Almost Summer

MonkeyBoy and I had rather a hard time dragging ourselves to shul yesterday and sitting through the service given that it was a summery-warm and brilliantly sunny morning. (Beth, I'm keeping my promise!) Those two hours felt like a gentle torture but once liberated we raced home to enjoy the sun briefly before returning to the synagogue for The Princess' Shabbat School class. We got the boys to come along and while she was learning about Passover, The Spouse and I took the boys to a new nearby park.

Tanner Springs Park is a mini-wetland in the middle of an urban neighborhood of new construction and new money. The whole area was once a swampy wetland and this little plot of under an acre is all that remains. It's a bit unsettling, really. There was a surprising amount of birdsong and not a songbird to be seen so I couldn't help but wonder if I was hearing virtual birds. One bird was for real, though-- a huge osprey alternately perched on the roofs of swanky condos and swooped down to look for fish in the dinky little stream. It was truly awesome to see the magnificent bird up close but also a bit sad given its slim chances at finding a meal.

We wandered about in a bit of a sun-induced daze but throughly enjoyed the warm afternoon. There was some great art installed in the park which made interesting photography subjects.

Our lovely afternoon was topped off by a stop for ice cream after picking up The Princess. I'd been curious about Cool Moon Ice Cream ever since last summer's skywriting episode. They have a great selection and everyone enjoyed their choices but I was particularly taken with their "kulfi", a pistachio and cardamom ice cream that lacks the texture of its Indian namesake, but has all the rich, exotic flavor. A perfect dinner for an almost summer evening.

Seeing Ghosts

MonkeyBoy had a really funky bleach and dye job done by a friend a few months ago which was growing out in to a shaggy, oddly colored mess. When he asked for a haircut, I jumped and in we went today to get him shorn before he changed his mind.
The problem was that when he walked into the waiting area after the haircut I was completely taken aback by his resemblance to my brother. He has the same build and nearly the same face, right down to the cleft chin. With the shorter hair MonkeyBoy looked so much like his uncle that it brought tears to my eyes.The hair stylist thought I was upset about the job she'd done. I didn't know how to explain to her that I was seeing a ghost.

Celestial Trumpets

Did you hear them last night?

I'm sure there was some kind of heavenly music when I took the final stitches on The Monster. I fought the pattern every step of the way, even down to the armhole facings which, when worked according to the directions, resulted in these weird flaring epaulets straight out of a cheesy sci-fi movie. I re-worked them with a simple, obedient ribbing and all was good.

I even made a point of thinking good thoughts on those last stitches in an attempt to counteract all the cursing I've done on this project. Never have I been so very glad to be finished knitting something.

The Spouse has already picked out buttons from the lovely fabric shop around the corner. They were quite spendy but given the blood, sweat, and tears on this project (and that I didn't have to buy new yarn) $25 for gorgeous buttons seemed almost trivial.

I've just washed it and, just as everyone promised, the majority of my knitting irregularities disappeared. It's blocking as I write and of course I can't wait for it to dry so I can get the buttons on and call it finished for good.

Scam

I am irritated beyond belief after spending the morning running around looking for a replacement jar for our blender. The old one had long been cracked but when we noticed a chip out of it, we thought maybe glass in the morning smoothies might well counteract the health benefits of fresh fruits and veggies. Clearly it was time for a replacement.

I bought the blender years ago and had already broken one jar which I easily replaced at our local Fred Meyer. That was three or four years ago. As of today none of the stores I tried (Fred's, Target, Kmart) sell replacement blender jars. I can order one online but it will cost nearly as much as a new blender with postage and take a week or two to arrive.

So here I am, pretty much forced to buy a new blender when the old one worked just fine. And I guess I'm just supposed to toss the old motor. I spoke with someone at each store and indicated my extreme displeasure with the scam they had going. By the third stop I was pretty wound up and the nice man at Kmart agreed that it was a very wasteful and stupid policy.

And then he pointed out the really good deal they had on their high end blender. Which I bought. And while it made quick work of the carrots, spinach, and fruits in the first smoothie, I still find myself wondering how in the world we can get away with such wasteful consumption.

Update--to make matters worse, new blender is a piece of cr*p which stopped working on the second use after the motor mechanism stopped turning due to a stripped out shaft. Unbeleivable. More for the landfill and I still don't have a functioning blender.

Our 20 Seconds of Fame

Believe it or not, I don't buy a lot of knitting books. I like to get them from the library and give them a good read before I'm sure that it's worth taking yarn money to spend on a book. But when I heard that MonkeyBoy and I were mentioned in the new book Knitalong, I had to buy us a copy for posterity. We met the author a couple of years ago when she dropped in to our regular Wednesday knitting circle and she mentioned that she was researching a book but I had no idea we'd be in it. Our brief mention can be found in the Knitting for Others chapter.

I spent much of Friday evening curled up on the couch reading and considering projects for it turns out that it's a book I would have bought even without the thrill of seeing my name in print.

Getting out the dancing shoes

For anyone in Portland looking for some wonderful live music, our beloved Fishtank Ensemble is in town and playing with 3 Leg Torso tomorrow night at The Kennedy School. I've heard both bands play before. Both are great but it's Fishtank that's played in constant rotation here at our house. They are way too eclectic for me to describe accurately but here's what their website has to say:

This lively and unusual group consists of extremely talented musicians mastering their respective instruments: violin, saw, accordion, shamisen, flamenco guitar, contrabass, percussion and voice. Romanian folk music forms the bulk of the material with a healthy helping of flamenco, Swedish folk music, klezmer, Gypsy jazz, other folk sources as well as original songs.

We took the kids to see them a while ago and everyone had a great time. We’re looking forward to more of the same tomorrow night.

Update on New Man

He is free, apparently cleared of all charges. That's all I know.

Tiny

The new term started tonight. I have a total of eight students. And one girl was clearly misplaced in my class and thus will be moving up tomorrow. I have never had such a tiny class. I am sure there will be advantages but I definitely need to shift my thinking a bit to make the most of this.

Depressing

I was among more than 26, 000 working Americans who recently participated in the AFL-CIO health care survey. The results are in and they aren't pretty.

