I really need to write those thank you notes. So I'll be quick.
A week from tonight I will not be sleeping because I will be too excited that in the morning, our second baby girl arrives. Unless she comes early, which I'm still all for.
Tonight the guy took Drue to a church plant meeting. I was going to go but for a few reasons decided I didn't want to, and wanted him to take her with him. One reason is a little embarrassing. My mother-in-law gave me money for a pedicure, which I got this morning. It was fabulous. I don't usually like pedicures, but at 39 weeks pregnant, they're fabulous. Well, little lady doing my toes up-sold me an eyebrow wax at which time she up-sold me a, dare I admit it, lip wax. I've NEVER waxed my lip, because I don't need to, because I'm not very hairy. When the lady said, "You get lip done?" I asked, "Is it really necessary?" And she nodded her head vigorously and said, "Yeeeeees." So, I got it done, and now I have lots of splotchy on my face. Therefore, no meeting.
I also wanted Collin to take Drue because I was getting so frustrated with her; I just wanted to be alone for a while. Is that terrible? Collin was later than usual getting home tonight, and I think I've figured out that she doesn't like that. I think she knows when he's going to be home, and she really looks forward to it, because come five o'clock she starts getting really grumpy. And then when Daddy comes home it's like this night and day improvement. She is so happy the rest of the evening until bed. Is that too cute? I think it's too cute. But I wasn't dealing well with the grumpy bear. So she is with Daddy, and I am glad. They are a pair.
I really must get cracking on these thank yous. I have so many to write. I can't believe how many folks have bestowed such kindnesses on us this second time around. We've needed it and appreciate it. One week to go!
Monday, March 21, 2011
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Thoughts
I can't believe how small babies are at the one-year mark. I thought Drue was so big then. I was wrong. She is so big now. And of course, a few months from now I'll think she was so small at 21 months. She has hit a little growth spurt, though. I looked at a picture taken mid-February in which she was so very chubbalicious, and now she is suddenly looking so thin.
Since I don't have the energy to think of a topic on which to post, I will simply write what is going on in our lives in list form.
1. The nursery is gutted and ready for another life to (eventually: she'll sleep in our room for a while) inhabit it. It looks so cute!
2. I hope the baby comes early. I want to experience at least a little bit of labor and not just go in for my "baby appointment" March 29. I realized this tonight at dinner with friends. I kind of blurted out that I "loved labor," and Collin looked at me like I was crazy. But I did, in a difficult way to explain, love it, and I want to go into labor early so that I can experience at least a little bit of it again (and not have chosen my daughter's birthday...so weird). Actually, I'm realizing that I want to go into labor early because ultimately I want to be able to labor naturally again and not have a c-section at all. :(
3. The in-laws visited this weekend and helped out a lot around the house. We will see my parents this weekend. It is strange to think that this is our last round of visits without another child in the mix.
4. I am constantly back and forth with how I feel about the birth of our Paige Dallas. Most of this has to do with my concern for our Drue Alison, and how she will handle it. (That and my fear of lack of sleep and how I handle that.) I know that it will be good for Drue, good in general, great!, but part of me wants her to the be the center of the universe a little longer. And of course, by "the center of the universe" I do not mean "the center of the universe," for Christ is life, yes? But you know what I mean.
5. I am getting to know my across-the-street neighbors a little better, which I am thankful for. I would like to become friends with the youngest of the bunch, Stacy, who has a five-month-old baby girl, Rachel, and to invite her to do something sometime, but I don't know how yet. I imagine an outlet will come. For now we just talk when we pass outside, which is often. And Drue looooooves going to see baby Rachel, so that's fun.
6. Collin and work stuff. Hmm... Maybe I'll post about this later. Let me just say now that being on the job market for three years is difficult. I do not love academia; at least not today.
Since I don't have the energy to think of a topic on which to post, I will simply write what is going on in our lives in list form.
1. The nursery is gutted and ready for another life to (eventually: she'll sleep in our room for a while) inhabit it. It looks so cute!
2. I hope the baby comes early. I want to experience at least a little bit of labor and not just go in for my "baby appointment" March 29. I realized this tonight at dinner with friends. I kind of blurted out that I "loved labor," and Collin looked at me like I was crazy. But I did, in a difficult way to explain, love it, and I want to go into labor early so that I can experience at least a little bit of it again (and not have chosen my daughter's birthday...so weird). Actually, I'm realizing that I want to go into labor early because ultimately I want to be able to labor naturally again and not have a c-section at all. :(
3. The in-laws visited this weekend and helped out a lot around the house. We will see my parents this weekend. It is strange to think that this is our last round of visits without another child in the mix.
4. I am constantly back and forth with how I feel about the birth of our Paige Dallas. Most of this has to do with my concern for our Drue Alison, and how she will handle it. (That and my fear of lack of sleep and how I handle that.) I know that it will be good for Drue, good in general, great!, but part of me wants her to the be the center of the universe a little longer. And of course, by "the center of the universe" I do not mean "the center of the universe," for Christ is life, yes? But you know what I mean.
5. I am getting to know my across-the-street neighbors a little better, which I am thankful for. I would like to become friends with the youngest of the bunch, Stacy, who has a five-month-old baby girl, Rachel, and to invite her to do something sometime, but I don't know how yet. I imagine an outlet will come. For now we just talk when we pass outside, which is often. And Drue looooooves going to see baby Rachel, so that's fun.
6. Collin and work stuff. Hmm... Maybe I'll post about this later. Let me just say now that being on the job market for three years is difficult. I do not love academia; at least not today.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Living Room Camp Outs and Bras
The guy and I have been camping out in the living room every night for the past few weeks. It all started when the heater stopped working efficiently, and our room was too cold to set foot into. Now everything is back to normal and we're still out here. C on the floor and me on the couch. Previously, C had been on the floor in our room, next to the bed. I had the entire bed to myself, but still I wasn't sleeping well. I sleep much better on the couch. I'm not sure why. I also find myself waking up on my back a lot and being comfortable there. At 33 weeks pregnant, isn't that strange? Not good?
This evening I talked to a friend who recently had a baby, and I was reminded that in six weeks we are going to have a newborn on our hands again. I don't know if we're ready. Right now all we can think about is where is Collin going to get a job? Are we moving? What will Drue say next? Do next? Poor Paige...we just haven't thought about you very much.
Before D was born, I wrote in a journal to her often. I've never been a great journaler, so it wasn't daily, but at least I was doing something. I need to start doing that for Paige. I need to start doing something, like rereading a book about how to, for lack of much better words, deal with a newborn. I've already taken care of one, and not even that long ago, and I feel clueless. I think I think we'll just find out what P is like and how she is different or similar from Drue and go from there. We didn't have a necessarily set plan with Drue, and we'll have even less of one with Paige. All I know is I want to nurse her more and stress about her schedule less. Which reminds me, I need to go get a GOOD nursing bra. Any suggestions?
OK, and since I've included the word bra in the title, I must share a funny Drue story about bras, mine specifically. Sometime while Collin was gone on interview I had slept in the living room, and instead of changing into some semblance of pajamas in my room before heading to bed in the living room, I just popped off the bra and slept on the couch in whatever I was wearing that day. The bra stayed in the living room with me, and the next morning, before I had picked everything up, Drue found the bra, picked it up and exclaimed, "Ooooh, woooow! Wassaaaaat?!" Hilarious.
This evening I talked to a friend who recently had a baby, and I was reminded that in six weeks we are going to have a newborn on our hands again. I don't know if we're ready. Right now all we can think about is where is Collin going to get a job? Are we moving? What will Drue say next? Do next? Poor Paige...we just haven't thought about you very much.
Before D was born, I wrote in a journal to her often. I've never been a great journaler, so it wasn't daily, but at least I was doing something. I need to start doing that for Paige. I need to start doing something, like rereading a book about how to, for lack of much better words, deal with a newborn. I've already taken care of one, and not even that long ago, and I feel clueless. I think I think we'll just find out what P is like and how she is different or similar from Drue and go from there. We didn't have a necessarily set plan with Drue, and we'll have even less of one with Paige. All I know is I want to nurse her more and stress about her schedule less. Which reminds me, I need to go get a GOOD nursing bra. Any suggestions?
OK, and since I've included the word bra in the title, I must share a funny Drue story about bras, mine specifically. Sometime while Collin was gone on interview I had slept in the living room, and instead of changing into some semblance of pajamas in my room before heading to bed in the living room, I just popped off the bra and slept on the couch in whatever I was wearing that day. The bra stayed in the living room with me, and the next morning, before I had picked everything up, Drue found the bra, picked it up and exclaimed, "Ooooh, woooow! Wassaaaaat?!" Hilarious.
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Gunky Birthdays
My second daughter will be born Tuesday March 29. Incredible. Our guy wanted to know why I liked the 29th over the 28th (we were given both options; I'm having a c-section). "Because I like the number better," I said. Is that so weird? Now both of our girls have entirely odd-numbered birthdays.
It would have been cool if we could have done 3-31-11 (also because Drue's bday is a 31), but ah well. Twenty-nine is, as my dad would say, solid. Now if I could only get this most recent ultrasound pic scanned and up online. It is c-razy. Her eyes are open, and you can only see one of them because her hand is up over the other, but it is staring at you. It's a picture of a sad eyeball. Anyone who isn't me would think it is creepy. I think it is marvelous.
C is gone again. We partied hearty at the Spencers' tonight, and I made myself sick on dessert. Surprise! Drue had fun but was ready to come home at 8. WAY past her bedtime lately. She has an ear/tubes followup tomorrow. There is so much gunk coming out of her left ear, there is no question the tubes are working, but my question is: why SO much gunk?
