Author: brookeshelf

Quick Update

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Since finishing the first draft, I’ve found myself both liberated (from cranking out the requisite 800 words a day) and overwhelmed (by Christmas stuff.  There’s music to practice, stockings to sew, letters to write, etc.). 

But here’s a bit of what we’ve been up to as a family over the past few weeks:

Thanksgiving was spent at my parents’ house and was fun but exhausting.  William is pictured here wearing the turkey tail I made for Eleanor when she was a baby. 

My family has a special roll recipe that everybody adores, and my mom not only wanted to make enough rolls for the meal (3 rolls per person, minimum) but also enough for everybody to take a couple dozen of them home.

We made three big batches of 96 rolls each.  That’s 288 rolls total.  Did I mention that I collapsed on the couch 20 minutes before the meal began?

In between the roll insanity, I also made what may be my personal best apple pie.  I used a heart-shaped cookie cutter to make the layers on the top, mainly because this gives the pie 50% more crust.  Of all the things to have 50% more of, piecrust ranks on my personal top ten.

The other neighborhood news is that our local professional soccer team, Real Salt Lake, won the national championships a few weeks ago.  One of the team’s keepers, Nick Rimando, lives on my street, and all the neighbors decorated the trees and lampposts with balloons and streamers.  Someone even put a gigantic inflatable statue of a strongman on the Rimando’s front yard.  But my favorite detail was this:

Re-naming the street after the guy!  Gotta love it.

The End of the Beginning

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Here’s my big dirty secret: Since late February, I have been working on a novel.  Tonight I finally — finally! — finished the first draft.

Clocking in at 420 pages, it is bad. 

It is very bad. 

But it is there. 

There’s a couple of continuity problems to fix, but afterwards I’m going to take some time off from it before I begin revisions.  During this time, Brian will have the thankless task of reading it and telling me which parts are good (I’m already fully aware of which parts are not).  Come January, the revisions will begin, and boy howdy.  About 120 of those pages have gotta go.

For now, however — time to boogie.  My reward for tonight is a big mug of hazelnut cocoa and Community on Hulu.  And then maybe a few rounds of my own personal happy dance.

Oh, and please don’t ask me what the book is about.  I’m going out on a big enough limb just to admit what I’ve done; I don’t need any further humiliation.  Maybe around Draft #11 . . .

“But they’re couuuusinnnns, identical cou-sins, and you’ll fiiiiiiind . . .”

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My sister just posted this picture of her daughter, Sarah, on her blog:

When this photo was taken, Sarah had just looked in the mirror at herself and exclaimed, “I’m Eleanor!”

Yes, it’s been noted before.  The two little cousins look remarkably alike.  For those of you who have you doubts, I present to you a photo of Eleanor taken when she was approximately the same age (about 2 1/2):

 

It’s not just me, is it?  I mean, my kids look at Eleanor’s baby photos and insist that they are really looking at pictures of Sarah.  I mean, I know they don’t look exactly alike, but it’s enough to be remarkable.

(And for those of you who are wondering, the title of this blog post comes from the theme song of The Patty Duke Show, which I am familiar with owing to Nick at Nite, alas.)

Reports from the School Front

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Jeffrey and Eleanor never talk about what they do at school, at least not voluntarily.  The most we can eke out of them is through very specific questions about something they find exciting.  Recently we asked Jeffrey what games he plays with his friends at recess, and found that he and the other boys spend much of their playtime running away from a “Kissing Girl.”

A kissing girl!  One of society’s oldest recess traditions!  I was briefly a kissing girl in second grade, myself.  It is oddly reassuring to know that this bizarre childhood game is still alive and well.

However, at other times Jeff or Ella will, all on their own, blurt out some random piece of information pertaining to a recent school lesson, leaving me rather mystified.  Figuring out the context is everything.

Jeffrey: “Mom, I want to learn the kind of fighting that Kung Fu Panda does, only it’s not called ‘Kung Fu,’ but something else.”  Source?  A unit on Korea that included a video of Tae Kwon Do. 

Since then, Jeff has been constantly talking about this martial art whose name he can never remember except as “Kung Fu but not Kung Fu.”  Which sounds like some cockamamie “technique of no technique” that sprung from the universe of Mortal Kombat.