What surprises me is not how many people are struggling with health care but the lame attempts our presidential hopefuls have made to address the issue. Both the Democratic nominees have plans which provide huge handouts to the insurance companies without making any significant changes to a broken system. And McCain, unsurprisingly, offers even less.

I can't imagine any of them has had to borrow the money to take a sick child to the doctor or try and determine when heart palpitations are bad enough to merit the years of debt incurred by an emergency room visit. I'll bet they'd pay a lot more attention if their cushy health benefits were slashed.

Home

Why does returning from a vacation always take so much longer than getting there?

I shouldn't complain as The Spouse flew down only to drive us home. I spent most of the drive knitting but it just went on and on and on....

We stopped for lunch in Winters--my mother-in-law met us and we had a lovely meal. There was snow in the mountains and on and off all through Oregon, but nothing to cause us any trouble. We had dinner in Roseburg, the kids got quiet in the back and The Spouse and I chatted quietly all the way home. We arrived to find three love-starved cats who were delighted to have their people back.

There's a lot coming in the next week but I'm not quite ready to shift gears.

Day 7

Our final day in San Jose was most enjoyable. The kids hung out together while Colleen took me on a brief tour of yarn stores. Knitting Arts was full of gorgeous high end yarns, way out of my range (but I got to pet them for free). Purlescence was full of friendly folks and more lovely yarn. I carried around a lovely skein of hand dyed sea silk for quite some time but could not come up with a project to justify the expense beyond lace on tiny needles which just doesn't appeal right now. Our last stop was Communknity, a light and airy space quite unlike the usual cramped yarn shop. I finally gave in and bought a skein of chunky Malabrigo in a shade of blue that reminds me of a soft cotton shirt that was my grandfather's. It doesn't have quite the wow factor of many of the things I looked at, but I can think of a dozen ways to use it so I am quite happy.

On our way back to the house we stopped and bought fresh strawberries from some folks on a street corner. Not the best berries I've had in my life, but also not the woody frankenberries I'd expect in March. They were bright and fragrant and absolutely delicious. There are some magical things about California. Towering palms and citrus trees in side yards always strike me as just a bit fantastical. I'll add delicious March strawberries to that list.

I drove (on my own! in rush hour traffic!) to pick up The Spouse from the airport and I can't even express how happy I was to see him. We've never been apart this long and while I'd been having a great time on this trip there was definitely something missing.

We went out for a fantastic meal. Saravanaa Bhavan is apparently a worldwide chain--"a synergy of taste and quality" no less. This particular location is not terribly exotic. It looks like a former Shari's though upon entering the giant refrigerated case is filled not with pies but huge trays of Indian sweets. The food is South Indian and vegetarian--there was nothing I couldn't eat. We let Sanjay handle the ordering and we ended up with no room on the table. I don't even know what all we ate but everything was delicious from the yogurt and chutneys to the delicious dosas and idli. I won't soon forget that feast!

We left full, but not too full for ice cream. Real Ice Cream may lack somewhat in ambiance but the ice cream more than makes up for the fluorescent lights. There were flavors like cookie dough and rocky road, but also cardamom, saffron, fig, and rose. Definitely not Ben and Jerry's.

When Sanjay asked me if I'd like try a paan, I was game. I've read enough to know what I was getting in to: various nuts and spices wrapped in a betel leaf, taken as a post meal digestive. I was not prepared for the sustained explosion of flavors in my mouth--sweet, fruity, nutty, minty, and more. It took forever to finish and the flavor stayed with me for hours. Quite an experience, and thoughtfully documented by Colleen who gleefully took pictures with her iPhone.

Days 5 and 6

We've been having so much fun the last few days!

Yesterday we started with a cooking project and a little computer embellishment. I love the new look Colleen gave my old laptop.

Later we headed to Fremont to see a Hindi movie at the Naz 8 cinema. Our entry to the theater was not smooth but eventually we made it in and I was able to eat samosas while watching the movie which was a bit of a thrill. Afterwards I had my first ever bhel puri at a nearby restaurant and loved it--a total explosion of flavor and textures that I'm ready to eat again. We even stopped in at an Indian video store where MonkeyBoy and I picked up a copy of our favorite goofy movie.

Today we packed everyone up and drove to San Francisco and spent a good long time wandering around Chinatown. We had a tasty lunch, explored a bit more then took off in rush hour traffic to visit ArtFibers, a lovely little shop up a flight of creaky stairs where the one-of-a-kind yarns cover every wall. I was very restrained and limited myself to 100 grams of gorgeous green silk. I could have stayed and petted yarn for hours but with 6 kids in tow, we kept it brief.

We'd hoped to have dinner in the Mission District at a highly recommended taqueria but the kids were starting to fade so we made one last stop at Tartine where Colleen miraculously found parking right in front of the shop. She emerged with our dinner to go: a delicious asparagus quiche and cream pies that surpassed anything I've ever eaten. Wow. And apparently there are breakfast treats for tomorrow, our last day in California.

Soan Papdi (Version One)

I am currently staying with friends in San Jose where I was recently introduced to a heavenly Indian confection called soan papdi. There's no way I can accurately describe it. It's sweet, buttery, and very strongly flavored with ground cardamom. The texture is spectacular: light, flaky, and quick to dissolve on the tongue. What we tried was a packaged sweet but of course I wanted to know if mere mortals might be capable of making this delight in a home kitchen.

There appears to be one recipe on the internet, endlessly copied and pasted into numerous blogs and Indian cooking websites with little information beyond ingredients and basic cooking instructions. After a trip to the Indian market for exotic ingredients like besan and charmagaz, we were ready to give it a go.

Wheat and chickpea flours are mixed together and cooked in copious amounts of ghee. Meanwhile a sugar syrup comes to a boil and is eventually mixed into the ghee dough until "thread like flakes" appear, obviously key to that heavenly texture. Unsurprisingly this was the part that completely eluded us. We beat and beat but there was nary a flake to be found. Defeated, we spread the dough into a pan to cool, and topped it with freshly ground cardamom and melon seeds. The resulting sweet was tasty but nothing like what we'd hoped. I was surprised at how little information I was able to find. I would love to know more about the process by which threadlike flakes come to be. I definitely want to take another stab at this.