It would have been cool if we could have done 3-31-11 (also because Drue's bday is a 31), but ah well. Twenty-nine is, as my dad would say, solid. Now if I could only get this most recent ultrasound pic scanned and up online. It is c-razy. Her eyes are open, and you can only see one of them because her hand is up over the other, but it is staring at you. It's a picture of a sad eyeball. Anyone who isn't me would think it is creepy. I think it is marvelous.
C is gone again. We partied hearty at the Spencers' tonight, and I made myself sick on dessert. Surprise! Drue had fun but was ready to come home at 8. WAY past her bedtime lately. She has an ear/tubes followup tomorrow. There is so much gunk coming out of her left ear, there is no question the tubes are working, but my question is: why SO much gunk?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Sunday Before the Week Before the Sunday Our Guy Goes to Cali
Today I slept in a bit because I didn't sleep much last night. Back pain. I tried taking an actual walk yesterday (instead of doing my walk-in-your-living-room workout), and it tore me up. Why? Drue woke me up by opening the door to our room and walking up to the side of the bed, as she usually does, and saying something while patting the bed. I wonder what it's like to see Mommy (or Momma, as she's been calling me the last week) appear out of the mound of covers on the bed. I think it's somewhat scary, because she always stands back a little bit, and toward the end of the bed, like she's ready to bolt if whatever comes out of the mound is NOT her Momma.
We got ready for church and headed out in just enough time to arrive at 10. Drue loooooves going to church. She gabbed the whole way (she usually whines in the car). She loves seeing all of her friends and tromping around. She walks with much purpose. She talks to herself and others and looks for "Becca" and "Bobby" and "Ashey," etc., and then remembers there are "cookies" and asks for one.
Today she sat with the Shipmas during church, which was cute, but I must admit I missed her. Strange? She was right across the aisle. I stuck half a piece of gum in her mouth at the beginning of the service, hoping it would keep her quieter than usual. (Bad mom?) She did great, or the Shipmas did. One of the songs we sang as a congregation was actually "Jesus Loves Me," so Collin and I had fun watching D's look of surprise when the entire room burst into the song she hears every night before bed. At a few points I even saw her try to mouth the words and attempt to sing, but I think she was too overcome with surprise to think much about singing.
I was a little upset at church. Understatement. I was grumpy and brought to tears when a teenager ran into me and almost knocked me over. (He's a sweetheart and was playing with the kids and accidentally knocked into me...but he's a crazily muscley football dude). It jarred my already hurting back something fierce, and I felt the baby, and my uterus, shimmy-shake, and so I was standing there talking to my friend Tim about C's upcoming job interviews, and I was suddenly was overcome with emotion when this kis ran into me. He didn't see me start to cry (thank goodness...he already felt terrible...truly the sweetest kid I've ever known). I don't know what it was. I just got upset. I apologized to Tim and all but sprinted off and slipped into the cry room to cry/try to stop crying. (The baby cry room, ha.) OK. I was OK. Mostly hormones and upset about my back hurting. But I could deal.
Then church starts, and Mike is praying, and all I can think is, I'm getting ready to start bawling. I feel like crap. What is going on? I tell Collin, and he suggests I "go have a good cry." It was the same advice he'd given me the night before when I laughed at a Facebook comment until I started crying. He'd said, "Why don't you just go to the bedroom and have a good cry?" (instead of trying to pull it together). NO. I had to pull it together. I was being crazy.
Today I took his advice. I left and went into the bathroom to cry it out, as it were, and it worked. All my body wanted to do was cry, so once I let it, it was done. I was no longer upset about much of anything. Hmm...as I'm writing this I'm thinking about babies and the "crying it out method." Hmm...
Anyway, things were normal again. We sang "Jesus Loves Me," and C took Drue to the nursery for the sermon. I sang for communion and all was normal. And remained normal. I guess there's no big ending to the story.
We came home and put Drue down and SLEPT. Collin on the floor and me on the couch. We slept the entire length of her nap. In silence (meaning no fan). I have come to appreciate silence so much these days. It was more than nice, until I felt like crap when we got up. But nonetheless, there were things to do...like make German chocolate cupcakes for small group, since the food theme tonight was German. Delicious and a great time with friends. A sad time too. A time of a lot of prayer. Somebody's dad died tonight. I don't know the family, but the news made me feel woozy like when you drive over an unexpected lift in the road. Still, there is something about sitting around with friends and reading Psalms.
Came home and put babe to bed. C watched an episode of Frasier and I read blogs. And now I am writing one. And now I am going to bed.
We got ready for church and headed out in just enough time to arrive at 10. Drue loooooves going to church. She gabbed the whole way (she usually whines in the car). She loves seeing all of her friends and tromping around. She walks with much purpose. She talks to herself and others and looks for "Becca" and "Bobby" and "Ashey," etc., and then remembers there are "cookies" and asks for one.
Today she sat with the Shipmas during church, which was cute, but I must admit I missed her. Strange? She was right across the aisle. I stuck half a piece of gum in her mouth at the beginning of the service, hoping it would keep her quieter than usual. (Bad mom?) She did great, or the Shipmas did. One of the songs we sang as a congregation was actually "Jesus Loves Me," so Collin and I had fun watching D's look of surprise when the entire room burst into the song she hears every night before bed. At a few points I even saw her try to mouth the words and attempt to sing, but I think she was too overcome with surprise to think much about singing.
I was a little upset at church. Understatement. I was grumpy and brought to tears when a teenager ran into me and almost knocked me over. (He's a sweetheart and was playing with the kids and accidentally knocked into me...but he's a crazily muscley football dude). It jarred my already hurting back something fierce, and I felt the baby, and my uterus, shimmy-shake, and so I was standing there talking to my friend Tim about C's upcoming job interviews, and I was suddenly was overcome with emotion when this kis ran into me. He didn't see me start to cry (thank goodness...he already felt terrible...truly the sweetest kid I've ever known). I don't know what it was. I just got upset. I apologized to Tim and all but sprinted off and slipped into the cry room to cry/try to stop crying. (The baby cry room, ha.) OK. I was OK. Mostly hormones and upset about my back hurting. But I could deal.
Then church starts, and Mike is praying, and all I can think is, I'm getting ready to start bawling. I feel like crap. What is going on? I tell Collin, and he suggests I "go have a good cry." It was the same advice he'd given me the night before when I laughed at a Facebook comment until I started crying. He'd said, "Why don't you just go to the bedroom and have a good cry?" (instead of trying to pull it together). NO. I had to pull it together. I was being crazy.
Today I took his advice. I left and went into the bathroom to cry it out, as it were, and it worked. All my body wanted to do was cry, so once I let it, it was done. I was no longer upset about much of anything. Hmm...as I'm writing this I'm thinking about babies and the "crying it out method." Hmm...
Anyway, things were normal again. We sang "Jesus Loves Me," and C took Drue to the nursery for the sermon. I sang for communion and all was normal. And remained normal. I guess there's no big ending to the story.
We came home and put Drue down and SLEPT. Collin on the floor and me on the couch. We slept the entire length of her nap. In silence (meaning no fan). I have come to appreciate silence so much these days. It was more than nice, until I felt like crap when we got up. But nonetheless, there were things to do...like make German chocolate cupcakes for small group, since the food theme tonight was German. Delicious and a great time with friends. A sad time too. A time of a lot of prayer. Somebody's dad died tonight. I don't know the family, but the news made me feel woozy like when you drive over an unexpected lift in the road. Still, there is something about sitting around with friends and reading Psalms.
Came home and put babe to bed. C watched an episode of Frasier and I read blogs. And now I am writing one. And now I am going to bed.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Remarks from the Blue Chair
We no longer have the green couch. That's a lie. We do. It's in "the garage room," which we don't use because we might be moving, and that's where we keep all the boxes I still haven't unpacked since we moved into this house.
The green cover that was on the green couch IS long gone, and now, if ever I write this blog, I write from a blue chair and not a green couch.
The chair is one of two my grandmother gave me. The same grandmother who buys Drue the most precious Baby-Gap-Manequin outfits. My mother bought the pillows for the chairs, and the two of us picked out the lamp that sits on the table between the chairs.
But that's boring.
Our guy got a second job interview in the same state as the first: Califronia. This means that next Sunday and the Sunday after he'll be flying out to Cali to try to secure a tenure-track position at one of two private colleges. I couldn't be more proud or excited...or scared. California? If ever there were a state I'd say I wouldn't mind moving to, California would probably be it, but being faced with the fact that we more than likely will be moving there (at least it feels that way) is...whoa.
One of the two colleges is a very prestigious, small liberal arts college. The other is a fairly (I think?) prestigious Christian college. Very different. This is interesting. When our guy had to write a statement of faith for the latter school (which bothered him), he was not rosey. He wrote a very honest, very beautiful, but very, I'm guessing, not-the-norm statement. I wasn't sure the people at this college would read it and be interested in him. The fact that they are makes me like the school without knowing much of anything else about it. But at this point I'd rather he get the job at the other college, if only because I know he wants that job more and it would allow him to do more research.
Geez...I can't believe Drue is going to (maybe...probably) be a California Girl. Eep!
Speaking of our girl...Drue has new words every day. I had no idea that she finally learned that a duck says quack. She did. She said it while looking through an animal book with her daddy after our Saturday Evening Family Outing.
We took her with us to Applebee's tonight because we had a gift card. She drank very watered down lemonade and tried a few bites of boneless buffalo wings, celery (or should I say bleu cheese dip?), breadstick (which she called "cake" until she tasted it), provolone-stuffed meatball and pasta. She, of course, finished early and proceeded to tell us, "All done! All done!" which meant she wanted DOWN, but we appeased her with my lipstick (into which she stuck her finger), a small jar of hand sanitizer ("hands"), a to-go box, and finally, a half a stick of gum from our waitress. This did the trick.
