pattern of “good run, bad run, good run, bad.”

Last night, I was thinking that I might make a book out of my race bib numbers. I’m not a scrapbooker, but just putting them together and writing out race summaries on the back of each one feels like it might make a rewarding thing to have. I’m envious of people who have huge running logs that list hundreds of races that they’ve run. Someday, maybe…

Trying to decide whether the kids and I will join Eric on an upcoming trip for work. He’s going again next week, and we’re staying home, but then he’ll go for two weeks, and it’s possible that it might make a nice diversion before the start of the school year. We’ll see.

Bison steak is yummy and lean. Mustard-crusted bison steak is a thing of beauty.

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