Okay, Chapter 6 was endearing and I read the recipe-at least the intro.
___
Food=place. Yes. YES. Though I've been lucky enough to never have a prolonged hospital stay outside of pregnancy, I do remember the glory of the first meals after my children's birth. Sushi and and red wine in a coffee cup after number 1. Following all pregnancy 'rules', I denied myself the deliciousness of raw fish throughout. It wasn't the best sushi, but it sure tasted like it then.
Number 2 and my favorite photographer friend sneaks in a Dark Lord, of all things (!) blessed beer, again concealed in a Styrofoam cup. And she brings me Italian from the place my husband used to work. So much delicious freshness and flavor after the decent, but incredibly bland, hospital meals. It's true. Food humanizes. It removes you from where you are and takes you to where you should be.
___
The stupid, sudden, overwhelming realization of 'yes-this is the person you will spend your life with.' So I'm not the only insane one. Good to know.
___
I'm making Cholent. Totally.
___
The best part of making a life together is making that life together. Discovering where you both want to put the silverware, what side of the bed to sleep on, knowing you'll ALWAYS have to pick up his towels from the closet because that's just something that will never change.
___
Crispy Rice and Eggs is a thing?!? I do that thing. I didn't know it was a thing. I always like using leftovers efficiently.
___
What really does matter? I guess we do know. But maybe we ignore it, for the easiness of daily frustration and duties. Me? Cleaning and sweeping, making sure dishes aren't left in the sink. Letting my husband chat with OUR friends while our kids play and scream and laugh and track dirt into the house and all I can think about is making sure that no one will judge me. Because I still feel judged, even by those closest to me.
Childhood regression, I guess.
I need to stop and start sitting at the table with those beautiful folk we called friends and family.
But--not too long. I still have to get the cleaning done. Honestly, the few times I can remember when I have been 'all caught up'- clean home, dishes done, kids away/in bed, nothing else to do.. I just looked around and thought, 'Well. What now?'
I think I do better when I'm almost at my breaking point. I just need to find out exactly where that breaking point is, because lately I'm pretty sure I've been crossing that line.
___
Other Thoughts:
Do I take it back? The food is more engrained with the flow of the story now. This makes sense. Maybe my brain is making sense of it. Maybe it always did. Whatever, I'm digging it.
This is becoming charmingly endearing and touching and concrete. It's very much Jessica's story, and her voice is familiar and comforting, honest with itself without pretense. I'm looking for that courage.
I read fast. And I'm reading this one pretty dang quickly. More to come.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Work. And Work.
This morning, someone in one of my 'Chef Wives' group posted this, and it's pretty spot on, as far as I can tell being a bystander/cheerleader for my own Chef. It's hard to explain to anyone outside of our circle of other chef and chef spouse friends, this weird family life we have developed. Just because it's different, doesn't mean the love and connection isn't there.
So- here's my response to some commonly asked questions from family/friends about dealing with the whole Chef Wife thing.
"Wow, you do everything at home, huh?"-Kinda. Maybe. Sure, but hey. Whatever. The husband doesn't purposely not do shit at home. He's been doing shit all day, on his feet, for anywhere between 8 to 18 hours. I understand that all my husband wants to do is shower and play a video game some evenings. I get that, and it's fine. We manage. It may look one-sided, but it's really not.
If the roof shingles need to be replaced, if drywall needs to be installed, if a tree needs to be taken down.. I'm not getting my ass on a ladder. I could, but why should I when he'll do it?
And yes, on his days off, he's been known to do a load of laundry, dishes, and even *gasp* take care of the childrens!
"Why don't they just get another job?"
-Why don't YOU just get another job? Oh, because you like your 9-5? You enjoy the type of work you do? You are good at it? You went to school for it? It's your CAREER?
Oh, yeah.
Well, my husband may not have the 9-5, but he enjoys the hell outta what he does, he's amazing at it, and, yes, he did go to school to have this career. It's a career, it's his choice, his passion and his livelihood. Not everyone wants a job just for the money, folks.
"Aren't you lonely all the time?"
-Lonely? I have two kids, I am NEVER alone. I would love to be actually alone sometime! (As I type this, my 8 month old is in my lap, blowing spit bubbles all over my arm and watching himself on the webcam in sparkle vision to distract him from smacking the keyboard.)