We then took the family to Barnes & Noble and watched D tromp around the kiddie section and perform on stage and make sure her daddy was watching. She loves his attention more and more. She absolutely loves Saturdays and Sundays because we're BOTH home, and when she wakes up from her nap those days she immediately goes looking for "Dahddy" and climbs into his lap and gives him at least two kisses. It is maybe the cutest thing ever.
I don't mind us all being home either. :) I seem to live for the weekends these days, mostly because C has been working late evenings to prep for the job interviews and presentations he has to give. So we don't see a lot of him weekdays. So it goes. Everything in seasons.
Our other little girl, who will be named Paige, is a mover and a shaker. I have enjoyed feeling more movement this pregnancy. It is something I am always fascinated with. In order not to gain any more "me" weight these last two months--and in order to be able to sleep at night--I've been trying to get at least some kind of low-impact workout each day. It feels good, though I still ONLY want to eat dessert. I refrained tonight from going to Braum's after eating a huge dinner at Applebee's and instead filled a small cup half full of dark chocolate chips. Not too bad, huh?
Anyway, I can't believe she's coming at the end of March. It still feels surreal. I keep envisioning seeing Drue for the first time and thinking, This is really going to happen again? What is that going to be like? Who is she going to look like? Are we going to parent her the same, or will she require a different style? Etc. I'm starting to get "nesty," though it's difficult to get too nesty when we might be moving so soon. Crazy.
As excited as I am, I'm also very nervous: about how Drue is going to do, about sleep, about how I'm going to take care of TWO HUMAN BEINGS. I already struggle with guilt every day, feeling like I don't do enough to educate Drue. Ugh. And we don't even have half the things we had for Drue when she was a babe, because we were borrowing them (exersaucer, playpad, etc.). Ah well...it's going to be fine and great and different.
The green cover that was on the green couch IS long gone, and now, if ever I write this blog, I write from a blue chair and not a green couch.
The chair is one of two my grandmother gave me. The same grandmother who buys Drue the most precious Baby-Gap-Manequin outfits. My mother bought the pillows for the chairs, and the two of us picked out the lamp that sits on the table between the chairs.
But that's boring.
Our guy got a second job interview in the same state as the first: Califronia. This means that next Sunday and the Sunday after he'll be flying out to Cali to try to secure a tenure-track position at one of two private colleges. I couldn't be more proud or excited...or scared. California? If ever there were a state I'd say I wouldn't mind moving to, California would probably be it, but being faced with the fact that we more than likely will be moving there (at least it feels that way) is...whoa.
One of the two colleges is a very prestigious, small liberal arts college. The other is a fairly (I think?) prestigious Christian college. Very different. This is interesting. When our guy had to write a statement of faith for the latter school (which bothered him), he was not rosey. He wrote a very honest, very beautiful, but very, I'm guessing, not-the-norm statement. I wasn't sure the people at this college would read it and be interested in him. The fact that they are makes me like the school without knowing much of anything else about it. But at this point I'd rather he get the job at the other college, if only because I know he wants that job more and it would allow him to do more research.
Geez...I can't believe Drue is going to (maybe...probably) be a California Girl. Eep!
Speaking of our girl...Drue has new words every day. I had no idea that she finally learned that a duck says quack. She did. She said it while looking through an animal book with her daddy after our Saturday Evening Family Outing.
We took her with us to Applebee's tonight because we had a gift card. She drank very watered down lemonade and tried a few bites of boneless buffalo wings, celery (or should I say bleu cheese dip?), breadstick (which she called "cake" until she tasted it), provolone-stuffed meatball and pasta. She, of course, finished early and proceeded to tell us, "All done! All done!" which meant she wanted DOWN, but we appeased her with my lipstick (into which she stuck her finger), a small jar of hand sanitizer ("hands"), a to-go box, and finally, a half a stick of gum from our waitress. This did the trick.
We then took the family to Barnes & Noble and watched D tromp around the kiddie section and perform on stage and make sure her daddy was watching. She loves his attention more and more. She absolutely loves Saturdays and Sundays because we're BOTH home, and when she wakes up from her nap those days she immediately goes looking for "Dahddy" and climbs into his lap and gives him at least two kisses. It is maybe the cutest thing ever.
I don't mind us all being home either. :) I seem to live for the weekends these days, mostly because C has been working late evenings to prep for the job interviews and presentations he has to give. So we don't see a lot of him weekdays. So it goes. Everything in seasons.
Our other little girl, who will be named Paige, is a mover and a shaker. I have enjoyed feeling more movement this pregnancy. It is something I am always fascinated with. In order not to gain any more "me" weight these last two months--and in order to be able to sleep at night--I've been trying to get at least some kind of low-impact workout each day. It feels good, though I still ONLY want to eat dessert. I refrained tonight from going to Braum's after eating a huge dinner at Applebee's and instead filled a small cup half full of dark chocolate chips. Not too bad, huh?
Anyway, I can't believe she's coming at the end of March. It still feels surreal. I keep envisioning seeing Drue for the first time and thinking, This is really going to happen again? What is that going to be like? Who is she going to look like? Are we going to parent her the same, or will she require a different style? Etc. I'm starting to get "nesty," though it's difficult to get too nesty when we might be moving so soon. Crazy.
As excited as I am, I'm also very nervous: about how Drue is going to do, about sleep, about how I'm going to take care of TWO HUMAN BEINGS. I already struggle with guilt every day, feeling like I don't do enough to educate Drue. Ugh. And we don't even have half the things we had for Drue when she was a babe, because we were borrowing them (exersaucer, playpad, etc.). Ah well...it's going to be fine and great and different.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
Disjointed Christmas Post
I am officially enjoying the Christmas season, as of today really.
I have come out of the funk I've been in for a couple of weeks.
I enjoy taking off my glasses and gazing at our beautifully lit, blurry Christmas tree.
My kitchen is clean...and therefore ready to be destroyed by the upcoming candy-making extravaganza.
(I have made peace with the only-baking, no-other-sort-of-presents fact of life that is this Christmas.)
With class being over (TOMORROW!), I am no longer forced to think of my daughter's naptime as gold (and today enjoyed her awake time much more than her sleepy time; this could, and maybe should, be a post in and of itself).
Speaking of the daughter, I went ahead and broke down and took her to the doc today for MORE antibiotics; I gave her one dose, and she is already acting more her normal, cheerful self. I spent a bit of time looking up "tubes in ears" surgery, etc., this evening and am feeling better about it (since I know the ENT that we're seeing next week is going to tell me she needs them). I still don't like the idea of the forced unconsciousness of my 18-month-old, but I LOVE the idea of her not being sick and hurting anymore.
This evening I spent a good half hour reading the Williams-Sonoma Christmas cataglog. WHOA. I want everything, please. Thank you. (Everything except the $495 5-ounce jar of select caviar. Has anyone ever eaten caviar? Is it really so good?)
Another thing I'm enjoying: the fact that Collin's office hours stop after TOMORROW(!), and we will see him before 6 o'clock every weeknight.
I am not enjoying the fact that we loaned out our Christmas Vacation video. HOWEVER, I am enjoying the fact that friends who'd never seen this treasured movie are enjoying it perhaps as I write. So that cancels that out, doesn't it?
Yes, I am excited about Christmas, and Christmases to come...with our growing family. Our "girls." That sounds so strange still. I am thankful for today and for God's many blessings. I am sad for loved ones who are hurting and praying for them this Christmas. I am sad for the many people who are not joyful this Christmas, who do not find hope in its meaning, for any number of reasons. I fall short in service to my neighbor and in reaching out where love is desperately needed. That is sad. But there is light. And thankfully, my falling short doesn't keep God from doing his business of shedding that light and offering hope and working miracles.
I have come out of the funk I've been in for a couple of weeks.
I enjoy taking off my glasses and gazing at our beautifully lit, blurry Christmas tree.
My kitchen is clean...and therefore ready to be destroyed by the upcoming candy-making extravaganza.
(I have made peace with the only-baking, no-other-sort-of-presents fact of life that is this Christmas.)
With class being over (TOMORROW!), I am no longer forced to think of my daughter's naptime as gold (and today enjoyed her awake time much more than her sleepy time; this could, and maybe should, be a post in and of itself).
Speaking of the daughter, I went ahead and broke down and took her to the doc today for MORE antibiotics; I gave her one dose, and she is already acting more her normal, cheerful self. I spent a bit of time looking up "tubes in ears" surgery, etc., this evening and am feeling better about it (since I know the ENT that we're seeing next week is going to tell me she needs them). I still don't like the idea of the forced unconsciousness of my 18-month-old, but I LOVE the idea of her not being sick and hurting anymore.
This evening I spent a good half hour reading the Williams-Sonoma Christmas cataglog. WHOA. I want everything, please. Thank you. (Everything except the $495 5-ounce jar of select caviar. Has anyone ever eaten caviar? Is it really so good?)
Another thing I'm enjoying: the fact that Collin's office hours stop after TOMORROW(!), and we will see him before 6 o'clock every weeknight.
I am not enjoying the fact that we loaned out our Christmas Vacation video. HOWEVER, I am enjoying the fact that friends who'd never seen this treasured movie are enjoying it perhaps as I write. So that cancels that out, doesn't it?
