spaghetti sauce

OHMYGOD! I made something delicious.  

1.  dice four onions

2. douse in almost half a cup olive oil

3.  cook till mush - almost an hour

4.  throw in one pound frozen ground beef, scraping away and flipping 

5.  while the beef browns, add

maybe 1/4 cup brown sugar

several shakes of ume vinegar

a small fistful of thyme because you can't find oregano even though you know you had like a pound

maybe 2 tsp of cocao powder

two sparing shakes of nutmeg

maybe a tsp of cayenne

6.  puree one head of garlic with a little crushed tomato

7. add one 6 lb 6oz can of crushed tomatoes and the garlic pureee to the pot.

It's awesome.  I'm gonna let simmer for several hours more.  

I was such a crank this morning until I scrubbed every dish and surface of the kitchen.  Then I felt joy.  Charlotte dried.  

inauguration lapbook

This morning we went on a fantastic field trip where we pretended to be runaway slaves on the Underground Railroad. Actors dressed in period clothing and we were conducted between freedom stations, where we learned about slavery and the Underground Railroad. At one point, Charlotte was so scared she cried a little. Eleanor started acting silly after the first hour. I was really proud of them for participating in question and answers and for remaining so quiet. Charlotte really empathized with the slaves. She and I began planning a lapbook on the topic.

Our other big activity today was listening/watching inauguration footage. They got a little tired of it, but when I tried to get Eleanor to do the UGRR for our first lapbook, she insisted on doing presidents. We are all excited about the Obamas in the White House. So we ventured out once more to get brightly colored file folders and cardstock. By bedtime we had made 43 tiny, red matchbook folders with a different presidential portrait glued to each one, all glued to a big folder. Eleanor really enjoyed the activity and all three girls did gluing and cutting and arranging by number. There were marvelous math opportunities in multiplying how many sheets we'd need to use and sorting presidents by number. Tomorrow everybody will get labeled. Eleanor also cut out a giant Obama and is determined to include his family heavily in her book. It's cool that they can relate to his daughters.

As someone who has always been drawn strongly to subcultures, I felt a new tug toward the mainstream as I watched inaugural footage with the kids. I'm afraid to admit it (because I hate being made fun of by right wing relatives for being so naive) but I really believe in this guy and it feels good to believe. I'm tired of cynicism. I believe in his integrity and it makes me want to participate instead of sidestepping. For Obama, I would wear a suit, curl my hair, and use my best manners. ...He makes playing the game seem worth it, which is new for me.

new school schedule

Here's how I'm feelin:


Gracie is teaching the girls how to draw.

I go back to work in one week, so procrastinator's adrenaline is kicking in and I'm gearing up.  Bumblebee Elementary is trying something new this semester.  

Block 1

We are going to leave the house everyday at 8:30 so we don't lolly around all morning.  We'll go to the gym, where we all get exercise, or on assorted field trips.  

Block 2

Upon arriving home, we will do our first block of "schooling" which we have dubbed, "Secret Codes."  These are a little math, Spanish, and piano practice each day.  Piano will have to wait till I can get a keyboard... and Eleanor wants to learn electric guitar instead, but I think learning to think in music is important so I'm calling it a priority.  

Block 3

Lunch, then reading for the girls, a nap for Gracie, and dishes for me.  

Block 4

Special Projects 

input: read, listen, or watch topic of day/week from history, literature, science, social studies output: art-making, book-making, oral narration, written paragraph, and/or lapbook

(this is my favorite!  there is so much to learn!)

Block 5

Go to Grama's where maybe you'll do workbooks before dinner and give Grama a quiet break before running around the house like banshees, with all the TVs going.

Block 6

Shower routine as soon as we get home (this is easy to laze out on.)  And story.  And bed.  

Then I have an hour or two to do laundry and either paint, lesson plan, or futz around online.

Tonight I choose futz.

Eleanor has exhausted me lately with her wild ways.  I am hoping the predictability of more structure will help calm her.  I don't know where she gets it. ..

working artist statement

I' ll always remember the moment excavators became my favorite thing.  It was night; everything was still.  A powerful spotlight shown on snow falling gently toward an army of dozens of excavators, assembled for the job that would become the local outlet mall.  After feeling seethingly toward this symbol of suburban sprawl, so prevalent where I live, my heart saw the poetry in this shape, repeated here so beautifully, lit so romantically.  I began to photograph the animal-like excavators and their habitat, where subdivisions meet monoculture cropland.  It's hard to be nostalgic about either half of this landscape's history, but there is still a choking feeling I get with each new housing development.  This work is my observation of the need for community planning, more so now than ever, as the population grows and peak oil looms.  

