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Of Possums and Raspberries

Lauren

I called the girls out the other night to see a possum that ran across the street and hid under my husbands 4Runner while I was taking the recycling out. They loved it. Crouched down, shining a flashlight under the car while they talked about all they had learned about possums from the Wild Kratts episode. (good PBS show about animals. 10/10)

Here is what they decided about the possum:

  1. Her name is Nosey.
  2. She is the cutest possum they’ve ever seeeeeeen! (Beauty. Eye. Beholder.)
  3. They gave her raspberries for Valentine’s Day gifts.
  4. They are planning on naming the next possum “Feet.” (…? Man, don’t ask me.)

 

Boy I tell you what… I love these lovely children.

 

All Better. Kinda.

Lauren 2 Comments

So- the flu has finally passed- I’m through sickness and into health again, and just about normal.

I guess.

Here’s the thing. Maybe I learned something about myself through this flu.

Maybe I don’t necessarily like it.

Because the thing is… I sucked, sick. I was bitchy and short and pissy and multiple more none too flattering adjectives. And that sucks. Because if you’re a kind person only in normal situations, what does that make you?

What does that make me?

It’s been a weird relationship, me and my concept of self. Vestiges of social anxiety make me feel nigh on unforgivable for even the slightest of normal human failings. A streak of perfectionism leads to concepts of failing unless I’m overachieving. I cobble together self esteem through a variety of patches and props. So no, I don’t think I have a realistic view on myself. But see, I know that, so I often try to look at it from all angles- like a strange shell picked up from a beach. What lives in here, I wonder? What are the stripes for, camouflage or decoration? Are the spikes for defense or offense? And if you aren’t familiar with that particular kind of shell- how do you know if the one you hold in your hand is a good one?

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And I’ve often wondered- is wanting to be a better person enough? Where do I cut myself some damn slack, ever, and where do I need to work harder? The answer is I never have known.

I want to be kind. But that’s different than being kind.

Lord. I don’t go gentle into… anything. I fight and claw and drag myself towards grace, and if it’s the journey that’s important then I’ll continue the journey. Just like I’ve always done. Just like I’ll always do.

Flu Addled Brain Pissed Off Book Reviews

Lauren 2 Comments

Ah flu misery can sure turn me into a heartless bitch. And considering the only thing I’m “hopped up on” to cope is Theraflu I really have no outside agency to blame. I’m sweaty. And shivery. And HATED, with a passion, The Little Book of Hygge (pronounced Hoo-ga, because, sure?)

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And I thought I’d like it- it got a good review in Real Simple magazine. I’m a cultural anthropologist and dig learning about other cultures. I liked Marie Kondo’s book on organizing… I thought I’d like this in a similar fashion. Did I?

It’s god damn insufferable is what it is. How self congratulatory can you f-ing get, Danes? Hygge is the concept of coziness (roughly) and something about expensive lighting? And how they go to crap restaurants because the lighting is good? And why schools have candles and they think that’s a great idea? WTH.

The writing sucked, and I’ll give a little of that to possible translation issues, but it read like the Japanese commercials on the Simpsons:

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Which- I will give all the license to in the world to the author there- translations hitting the right cadence and structure on the head are really hard (whispers: but Marie Kondo did it just fine). This one didn’t get it right. I’d forgive that. It just added a really stilted delivery of the “We so adorable! You be adorable tooooooo! Maybe add a scarf to that outfit?”

And so much… common sense? Maybe some of this was new information to folks but I got nothing new out of it. Have a fireplace if you can! Newsflash: eat food you like! Camping helps shake off city living malaise! Decorate your house with stuff you actually like! Wear comfortable clothes! Be friends… with your friends! Maybe overhead florescent lights are a bad idea! Christmas is the best! Who doesn’t know this stuff already?!

And again- so self celebratory. Look. It’s great that you think woven paper hearts are cool at Christmas. Awesome, Danes. But it isn’t necessary for enjoying the season, you know? That’s stupidly specific. Just like the 3 recommendations for lamps.

Sometimes I wonder- did I get that Cultural Anthropology degree for any other reason than to be able to tack on “But it’s okay, I’m an Anthropologist” to taking the mickey out of another culture? Dude I might have.

A poem:

Oh book of Hygge (hoo-ga)

I really hated you-a

Even if I didn’t have the flu-a

I still would think you blew-a

 

 

 

Shared on Not Dressed as Lamb

On Flu Shots and Stuff

Lauren

Ah my last flu shot- I remember it like it was yesterday… I was at my doctor’s office getting some blood work done for yet another thyroid check, and therefore had blood drawn from one arm and a flu shot in the opposite shoulder. Never one to miss the opportunity for this sort of thing, I waxed poetic about the unfairness of it all to my husband; my arm hurts, it feels like someone punched me in the shoulder, and here I am super pregnant and miserable already. *Needle scratch* Hold up. The baby’s now 1… so that means what? It means that I have the god damn flu right now because I THOUGHT I got the flu shot this year when in fact I got it LAST year.

Get your flu shots, folks. This shit ain’t fun.

On the plus side (Desperately Seeking Silver Lining) I have plenty of time to blog or write my local paper (already checked that one off the list, actually. I make such a good shut-in!) and letters to my aunt and uncle.

Let’s see, what else?

The baby had 4 teeth come in at once, but one of her front teeth is coming in MUCH faster than the others… I’ve started calling her Fang. Still not walking, but my grandmother is of the opinion she could if she wanted to. She’s awfully close though. It’ll be any day, methinks.

The new windows are in and this is the first time we’ve set the thermostat to 72 and actually had it be 72 when we wake up in the morning They look sharp too.

My house is trashed but I can’t muster the energy to put the Cheerios box away, so I’m taking the opportunity to fight any occasional OCD tendencies. I do like a clean house though, even if I don’t often mop the floors.