Yes, I am excited about Christmas, and Christmases to come...with our growing family. Our "girls." That sounds so strange still. I am thankful for today and for God's many blessings. I am sad for loved ones who are hurting and praying for them this Christmas. I am sad for the many people who are not joyful this Christmas, who do not find hope in its meaning, for any number of reasons. I fall short in service to my neighbor and in reaching out where love is desperately needed. That is sad. But there is light. And thankfully, my falling short doesn't keep God from doing his business of shedding that light and offering hope and working miracles.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Cards
Thanksgiving was good. It started off a bit rough, with a rough conversation, but the conversation turned out to be a blessing to all involved, and we had a marvelous holiday: me in the kitchen mostly, and Collin working on his car with his dad. (I'm so glad he has a hobby other than reading stats and psych books/articles.)
I have some pictures I will post below of Thanksgiving, but now it's Christmastime, seeing as Advent has begun and the Christmas tree is erected and decorated in true family form, and I want to post a couple of thoughts smooshing my brain. (These thoughts were already smooshing my brain, but thanks to awesome friend's blog post, they're at the forefront right at this moment.)
To send or not to send a Christmas card this year?
Every time I think about sending a Christmas card, I get tense, and I stress out...but I also really want to do it. Why? I'm not sure my motivations are sound. The stressers usually include: Do we even have money for this? But I love getting Christmas cards, and what if no one sends me one? (Note: poor motivation.) But I don't have time for that. I'll have to gather all those addresses (because I will NEVER have them in one place), and what if I miss someone, which I'll surely do, and do I send them to church friends, because there are so many, but they're my best friends, and do I find a picture we've already taken (is there one?!), or do I stress about getting a new one? Oh...WHEN am I going to get this done?!
Time. Out.
Do I even have to send a Christmas card? And if I do, does it HAVE to have a picture? The thought of not sending a Christmas card simultaneously makes me sad and relaxed. I just don't know. I DO want to send one, because it seems fun, and I haven't done it since the baby was born, but apparently it isn't fun for me? I do want to receive them from friends, but is that my motivation? And is that okay?
All to say, I would love your thoughts on the Christmas-card-sending experience.
Second: I am considering only giving candies as presents this year. (I would make them, of course. Every year we received these particular candies from our neighbors the Sights, and every year I couldn't wait until they arrived. They were and remain my favorite Chrismtas candy...and they're not really even a "Christmas" candy.) But as I sat and made my list of whom I would send them to, I couldn't help but worry that most people receiving them will be displeased not to have received a "real" present this year.
I'm certain this isn't the case...because that even looks ugly. There is no way my family, or Collin's, with maybe the exception of teenagers, will be upset receiving candies from us. But I keep worrying that they will.
JESUS SAYS NOT TO WORRY, MEGHAN. I know, I know. And I tell my husband this very truth often. I guess the tides have turned.
Oooooooh, side note...the bread in my bread machine is starting to smell gooooood.
Okay, that's enough for now. Here are the Thanksgiving pics. I was in charge of two types of potatoes, cranberry relish (which I forgot to add pecans to, oops!) and a pie. My first homemade pie crust. A semi-success. It needed lard.
Sweet girl with runny nose.
Candied "yams." (What is a yam?)
Nom nom nom...
Pie crust. (Collin every so kindly remarked, "Meghan, I believe this particular crimped area doesn't look as well crimped as the rest," then smirked when I gasped. I was a woman on the edge. Good thing he was kidding.)
I have some pictures I will post below of Thanksgiving, but now it's Christmastime, seeing as Advent has begun and the Christmas tree is erected and decorated in true family form, and I want to post a couple of thoughts smooshing my brain. (These thoughts were already smooshing my brain, but thanks to awesome friend's blog post, they're at the forefront right at this moment.)
To send or not to send a Christmas card this year?
Every time I think about sending a Christmas card, I get tense, and I stress out...but I also really want to do it. Why? I'm not sure my motivations are sound. The stressers usually include: Do we even have money for this? But I love getting Christmas cards, and what if no one sends me one? (Note: poor motivation.) But I don't have time for that. I'll have to gather all those addresses (because I will NEVER have them in one place), and what if I miss someone, which I'll surely do, and do I send them to church friends, because there are so many, but they're my best friends, and do I find a picture we've already taken (is there one?!), or do I stress about getting a new one? Oh...WHEN am I going to get this done?!
Time. Out.
Do I even have to send a Christmas card? And if I do, does it HAVE to have a picture? The thought of not sending a Christmas card simultaneously makes me sad and relaxed. I just don't know. I DO want to send one, because it seems fun, and I haven't done it since the baby was born, but apparently it isn't fun for me? I do want to receive them from friends, but is that my motivation? And is that okay?
All to say, I would love your thoughts on the Christmas-card-sending experience.
Second: I am considering only giving candies as presents this year. (I would make them, of course. Every year we received these particular candies from our neighbors the Sights, and every year I couldn't wait until they arrived. They were and remain my favorite Chrismtas candy...and they're not really even a "Christmas" candy.) But as I sat and made my list of whom I would send them to, I couldn't help but worry that most people receiving them will be displeased not to have received a "real" present this year.
I'm certain this isn't the case...because that even looks ugly. There is no way my family, or Collin's, with maybe the exception of teenagers, will be upset receiving candies from us. But I keep worrying that they will.
JESUS SAYS NOT TO WORRY, MEGHAN. I know, I know. And I tell my husband this very truth often. I guess the tides have turned.
Oooooooh, side note...the bread in my bread machine is starting to smell gooooood.
Okay, that's enough for now. Here are the Thanksgiving pics. I was in charge of two types of potatoes, cranberry relish (which I forgot to add pecans to, oops!) and a pie. My first homemade pie crust. A semi-success. It needed lard.
Sweet girl with runny nose.
Candied "yams." (What is a yam?)
Nom nom nom...
Pie crust. (Collin every so kindly remarked, "Meghan, I believe this particular crimped area doesn't look as well crimped as the rest," then smirked when I gasped. I was a woman on the edge. Good thing he was kidding.)
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Frozen Meals: Homemade Version
I've been doing what I can to save money in the food department - since we're rebudgeting and cutting everywhere. Fun!
Actually, it is. It's like a game. My dear friend Jessie loaned me a book called Miserly Moms that has given me a lot of great ideas (as has Jessie), and I've gleaned what I can from a number of other friends as well. What I've learned so far? I can save a LOT more money than I thought.
For example, after my first round of grocery shopping to get started with this new "system," I've spent around $60 per week on groceries for a family of four (including house items like laundry deterrgent, diapers for baby, etc.). Incredible. I shudder to think of the money I've wasted over the years. I could have invested and been rich!
So, what am I doing (for starters)? Buying meat in bulk and making my own chicken broth and bread (Collin eats a LOT of bread), and eating vegetarian at least twice a week, and using less meat in meals in general (most of the time). It's amazing how simple it is.
First, I sat down and made a list of all the meals that I like to cook and that I can cook fairly easily (with "normal" ingredients). I came up with just under 40. Then I posted the list (organized into groups like beef, chicken, soup, vegetarian, etc.) on the fridge.
Second, I created a menu for the week to come. This was a Sunday night. It really didn't take long, and I can't believe I've not done this before. I posted this list on the fridge too.
The first thing I did was cook a whole chicken - the meat of which I'm still using (two weeks later) - then made broth out of the carcass and saved it in 2-cup portions in the freezer. By making meals that I can freeze half of, we practically cut our weekly budget in half. And I don't have to cook as much! Though I do love to cook, I also love the idea of only having to slice an avocado and some tomato from our dwindling garden while I throw my frozen pan of enchiladas in the oven. They're still homeade, and I don't have to spend an extra 45 minutes in the kitchen.
As far as non-dinner things go, Drue eats meat and cheese and fruit. I keep at least a box of some type of cracker around for snacks. She also loves my egg salad, which I've been making a huge batch of each week and eating on bread for lunch. Collin's lunches are fairly simple as well: a turkey sandwich and an apple with a bag of peanuts and Cheerios for a snack.
Breakfasts are PB toast for me and Drue and Grape Nuts and yogurt for Collin (Drue loves yogurt to). I've found a recipe for homeade Grape Nuts, which should save us some dough. And I'm really enjoying baking bread each week. Buy one cheap bag of flour and a jar of yeast, and you've got bread for weeks!
Fun times in the Barnes Kitchen.
Actually, it is. It's like a game. My dear friend Jessie loaned me a book called Miserly Moms that has given me a lot of great ideas (as has Jessie), and I've gleaned what I can from a number of other friends as well. What I've learned so far? I can save a LOT more money than I thought.
For example, after my first round of grocery shopping to get started with this new "system," I've spent around $60 per week on groceries for a family of four (including house items like laundry deterrgent, diapers for baby, etc.). Incredible. I shudder to think of the money I've wasted over the years. I could have invested and been rich!
So, what am I doing (for starters)? Buying meat in bulk and making my own chicken broth and bread (Collin eats a LOT of bread), and eating vegetarian at least twice a week, and using less meat in meals in general (most of the time). It's amazing how simple it is.
First, I sat down and made a list of all the meals that I like to cook and that I can cook fairly easily (with "normal" ingredients). I came up with just under 40. Then I posted the list (organized into groups like beef, chicken, soup, vegetarian, etc.) on the fridge.
Second, I created a menu for the week to come. This was a Sunday night. It really didn't take long, and I can't believe I've not done this before. I posted this list on the fridge too.
The first thing I did was cook a whole chicken - the meat of which I'm still using (two weeks later) - then made broth out of the carcass and saved it in 2-cup portions in the freezer. By making meals that I can freeze half of, we practically cut our weekly budget in half. And I don't have to cook as much! Though I do love to cook, I also love the idea of only having to slice an avocado and some tomato from our dwindling garden while I throw my frozen pan of enchiladas in the oven. They're still homeade, and I don't have to spend an extra 45 minutes in the kitchen.