Eleanor: “Mom, another word for a cape is cloak.”  Source?  Reading “Little Red Riding Hood” in preschool.

Jeffrey (while cuddling on my lap): “Mom, can you feel me with your sensors?” 

Uh . . .

“Yeah, like your tongue.  Go ahead and taste me.” 

Erm.

Source?  Learning about the five senses as part of science class.

Jeffrey’s First Piano Recital

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tom_26_jerry-piano_concertoIn my last post, I described how Jeffrey, out of fear for the mouse that had snuck into our kitchen, had increased his piano time in the hope of scaring it away.  He was, specifically, practicing pieces for his recital, which took place this past Saturday.

And he done good!

Jeffrey had been practicing his pieces since September, and the learning had been slow.  So slow, in fact, that his teacher suggested that perhaps this year might not be the best time for his first public performance (she didn’t want him to do badly, and have a negative experience).  I was miffed at the idea, and Jeffrey was enthusastic about performing, so we cranked up the practice.

Every day for a week, Jeffrey would run through his entire performance — including the bows — about ten times. Five in the morning, five in the evening.  He had a solo called “Let’s Boogie,” followed by a duet called “It’s Natural to Have a Flat” (what is it with sheet music and the bad puns?) that we played together.  He not only had to play the pieces perfectly (er, well . . . perfectly-ish) but had to put the music on the piano himself, keep his eyes on the music instead of on his teacher, wait for me to get on stage so we could start together, etc.

A pretty tall order for any seven year old, but especially for Jeffrey.  But he took it seriously — whispering the notes of his song and air-fingering when we were in the car, stepping to the piano to play it through at odd moments.

Last Wednesday he had a group master class, during which his teacher would decide whether or not he was ready to perform.  I nibbled my nails the whole time, but Jeffrey was awesome — his music was “gourd-geous.”  (She had given him a gourd to take home.  What is it with the bad puns?!?)

On Saturday he was the very first kid performing in the program.  He marched up in his little blue sweater vest and did everything perfectly (well, perfectly-ish), and then I walked up next to him and we played together.  So much work for only two minutes of music! 

There was plenty of applause, especially from both sets of his grandparents, and as we rose to take our bow, Jeffrey reached down and wiped his nose on his vest.

That’s the first-grade touch, baby.

Critters

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Two days ago I was typing in the kitchen, when a small dark shape darted along the cabinet baseboards out of the corner of my eye.  When I looked up, there was nothing, so I cautiously went back to work.

There was another movement, and I looked up again — only to see a little grey mouse looking at me from behind the refrigerator.  Ack!

After screaming like a silly girl, I packed up the computer and headed for the living room, but I couldn’t concentrate because I could still hear little mouse claws running back and forth across the linoleum. 

!!!!

How on earth could this stupid mouse be so bold?  And how did it get in?  This was the second mouse we had had in the kitchen in the past month, and it gave me a serious case of the jibblies.  I thanked my lucky stars that Eleanor’s dance lesson that afternoon gave me a reason to stay out of the house, because there was no way I or any of the kids were going to be hanging around with Furrytail McCreepyClaws scampering about.  When Brian came home from work, he set up a few traps and I shooed everybody out the door for a fast food dinner.

The creature was caught in a trap that evening, so all’s well now, but it didn’t prevent him from penetrating the kids’ imaginations.

Jeffrey became completely paranoid, feeling certain that the slightest movement on his part would cause a mouse to materialize from nowhere and bite him.  I told him that piano practice was good for frightening mice away, and he went through his recital piece five times.

Eleanor, on the other hand, spent time developing plans for elaborate, ruthless traps, in particular one called a “Cut Trap,” which involves a cage, a knife, a wooden block, and a giant picture of a cat’s head.  The process, as far as I could figure out, requires someone to stand patiently for hours, and when a mouse runs under the knife, he or she stomps his foot down on the wooden block and the knife cuts the mouse in two.  “And then you can go outside and play.”

I’ve yet to figure out what the giant cat’s head is for.