Day Four

Another sunny day in San Jose! The highlight of the morning was a visit to the Indian market where I purchased spices, a large box of soan papdi (my new addiction), and some wonderful steel dishes including a lovely little masala dhabba, which consists fo a number of steel spice dishes enclosed in a larger canister , allowing easier access to often-used spices.
We spent the afternoon in a park while kids ran wild and I fell in love with a small dog. I'm a sworn cat person so this was quite out of character for me.

There was a flock of wild parrots making quite a racket in the trees.

The Princess is getting good use out of her new sunglasses.

Best of all: after a number of persuasive phone calls, The Spouse will be boarding a plane later in the week and flying south to join us for the drive back home.

Day 3--and a Mosaic for Monday

It's a little odd, all this blue sky and sunshine.

But we're adjusting.

We headed west to spend the day at the beach. It was an easy drive to Santa Cruz where we went to the boardwalk. I'm not a ride person but The Princess and I did manage to sail above the crowds in a mercifully slow overhead tram. The sun was shining, the sea was sparking---this was clearly not Portland in March.

Leaving Santa Cruz I got a happy honk and a wave for my John Edwards bumper sticker which made my day! We drove north along highway 1 and (yes I know I'm repeating myself) it was breathtakingly gorgeous. We spent a couple of breezy hours on the sand at Half Moon Bay, flying kites and collecting shells--a perfect beach visit.

Day Two

I confess to being slightly horrified at climbing into the driver's seat once again this morning but there really weren't many other options. The sky was a brilliant blue as the kids and I headed south into the Sacramento Valley. We made a stop at the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge clearly not at the best time of year for birdwatching. The majority of the migratory birds had left but there was still plenty to see including rabbits, lizards, and lots and lots of egrets. I've always considered egrets to be lucky and I think we saw enough of them to ensure a safe journey.

Further south we Oregonians thrilled to the magic of palm trees and orange groves. The Dark Lord took the photos as I drove.


Our leisurely sightseeing came to an abrupt end when we left I-5 and veered off towards San Francisco. The traffic increased, the freeway lanes multiplied, and the road surface became unpleasantly rough. Things were a bit tense as we attempted to navigate the East Bay and when I was sure we were hopelessly lost suddenly all the highway numbers began to make sense and our exit magically appeared before us. We arrived safe and sound at our friends' lovely home in San Jose and have been making plans for the next few days while eating Soan Papdi, surely one of the tastiest things ever. I'm hooked!

Day One

We did it! We got out of the house on schedule after packing the van full of clothes, cameras, at supplies, books, and snacks. MonkeyBoy was picked up from his Hebrew lesson and of we went. The Dark Lord sat in front with me and acted as an able assistant, manning the iPod and pouring chai from the thermos as necessary.

It's so much easier to travel now that no one needs running around time evey hour or so. We drove to Medford, gassed up and got a bite to eat, and headed south to Redding, with a brief stop for photos near Mt Shasta. It's lovely and warm here and our room at the Super 8, while completely lacking in charm, does have a large TV with thousands of TV channels. After a dinner that was more about size than finesse, we retired to our lodgings so that my TV-less children could watch odd cartoons and bizarre reality shows in which cocky Brits eat maggots in the Amazon, all the while mugging for the camera.

I can't think of the last time my three children and I spent so much time so closely together. There's been mercifully little squabbling and lots of joking and silliness. All that's missing is The Spouse who we hope is enjoying the peace and quiet of our nearly-empty house.

Almost Outta Here......

What a whirlwind this week has been! I managed to do almost everything: we've all got clean clothes, the mighty minivan's been serviced, I've filled ziplock bags of trail mix, found and filled water bottles, purchased fresh batteries, and printed out pages and pages of activities to keep The Princess busy. I got all my final exams graded, paperwork turned in, and certificates handed out. I've got a bag full of knitting projects, library books, and binoculars for our visit to the wildlife refuge. What I didn't get around to, and now I'm feeling quite remorseful, is doing anything for Purim. Not only did I not make it to the synagogue for the service tonight (since I was at our end-of-term ceremony) I didn't even bake hamantashen for my family. I am a bad, bad Jew.

The plan is to pick up MonkeyBoy from his Hebrew lesson at 10:15 tomorrow morning and hit the road. We'll drive to Redding and stay in luxury at the Super 8 (hopefully free of tweakers) followed by some bird watching here Saturday morning. The it's on to San Jose to stay with very dear friends for as long as they'll have us.

I'm praying that my van runs without incident, my kids don't squabble too much, I can handle Bay Area traffic, and that I don't miss my my sweetie too much. Unfortunately The Spouse has to stay home and work next week. The schleptop is coming along with us so hopefully there will be lovely photos and fascinating interludes to share.

First Poem

The Princess surprised me with a poem written just for me, on a paper plate, no less. I've never been all that good with poetry myself, but this one made me smile.

A YOU
LOVE TO

A MOM LAWN
SWEET SWAN

Below, a portrait of the poet herself, sporting a chocolate soul patch.

The Neverending Saga

I was going to write a quick, chipper end-of-term post today. Winter term ends tomorrow, we're in the midst of testing (and it's going well), and the kids and I are getting ready for a trip to visit good friends in California. I'm checking things off the to do list and feeling pretty competent.

But when I arrived at work tonight I was met with the very grim face of our Russian speaking resource specialist. While I focus on teaching, her job is to recruit and enroll new students, keep an eye on them while they're enrolled and help with any issues that may arise. She just informed me that New Man (expelled from our program for the second time in February) has been arrested and a couple of his friends (current students in the program) have been called in for questioning. No one seems to know what the charge is but given his volatility I wouldn't be surprised if there was a fight and someone got hurt. He was drunk and got into a fight which was recorded on surveillance cameras.

I know there wasn't much I could do for this kid, at least not without the rest of my students suffering, but I am beside myself tonight, playing the what-if game, and feeling really, really low. Because if I were a good teacher, I could have turned this kid around, right?

Mosaic Monday

I've had no end of trouble getting this to work. A few of my very favorites from the last couple of weeks just won't show up. But luckily there are plenty of gorgeous photos on Flickr.

Day of Rest? Relaxing Weekend?