As far as non-dinner things go, Drue eats meat and cheese and fruit. I keep at least a box of some type of cracker around for snacks. She also loves my egg salad, which I've been making a huge batch of each week and eating on bread for lunch. Collin's lunches are fairly simple as well: a turkey sandwich and an apple with a bag of peanuts and Cheerios for a snack.
Breakfasts are PB toast for me and Drue and Grape Nuts and yogurt for Collin (Drue loves yogurt to). I've found a recipe for homeade Grape Nuts, which should save us some dough. And I'm really enjoying baking bread each week. Buy one cheap bag of flour and a jar of yeast, and you've got bread for weeks!
Fun times in the Barnes Kitchen.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Awkward Moment
The bear and I went to the mall today with some of my girlfriends and their kiddos. We got to the mall early because sunshine was having the most clingy, whiney morning of the century. She followed me around whining for over an hour, so we left an hour earlier than we usually do for our mall play date.
We pulled up just before 10:00, and we took a tour with the Mall Walkers before settling into the play area. My friends weren't there yet, but there were a couple other moms there, so I chatted it up with one of them whose four-year-old couldn't get enough of Drue. The mom was concerned that I was annoyed, but I tried to assure her I wasn't. (I was a little. A very little.)
Another mom came into the play area and sort of joined our conversation. Then when the first mom left, the other sat with me and continued talking. I'm fine with that. I've always loved talking to strangers. She was kind. She gave Drue a ball to play with, and Drue was having a blast. Where it got awkward was when this mom started disciplining all the children in the play area.
OK, let me not exaggerate. This mom was simply concerned for good behavior. But when another little girl smacked Drue, this mom started talking very loudly so that the other mother could hear: "That little girl just hit your daughter. Did you see that? She just hit her in the face? Why would she do that?"
OK. This made me nervous. In my head I'm thinking, Shut up! Don't you know the othe mom can hear you? How embarrassing. This isn't that big a deal. They're tiny little people. Drue's not even that upset.
But I went back and kept smiling and let her talk and acted like everything was good, because generally it was. Then out of the blue (and I mean out of the blue; we were talking about something else entirely, and she just changed the subject with this), the woman started, in her own way, trying to witness to me. At this point she'd already praised my daughter and asked me, "Do you take her to church? Is she around other children?" to which I'd responded, "Why yes." But now she tells me a story of answered prayer and I feel like she is just wanting to make sure I'm a Christian, because if I'm not, she's going to share the gospel with me right this second.
OK. This makes me feel a number of emotions, two of which are guilt and annoyance.
A little time passes, and I get ready to leave because my friends aren't there yet, and Drue is hungry and getting tired, but then my friends show up, so I come back and give Drue a banana in the play area (against the rules!), and this mom is so happy I've come back, or so it seems by her smile and the way she greets me.
But uh oh. The same little girl who hit Drue the first time (she had actually done it twice at this point) hit Drue again. And again, I didn't see it. And again, when I did look over, Drue wasn't that upset. But the only reason I did look over was because when it happened, the lady got up, rushed to the scene of the crime and started scolding the mom whose daughter hit mine. I am not kidding: scolding. Loudly.
The poor other mom tried to keep this mom from disciplining her daughter and rushed her over to me and Drue to apologize. The whole time I'm hoping she doesn't think I'm with the mom who just yelled at her. We told the little girl we forgave her, and I told the mom she was sweet to do that. That it wasn't the end of the world. (She was upset.)
I didn't say anything to the scolding mom, but when she started telling other children they needed to say please and, specifically, telling my friends that they needed to discipline their children for playing too rough or taking the ball that Drue was supposed to be playing with, I was out of there. In fact, two out of the four of us were out of there. We'd been there long enough, so it was all good. But I'm writing all of this because I'm curious: how would you have handled the situation?
We pulled up just before 10:00, and we took a tour with the Mall Walkers before settling into the play area. My friends weren't there yet, but there were a couple other moms there, so I chatted it up with one of them whose four-year-old couldn't get enough of Drue. The mom was concerned that I was annoyed, but I tried to assure her I wasn't. (I was a little. A very little.)
Another mom came into the play area and sort of joined our conversation. Then when the first mom left, the other sat with me and continued talking. I'm fine with that. I've always loved talking to strangers. She was kind. She gave Drue a ball to play with, and Drue was having a blast. Where it got awkward was when this mom started disciplining all the children in the play area.
OK, let me not exaggerate. This mom was simply concerned for good behavior. But when another little girl smacked Drue, this mom started talking very loudly so that the other mother could hear: "That little girl just hit your daughter. Did you see that? She just hit her in the face? Why would she do that?"
OK. This made me nervous. In my head I'm thinking, Shut up! Don't you know the othe mom can hear you? How embarrassing. This isn't that big a deal. They're tiny little people. Drue's not even that upset.
But I went back and kept smiling and let her talk and acted like everything was good, because generally it was. Then out of the blue (and I mean out of the blue; we were talking about something else entirely, and she just changed the subject with this), the woman started, in her own way, trying to witness to me. At this point she'd already praised my daughter and asked me, "Do you take her to church? Is she around other children?" to which I'd responded, "Why yes." But now she tells me a story of answered prayer and I feel like she is just wanting to make sure I'm a Christian, because if I'm not, she's going to share the gospel with me right this second.
OK. This makes me feel a number of emotions, two of which are guilt and annoyance.
A little time passes, and I get ready to leave because my friends aren't there yet, and Drue is hungry and getting tired, but then my friends show up, so I come back and give Drue a banana in the play area (against the rules!), and this mom is so happy I've come back, or so it seems by her smile and the way she greets me.
But uh oh. The same little girl who hit Drue the first time (she had actually done it twice at this point) hit Drue again. And again, I didn't see it. And again, when I did look over, Drue wasn't that upset. But the only reason I did look over was because when it happened, the lady got up, rushed to the scene of the crime and started scolding the mom whose daughter hit mine. I am not kidding: scolding. Loudly.
The poor other mom tried to keep this mom from disciplining her daughter and rushed her over to me and Drue to apologize. The whole time I'm hoping she doesn't think I'm with the mom who just yelled at her. We told the little girl we forgave her, and I told the mom she was sweet to do that. That it wasn't the end of the world. (She was upset.)
I didn't say anything to the scolding mom, but when she started telling other children they needed to say please and, specifically, telling my friends that they needed to discipline their children for playing too rough or taking the ball that Drue was supposed to be playing with, I was out of there. In fact, two out of the four of us were out of there. We'd been there long enough, so it was all good. But I'm writing all of this because I'm curious: how would you have handled the situation?
Friday, July 16, 2010
My Life
Blah. Too busy to post. Every day I think of something I want to write about on this here blog, and every day I'm too busy or tired of the computer to write it.
Gotta go clean a poopie diaper.
P.S. This doesn't mean I'm quitting writing. By no means.
Gotta go clean a poopie diaper.
P.S. This doesn't mean I'm quitting writing. By no means.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
I Should Blog; I Haven't Blogged In Days
Tomorrow is my ONE shot at talking PW with my students (that's "professional writing" to all you ignoramuses). I have been laboring over what to talk about. How does one boil an entire major into one barely-introductory lecture?
I've been talking on basic story forms and formats. How to write a basic news story, a feature story, a piece for broadcast, a blog, a piece for the web. How to write a lead/lede, a headline, a summary. How to think like a "backpack journalist" (i.e., a journalist with lots of tricks up her sleeve; i.e., a journalist who can look at a body of information, including words, video, photos, etc., and decide how best to communicate the story). So I thought: I'll boil it down to the five modes of discourse.
From fastest to slowest they are: narrative summary, dramatic action, dialogue, description and exposition.
So tomorrow morning at 8:30 I'll be talking about these, albeit briefly, and my students will probably (all but three of them) be snoozing. Actually, no, I won't stand for that. This is PW Day. The ONE PW Day. I will walk around the room and pound desks with my fists if there are heads dropped.
Still, with such a great major that encompasses so much, talking about the five modes of discourse does sound kind of lame, doesn't it?
P.S. Nobody does exposition better than Arrested Development narrator, Ron Howard.
I've been talking on basic story forms and formats. How to write a basic news story, a feature story, a piece for broadcast, a blog, a piece for the web. How to write a lead/lede, a headline, a summary. How to think like a "backpack journalist" (i.e., a journalist with lots of tricks up her sleeve; i.e., a journalist who can look at a body of information, including words, video, photos, etc., and decide how best to communicate the story). So I thought: I'll boil it down to the five modes of discourse.
From fastest to slowest they are: narrative summary, dramatic action, dialogue, description and exposition.
So tomorrow morning at 8:30 I'll be talking about these, albeit briefly, and my students will probably (all but three of them) be snoozing. Actually, no, I won't stand for that. This is PW Day. The ONE PW Day. I will walk around the room and pound desks with my fists if there are heads dropped.
Still, with such a great major that encompasses so much, talking about the five modes of discourse does sound kind of lame, doesn't it?
P.S. Nobody does exposition better than Arrested Development narrator, Ron Howard.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Me Versus Chocolate: Me Wins
The cupcakes were a hit, and I hope so because they take a lot of prep. A lot of prep for me, that is. Here are a few photos along my journey. And by the way, these are Martha Stewart cupcakes, so you can expect the best.
First, the cupcakes, which are Devil's Food made with a cocoa solution (I like to call it that), butter, white sugar, eggs, sour cream, flour, the usual powder and soda, vanilla, salt and love.
I started making a mess early...
...but found time to clean between majors. For example, I made the cocoa solution first (hot water whisked with cocoa powder), got the butter and sugar melting...
...then cleaned up what I'd messed up to that point.
