Grandmother

Meet my grandmother.

I am a grown up now, but every Christmas I can still hear her voice in that thick, Venezuelan accent: "Did Jew like your presents?" Without fail, that's what she would ask every Christmas over the phone at about ten o'clock, just as we had finished opening mounds and mounds of presents from her and Grandpa and were beginning to roll in the boxes and wrapping paper.  

The detailed hand-stitched stocking made by her when I was a little girl still hangs over our "mantle"  every year.  

And I can still taste her Famous Chicken Pie complete with Olives and Raisins (Its a Venezuelan thing).  

I just wanted to share so I can thank my Grandma for always making my Childhood Christmas's so special.

A belated Halloween post

I don't really eat sugar.

Whenever I eat ice cream, I think "this would SO  good if only they put in HALF the amount of sugar."  In fact, Every sugar ladent thing I eat I feel like they could easily half the amount of sugar and it would still taste good, if not better. Except ketchup, of course. 

But on Halloween, I eat candy. 

You see, on Halloween, I open my children's candy bag and many magical smells come to my nose. Smells of that fake gooey goodness of not-actually-chocolate mixed with the smell of not-really-fruit and not-really-caramel.

Those are smells that bring me close to a time when my greatest worry in life was weather or not my already too large bag would be filled to the brim with enough candy. And oh the delight of dumping the mounds of candy on the floor, greedily digging through it in looking for treasures. 

Grownups: When we are standing behind our children while they trick or treat, we are silently, secretly begging them to pick our favorite candy.  We also feel secretly disappointed when they pick the "wrong" one, but don't have the guts to guide them to make wise candy choices in front of the candy donor.  Some of us may whisper in secret to our children on the way to the next house as to which candy is the right one to pick.

We long for the moment when our wee ones go to sleep at night, so we can sift through heir bags of candy and indulge in some fake goodness of gooey stuff that will bring us back to our own childhood and make us forget that we will feel pretty gross in about an hour after our indulgence.

But who cares right? Its only once a year.  And I am sure in a few years in our house as our children get bigger they will be monitoring every piece of candy and note when one goes missing.  So I might as well enjoy this while it lasts and my trick-o-treating candy eating days are over forever. 

This guy taught me how to make Salmon with just a few tricks!

Here are some quotes from an internet dude who taught me to cook salmon properly: 

"There’s nothing quite as unappetizing as a dry, overcooked slab of salmon."  
Yes.  Nothing.  Nothing in the world.

"If you make this Salmon the way I make it, you WILL cook this EVERY night of the week."  You were right.  After making this recipe, we have eaten nothing but Salmon for the past month and a half.  Any advice on how we can stop?  We also gave up breakfast and lunch to help supplement our food  budget for our new fish intake. 

Thanks for the great "tricks" internet cooking guy!!! 

Margot's three year portrait

Hello! Here is Margot, or "Margot Pants." Her third birthday is coming soon, so she gets a new portrait done! and I must say that it has been very special for me to photograph her family over the past few years as they have grown. Margot is growing into a very darling little girl, who loves books, clothes, (especially shoes) and pretty things, just like her mama. We love little Margot! 

A fun afternoon

Today Isaiah took the boys fishing.

When they all left the house left the house,  I looked around at the mess and thought "I am finally alone, I can clean this up with no one bothering me." Then I said "pshaw" and I picked up my purse, got in the car and drove to the nail salon.

I haven't had my nails done since I went to North Carolina four years ago to visit my sisters. (I think it was four years?? I can't believe it!) I remember my little sister being upset that she did not get the six-inch-long nail extension that she was hoping for in the rural small town Vietnamese run nail salon. We all warned her that this was not Miami and they do things different here. She wouldn't listen. So she had to go back to Little Cuba with embarrassingly short nails.

So anyway, after four years of nail neglect, I treated myself, all alone to a nail painting by a Vietnamese man. When I was there I was able to watch the "News" Which was just a bunch of political fiddle-faddle commercials (OMG Can you believe how HORRIBLE the other senator is yadda yada) and lots of computer generated looking women with too much makeup (or too much air brushing?) who all talked excitedly about things lot of things as if they were actually important.

It was fun.

I painted my nails a bright color.  Not even an earthy color, partially because they didn't seem to have earthy colors but also because I wanted something a little shocking, something totally not even me.

Then I got home. And two little boys walked in the door and with the most ridiculous smiles on their faces, exclaiming with sheer joy "mama, I caught some weeds!!!"  They were stoked when I told them how proud I was.

It was a good afternoon.  Even though there were dirty dishes left in the sink.  Isaiah probably forgot about them because he liked my shocking nail color so much.

Shocking.

The word Shocking is really, really over used. It hardly shocks me anymore to hear that something is shocking even if it is or would be shocking, and it hardly ever is something that's worthy of being called shocking in the first place. Isn't this a shocking idea? Maybe I should tell this new shocking idea to the internet world that the word shocking really has absolutely no shock value anymore. Its simply, shocking. 

Mama Please?