Apple-Sausage Biscuit Pie

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apples1

We are drowning in apples.  There are bags and bags of them sitting on the front porch, and even though a significant portion of them are inedible (wormholes) there are many, many more that can be used.  So, we’ve been hauling out any and all apple recipes from our personal stash.  Here’s one of my favorites; it’s been an autumn dinnertime staple for my family since Brian and I were newlyweds. 

Apple-Sausage Biscuit Pie

  • 1 lb. chicken sausage, casings removed
  • small onion, chopped
  • carrot, peeled and chopped
  • 1 celery stalk, chopped
  • 1 big apple, cored and diced (leave peel on)
  • 1/2 tsp. freshly ground pepper
  • 1/2 tsp. dried thyme
  • 1 tablespoon flour
  • 3/4 cup chicken stock

for the biscuit crust:

  • 2 cups flour
  • 4 tsp. baking powder
  • 2 tsp. salt
  • 1/2 cup pure vegetable shortening
  • 3/4 cup milk
  • 1/2 cup sharp cheddar cheese, grated

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.  Make the biscuit crust: in a bowl, combine dry ingredients, then cut in vegetable shortening until mixture resembles coarse meal.  Add milk and mix until just moist and combined.  (Note: doing this is a pain.  I have a food processor now, which makes the biscuit crust very easy to make.  Before the advent of the processor, I scrapped the homemade crust in favor of Bisquick with cheese sprinkled on top.  Because while there are many ways of going crazy-go-nuts in this world, doing so while holding a pastry cutter is not one I endorse.)  Set the biscuit crust aside until ready to use.

Anyway, get out a big ovenproof skillet and cook up the chicken sausage, then remove to a small bowl.  Add onion, carrot, and celery to skillet and cook for about 3 minutes, then add apple and cook for additional 6 minutes.  Add salt, pepper, and thyme and stir well, then add flour and cook for a minute.  Stir in chicken stock and cook for a few minutes more, then add chicken sausage back to skillet.

When everything’s nice and hot, remove skillet from heat and use a spoon to dollop the biscuit crust on top of the sausage mixture, spreading it around to cover everything well.  Sprinkle the shredded cheddar cheese on top, then put the skillet in the oven and bake the whole thing for 20-25 minutes, or until the crust is a golden brown.

I can’t make any promises that there won’t be certain individuals in your household who will eat the crust and none of the filling.  But you can always take heart that this just means more savory filling for yourself.

Pumpkin Day!

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Halloween 2009 kiss

It’s been so dark in the mornings lately that Eleanor couldn’t understand why she couldn’t go Trick-or-Treating the moment she woke up today. 

“You can go trick-or-treating after dinner tonight,” I explained. 

“But it’s dark now,” she patiently explained, pointing out the window.

When dawn broke shortly after breakfast, she became quite Put Out.

“Why is the sun rising?!?” she wailed.  “The sun is not supposed to shine on Halloween!  It’s supposed to be all spooky and scary outside!”

Absolutely nothing I said could console her.  She just stood by the picture window in our front room and pointed at the rising sun, her face puckered with indignation. 

“THE SUN CAN’T COME UP!  THIS IS CHEATING!!” 

Ah, my daughter: constantly upset that she can’t literally control the universe.

Needless to say, she perked up once the day got going.  I managed to scrounge up orange striped shirts for the kids, and even found a black-and-orange hairbow for her hair.  She loved posing with the pumpkins Grandma & Grandpa helped carve this afternoon.  

Halloween 2009 Ella & pumpkins

The grandparents were even kind enough to bring supplies for making Jack ‘o Lantern pita pizzas so I wouldn’t have to cook today.  My contribution to the meal was to get a box of Halloween donuts from the Banbury Cross bakery.  They make darling holiday donuts in the shapes of cats, bats, pumpkins, and ghosts.  Adorably delicious, and the kids loved going to pick them up with me, especially since we got to sample a still-warm-from-the fryer fresh batch of chocolate glazed.  Mmmm.

Here they are in their costumes, just seconds before heading off to get treats.  Brian’s been out of town all week for a conference, and just got back this afternoon.  The kids were really excited to do this with him.  I was really excited to have some time to myself. 