Not exactly. Saturday was go, go, go, and all of it synagogue related: a bat mitzvah in the morning, teaching Shabbat School in the afternoon, and a very fancy bat mitzvah party in the evening.

The bat mitzvah was lovely (though they all tend to initiate a running checklist in my mind these days). Shabbat school was a frenzy of glitter, sequins, spangles, and glue as the kids made Purim costumes.

I was worn down by evening and I almost didn't go to the party, mostly because I couldn't figure out what in my wardrobe could possibly qualify as the "festive attire" requested on the invitation. I dug around and found something I hoped was appropriate and off we went to a very fancy hotel. This party had it all: two buffets, a photo booth, a DJ, a kids area with video games, Moonstruck chocolate truffles at every plate, swing dancing lessons, and more. I hear this sort of thing is pretty common back east but it's not really typical in out little congregation where most people wear jeans. But it was fun and I did get to witness the rather hilarious spectacle of MonkeyBoy being dragged onto the dance floor by a number of girls who towered over him. He was mostly polite, but skittered away as quickly as possible. The Spouse and I always appreciate an opportunity to dance though we marvel at the horrific songs from our youth that seem to have become timeless classics: YMCA? Billie Jean? Oy.

The Dark Lord and I spent much of yesterday at our favorite cafe. He had homework to catch up on and I had to finish some reading I'd promised the folks at work I'd do on current research on grammar instruction. I now have a much better understanding of the library services at my college, but I'm not much clearer on best practices in grammar instruction despite many hours of digging around. The consensus seems to be to do what we all instinctively do anyway: teach grammar in context with lots of different kinds of communicative activities. I think I knew that.

Finally on Sunday evening things started to slow down. We had dinner with an old friend which was relaxing and delightful until the boys started to get fidgety. It occurred to me how rarely we are invited to eat at other people's houses and, really, how rarely we invite others here. Everything is going too fast these days. Late last night I sat and watched a movie and completed a lace-edged hat in soft Cashmerino yarn for a woman at work who's starting chemotherapy. I hope it will bring her some comfort as she has a long fight ahead of her.

Aaargh!

I've spent too much time this morning arguing with people on an email list. There's nothing I hate more than people arguing with me so I am always tempted to just back away with my tail between my legs. But this time I held on and, I think, made the truth apparent for anyone who wants to see it. Meanwhile I'm kind of amped up, having a hard time walking away from the computer and letting go.

But what better way to move on than this? And maybe a nice margarita while baking? Sounds good to me!

School Blues

I spent the afternoon at the high school for parent-teacher conferences. Last time I did this, back in October, I left feeling like The Dark Lord was doing well with his high school experiment and that overall it was a positive thing. Not so today. Without exception I heard from each teacher about how clearly bright he is and then most went on to indicate their confusion over his very poor performance this semester. He's missing more assignments than I can count, he shows up late to his first period classes, he rarely seems to have a handle on what's coming due, and he very clearly just doesn't care anymore.

He's told me some crazy stories about this term's classes: the required "Future Focus" class in which they "set goals and learn to use technology" but nothing he doesn't already know, he piano class in which 30 students are set loose to go practice somewhere in the building unsupervised (but they can't take the music books home), the Spanish class in which the teacher speaks French and two entire class periods were spent watching Pirates of the Caribbean. Had the teacher just turned on the Spanish subtitles I would have been OK with it. I know what it is to have a hard day teaching. But no subtitles. OK, I guess the main characters end up on the island of Tortuga but that's the extent of the curricular link I could identify.

What was clear from many of these teachers is how overwhelmed they were with behavior problems, testing requirements, and sheer numbers. Meanwhile my sweet boy, who's never been all that good at speaking up on his own behalf, is getting lost, falling behind, and losing interest.

Many years ago, when he was just four years old and finishing preschool, his teacher suggested that maybe a busy, crowded kindergarten wasn't an environment where he was likely to thrive. Fast forward to today when I was speaking with his animation teacher whose class seems to be the only thing keeping him interested. When I mentioned that he was thinking about leaving school this woman, bless her, looked at me, shook her head, and said "I don't know how he can make it here for three more years". She thought maybe he'd be better off away from the high school environment. On the other hand, she said he was welcome to take her class, any class, as many times as he wished because she so enjoyed working with him.

I left the school with a very heavy heart, not sure, once again, whether it was better to stick it out or move on. That seems to be an ongoing issue right now with two of my kids and I find myself completely unsure of how to help them.

Monster Update

Isn't my new yarn pretty?

While The Dark Lord was subjected to his monthly orthodontic torture yesterday, I spent a good 20 minutes in the waiting room trying desperately to finish Front A of The Monster. I've done admirably, I think, when it's come to managing all the instructions for this project but I'd reached a point where I was supposed to be binding off different numbers of stitches on opposite sides and as I understood it I was about to turn the front of this cabled vest into something resembling a tank top. I was completely baffled and ended up in a frenzy of counting, ripping, and muttering to myself to the point that one woman sitting across from me began to look distinctly uncomfortable. When I realized I was actually frightening people with my knitting, I had the good sense to shove The Monster back in the bag an pull out a simple, mindless sock requiring no pattern whatsoever.

I managed to calm down and stop scaring people but the fact remained that I had no idea what to do next and I so want to be done with this project. I had no choice but to to ask for help, no small thing for me. Today I drove across town to speak with the fabulous Cheri and she set me right in almost no time. In celebration (and gratitude) I bought a lovely skein of hand-dyed sock yarn, a symbol of faith that some day The Monster will be off the needles and I can move on to more agreeable projects. This yarn is gorgeous and richly dyed, in all the shades of green I love best. It's downright springlike, which is appropriate given not only the season, but my long dark winter of disagreeable knitting.

A Perfect Day

I probably shouldn't say this, but I'm kind of loving these global warming days. Sixty degrees and sunny in early March in Portland? It's crazy but good.

I spent a couple of hours battling roses today. The rose garden came with the house and it's become more of an obligation than a pleasure. I don't love roses, but ignoring them doesn't accomplish much so I pruned all 15 shrubs to get them in shape for spring. Oddly satisfying it was.