And, honestly, I like being by myself. I read. I write. I have projects and I work too, by the way. I work at home, yes, but it's not selling shit on Etsy (no offense if that's your thing..). It's a job, requiring time and meetings and with deadlines. A job. Keeps me pretty busy.
Plus, my social circle is not limited to just my husband, sheesh.
"It's like you are a single mom."
-Guess what? I know some single moms, and I can tell you that it's a helluva lot harder for them than it is for me. Sure, I have to attend all the school conferences, pack lunches, go to play dates, whatever. But- I have someone else who can pick up the kids if there is a real emergency, someone else who can get up and give the baby a bottle at 3 AM if I'm sick. I have a partner, someone there when things get tough.
So don't give me that sort of credit. I'm not Superwoman. Heap that praise on this women who REALLY are single moms and handling their business and raising amazing children.
I'm sure there's more questions/comments I could respond to, but I gotta get back to being lonely, a single mother, and my pity party.
Ta.
So- here's my response to some commonly asked questions from family/friends about dealing with the whole Chef Wife thing.
"Wow, you do everything at home, huh?"-Kinda. Maybe. Sure, but hey. Whatever. The husband doesn't purposely not do shit at home. He's been doing shit all day, on his feet, for anywhere between 8 to 18 hours. I understand that all my husband wants to do is shower and play a video game some evenings. I get that, and it's fine. We manage. It may look one-sided, but it's really not.
If the roof shingles need to be replaced, if drywall needs to be installed, if a tree needs to be taken down.. I'm not getting my ass on a ladder. I could, but why should I when he'll do it?
And yes, on his days off, he's been known to do a load of laundry, dishes, and even *gasp* take care of the childrens!
"Why don't they just get another job?"
-Why don't YOU just get another job? Oh, because you like your 9-5? You enjoy the type of work you do? You are good at it? You went to school for it? It's your CAREER?
Oh, yeah.
Well, my husband may not have the 9-5, but he enjoys the hell outta what he does, he's amazing at it, and, yes, he did go to school to have this career. It's a career, it's his choice, his passion and his livelihood. Not everyone wants a job just for the money, folks.
"Aren't you lonely all the time?"
-Lonely? I have two kids, I am NEVER alone. I would love to be actually alone sometime! (As I type this, my 8 month old is in my lap, blowing spit bubbles all over my arm and watching himself on the webcam in sparkle vision to distract him from smacking the keyboard.)
And, honestly, I like being by myself. I read. I write. I have projects and I work too, by the way. I work at home, yes, but it's not selling shit on Etsy (no offense if that's your thing..). It's a job, requiring time and meetings and with deadlines. A job. Keeps me pretty busy.
Plus, my social circle is not limited to just my husband, sheesh.
"It's like you are a single mom."
-Guess what? I know some single moms, and I can tell you that it's a helluva lot harder for them than it is for me. Sure, I have to attend all the school conferences, pack lunches, go to play dates, whatever. But- I have someone else who can pick up the kids if there is a real emergency, someone else who can get up and give the baby a bottle at 3 AM if I'm sick. I have a partner, someone there when things get tough.
So don't give me that sort of credit. I'm not Superwoman. Heap that praise on this women who REALLY are single moms and handling their business and raising amazing children.
I'm sure there's more questions/comments I could respond to, but I gotta get back to being lonely, a single mother, and my pity party.
Ta.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Starring Shapes! by Tania Howells-Kids Book Review!
Yay! I got my first kids book galley. Here's the description via NetGalley:
"Shapes play supporting roles in the world around us, but which one will be the star of Shapeston Elementary School's play? Triangle has experience as a traffic sign, and Square moonlights as a postage stamp, Circle as a lemon slice, Rectangle as the cover of a magazine and Diamond as a kite, while Oval has played a surfboard. A fun and fresh look at basic shapes that will have you seeing them in surprising places."
I read it to this guy:
Ser Loki says:
"I would read this if I was little, because it tells you about what each of the shapes could be, so it kind of would make me think about it if I didn't know a lot about shapes already."
The bright colors, clean lines and simple illustrations are definitely appealing to little ones. It's easy to point out and identify the shapes as you go through the book. "Look, a circle can be a beach ball, the shape of this window. Circles are everywhere!"