Matheson: Mama, may I please have five dollars so I can sit on that Longhorn for thirty seconds so you can take my picture?

Mama: No, but you can enjoy watching someone else's mommy pay five dollars for her child to sit on it.

Strawberries.

Last fall we planted a large bed of fresh strawberries, that I looked forward to immensely.  They survived through the exceptionally cold winter involving mounds of snow and below zero temperatures. When spring came, I cried for joy that they were still alive and looked forward to an abundance of amazing Oregon strawberries.

But at the first sight of a red berry, I became terrified that other critters might get to them.  I am not that generous, so we bought a net to put over the strawberries so that we would be sure to be the only ones enjoying our harvest.  One day I we realized that we were not really getting enough berries.  Five a day does not seem sufficient enough to feed a family of four. I thought maybe the critters had found their way through our heavy barricades.

Then one day, we discovered that birds and squirrels were NOT our problem, but grubby hands of  two little boys who have no strawberry self control whatsoever. We learned that every day when they went out to play they found themselves at the strawberry bed, and every day they put their fists through the net and pulled out every strawberry they could find, weather white green or red, and as they pulled them up through the net, they smashed them with strawberry juice everywhere. Very little fruit was actually getting into anyone's mouth. Although the children were filled with joy, my heart would sink at each green strawberry that got eaten that never got a chance to be filling my tummy with goodness.

I fought with them relentlessly.  I squealed, I threatened and I tried to punish. But they would NOT stop eating the green strawberries. I begged and pleaded. One day I just gave up.

I gave up when I decided the best thing to do was to look at my two year old's face and fists, covered with red juice.  I decided to listen carefully to the small voice saying "mama I like strawberries" as he shoveled about eight green ones into his mouth. I suddenly thought that the sight of this child brought me so much more joy than any strawberry could bring me.  Even an Oregon strawberry. So I will always be able to hold this memory in my mind of the greedy children and laugh.  So maybe I did not get to enjoy very many strawberries from the garden, but the strawberry garden gave me something a memory to cherish.

zucchinis

We have a fairly decent sized garden in our yard.  This is our second big garden. This is also the second time that rotting pumpkins have been dumped into the bed of dirt at the end of the growing season. And the second time that random pumpkin plants have popped up all over our garden once spring came. Pumkins are actually very beautiful, so Isaiah removed some of them and re-planted some in various places all over our yard, outside the garden, and in the garden.

The other day we noticed that many of the pumpkin plants were producing zucchinis. And we planted two zucchinis in the yard before our pumpkin plants decided to make zucchinis. So now we have over six zucchini plants that are giving us at least five zucchinis every day. What am I going to do with all these zucchinis?

A fish

This is a bird that just caught some easy lunch from a fish hatchery. Isaiah wanted me to take a picture of it but I did not have my zoom lens, so this is what he gets. I was going to say something silly about this picture but the more I look at it the more I kind of think its kind of interesting.  Maybe I am just weird?

Isaiah suggested that the bird was trained to take fish from the hatchery and deliver it to a nearby restaurant for their customers to enjoy.  What do you think?

The Blair Lake Project

Last weekend, we went camping at Blair Lake.  Here is a list of the things we forgot:

1. Propane
2. My pillow
3. Socks of any kind.
4.  A cutting board
5. Isaiah's sweater
6. Marshmallows.  Or any sweets of any kind.
7. Bread. This would make lunch interesting to say the least.
8. And most importantly, home made ranch dip to go with the potato chips.

You know what? This was about the most memorable outdoor weekend I have had.  Who needs socks when you have each other? And grass-fed steak?

Delicious steak on a makeshift cutting board.

Poor me.

It has been a very long grey winter.  And finally the sun is shining.  And what am I doing?  sitting in my house with all the windows shut.

In the outside world, I can see people walking their dogs, their children, and mowing their lawn.  I am a jealous person by nature, so I feel envious.  I try to be happy for others, and thankful that not everyone's face turns into a puffy mess, their eyes don't all water and burn, their sinuses don't plug up, and that their lungs don't feel like they are going to collapse when they go outside. Its not always easy.

Every once in a while I can sort of remember what it is like to feel the warmth sun on my face. But for now I will just sit here, in my house, starring out the window, pretending.  The air conditioner is on, even though it is not even hot enough for the air conditioner. And I will sit here and wait....until July to go outside.

This is what happens when you are allergic to grass seed, and live in the G.S.C.W or the "Grass Seed Capitol of The World." Okay I made up that acronym. Every June, when the sun FINALLY comes out, this is what I have to look forward to.  For at least three weeks.

But I am not suffering alone. In fact, half of Eugene is suffering.  When I do run from the house to the car and manage to get myself into a store, I see people everywhere with the same puffy eyes.who were all brave enough to attempt to go out of their houses as well.  We all commiserate together.  And I remember that common sufferings bring people together.

Isaac and Elizabeth Jean

I was going to explain this picture, but I am just going to let it speak for itself.