Later....the first proper bike ride of the year. Beth gave my sweet bike a little love and off we went on a pleasant and mercifully flat ride. I love riding my bike--it makes me feel like I'm eight years old again and free as a bird. But it also surprises me how much harder it is than walking. I can walk at a pretty good clip, even up hills, without huffing and puffing but by our midpoint I was winded and my legs were good and shaky. After a refreshing drink and a pause in the sunshine we headed back, ran into friends, looped through the park and had a great downhill coast back to Beth's house. Did I mention I love riding my bike?

While riding, I kept thinking about the bikes I've had over the years. The first: a purple Schwinn Fair Lady with orchids on the banana seat and a white wicker basket adorned with plastic flowers which I received as a gift for my sixth birthday. It took me a while to learn to ride that bike. It lived in the garage and I remember sitting on it while my dad did whatever it was he did in in the garage, chatting with him and getting used to the feel of it. I was seven going on eight when I had my two-wheeled epiphany and one Saturday everything just clicked. I rode all over our little subdivsion until dark, tumbled into bed, and got right back on the next morning before anyone else woke up. I hit a parked car and worried the heck out of my dad who had no idea where I'd gone. I never really got the brakes on that bike and was more likely to jump off at the end of a ride than stop properly. But that bike took me all over the place and lasted a good long time until I was 12 or so.

Bike #2 was a beautiful silver Raleigh 3 speed. But I was a fool and wanted an infinitely cooler 10-speed at that point. I realize now that my parents spent a fortune buying those beautiful bikes for me and my sister (hers was a lovely chocolate brown) an many times in my adult years I've wished to have that lovely bicycle back in my possession . That bike got me back and forth to school until I could save up enough babysitting money for something more fitting for my uppity teen self.

Bike #3, purchased when I was 14, was a red Echo 10-speed, slightly too large but somehow the perfect bike for me. I have no idea where it was made as I've never seen another, but it was my companion all the way through high school and it was my only transportation during college. That bike was a reliable workhorse, heavy as iron, and not at all fussy. I rode that thing through rain and snow, often with a cup of coffee and a lit cigarette on my early morning trips to campus. I gave up the cigarettes long ago but I never should have given up the cycling. I left it behind when I left Eugene and I have no idea what became of it.

Somehow in all the ensuing years, bicycles drifted out of my life. Only recently did I realize just how much I missed the freedom and joy of riding and on a whim bought an old but virtually new eighties-aqua Miyata last summer, too late to put it to much use before hibernating all winter in the garage. This year I really want to spend more time on my bike. I don't think I'll be going car-free anytime soon (even at $3.50/gallon) but I really, really want to trade four wheels for two a lot more often.

Makeover

Yes, we've redecorated for spring here at Casa Magpie. MonkeyBoy helped me make a new header from one of yesterday's photos. That boy is brilliant. I told him what I wanted and he managed it in just a few minutes while I just stared.

Both boys are completely self-taught when it comes to software and they can manage complex applications like Flash with complete ease. Meanwhile, The Dark Lord is forced to sit through painful sessions on Microsoft Office for complete beginners as part of his required Future Focus class. Why they can't test out of such mind-numbing classes is beyond me.

I could go on and on about my boy's high school experience but I think I'll drop it for now and think of more pleasant things like the year's first bike ride tomorrow. I'm badly out of shape and hoping my cycling companion doesn't leave me in the dust.

a walk

The nasty cold seems to be on its way out and I finally felt well enough for a walk. The kids and I decided to go to the Eastbank Esplanade, and bring along a grandpa and a cousin for fun. After a ridiculous comedy of errors (and cell phones) we finally managed to assemble our group of five for a leisurely stroll with lots of stops for photos. We walked north along the length of the Esplanade, across the Steel Bridge, south through Waterfront Park and back to the east side over the Hawthorne Bridge, a loop of just under 3 miles.

I can't even describe, after days of feeling so rotten, how great it was to move around and breathe fresh air.

I've finally figured out how to make the photo mosaics without spending all day uploading photos to the online mosaic maker. A nice plus--if you click on the mosaic it will open in a much larger format in a new window just in case you want a closer look at anything. The graffiti is definitely worth a second look.

The Monster Lives

When last we saw The Monster, I was tearfully coming to grips with the realization that despite my perfect gauge, I would need to rip out nearly 2 months worth of very difficult knitting since the garment simply would not go around the middle of its intended recipient.

It was only a week or two before I decided to suck it up and cast on again, only bigger. I worked fairly steadily throughout January and most of February, took breaks as needed with easier projects, and eventually found myself passing the landmark of row 70 where I'd torn out. Somehow I got through all 80 rows of the pattern and started over again and tonight, miraculously, I bound off the back.

I still have the fronts and all sorts of edgings and whatnot to finish but it actually looks like I might complete this project, by far my most challenging knitting ever. It helps that I now have a deadline. The Spouse promises he'll wear the completed Monster at MonkeyBoy's June bar mitzvah, so that's motivating me to work hard. That and there are lots of other things I'd like to make, things that don't involve counters, a huge sheaf of battered xeroxed pages covered in multicolored sticky notes, and pesky cable needles which can disappear forever in the blink of an eye. This really isn't my style of project at all but it's nice to know that, with patience, I just might be up to the challenge.

...sniff.....

This was my weekend: sore throat, sick kid, tired, a too-complicated but very tasty Shabbat dinner, 90 minutes at the must-attend dance party thrown by my husband's boss , trying to do internet research on best practices in ESL grammar instruction which was thwarted by a cafe without wifi, a meeting with other parents, not having to teach Shabbat School because by then I felt so awful, lots of mindless computer mahjongg, many hours in an oversized sweater and my giant Punjabi pants, tea, more tea, The Darjeeling Limited, a brief foray out to deliver MonkeyBoy to a makeup Hebrew lesson and restock the sickroom supplies, a very friendly man with a giant barbecue who insisted I eat his chicken (and it wasn't really all that bad), more attempts at internet research, a frantic email to the rabbi as I realized we don't actually have the right information about MonkeyBoy's bar mitzvah Torah readings, more tea, fitful stuffy-nosed attempts at sleep, more tea, more failed attempts at research, running kids hither and yon, more tea, and finally the realization that this is what sick days are for so a night at home, too congested to sleep but at least cozy and relaxed.

Central Asian Carrot Salad

It's funny how a carrot dish could start with turnips, but sometimes things work out strangely.