The text established little storylines and personalities for each particular shape - Triangle is the life of the party, Square likes to help, Diamond is dazzling, and that's kind of cute. An Indian holiday was mentioned in the book and I totally had to Google it (Diwali), which made me feel a little less worldly than I thought I was. It was kind of annoying (it's a kids book!) but also a way to introduce children to festivals, etc they might not know about, I guess..but within the purpose and context of this book (let's learn about shapes!), kind of a needless distraction.
I'd give it an overall 3.5 out of 5. I tend to expect a lot of my children's books. Simplicity isn't a disqualifier for a 5 out of 5 rating, but I need it to hold my attention. I'm pretty ADD, ya know, like a four year old, so. Ha.
So-there you go! I reviewed a book. Don't be too hard on me, this is new for me folks. I just says it like I sees it.
Cheers!
"Shapes play supporting roles in the world around us, but which one will be the star of Shapeston Elementary School's play? Triangle has experience as a traffic sign, and Square moonlights as a postage stamp, Circle as a lemon slice, Rectangle as the cover of a magazine and Diamond as a kite, while Oval has played a surfboard. A fun and fresh look at basic shapes that will have you seeing them in surprising places."
I read it to this guy:
after naptime, and had the bigger one help me out, to see if he approved of the book.
 |
| my kids are weird... |
"I would read this if I was little, because it tells you about what each of the shapes could be, so it kind of would make me think about it if I didn't know a lot about shapes already."
The bright colors, clean lines and simple illustrations are definitely appealing to little ones. It's easy to point out and identify the shapes as you go through the book. "Look, a circle can be a beach ball, the shape of this window. Circles are everywhere!"
The text established little storylines and personalities for each particular shape - Triangle is the life of the party, Square likes to help, Diamond is dazzling, and that's kind of cute. An Indian holiday was mentioned in the book and I totally had to Google it (Diwali), which made me feel a little less worldly than I thought I was. It was kind of annoying (it's a kids book!) but also a way to introduce children to festivals, etc they might not know about, I guess..but within the purpose and context of this book (let's learn about shapes!), kind of a needless distraction.
I'd give it an overall 3.5 out of 5. I tend to expect a lot of my children's books. Simplicity isn't a disqualifier for a 5 out of 5 rating, but I need it to hold my attention. I'm pretty ADD, ya know, like a four year old, so. Ha.
So-there you go! I reviewed a book. Don't be too hard on me, this is new for me folks. I just says it like I sees it.
Cheers!
(*note: this book was received digitally via netgalley for free.)
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Stir: Random of randomness: Prologue, Chapters 1-5
This is going to sound strange. I don't care. I'm musing, writing my thoughts as I read, as I would in a journal, or just let them float through my head. This is how I will continue to approach this book. So. Here you go.
___
Oh good God, weight vs. measurements! YES. Weight-if I've learned ANYTHING from my husband. That'll get you perfect cookies.
___
The idea of eating what you like and liking what you eat sticks with me. It's not always about the cassoulet, the confit, imported french wines and elegant pastries. Sometimes it's about a Twix when all you really, really want is a Twix.
For me, food, growing up, is a painful memory. Overweight until my early teens, my mother fed me on Hostess Cupcakes, bags of potato chips in bed at night, the fattiest kind of ground beef, 'pork' and beans- meaning hot dogs cut up in a can of baked beans, and canned everything- veg, meat, you name it. I don't think I ate a fresh vegetable until I was 15.
I indulge my children, sure, but my husband is a chef, for fucks' sake. Mac and Cheese are the standbys, but they'll eat duck and snails and parsnips and beets and anything else you offer them.
My childhood memories of food were painful. Food was painful. Anorexia and drugs were comforting. The not eating made me feel better. It wasn't until I married my husband and learned what family could be and what food should be that I began to see all the delights and pleasantness that could come with a finely crafted plate.
___
I love the love/hate. I love the lack of attraction, and suddenly it's there. What happens? What changes? Must you change, to realize you truly are in tune with something, that you enjoy their company?
___
Bullshit running commentary. Beautiful. I'm glad my husband and I are not the only ones.
Other thoughts:
Skipping the recipes. I'm not a cook-but I do love to eat. Sometimes I'm inspired. Sometimes I'll make a cake. Not today.