Once the butter-sugar mix is melted (yum)...
...you drink it all. Just kidding. You dump it in a mixing bowl and beat on medium-low speed until cooled (4-6 minutes). Oooooh, the smell. Reminds me of the movies, all that butter.
While that's mixing, put together your dry mix and measure out a cup of room-temperature sour cream. Oh, your 4 eggs should be sitting out too. Room temperature, people. Aaaand the oven is pre-heating to something. ;)
Once the mixture is cooled, mix in 1 heaping Tbsp vanilla and one egg at a time, each until combined. Then the cocoa solution. Mmm... Love watching it swirl together. Wish I had a pic.
Turn the beating speed to low and mix in half the dry mix, the sour cream, and the rest of the dry mix, each until combined. Then pour that yummy mixture into 32 lined muffin tins and eat at least a quarter cup yourself before washing out the mixing bowl. (Fill each cup 3/4 full.)
They'll turn out like this. (Can you tell I had too much fun taking pictures?)
I was lucky enough to be gifted with three wire cooling racks when we married. I love them and use them often. Once the cupcakes have entirely cooled, you can start thinking about making the ganache frosting. Then you can start making it.
Pour a pound or so of yummy chocolate into a heat-proof bowl.
Heat lots of heavy whipping cream and a quarter cup ligh corn syrup over med-high heat until just simmering and poor the mixture over the chocolate (whilst singing, "There is no life I know that compares with pure imagination...")...
...and stir...
...(you're walking into the candy room, the chimes are chiming)...
...(you're walking the steps with Willy Wonka and just about to crunch into a lemon flower cup)...
...(aaaaaand, chocolate river).
"Do not over stir."
Unfortunately, I tried frosting the cakes too early. This was was a bit runny. But still delicious.
A couple more runs of cooling and stirring, and we were ready.
Pure deliciousness.
I had a lot of fun dipping the cakes into a bowl of chocolate, colored sprinkles. They didn't cover entirely but with the swirls of frosting. Delightful.
Now if only I'd taken them to a party of youths instead of a party of adults. They would have been eaten. (I think we brought at least a dozen back home, AFTER leaving at least a dozen at the party.) Ah well. More for me!
First, the cupcakes, which are Devil's Food made with a cocoa solution (I like to call it that), butter, white sugar, eggs, sour cream, flour, the usual powder and soda, vanilla, salt and love.
I started making a mess early...
...but found time to clean between majors. For example, I made the cocoa solution first (hot water whisked with cocoa powder), got the butter and sugar melting...
...then cleaned up what I'd messed up to that point.
Once the butter-sugar mix is melted (yum)...
...you drink it all. Just kidding. You dump it in a mixing bowl and beat on medium-low speed until cooled (4-6 minutes). Oooooh, the smell. Reminds me of the movies, all that butter.
While that's mixing, put together your dry mix and measure out a cup of room-temperature sour cream. Oh, your 4 eggs should be sitting out too. Room temperature, people. Aaaand the oven is pre-heating to something. ;)
Once the mixture is cooled, mix in 1 heaping Tbsp vanilla and one egg at a time, each until combined. Then the cocoa solution. Mmm... Love watching it swirl together. Wish I had a pic.
Turn the beating speed to low and mix in half the dry mix, the sour cream, and the rest of the dry mix, each until combined. Then pour that yummy mixture into 32 lined muffin tins and eat at least a quarter cup yourself before washing out the mixing bowl. (Fill each cup 3/4 full.)
They'll turn out like this. (Can you tell I had too much fun taking pictures?)
I was lucky enough to be gifted with three wire cooling racks when we married. I love them and use them often. Once the cupcakes have entirely cooled, you can start thinking about making the ganache frosting. Then you can start making it.
Pour a pound or so of yummy chocolate into a heat-proof bowl.
Heat lots of heavy whipping cream and a quarter cup ligh corn syrup over med-high heat until just simmering and poor the mixture over the chocolate (whilst singing, "There is no life I know that compares with pure imagination...")...
...and stir...
...(you're walking into the candy room, the chimes are chiming)...
...(you're walking the steps with Willy Wonka and just about to crunch into a lemon flower cup)...
...(aaaaaand, chocolate river).
"Do not over stir."
Unfortunately, I tried frosting the cakes too early. This was was a bit runny. But still delicious.
A couple more runs of cooling and stirring, and we were ready.
Pure deliciousness.
I had a lot of fun dipping the cakes into a bowl of chocolate, colored sprinkles. They didn't cover entirely but with the swirls of frosting. Delightful.
Now if only I'd taken them to a party of youths instead of a party of adults. They would have been eaten. (I think we brought at least a dozen back home, AFTER leaving at least a dozen at the party.) Ah well. More for me!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Oh, Pork Tenderloin, How You Frustrate Me
I have never met a pork tenderloin that I could cook. I can marinate the heck out of a pork tenderloin. I can season a pork tenderloin with my fabulous, secret peppery rub. I can eat April Spencer's pork tenderloin awesomeness until I'm ill (seriously, I would eat the entire thing if there weren't other people present, wanting to experience her culinary genius as well). But I cannot cook a pork tenderloin until it's done all the way through!
I thought tonight was going to be different. I thought tonight, I had it. But I didn't. And do you know what I think it was? I didn't let it sit out a full hour and bring it entirely to room temperature before I put it in the oven. This is my Grammie's secret. Set the meat out in the roasting pan for an hour; bring it to room temperature. Pre-heat your oven to 500 degrees. Then, once it's ready, throw the meat in, turn the temperature down to 400 degrees and DO NOT OPEN THE OVEN FOR 30 MINUTES.
I open the oven 30 minutes later; the meat is not done. Depression sets in. (Not really.) No problem. I turn the oven down to 350 and bake it 10 more minutes. Now it's a little overdone but still OK. Except for one small problem: I did NOT marinate the heck out of this particular pork tenderloin. I marinated it in something that did NOT work.
Collin says it did. He liked it. He also slathered about a pound of dijon mustard on it. It was bad. I am a pork tenderloin failure. But I will keep trying! And next time I will go with the never-fail pepper rub and the ONE HOUR ON THE COUNTER approach. And it will be glorious.
I thought tonight was going to be different. I thought tonight, I had it. But I didn't. And do you know what I think it was? I didn't let it sit out a full hour and bring it entirely to room temperature before I put it in the oven. This is my Grammie's secret. Set the meat out in the roasting pan for an hour; bring it to room temperature. Pre-heat your oven to 500 degrees. Then, once it's ready, throw the meat in, turn the temperature down to 400 degrees and DO NOT OPEN THE OVEN FOR 30 MINUTES.
I open the oven 30 minutes later; the meat is not done. Depression sets in. (Not really.) No problem. I turn the oven down to 350 and bake it 10 more minutes. Now it's a little overdone but still OK. Except for one small problem: I did NOT marinate the heck out of this particular pork tenderloin. I marinated it in something that did NOT work.
Collin says it did. He liked it. He also slathered about a pound of dijon mustard on it. It was bad. I am a pork tenderloin failure. But I will keep trying! And next time I will go with the never-fail pepper rub and the ONE HOUR ON THE COUNTER approach. And it will be glorious.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
The Drive
I drove to Denton, Texas, today...then turned around and drove home. Why? Because it was in Denton that I realized (thanks to a Tweet and a follow-up from a friend): I am not required in Dallas until next Tuesday.
How disorganized a life does one have to lead before they find themselves two hours from home and realize, Oh! My appointment is on the 29th, not the 22nd!???
I felt foolish. In fact, I cried. But only because I'd already been crying: all the way to Texas.
Why? I'd been thinking about some things that a trusted friend recently encouraged me to write about. Well, I haven't had time to sit and write about these things (or am I just putting it off?), so since I had three hours in the car alone...what a perfect time to think about the things I am supposed to write about! Same thing, right? And the thinking, coupled with listening to a CD I used to listen to in high school, drew tears.
Good tears. Melancholy. Realization. Breakthrough! (all but that last one)
I think I was due a good cry. I haven't cried in a while. It reminded me of when I was pregnant and such a blubberbutt. Poor Collin. I hope next time I'm pregant my hormones treat us both a little better. But I digress.
I would write more about what I was crying about, but who wants to read that? Instead, I will recount a story (that has nothing to do with today)...
There once was a girl named Meggo who didn't know how to tell whether her dreams were real life things that had happened or just dreams, and so one night when she had a dream that her grandparents took her to an outdoor circus that provided all-you-can-eat fried shrimp, which she had never eaten before, and this other little girl, who was also with Meggo's grandparents, ate all the shrimp so that Meggo could have none, Meggo wondered whether this other little girl indeed existed and was a friend of the family.
"Don't you remember?" Meggo asked her Grammie. "The little girl with the short brown hair?"
Of course Grammie didn't remember. Because the little girl with the short brown hair only existed in dreamland, as did the all-you-can-eat shrimp circus. Though that is a tasty idea.
::shudder::
How disorganized a life does one have to lead before they find themselves two hours from home and realize, Oh! My appointment is on the 29th, not the 22nd!???
I felt foolish. In fact, I cried. But only because I'd already been crying: all the way to Texas.
Why? I'd been thinking about some things that a trusted friend recently encouraged me to write about. Well, I haven't had time to sit and write about these things (or am I just putting it off?), so since I had three hours in the car alone...what a perfect time to think about the things I am supposed to write about! Same thing, right? And the thinking, coupled with listening to a CD I used to listen to in high school, drew tears.
Good tears. Melancholy. Realization. Breakthrough! (all but that last one)
I think I was due a good cry. I haven't cried in a while. It reminded me of when I was pregnant and such a blubberbutt. Poor Collin. I hope next time I'm pregant my hormones treat us both a little better. But I digress.