Late winter is hardly the high season for farmers markets but when The Spouse and I found ourselves unexpectedly free on a recent sunny afternoon we decided to include the lone east side winter market in our walk. As expected, greens featured heavily along with some lovely baked goods and some downright weird sauerkraut crackers.

Off to the side of the main action was the Hayat Farm stand whose offerings consisted of one lone table heavily laden with nothing but turnips. Normally I'm not a turnip fan but I really wanted to support this particular farmer whose family is one of the Meskhetian Turk refugee families who have recently moved to Portland and whose teens have studied in my classroom.

If you've read my not-food blog you'll have come across stories of these kids, some of whom have been among my most memorable students. They've not had had easy lives and I'm happy to support their communiy by buying their produce, even if that happens to be turnips.

Hayat Farm hands out recipes for much of their produce, but we couldn't get any suggestions about how to use the turnips as Farmer Idrisov's English is pretty minimal and my Russian isn't much better. But I did end up using their recipe for a carrot salad that was just delicious.

I don't think a person can have too many carrot salad recipes. Carrots are super nutritious, always tasty, and they keep well so they're always on hand at my house. This dish is flavored with deeply browned onions and their oil along with a liberal amount of ground coriander which give the dish an exotic twist. The recipe can be found here, at the end of a great article about Mr Idrisov and his family.

As for those turnips? They became a lovely curry courtesy of Mahanandi and they were pretty darned good. For turnips.

Oybama

So I've mostly stopped paying attention to election news. Neither Obama or Clinton does much for me. And Ralph, couldn't you just sit this one out?

I have lots of people trying to assure me that I can vote for Obama and feel good about it but I'm not convinced. The video that was supposed to make me all teary with inspiration actually ticked me off in a big way. I get the Spanish--Hispanics are a huge voting bloc. Si, se puede--OK. But why not, I don't know, use Vietnamese, Russian, Korean or Chinese too ? Why the Hebrew (which I imagine the majority of American Jews wouldn't even catch) ? What was up with that? The whole thing was way too cheesy for me and caused my opinion of him to drop even further.

But I guess it worked for some Jews.

These were not an option when I was ordering yarmulkes for MonkeyBoy's bar mitzvah.
Thanks to DailyKos for the photo.

And yes, I realize neither of these come from the official Obama campaign. But still.

I'm Back

My computer was out of commission for a few days while a very nice man took it apart and cleaned it, eliminating the overheated shut-downs which were happening more and more frequently. Apparently the problem could be traced to a rather large clump of cat hair which had accumulated inside. Luckily the cats aren't completely useless.

Meanwhile, the sun has been out all week and it feels an awful lot like spring. I'm starting to get that itch to trim and plant. I know how it works in Portland--there's always a late winter "spring" followed by weeks of dreary, cold rain so I won't run off to the nursery for seeds and starts just yet. But it sure is heavenly for now.

When the hellebores are blooming...

..can spring be far behind?

Best Food Book Ever

I know, that's a pretty subjective statement so let's just say that Eating India: An Odyssey into the Food and Culture of the Land of Spices is easily the best food writing I've read in a very, very long time. I thought I was going to read this one cover to cover in no time, but I forced myself to savor it like good chocolate. I rationed it out, a chapter at a time, going back for seconds and thirds as often as I pleased.

My knowledge of Indian cooking is so much greater after reading Eating India. Sure, we all know about the Mughal influenced North Indian specialties, but this book takes the reader on a comprehensive tour of numerous Indian communities starting in the author's own Calcutta and wandering all over the subcontinent. No recipes, but lots of interesting tidbits to chew on.

You Haven't Lived...

...until you've spent five very long minutes in almost total darkness, on the floor, locked down with a bunch of jacked-up adolescent ESL students.

After a lengthy first language warning, we had our active shooter drill last night. The kids were totally nuts with anticipation beforehand so the first hour of class was a near-total bust. When the drill began, we turned off lights, shut the blinds, and both locked and barricaded the doors as directed. In the event of a real emergency, however, I would likely be a sitting duck given that our classroom doors only lock with a key and from the outside.

We'd be dead anyway given that my students could not shut up. They were giggling madly and taking full advantage of the darkness during the drill. Needless to say, the remaining class time before break was also a bit of a bust since getting them to settle down and focus on descriptive adjectives was nearly impossible.

I just hope we never have to run through this scenario in real life.....

Valentine's Day

Last year I wrote a lengthy Valentine's Day post. This year I'm keeping it short and sweet. I thought I'd toss up a shot of The Spouse and me. There aren't a lot of pictures of the two of together since I usually have the camera. I think The Dark Lord took this last August at the beach which is as good as it gets for us. We've been together for 20 years now--it looks like it might work out, don't you think? I'm about the luckiest person in the world to have this man at my side.

Chocolate Truffles

It's an annual thing around here: chocolate truffles for Valentine's Day. It wasn't quite as fun to make them on our own (we usually have the company of good friends) but The Princess and I had quite a lovely time making them on our own and tucking them into shiny paper wrappers.

Truffles don't take long to make. You still have time to make a lovely Valentine's Day gift if you hurry. The recipe is here. Make sure to use a chocolate that you really love. The coatings are up to you. I used ground toasted hazlenuts, finely ground coffee mixed with cocoa and sugar, and toasted coconut shreds. Give them a try and bring a smile to your valentine's face.

I Could Not Make This Up

In the wake of the horrors last year at Virginia Tech, my college has responded (10 months later) with an "active shooter" protocol. We have our first drill next week and you can imagine how fun that's going to be to explain to beginning level ESL students. The memo that came in today's email was titled

Active Shooter Alert Drill

A Learning Experience

Mosaic Monday

Do you think I might be itching for spring just a little bit?

Kvelling

While I really wasn't excited about The Dark Lord heading off to school it's finally starting to look like a positive thing. The new semester just started and he's able to take a couple of new electives (advanced animation and piano) and has joined a new after school club focusing on drawing comics. He's getting to spend some more time with kids who share his interests and beginning to have some fun. He's learned to get up at an ungodly hour, and manage his homework schedule. He's had to struggle with keeping track of things and getting enough sleep. And despite a rather stressful end of the term, my boy has managed a 3.5 GPA in his first ever semester of school which I think is pretty wonderful and I am very proud of my boy!