This book bounces. Past to the present, food throughout. It's ingrained, it's the core of the book. It may be true, it may be there and all encompassing, all important. But-it feels a bit heavy-handed and forced. Not always, but a bit.
The writing is vivid. The descriptions are there, I feel what she shares. I feel the blood pooling in my own brain and I touch my temple where I dropped my cell phone on it, directly, last night. It's still tender.
I wonder how I would face something like this..what would be my saving grace? What would bring me back, sustain me? Ultimately, isn't it always family? But what is it about my family that tethers me to this world?
___
Oh good God, weight vs. measurements! YES. Weight-if I've learned ANYTHING from my husband. That'll get you perfect cookies.
___
The idea of eating what you like and liking what you eat sticks with me. It's not always about the cassoulet, the confit, imported french wines and elegant pastries. Sometimes it's about a Twix when all you really, really want is a Twix.
For me, food, growing up, is a painful memory. Overweight until my early teens, my mother fed me on Hostess Cupcakes, bags of potato chips in bed at night, the fattiest kind of ground beef, 'pork' and beans- meaning hot dogs cut up in a can of baked beans, and canned everything- veg, meat, you name it. I don't think I ate a fresh vegetable until I was 15.
I indulge my children, sure, but my husband is a chef, for fucks' sake. Mac and Cheese are the standbys, but they'll eat duck and snails and parsnips and beets and anything else you offer them.
My childhood memories of food were painful. Food was painful. Anorexia and drugs were comforting. The not eating made me feel better. It wasn't until I married my husband and learned what family could be and what food should be that I began to see all the delights and pleasantness that could come with a finely crafted plate.
___
I love the love/hate. I love the lack of attraction, and suddenly it's there. What happens? What changes? Must you change, to realize you truly are in tune with something, that you enjoy their company?
___
Bullshit running commentary. Beautiful. I'm glad my husband and I are not the only ones.
Other thoughts:
Skipping the recipes. I'm not a cook-but I do love to eat. Sometimes I'm inspired. Sometimes I'll make a cake. Not today.
This book bounces. Past to the present, food throughout. It's ingrained, it's the core of the book. It may be true, it may be there and all encompassing, all important. But-it feels a bit heavy-handed and forced. Not always, but a bit.
The writing is vivid. The descriptions are there, I feel what she shares. I feel the blood pooling in my own brain and I touch my temple where I dropped my cell phone on it, directly, last night. It's still tender.
I wonder how I would face something like this..what would be my saving grace? What would bring me back, sustain me? Ultimately, isn't it always family? But what is it about my family that tethers me to this world?
YAY! Kinda?
Well, NetGalley approved my advanced review of a book! Which, if you are a nerdy reader like me, is pretty sweet and an easy way to get e-copies of books before they come out. I do prefer to have the book in my hand, but I'm on the computer so damn much and I have a Nook, so - why not?
I'm excited, but also realize that I always have a ton of shit to do, so when will I find time to read this? I'm in the middle of about five books currently, but feel an obligation to read and review this bad boy NetGalley so graciously sent me. And I don't want it to take away from the enjoyment of reading, being an obligation. So I feel obligated, but need to approach it in an unobligated sort of way? Unobligated isn't even a word. Ugh.
But-- this book sounded pretty awesome, and I'm kind of jazzed to read it. It's called Stir: My Broken Brain and the Meals that Brought Me Home by Jessica Fechtor. Memoir, cooking, tragedy, triumph - all those good things I feel like I can connect with right now. What I love most about reading certain books at certain times is the way they resonate within your life context.
For example- this morning I'm sitting in a video conference, crying baby, my seven year old all over the place, not showered, and not medicated. (Sidenote: I take a few meds. That's a whole other post, probably coming soon). The littlest things can result in a great big catastrophe inside my brain, and I just want to shut down. I've been, lately, easily overwhelmed, which would be strange to anyone who has worked with me or went to school with me. (I apparently hide stress well. Or I used to.) At this time, today, I feel gone. I'm trying to get back. I'm trying to balance.
Let's see if this helps.
ONWARD!