Halloween 2009 whole gang

Eleanor is Snow White, Jeffrey is Robin Hood, and Wimmy is one cute tiger.  Brian wore the tiger costume when he was a little kid, and his mom was thrilled to see it in action once more.  The Robin Hood costume is one my mother made for my little brother years ago, and she helped me make Eleanor’s costume this year as well.  Isn’t it gorgeous?  But of course, I thought Wimmy stole the show.

Halloween 2009 brian & wimmy

Halloween 2009 wimmy

The kids finished Trick-or-Treating quite early but still brought home a nice haul of goodies.  Other kids were still coming to our door, though, so Jeff, Ella & Wim had the exciting fun of handing out candy themselves.  They scampered to the front door in nightgowns and pajamas, eager to hand over our big orange treat bowl.  Jeffrey even bestowed a glow stick from his own treats on a boy he knows from church.  “Take this to light you on your way,” Jeff said, all solemn.

When we began to run low on candy, the kids became very concerned.  “We’re running out!” cried Jeffrey, counting the last few fun-size bars in the bowl.  “Let’s put in some of the candy from our treat bags!”  It was sweet that he was ready to give away his own goods, but I told them that all we had to do was turn off our front porch light, and the problem would be solved.  This they did with gusto.

Good News

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footballToday my mother had a cyst removed from her ovaries that was roughly the size of a football.  This was a surprise, since we were all under the impression that it was more the size of a softball.  Ew either way, although Brian says he’s heard of a case involving a cyst the size of a MEDICINE ball. 

Doctors always win gross-out story contests.

But the best news, of course, is that Mom’s cyst was benign.  All previous tests had pointed to this, but it was a relief to get the confirmation.  Our good friend and next-door neighbor in Pittsburgh died from ovarian cancer just a few weeks after we moved to Utah, and it was difficult not to think about her slow decline when thinking about my mom’s case. 

I couldn’t think about my dad being left alone.  So I didn’t — strangely, although I am something of a worrywart, I’m good about putting stress aside when it’s something I can’t do anything about.  And now I don’t have to think about it at all.  Hooray!

Sick Week

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Last Saturday was the fall book sale at the Salt Lake City Public Library.  I love, love, love this sale; hardbacks are $1 a piece, and there are many books that have been discarded with no or little wear. 

I came home with 61 books, all of them children’s books — picture books, novels, non-fiction.  I won’t gush too much over my finds, because most of my friends would simply roll their eyes and scratch their heads over the squeals of glee I emitted when I found the Opie/Sendak collaboration I Saw Esau, or American Folk Songs for Children, edited by Ruth Seeger and illustrated by Barbara Cooney.

Or Gloria Whelan’s Listening for Lions.  Or Brock Cole’s Buttons.  Or a hardly-read copy of NBA winner What I Saw and How I Lied.  (For those rare nerds who know these books: see?  The book sale is AWESOME!)

And it was a good thing I had those books to read, because shortly after the sale ALL THREE OF MY CHILDREN CAME DOWN WITH THE FLU. 

Oh, yes.  The good, old-fashioned wasting fever kind of flu.  I didn’t leave the house for days, didn’t talk to any other adults except Brian and the few people who called me on the phone.  Ack.

Jeffrey was the last to get it, which was a good thing, because he’s the most high-maintenance of my kids when sick.  Ella and Wimmy spend their sick days taking 4+ hour naps, but Jeffrey follows me from room to room, drapes himself over any available furniture, and moans, moans, moans, asking for me to play games and read stories.

Which, really, isn’t that daunting of a task.  I fished out my old CD-ROM of King’s Quest VI and played it through (which I have already done half a dozen times since I first played it sixteen years ago.  Love that Prince Alexander).  Jeffrey loved helping me solve the puzzles, find the magic map, answer the riddles, cast the magic spells and rescue the princess.  He covered his head with a blanket when Prince Alex travels to the Land of the Dead and challenges Lord Death.  And he laughed like silly when Alexander finds the genie’s lamp at the very end.

But beyond that fun stuff, I went more than a little stir-crazy.  Now the children’s fevers have gone, but Jeffrey and Eleanor have developed nasty coughs — the kind that lasts all night.  When they are in the same room, the coughing is frequent and loud enough that they sound like a pan of popping corn.  Poor kiddos.