There is a woodpecker that comes to the bird feeder multiple times a day (hour, really) for (I think) the shelled peanuts in the mix we use. I have the perfect vantage point on him from the couch.

I see that my master plan to use this time to write extensively will be foiled by the fact that I have no energy to keep moving my fingers over keys… bummer.

Until next time.

GET YOUR FLU SHOTS! GAH

The Concept of Free Time/ Ode to a Young Family

Lauren 3 Comments

My husband and I had some neighbors over the other day, both retired, and at one point they asked me- “You’re so busy! When do you get free time?”

Now, we were cooking and doing some minor kitchen cleaning afterwards, juggling a mildly fussy baby (we would find out less than eight hours and a fairly sleepless night later that she had an ear infection) and 2 well behaved but energetic older girls… music on, dog wandering around, etc. The question took me aback a bit- I didn’t even know how to answer! Is there an answer? Because this life- I don’t see any of that as not free time! It’s busy but not exhausting. Full but not taxing. Requires pretty constant effort, but not draining. And yet it was so foreign to them they were close to being shocked by the noise and pace of it. (and we’re not a pot banging, child screeching crew, mind you.)

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I don’t know. I guess it’s because I work in an empty house all day by myself and travel and have all the free time I could want in the hotel rooms in the evenings… and I hate it. All I want is to get back to the bustle here. Free time isn’t exactly fun time- give me my four favorite people in the world all in one spot, existing together- I’d never want for more.

Sure. I don’t paint much these days, but I could if I wanted to without causing hard feelings. Or write. I conveniently use the general humm and cadence of the household to complain I can’t exercise… but I could if I wanted to. (Do. Not.)

And I guess, there are definitely days where I’m not keeping up. (Is running behind considered exercise?) The laundry never seems like I get in front of it. And the floor, well I think I wrote a blog post about it the last time the floor was mopped (before Christmas 2016, if memory serves).

And while I certainly don’t need their sympathy for the busy young (ha!) couple down the street… the husband and I will take our kind neighbors up on it; because they’re offering to let us step out for a date night soon. And if memory serves the last one of those we had was around my birthday in August. Unless you count the other ones, that is. The date nights that were every  other night after that. And mornings. And afternoons… and I wouldn’t trade a one of them for all the open hours in the day.

The Best Italian Wedding Soup Recipe Ever

Lauren

You know, the only soup I’ve ever had at a wedding has been Menudo, but I dig the concept. And I forget exactly where I first read about Italian Wedding Soup, but I do remember why it piqued my interest. The article I was reading was written by some mother who mentioned this soup was her daughter’s favorite and the prepackaged brand she bought was discontinued and she didn’t know what she was going to do. DIDN’T KNOW WHAT SHE WAS GOING TO DO. Sheesh. That reminds me of stories about people getting trapped on escalators because they stop moving or people who are locked out of their car because their key fob batteries died. Are we that helpless, humanity? Make the soup yourself, that’s what you’re going to do.

The mix of beef and chicken broth adds depth to the soup and means you’re getting beef, pork, and chicken in this meal. Making it like a Turduckin… in no way whatsoever. And maybe double the meatballs and freeze them after you brown them- that’d be a nice jump on the next batch of soup or you could finish cooking them and toss them in pasta for a quickie meal down the road. Also? Some people drizzle beaten egg in this for egg streamers like in Egg Drop Soup. I like my eggs in birthday cake, so I don’t do that.

Prep Time: 45 minutes
Refrigerate meatballs for 1 hour prior to cooking
Cooking Tine: 45 minutes

For Meatballs:
Not exact science here- mix ratios till the meatballs stick together. For this soup the smaller you can get the meatballs the better; I aim for large blueberry sized, myself but usually end up at gumball sized.

1.5 lbs. ground pork
1 egg
2 tbsp. milk
4 Tbsp. grated Parmesan cheese
1 clove garlic, pressed through garlic press
½ tsp. salt
Pepper to taste (around 1/3 tsp.)
¼ finely chopped onion

For Soup:
2 Tbsp. olive oil
4 cups chicken broth
2 cups beef broth
2 cups thinly sliced kale
1 cup cooked Israeli couscous (orzo or other small pasta as a sub)
2/3 cup finely chopped carrot

Garnish with grated Parmesan

Mix ground pork, egg, milk, grated Parmesan, onion, garlic, salt and pepper together well in a large bowl until evenly mixed. Form into small meatballs, place on a cookie sheet and refrigerate for an hour. (This keeps them from falling apart when you brown them)

Heat olive oil over medium high heat in large pot. Add meatballs in batches (don’t crowd the pot or else they steam and don’t brown) turning regularly to brown all sides. Remove to a clean bowl or platter. Or plate. Just not the contaminated with raw pork bowl you used earlier is what I’m saying. Once all meatballs are browned and removed from pot add chopped carrots and cook for 3-4 minutes. Add broth, scraping the bottom to loosen the browned bits (they add mucho flavor) and add kale. Simmer for 30 minutes

In a separate pot cook the Israeli couscous or small pasta. Set aside (Yes. I know. Israeli couscous in Italian soup? That’s the Diaspora for you.) Tradition calls for a small, round pasta I’ve never ever found in stores anywhere, but Israeli couscous looks awfully similar to my eye, and was conveniently in my pantry already. Any small pasta will do though, orzo, stars, etc. Just cook it separately or it will suck up too much of the broth as it cooks. Also store it separately or it’ll get mushy and ruin any leftovers.

For the last 15 minutes of cooking add the browned meatballs back to the soup and continue to simmer.

Fluff the Israeli couscous or drain the pasta then add desired amount to individual bowls. Ladle in soup and top with more grated Parmesan cheese. Enjoy!