I'm excited, but also realize that I always have a ton of shit to do, so when will I find time to read this? I'm in the middle of about five books currently, but feel an obligation to read and review this bad boy NetGalley so graciously sent me. And I don't want it to take away from the enjoyment of reading, being an obligation. So I feel obligated, but need to approach it in an unobligated sort of way? Unobligated isn't even a word. Ugh.
But-- this book sounded pretty awesome, and I'm kind of jazzed to read it. It's called Stir: My Broken Brain and the Meals that Brought Me Home by Jessica Fechtor. Memoir, cooking, tragedy, triumph - all those good things I feel like I can connect with right now. What I love most about reading certain books at certain times is the way they resonate within your life context.
For example- this morning I'm sitting in a video conference, crying baby, my seven year old all over the place, not showered, and not medicated. (Sidenote: I take a few meds. That's a whole other post, probably coming soon). The littlest things can result in a great big catastrophe inside my brain, and I just want to shut down. I've been, lately, easily overwhelmed, which would be strange to anyone who has worked with me or went to school with me. (I apparently hide stress well. Or I used to.) At this time, today, I feel gone. I'm trying to get back. I'm trying to balance.
Let's see if this helps.
ONWARD!
Monday, June 8, 2015
Making this Decision. Fingers Crossed.
So I've decided. I've decided to start actually devoting time to this, time for myself to write, explore, muse and talk.
Fuck it all-let's do this.
2015 brought a new baby boy, a big ol' move, lots of stresses, new medication, slight restoration and then complete disintegration and maybe more restoration of my sanity. Or I'm drinking more, that could be it.
Working from home with an 8 month old is proving difficult. I'm happy when I get a shower before noon. It's really exciting when the baby naps.
Since the snazzy at-home Digital Marketing gig has been picking up, I've let go a lot of my fun freelance stuff, like writing for mittenbrew.com , which is a super bummer. Too hard to get outta the house with the kid(s), and I gotta make that money now that we've moved into a bigger house where the bills will certainly be more.
It's sad, and I'm beginning to feel like I'm giving up on something that kept me sane. So I've got to fix it (while sitting in my PJs, baby boy throwing things out of his playpen and crying because I'm most definitely an asshole mom), and the road to recovery will lie here.
I've been requesting ARCs, also known as Advanced Readers Copies, of new books, sparked by my recent podcast obsession, which has been fueled by insomnia and frustration. Fuck watching a movie anymore! What's a movie?
Anyway, one of those Podcasts is Book Riot, which led me to All The Books. Both are awesome and reminded me what a book nerd I am. So, I'll do some reviews, because hopefully some kindhearted publisher somewheres will send things along. I'll give myself an allowance to take the time to read for pleasure, whenever possible, write for pleasure (and sanity) whenever possible, and hope it leads me back towards that precipice where work life and personal life and family life meld magically and everything is all right.
Here's hoping.
Fuck it all-let's do this.
2015 brought a new baby boy, a big ol' move, lots of stresses, new medication, slight restoration and then complete disintegration and maybe more restoration of my sanity. Or I'm drinking more, that could be it.
Working from home with an 8 month old is proving difficult. I'm happy when I get a shower before noon. It's really exciting when the baby naps.
Since the snazzy at-home Digital Marketing gig has been picking up, I've let go a lot of my fun freelance stuff, like writing for mittenbrew.com , which is a super bummer. Too hard to get outta the house with the kid(s), and I gotta make that money now that we've moved into a bigger house where the bills will certainly be more.
It's sad, and I'm beginning to feel like I'm giving up on something that kept me sane. So I've got to fix it (while sitting in my PJs, baby boy throwing things out of his playpen and crying because I'm most definitely an asshole mom), and the road to recovery will lie here.
I've been requesting ARCs, also known as Advanced Readers Copies, of new books, sparked by my recent podcast obsession, which has been fueled by insomnia and frustration. Fuck watching a movie anymore! What's a movie?
Anyway, one of those Podcasts is Book Riot, which led me to All The Books. Both are awesome and reminded me what a book nerd I am. So, I'll do some reviews, because hopefully some kindhearted publisher somewheres will send things along. I'll give myself an allowance to take the time to read for pleasure, whenever possible, write for pleasure (and sanity) whenever possible, and hope it leads me back towards that precipice where work life and personal life and family life meld magically and everything is all right.