Gracie and I went to Home Depot last night and picked up some cabinet birch plywood for the paintings and borrowed a sander from Uncle Bob.  Gracie says, "Bob."  Ray and Nicole were at Chris and Bob's and we played cards.  Ray and I played war for a long time and I had such a good time laughing with him.  My mom took the big girls to see Hotel for Dogs, out to dinner, and for a sleepover.  They said they had an "amazing" time.  This afternoon, I took the girls to a Girl Scout field trip and tried waiting  there, but the familiar, painful brand of distracted boredom I'd forgotten from school set in and I had to escape.  I wasn't sure if that was socially acceptable or not, but I had to get out of that little room before I choked.

I've been drinking

I am watching No Reservations and drinking beer, which takes me away without leaving - after a day of wanting to bang my head into the wall and maybe once actually doing so.  Maybe it's my crush on the host, or the allure of travel, or the sexiness of the food.  I love that show.  

I had the weirdest dream last night that ended with Rick Bayless and Bobby Flay and another TV chef in BJ and Andi's kitchen, all cooking, and I was mad at Tania and BJ because they were gone for five hours after BJ told me I had to stay there because there was a shooting around the corner, and just walked in with coffee and said, "what?" then Rick Bayless asked me why I was smiling, because he was there cooking, of course, and he said, try this, it's blah blah (dramatic Rick Bayless speak) blah blah, and put a forkful in my mouth and it was just macaroni and cheese out of the box.

Chris threw out my kombucha mushroom I've had for 9 months.  He was cleaning the fridge out and thought it was something so rotten it was unrecognizable.  I was mad for exactly one minute.

Last week we all got the flu at once after Eleanor had it.  Charlotte and I took turns at the toilet all evening and at one point my sweet girl rubbed  my back, as I had been doing for her.   She is going to lose her first front tooth any minute now, and will lose the last of her baby face.  

hot chocolate

Gracie winks now. She will creep up to you, wink, and run away laughing.

procrastinating dishes, drinking warmed raw milk with single origin bitter chocolate, too much cayenne, a hint of cinnamon, and a little of my new raw honey. feeling very Winnie the Pooh about this honey.

Finished a giant pot of split pea soup today, inspired by a ham bone Aunt Chris brought over the other night for dinner. Even though Eleanor was sick, I had to take them out to the first co-op pickup this afternoon. I have been very excited about this underground meat club. It's like raves for thirty somethings. I got raw milk and raw honey and some grass fed meats and eggs. I have some yogurt in the oven already and I can say that a shredded wheat biscuit with the milk and honey is divine.

Foolishly, I tried to squeeze in a quick trip to the grocery store on the way home, for children's tylenol and more split peas because the soup had too much meat. We got halfway through produce and ran out the in doors so Eleanor could throw up on the sidewalk. I called Sue and she very kindly picked up what we needed.

I also happened to receive some books in the mail today including Nourishing Traditions which is not answering every single question I'm coming up with, but so far very interesting.

We are reading Clarice Bean, which we utterly love. Several chapters read by me is no longer enough, so now after I leave them for the night, Eleanor reads them another. Gracie has been sleeping with Charlotte and seems very pleased about the arrangement. She has the most fantastic teethy happy smile that she always flashes around Charlotte.

puking from the top bunk

I was too depressed to write anything lately. Or maybe just didn't have anything to say. Right, Christmas. Busy, nice, etc.

Eleanor threw up five times last night. The third time she puked in her sleep, on herself. the fourth time she stuck her chin over the edge of the bunk and threw up off the side, onto Charlotte's pillow.

I went to the gym yesterday and it felt great. prescription for depression. I was practically dancing on the elliptical machine to...Phish. I thought about how absurd it is that I try to play down my interests that Chris doesn't share. I confess. I love Phish. I told him I would have made a great wife for a hippie.

We saw My Morning Jacket at the Chicago Theatre last week. Pretty awesome. I felt distracted by the irritating audience members, so I tried to get a beer to relax, but they wouldn't sell to me. Apparently my license has been expired for fifteen months.

On New Years Eve, Chris and I played guitar hero and it was really fun. Why you would want to practice getting good on a fake guitar, I don't know, but I can't the idea out of my head that I am going to get us a bass and a guitar. I don't care anymore if that's poser. That's the fear that has kept me from trying till 31 in the first place.

I think maybe I am an art poser. Through grade school and HS I really liked theatre and I was good at playing an instrument and singing and also making an ass of myself in public. In visual art, I prefer the process to the product, ephemeral art to archival. I like the openings, experiences more than I care about the objects. usually. I am a minimalist. I don't want to collect art. I'm a pragmatist too, so I don't want to go through the expense to create something without a good reason. It's not black and white, but I think I may have missed my calling by a few degrees. I don't know. who cares.

Chris is reading this awful book that he actually bought by a self-indulgent, self-proclaimed buffoon, tucker max. He is reading me these bits that he is laughing out loud about, and after passing through feelings of, who gives a shit, then, what an ass, I arrived at wait a minute, I pulled some of this shit in college and you didn't think it was funny at all. I actually arrived at jealousy that this guy was having more fun than me now. Surely, within the hour, I will circle back to who gives a shit.

Eleanor is throwing up again.