I would write more about what I was crying about, but who wants to read that? Instead, I will recount a story (that has nothing to do with today)...
There once was a girl named Meggo who didn't know how to tell whether her dreams were real life things that had happened or just dreams, and so one night when she had a dream that her grandparents took her to an outdoor circus that provided all-you-can-eat fried shrimp, which she had never eaten before, and this other little girl, who was also with Meggo's grandparents, ate all the shrimp so that Meggo could have none, Meggo wondered whether this other little girl indeed existed and was a friend of the family.
"Don't you remember?" Meggo asked her Grammie. "The little girl with the short brown hair?"
Of course Grammie didn't remember. Because the little girl with the short brown hair only existed in dreamland, as did the all-you-can-eat shrimp circus. Though that is a tasty idea.
::shudder::
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Gray Day in Three
1. Today I found my first, honest to goodness, no doubt about it, long, fat, wirey gray hair...right in the middle of my head and swooping across my bangs. I am officially in my 30s, people.
2. I need a new blog title and summary. I'm thinking this through but would love to know if any of you have read my blog and thought, She should really call it THIS. Man, "Remarks from the Couch" is so LAME. (But please be kind in telling me this.) I'm also considering changing up the format. It's rather trendy to have "focused" days, like She's a Maniac Mondays, Frumpy Friday, etc. Do I want to join this trend, or attempt to, or do I want to stick with my haphazard approach? As I write I'm leaning toward the latter. But I still feel like every good blog has a theme, a greater purpose than mine. Do I even have a theme? What do I want my blog to be? Why am I posting these questions going through my head that are directed at myself?
3. My students blogged today about the education history that has or has not prepared them for my news writing course. The blogs were in a way eye opening and in a way expected. Nobody feels prepared. Everyone feels overwhelmed. But even their simple, 250-word blog entries felt lazy. They were writing the first thing that came to mind; the expected thing; and not putting very much thought into it. Only maybe two of them had an original thought or story to tell. Only maybe three of them did I enjoy reading. I only hope that if they will truly focus for six and a half more weeks they will notice a great change in their knowledge and ability. And as far as grammar rules: you just learn them and move on. They become old hat. It's difficult to believe when you're a 20-year-old making 30s on quizzes and feeling utterly discouraged (becuase it's not as easy as you thought...boohoo). But if they would just look, they would see the light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, I think most of them are too lazy to lift their heads.
2. I need a new blog title and summary. I'm thinking this through but would love to know if any of you have read my blog and thought, She should really call it THIS. Man, "Remarks from the Couch" is so LAME. (But please be kind in telling me this.) I'm also considering changing up the format. It's rather trendy to have "focused" days, like She's a Maniac Mondays, Frumpy Friday, etc. Do I want to join this trend, or attempt to, or do I want to stick with my haphazard approach? As I write I'm leaning toward the latter. But I still feel like every good blog has a theme, a greater purpose than mine. Do I even have a theme? What do I want my blog to be? Why am I posting these questions going through my head that are directed at myself?
3. My students blogged today about the education history that has or has not prepared them for my news writing course. The blogs were in a way eye opening and in a way expected. Nobody feels prepared. Everyone feels overwhelmed. But even their simple, 250-word blog entries felt lazy. They were writing the first thing that came to mind; the expected thing; and not putting very much thought into it. Only maybe two of them had an original thought or story to tell. Only maybe three of them did I enjoy reading. I only hope that if they will truly focus for six and a half more weeks they will notice a great change in their knowledge and ability. And as far as grammar rules: you just learn them and move on. They become old hat. It's difficult to believe when you're a 20-year-old making 30s on quizzes and feeling utterly discouraged (becuase it's not as easy as you thought...boohoo). But if they would just look, they would see the light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, I think most of them are too lazy to lift their heads.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Personally Spiced Vegetables over Potatoes
What you need to know and what I just realized: I have not watched television in almost two weeks. This was not a planned thing. And yes, I've watched Mary Poppins, but that's a standard in our house. I don't usually watch television during the day, so that's normal, and lately our evenings have been so busy that we just haven't turned on the tube.
Oh. I did watch a Quentin Tarantino film in two sittings. I forgot about that. Well, then I guess I'm lying. I have watched TV. Dang.
Tonight for dinner we had: everything left in the fridge, which means I chopped up some potatoes and threw them in the steamer. Boiled some carrots, boiled some brocolli (however you spell that blasted word), sauteed an onion and threw every spice we have, along with three kinds of cheese, out on the kitchen table and said, "Go for it." (We had some fun talking about the title of the dish.)
I had too many potatoes with as many onions as I could dish on top of them without feeling embarrassed (plus broc & roots) and added salt, pepper, fresh oregano, curry and garam marsala (I put these last two on just about everything). Collin dumped all the hot (temperature) spices on his, as usual. I think he likes having a runny nose at dinner. He had cottage cheese; I had cheddar. It was delish.
And now: it's time to buy some groceries, as all that's left in my kitchen is a box of spaghetti, a frozen pizza, a little bit of food for baby and milk.
Well, and coffee. Always lots of coffee.
Oh. I did watch a Quentin Tarantino film in two sittings. I forgot about that. Well, then I guess I'm lying. I have watched TV. Dang.
Tonight for dinner we had: everything left in the fridge, which means I chopped up some potatoes and threw them in the steamer. Boiled some carrots, boiled some brocolli (however you spell that blasted word), sauteed an onion and threw every spice we have, along with three kinds of cheese, out on the kitchen table and said, "Go for it." (We had some fun talking about the title of the dish.)
I had too many potatoes with as many onions as I could dish on top of them without feeling embarrassed (plus broc & roots) and added salt, pepper, fresh oregano, curry and garam marsala (I put these last two on just about everything). Collin dumped all the hot (temperature) spices on his, as usual. I think he likes having a runny nose at dinner. He had cottage cheese; I had cheddar. It was delish.
And now: it's time to buy some groceries, as all that's left in my kitchen is a box of spaghetti, a frozen pizza, a little bit of food for baby and milk.
Well, and coffee. Always lots of coffee.
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Public Speaking
Tomorrow is day three of Writing for the Mass Media summer edition. Before I get started, let me say: my cat just threw up on the windowsill, and I cleaned it up, and now I feel nauseated. So I am writing this while trying not to throw up, in case you were wondering.
Day 1: I plugged the wrong cord into my computer and couldn't get Power Point to come up on the screen. Had to call an IT kid to come over, and he was nice enough when he said, "You need to plug this cord into your computer," pointing to the big white piece of tape over the chord that reads "Computer." I laughed and said something self-denigrating (but funny). And I moved on. But I couldn't stop "being funny." It's like when I go to a party or some other social function with friends or acquaintances and "turn on." I was definitely "on" in front of the class, and unfortunately, part of that "on" involves cracking jokes. Not jokes like, "Did you ever hear the one about the..." But just being funny, or trying to. And I got some tired laughs, and I tried for the rest of the day not to think about everything I said.
Day 2: Today. I talked about the writing process and how every good writer has an approach to writing whatever it is she is writing. I made a bit of an example at one point of my work at Tate and how for eight or nine months I used checklists religiously. I had a checklist for each month and always, always made sure I had hit everything on my checklist. After that, it just came naturally. The tenth month came, and I realized that I didn't need the lists anymore. And I never missed a beat. I honestly can count on one hand the number of times I missed something I was supposed to do, probably because of my checklist legalism. Likewise, I told my students today that if they are hyper-conscious of their strategy (how they organize their material once they're through with the pre-writing phase and into the writing phase) for a time, they'll eventually just do it naturally.
Every writer has a different strategy, but every writer has, or has had, one. I once read that Stephen King gets up every morning and writes until 11:00 or 12:00...363 days a year. I've heard of another writer who writes five "good" pages a day minimum. He must hit the five or he's not finished. I know another writer who locks the door and turns off her phone when she writes, so she can focus.
These are, of course, all fiction writers and no so much strategies as they are disciplines. Media practioners, especially print journalists, whether actual print or web, have different-looking systems. They're on tighter deadlines. They have a lot of research staring them in the face, and they have to do something with it: now.
Some journalists color code their transcriptions. Some cut their notes up and put like material in envelopes. Some make bubble maps (this relates to this relates to this...).
I would argue, and did today, that no beginning writer should just write intuitively. A beginning writer does need a strategy. And that strategy should not be to get it perfect the first time. Something I struggle with.
As I told my students, let your creative self have the freedom to write crappy stuff. Then go back and fix it. And again, I have to tell myself this constantly. (Though it's different when you're writing fiction because you kind of do need to get it right, or at least close to right, the first time or, I've found, you'll never move on.)
I hope each of my students will find a writing process that works well for his or her particular strengths.
And I hope I'll get more comfortable speaking in public. Sheesh. It's difficult to get up in front of a class and talk for 50 minutes. Half of the time I feel like they're looking at me, thinking, This lady is c-razy. But they're probably just thinking, Na-na-na-na-na-na-na (think Chevy Chase in Caddyshack) I can't hear anything, I'm so tired; OMG can I just go back to bed now? Na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Day 1: I plugged the wrong cord into my computer and couldn't get Power Point to come up on the screen. Had to call an IT kid to come over, and he was nice enough when he said, "You need to plug this cord into your computer," pointing to the big white piece of tape over the chord that reads "Computer." I laughed and said something self-denigrating (but funny). And I moved on. But I couldn't stop "being funny." It's like when I go to a party or some other social function with friends or acquaintances and "turn on." I was definitely "on" in front of the class, and unfortunately, part of that "on" involves cracking jokes. Not jokes like, "Did you ever hear the one about the..." But just being funny, or trying to. And I got some tired laughs, and I tried for the rest of the day not to think about everything I said.