Here's hoping.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Birthday Parties and stuff.
I think I am nostalgic for warm weather and having one child. (Yes, I now have TWO.)
A lot has changed since I last wrote on this thing, and I don't feel like writing about all those things right now, because. Yeah.
But this is what I've been thinking about today.
Birthday parties. Kid's birthday parties. Like the one the elder had for his seventh, on a warm July day. (*sigh* sunshine..) Since it was to be his last as an 'only', I gave into going all out ridiculousness because I'm such a sucker.
We rented a bounce house, ladies and gentlemen. A bounce house. Who does that? I mean, really outside of movies with WASPy families and perfectly manicured lawns. Certainly not us.
Luckily, the in-laws have a big ass backyard and a pickup. And are also incredibly tolerant of little monsters running all over the place. And spoil the crap outta their grand kids. So we spend a day setting up a pinata full of toys and sugary substances, pick up, drag and inflate the bounce house in the back of the yard, fill up the goodie bags and make waaaay too many water balloons (fuck filling water balloons). Food and snacks were ready. We stocked up on a FUCKTON of beer for the adults, because we're good hosts like that. The cake was purchased (because I don't bake and stuff). 20 or so kiddos invited.
Ready for the madness.
In actuality, it was sweetly beautiful, the perfect combination of Mischief's friends, varied ages, all cooperating and loving and sharing and playing and bringing only homemade gifts or something up-cycled, as asked. Beautiful things made lovingly- stories written and illustrated with the birthday boy as the star, hand made paper and aluminum foil swords, shields, a Mexican wrestler mask purchased at a yard sale. The kid was so excited, it apparently gave him a bloody nose.
Oh yeah.
I hope he remembers it forever. I hope he loves the memories of his youth into adulthood and recounts them fondly, sharing silliness and smiles like his father does. I know I am doing the best I can for him, and I know I couldn't do it alone.
My childhood was not ideal, to say the least-but so often, it was my mother-alone.My big beautiful support system of extended family and friends keeps me sane. Grandparents are the shit. These awesome dads are the shit. Despite all the crazy that happened between my last post and this party- (which will be shared soon), we're still standing. Or throwing our kids around in an inflatable plastic thing. Or something.
A lot has changed since I last wrote on this thing, and I don't feel like writing about all those things right now, because. Yeah.
But this is what I've been thinking about today.
Birthday parties. Kid's birthday parties. Like the one the elder had for his seventh, on a warm July day. (*sigh* sunshine..) Since it was to be his last as an 'only', I gave into going all out ridiculousness because I'm such a sucker.
We rented a bounce house, ladies and gentlemen. A bounce house. Who does that? I mean, really outside of movies with WASPy families and perfectly manicured lawns. Certainly not us.
Luckily, the in-laws have a big ass backyard and a pickup. And are also incredibly tolerant of little monsters running all over the place. And spoil the crap outta their grand kids. So we spend a day setting up a pinata full of toys and sugary substances, pick up, drag and inflate the bounce house in the back of the yard, fill up the goodie bags and make waaaay too many water balloons (fuck filling water balloons). Food and snacks were ready. We stocked up on a FUCKTON of beer for the adults, because we're good hosts like that. The cake was purchased (because I don't bake and stuff). 20 or so kiddos invited.
Ready for the madness.
In actuality, it was sweetly beautiful, the perfect combination of Mischief's friends, varied ages, all cooperating and loving and sharing and playing and bringing only homemade gifts or something up-cycled, as asked. Beautiful things made lovingly- stories written and illustrated with the birthday boy as the star, hand made paper and aluminum foil swords, shields, a Mexican wrestler mask purchased at a yard sale. The kid was so excited, it apparently gave him a bloody nose.
Oh yeah.
I hope he remembers it forever. I hope he loves the memories of his youth into adulthood and recounts them fondly, sharing silliness and smiles like his father does. I know I am doing the best I can for him, and I know I couldn't do it alone.
My childhood was not ideal, to say the least-but so often, it was my mother-alone.My big beautiful support system of extended family and friends keeps me sane. Grandparents are the shit. These awesome dads are the shit. Despite all the crazy that happened between my last post and this party- (which will be shared soon), we're still standing. Or throwing our kids around in an inflatable plastic thing. Or something.
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