Yum

I am going to introduce you to this wonderful culinary experience we had on Mother's day. Kolach, a Czechoslovakian pastry. Rich, egg dough with fillings. This one is Salmon, and there were also other savory ones to choose from, and sweet fruit ones as well. Sort of like a little Cuban and European in one fine dish. Too bad the day we discovered this was the same day the bakery is going out of business.  How sad, I might have kept them alive if I had known about it sooner! I wanted to take a more complete picture of this food but I loved it so much I was too impatient to wait for my camera battery to charge. So all you get to see is this one last nibble. Mmmmm....

Here is what happens when you allow your two year old to help you decorate Christmas eggs.

And what happens to my brain after decorating eggs:  I start calling them Christmas eggs.

Jedidiah, age four, is discovering the world and strikes "insterding" conversations with me and two year old Matheson:

 

Jedidiah:  Mama, do you have context?

Mama: What do you mean, context?

Jedidiah:  You know, in your eyes.

Mama:  Oh, contacts!

Jedidiah:  Yes, context!

Mama: Yes, I have contacts. Contacts help you see if your eyes are having a problem seeing. Do you have contacts?

Jedididah: No, my eyes are empty.

Mama:  Well, when you get bigger if you have a problem with being able to see, we will get you contacts.

Matheson (running from the other side of the room, in a loud exclamatory voice): I'm having a ploblem.

Mama:  What is your problem, Matheson? 

Matheson:  No, I not having a ploblem.

Me:  Okay good, you are not having a problem.

Matheson: No, I AM having a problem.

I Should Have Been a Football Player

Shortly after the Superbowl, this was written:

I think I would have fun being a football player.

Running across a field dodging people sounds like an enjoyable experience.  Then again, I am sure if I actually made a touchdown, I would probably turn around and apologize to my opponent and try to give them a chance at winning.  I guess you can say I do not have a competitive spirit. So besides running and dodging people for fun I probably would not make a good football player. Also, I am not athletic by any stretch of the imagination. I guess I will scratch pro football for any future goals. Too bad because I hear its lucrative.

Actually, I am not even sure what goes on in a football game, except for a few things:

People get crazy excited and cheer and yell and scream. They often eat potato chips with sour cream and onion dip.  Or, if you live in Oregon, they eat organic non-GMO corn chips and salsa with that contains no sugar or preservatives. (Personally, there is just something about greasy Plain potato chips and sour cream and onion dip that nothing can effectively replace.) I know the sound of football games brings back memories. They make me think of the childhood joy of lazy Sunday afternoons, listening to the wind in the trees, parrots squawking, (yes you heard me right parrots) and of course, the calming sound of a football game. And the sound of my father yelling at the screen while he haphazardly irons his blue work shirt. I can still smell the smell of cornstarch.

I also know that college, football caused many people use the opportunity to come together and throw burgers on a grill and just have a lot of fun. And caused some people to drink way too much and do stupid things.  I remember the smell of barbecue permeating the air everywhere you went on a game day, and everyone was happy.

And, now in my life, there are no parrots, and no windy days. No one is outside trying to barbecue this time of year. (Okay, besides us). And we don't have cable television. So the only chance I will be exposed to football is if I am invited to a Superbowl party.

This is what I do while I watched the Superbowl party:  I notice things like how ridiculous HD television makes everything look because the colors are over saturated. I notice how graceful manly ball players can look in slow motion, and that my son is covered with processed cheese dip and has crumbs of chips glued all over himself. (This was his first time eating processed cheese food, I will record this in his baby book) And I notice the goofy faces people make, and I think about things like: "Does winning a football game really bring people all the happiness in the world they are looking for?" 

I also notice half time. How could I not notice it?  I probably could hear it and see it from across the country, if I listened and looked hard enough. Probably, half time should be more appropriately labeled a competition. A competition to see if this year could possibly outdo last year's sensational experience.  I just have a question..... I am not sure how much more sensational it can get before it just turns into an explosion, which probably no one would appreciate.  I reminisced back on an episode of the Simpsons where  Homer decided to create a half time show at the Superbowl. He wound up doing a Noah's ark theme. What would happen if (SURPRISE!) the entire half time was  about the great flood?

Perhaps if I lived this life over again I would try to understand football. Maybe it could be fun to get excited for a team and have a thrill of watching them win, but then I would have to live with the disappointment of seeing them loose, and if they did win, then I would have to bear my sorrow for the other team who lost. For now, I think I will just sit back and enjoy making fun of the referee's sour faces......Is there even a referee in football?

Gabe Graduates!

It's February, but we are already in the process of celebrating Gabe graduating from High School. Gabe has been a part of of our lives since we began attending our church nearly five years ago. When we first began attending, he was still going up for the Children's message. I know it's cliche, but time really does fly.  And here he is getting ready to face the great big world as an adult. I feel very happy to have been a part of this memory in his life.  It also gives me an opportunity to reflect on my own life, as I remember my own graduation day, filled with all kinds of hopes and dreams for the future. I told Gabe to pick a place that is important to him and he chose his own yard, and he especially wanted a photo with his pet goats.

I