Day 2: Today. I talked about the writing process and how every good writer has an approach to writing whatever it is she is writing. I made a bit of an example at one point of my work at Tate and how for eight or nine months I used checklists religiously. I had a checklist for each month and always, always made sure I had hit everything on my checklist. After that, it just came naturally. The tenth month came, and I realized that I didn't need the lists anymore. And I never missed a beat. I honestly can count on one hand the number of times I missed something I was supposed to do, probably because of my checklist legalism. Likewise, I told my students today that if they are hyper-conscious of their strategy (how they organize their material once they're through with the pre-writing phase and into the writing phase) for a time, they'll eventually just do it naturally.
Every writer has a different strategy, but every writer has, or has had, one. I once read that Stephen King gets up every morning and writes until 11:00 or 12:00...363 days a year. I've heard of another writer who writes five "good" pages a day minimum. He must hit the five or he's not finished. I know another writer who locks the door and turns off her phone when she writes, so she can focus.
These are, of course, all fiction writers and no so much strategies as they are disciplines. Media practioners, especially print journalists, whether actual print or web, have different-looking systems. They're on tighter deadlines. They have a lot of research staring them in the face, and they have to do something with it: now.
Some journalists color code their transcriptions. Some cut their notes up and put like material in envelopes. Some make bubble maps (this relates to this relates to this...).
I would argue, and did today, that no beginning writer should just write intuitively. A beginning writer does need a strategy. And that strategy should not be to get it perfect the first time. Something I struggle with.
As I told my students, let your creative self have the freedom to write crappy stuff. Then go back and fix it. And again, I have to tell myself this constantly. (Though it's different when you're writing fiction because you kind of do need to get it right, or at least close to right, the first time or, I've found, you'll never move on.)
I hope each of my students will find a writing process that works well for his or her particular strengths.
And I hope I'll get more comfortable speaking in public. Sheesh. It's difficult to get up in front of a class and talk for 50 minutes. Half of the time I feel like they're looking at me, thinking, This lady is c-razy. But they're probably just thinking, Na-na-na-na-na-na-na (think Chevy Chase in Caddyshack) I can't hear anything, I'm so tired; OMG can I just go back to bed now? Na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Monday, May 31, 2010
Those Peepers
A year ago today, I met this little girl for the first time.
I just reread Drue's Birth Story for the first time since I wrote it. Seven pages single spaced, so I won't subject you to it. But the one thing that I wrote at the end that I said I never wanted to forget were her peepers.
We are one of those couples who sided with the the nurses, who said, "You'll want your sleep," and sent our baby to the nursery for the night. But they would wheel her back into our room every four hours to cuddle with me and eat, or try to (that took a few days to figure out), and when they did, I would shoot up in bed, pop out of my drug-induced haze, and just short of shout, with all my being, "The baby!" I was always so excited to see her; I could feel it in my toes. And when they would wheel her up, all wrapped up like a burrito and so tiny, the one thing I would notice first were her eyes. I could always tell that she had been crying, and my heart would break, but now she was still and silent, and her eyes were searching, searching, searching. She knew where she was going, and I ached to hold her. She was beautiful, perfect. A tiny, precious gift. And though I don't have the time to think of the best way to describe those peepers, know that the image is forever seered into my heart. My darling Drue, my little burrito with yearning eyes, you are loved.
And now she is one year old. We had a fantastic party today at Lions Park. I want to thank so many people...for helping, for being there, for loving our family and our dear Druebear. I was and remain humbled.
She is such a big girl now.
And after eating her Mary Poppins' hat cake, she wore her real birthday suit.
I just reread Drue's Birth Story for the first time since I wrote it. Seven pages single spaced, so I won't subject you to it. But the one thing that I wrote at the end that I said I never wanted to forget were her peepers.
We are one of those couples who sided with the the nurses, who said, "You'll want your sleep," and sent our baby to the nursery for the night. But they would wheel her back into our room every four hours to cuddle with me and eat, or try to (that took a few days to figure out), and when they did, I would shoot up in bed, pop out of my drug-induced haze, and just short of shout, with all my being, "The baby!" I was always so excited to see her; I could feel it in my toes. And when they would wheel her up, all wrapped up like a burrito and so tiny, the one thing I would notice first were her eyes. I could always tell that she had been crying, and my heart would break, but now she was still and silent, and her eyes were searching, searching, searching. She knew where she was going, and I ached to hold her. She was beautiful, perfect. A tiny, precious gift. And though I don't have the time to think of the best way to describe those peepers, know that the image is forever seered into my heart. My darling Drue, my little burrito with yearning eyes, you are loved.
And now she is one year old. We had a fantastic party today at Lions Park. I want to thank so many people...for helping, for being there, for loving our family and our dear Druebear. I was and remain humbled.
She is such a big girl now.
And after eating her Mary Poppins' hat cake, she wore her real birthday suit.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Favo(u)rites
First of all, ugh. Hulu is bad. I have spent the last half hour looking at final Biggest Loser interviews. What is wrong with me?
Now down to business. Yesterday was my last day working as an editor for Tate. An author sent me flowers, the editing dept's two team leaders bought donuts and milk in my honor, everyone told stories about me, two of which I didn't remember (???) and all of which I sweat while listening to. I'm an extrovert, but I still get nervous standing in front of a room of people talking about me. I said some cheesy parting words (why?) and went to Pizza Hut with the editors, or most of them, and ate three nasty pieces of thick-crust pepperoni pizza, which were, in the words of the mother-in-law in "About a Boy", de-LISH-us!
I drove home happy, carefree, but also I'll admit a little sad. It's difficult leaving a place that I've put so much time and effort into for the last three years. I'll miss my favorite authors and work colleagues. I'll miss editing on a regular basic. But I'm even more excited about what's to come...WRITING.
My old magazine has asked me to come back on as music editor in the fall, and I was thrilled to accept. I used to run the magazine (in a manner of speaking); now I'll write for it. Less pressure, fun content, I can't wait.
I've started plotting a new novel, am thinking up feature stories I want to write. I feel invigorated. Is that cheesy?
I'm putting this class together, and it is an incredible class. I only hope at least one of my students realizes how awesome it is. The new curriculum is fun, timely, focused on multimedia, not just print journalism, and diversity... The lectures are fun and packed with great info. The assignments are good and involve current events. I have a great lab instructor working with me. I'll only be working mornings till 9:30 four days a week. Oh, and my daughter is walking...and talking and more than ever, and her first birthday is MONDAY. Could I be any happier?
One of the main focuses of the class is getting these students in the news, which, guess what? Has me focused on the news. I've been searching out great news sites and blogs, and - the point of this blog post - this is what my favorites list is looking like these days:
Pub Weekly
Paper Cuts
Broadcasting & Cable
Duh
The Bistro
OJR
Poynter
PR Week
GOOD Blog
Writers Weekly
Diversity is News
AdAge
What is your radio set to?
I'll Huff and I'l Post...
Then of course there are the celeb sites, which I hate but feel like I need to be up on. These might also include "The Daily Show" and "The Onion". And last but not least, MUSIC:
Paste
Rolling Stone
Reverb
The Music Fix
Pitchfork
NME
OklahomaROCK
Now please excuse me while I go make some spaghetti sauce and play with a delicious muffin named Drue.
Now down to business. Yesterday was my last day working as an editor for Tate. An author sent me flowers, the editing dept's two team leaders bought donuts and milk in my honor, everyone told stories about me, two of which I didn't remember (???) and all of which I sweat while listening to. I'm an extrovert, but I still get nervous standing in front of a room of people talking about me. I said some cheesy parting words (why?) and went to Pizza Hut with the editors, or most of them, and ate three nasty pieces of thick-crust pepperoni pizza, which were, in the words of the mother-in-law in "About a Boy", de-LISH-us!
I drove home happy, carefree, but also I'll admit a little sad. It's difficult leaving a place that I've put so much time and effort into for the last three years. I'll miss my favorite authors and work colleagues. I'll miss editing on a regular basic. But I'm even more excited about what's to come...WRITING.
My old magazine has asked me to come back on as music editor in the fall, and I was thrilled to accept. I used to run the magazine (in a manner of speaking); now I'll write for it. Less pressure, fun content, I can't wait.
I've started plotting a new novel, am thinking up feature stories I want to write. I feel invigorated. Is that cheesy?
I'm putting this class together, and it is an incredible class. I only hope at least one of my students realizes how awesome it is. The new curriculum is fun, timely, focused on multimedia, not just print journalism, and diversity... The lectures are fun and packed with great info. The assignments are good and involve current events. I have a great lab instructor working with me. I'll only be working mornings till 9:30 four days a week. Oh, and my daughter is walking...and talking and more than ever, and her first birthday is MONDAY. Could I be any happier?
One of the main focuses of the class is getting these students in the news, which, guess what? Has me focused on the news. I've been searching out great news sites and blogs, and - the point of this blog post - this is what my favorites list is looking like these days:
Pub Weekly
Paper Cuts
Broadcasting & Cable
Duh
The Bistro
OJR
Poynter
PR Week
GOOD Blog
Writers Weekly
Diversity is News
AdAge
What is your radio set to?
I'll Huff and I'l Post...
Then of course there are the celeb sites, which I hate but feel like I need to be up on. These might also include "The Daily Show" and "The Onion". And last but not least, MUSIC:
Paste
Rolling Stone
Reverb
The Music Fix
Pitchfork
NME
OklahomaROCK
Now please excuse me while I go make some spaghetti sauce and play with a delicious muffin named Drue.
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