Chocolate Orange Cake

Don't you just have to love a cookbook with an entire chapter dedicated to chocolate cakes? Nigella Lawson's Feast has just such a chapter and it's filed with all kinds of delightful looking possibilities. Since my Fridays have just gotten considerably less complicated, I was able to sit a and plan and then cook a proper Shabbat dinner for the first time in a very long time. We even invited guests, which hasn't happened in I can't tell you how long. Clearly a cake was in order.

I'd long wanted to try the chocolate orange cake in Feast. I can't think of a better combination of flavors and I loved that this recipe included and entire orange, skin and all. The orange is boiled first to soften it then mixed with ground almonds, eggs, cocoa powder, and sugar. I topped it with some strips of candied orange peel and it was quite lovely. Not being super sweet or dripping with icing, the cake wasn't a huge hit with the kids but that's why I was able to enjoy the final piece as my breakfast.

It has a wonderful, slightly nubbly texture and a bright orange flavor above the chocolate. I hope you'll give it a try. Folks from my tribe might even want to keep it in mind for Passover as the recipe can be made kosher-for-Pesach. In that case I would omit the baking powder and soda, separate the eggs, and beat the egg whites until stiff before adding to the batter. That should work in terms of leavening. The recipe is here--Enjoy!

In Which my Day is Made

I've never been clear on the finer points of blog etiquette so when Leslie left a kind note in the comments for this post I was flattered but, well, I just didn't get it. Tammy mentioned me today as well and now I realize that I'm supposed to do something in response, something other than just sit here being flattered. Like make a short list of my favorite blogs. Right. I'm up to 98 subscriptions in Google Reader so a short list isn't an easy task for me.

There are so many great blogs out there run by fine writers, talented photographers, brilliant crafters, excellent cooks, and astute observers of everything from politics to Hindi movies and I try to visit as many as I can whenever I log on. Many of these folks are super-prolific and I can't always keep up. But it's true that I there are a few blogs whose new posts I always read, even when pressed for time as I so often am. I've left out any number of superstar megablogs but you probably knew about them anyway. And my personal friends should know that of course I read everything you post right away. While I can't possibly include all the blogs I love, I hope my too-short short list will send new readers to some of the blogs that regularly make my day. My thanks to all of those in the blog world who take the time to write and share.

In no particular order:

BikeLoveJones--I love Beth's way of looking at the world.
Filmi Geek--You mean I'm not the only non-Indian crazy about these movies?
Tikkun Knits-- the intersection craft and Judaism

MOMcrats--These folks give me hope that I'm not alone and I'm not a freak.

Posie Gets Cozy--Great crafts--and no one else could make me look at dog pictures.
The Red Molly Picayune-Democrat-- honest and funny--what else do you need?
Is That My Bureka? -- interesting, unusual recipes...and 100% kosher, even
Ragamuffin Studies--thoughtful observations on homeschooling, Judaism, and life in general
Poppalina-- beautiful, mindful, and sharp in all good ways

My First Lockdown

Actually I wasn't even involved, except to notice a rather startling number of police cars in our neighborhood this morning. I didn't really give it another thought until I received the email message from The Dark Lord's high school in which I learned that the school had been under lockdown today while the Portland's Finest chased a criminal suspect through our neighborhood. The principal was pleased that all teachers and students followed the emergency plan as directed. I was pleased that no one was hurt.

When I informed MonkeyBoy of the drama he began laughing about the possibility of his brother going into "Ninja Superhero Mode" which would not have been part of the emergency plan at all.

When I questioned The Dark Lord about the incident this afternoon his response was "ummm...what?" which really is a pretty detailed answer given his adolescent tendency toward grunting in response to my questions. There will be sentences again someday, won't there?

Update from Room 207

For those of you following the saga, New Man is officially out as of today. His teacher put up with him for 4 weeks. She talked to him about his behavior as did I and our department head to no avail. It stinks because he's a bright boy and he wants to learn English. I think if he could behave appropriately in a classroom, he would. But it just doesn't seem possible and I don't know how to help him with that.

On a lighter note, on e of my Chinese students walked in with a great T-shirt tonight which said "Pank Rock Lundon in the UK". I want that shirt.

Mamanxiety, Part Two

Once again, wondering if I'm ruining my kids for life......

You know how each child has an area in which they shine? The Dark Lord is a fantastic writer and MonkeyBoy is a spectacular artist. With The Princess it's always been music. She's always reacted differently to music than her brothers did and I was delighted that when she was under 2 years old she was able to start music classes. It was a schlep to get to the school but it seemed worth it as the teacher was a friend of ours and The Princess so clearly loved her class.

She ended up taking quite a few classes there on Friday mornings over the years with a small, consistent group of kids. Music class was the highlight of her week until this fall when her beloved Miss Liz was mysteriously replaced. The new class had a completely different tone and the teacher, while clearly very talented, maybe was better with older kids. Too much talking and not enough music in my opinion. Plus things just got harder and began moving faster and The Princess began to struggle. She started to complain that she "couldn't do it" any more--everything was confusing and too hard. There was pretty rigid program without a lot of review and I feared my darling poppet was getting lost.

I've never really studied music but I began to wonder if a group setting was the best environment for a young learner when things are beginning to get complex: reading music, using two hands, figuring out the rhythm--there's an awful lot going on now. I talked with The Princess about the idea of maybe trying out private lessons where she could have her own teacher. She thought that sounded great--along with her group class, but two different simultaneous music programs just isn't feasible for many reasons. I really began to feel that going with private lessons was the way to go and began to get her used to the idea.

Last Friday was her last class at the old school. The recital was bittersweet and we were both sad to be leaving friends. But I was convinced she'd be happy and learn more in her new situation. Her first lesson was today and she prepared by dressing carefully, with numerous special accessories, stick-on earrings, and a name tag made just for the occasion to help the teacher learn her name. She bounced out of the car and ran up the steps eager to get started. She was happy to show the new teacher what she'd been playing and was delighted to play on a lovely Yamaha grand piano.

I sat with her for this first lesson and something clearly wasn't right. She became nervous and unsure of herself while trying to equate new terminology with concepts she already knew. Again, there was too much talking from the teacher, so much focus on the notes for a kid who can't even read yet! I could tell she was hugely disappointed even though she put on a brave face as we were leaving and told me she "kind of liked it" but I knew she was telling me what she thought I wanted to hear. While practicing tonight she was full of resentment with me for taking her away from her old class. I know that most of this is about the change and not the teacher, but I am feeling like such an ogre even though I was really trying to find the best place for her music to grow. It's like the struggle with her brother--I just wish I could have a few moments where I felt certain I knew what was right.

Mamanxiety, Part One

Sometimes all I wish for is a day or two, even an hour, of knowing I'm making the right choices for my kids. My mamanxiety is pretty high these days and I keep having that nagging feeling that I'm messing up my kids for life. When you homeschool your kids, there's no one else to blame, right?

MonkeyBoy is a pretty intense and challenging kid. This is hard to accept for those who see him under ideal circumstances because most people only see his charm, his quick wit, his thoughtfulness, and his brilliant smile. All of these are completely genuine, but when it's time to buckle down and work, most of these attributes disappear and he becomes easily frustrated, ill-tempered, and not my favorite companion.

I think at some level I understand his frustration. Academic work doesn't come easily to him. He's an incredibly talented artist but words and numbers won't behave for him and even at 12 it's torture for him to sit still for long. For years I've tried to adopt the relatively easygoing attitude that so many homeschooling parents seem to have mastered: there's no rush, he'll get it when he's ready and so on. And then I realize that he's more than a little bit behind--he's still struggling with concepts that much younger kids have mastered. But it isn't just that I realize it, he's more and more aware of it himself. Our semester in the awful virtual charter school had him convinced that he was just plain stupid compared to other kids his age. That realization was what prompted me to pull him out and give the kid a break. A really long break.

I don't believe this kid would thrive in public school especially in our small district which lacks all the groovy special interest programs found in the large neighboring school district. I think he'd be so overstimulated in the average classroom that he wouldn't learn much at all. I felt this when he was 5 and my opinion really hasn't changed much. But you'd think that after all these years I'd be a confident homeschooling pro and I am as full of worry as ever.

Unschooling sounds so wonderful and I wish I could be that kind of homeschooling parent, but I'm not. I love the idea of child-led learning and I have met a few self-identified unschooled kids that seem to have blossomed with such an approach (and I've met a few that scare the pants off me, to be fair). But left to their own devices my boys would do nothing but play computer games, read crappy fantasy books and squabble with each other and I just can't feel OK with that.

On the other hand we are way too disorganized and spontaneous for a rigorous scheduled curriculum. Because MonkeyBoy takes hours to do a few minutes' work, the idea of 8-10 hours a day at the kitchen table (because he still can't get much done without my constant supervision) to cover the state standards fills me with no end of horror. That was the nightmare that was the virtual charter school and I can't see doing that again.

On the other hand (how many hands do I have now?) my mercurial little sprite needs to learn some buckling down skills as well as how to write a decent one-page essay without excessive drama. So we're at it again, nose to the grindstone. Am I teaching him much needed discipline or am I crushing his spirit? I still don't know but I can't help but feel that I really ought to have this all figured out by now.

Mazel Tov...

...to all the gay and lesbian couples who will benefit from Oregon's new domestic partnership law. I know it's not perfect (and who am I to comment anyway?) but it sure seems like a step in the right direction. It's about time!

I just don't get it.....

I guess there just aren't enough of us angry populists, or at least not enough of us with money anyway. I've never donated as much to a presidential candidate as I have to John Edwards and I only wish I'd had more to give. But the news today says he's stepping down. And I am so very disappointed.

I loved that instead of vague messages of hope and change, Mr. Edwards had good, solid plans. Plans to get out of Iraq, plans to provide every American with affordable health care and a high-quality education. And I was honored to be able to take my boys to hear him speak last spring. But he's been massively outspent and largely ignored by the media who can't get past the Black and Female labels. I don't care what they look like or whether they have boy parts or girl parts--I just want a smart, substantial progressive Democratic candidate. I'm disappointed that so many Democrats seem swayed by the rock star candidates who look to me to be more of the same in new packaging. Someone might be able to talk me in to voting for Obama (any takers? I'll see you in the comments!) but I can't see holding my nose tightly enough to vote for Hillary Clinton.

Mosaic Monday

For days we've been hearing of impending snow and we've had high hopes of finally seeing the white stuff. Again, nothing. A cold, damp, distinctly not-snowy morning. Disappointing, but not a bad morning for looking at photos. The Mosaic Maker was cranky today and refused to include a couple of the photos I really liked but the collection isn't bad at all.

Dosas at Home

I think about dosas a lot. I love nearly every Indian dish I've ever tasted but I've actually dreamed about dosas which says something either about dosas or about me. I've been reading about them for weeks, gearing myself up to try making them at home. Most recipes have you soak rice and lentils, grind them together, and ferment them over a few days. Not necessarily difficult but planning is required. Planning isn't one of my strengths, sorry to say. I'd pretty well convinced myself that my homemade dosas wouldn't be worth eating anyway.

I was looking up a recipe on Bureka Boy's blog today, a yeasted roll with exotic flavors to serve with coffee (and I'll write about those soon, I promise) when I came across an old recipe of his for No Wait Dosas--just the kick I needed to finally try making my own.

No long-soaked lentils here--these are replaced by wheat flour. And rice flour takes the place of the soaked rice, making these a snap to whip up in the blender. I omitted BB's mustard seeds as I wanted those to flavor the filling. Grated coconut added a lovely nuttiness to the batter.

These don't have the lovely sourdough tang of a classic dosa, and mine didn't have quite the crunchy/chewy texture of the professional varieties I've tasted. But nonetheless, they were very tasty. I made an approximation of potato fillings I've eaten before, bright yellow with turmeric and speckled with green cilantro and black mustard seeds. The crepes take a bit of skill on the griddle, but you'll get the hang of them quickly enough. These came together in under an hour and that's with a pot of chana dal to serve alongside. Bureka Boy's recipe for quick dosa batter is here and my potato filling is here. I hope when you give these a try you'll get hooked, too.