Birthdays

Happy Birthday!

We recently celebrated Riley’s first birthday. On June 1, Rob will turn 50, and my grandmother will turn 90. I think about the span of these years, almost a hundred years between Riley and her great-great grandmother. Rob is right in the middle. Funny how at the early ages, each year is so eagerly anticipated, and at our point in life, the number becomes something to be joked about, maybe secretly feared, but as much dreaded as celebrated.

Well, I’m all done with that. I can’t turn the clock back, and I don’t even want to. Oh, I wouldn’t mind a discreet nip and tuck in a couple of places, but other than being in need of a bit of cosmetic touch up, I’m beginning to appreciate this stage of life in ways I never anticipated.

I know my skills, my strengths, my good points, my faults. I accept myself, although I am still (as always) seeking to improve. Acceptance doesn’t equal indifference. It just means that I try, fail, try again, and keep smiling.

But perhaps more important, I accept others. Acceptance doesn’t equal approval. But my role in life is not to go about approving of others. My job is to become my best self, and to meet others where they are. My job is to lighten the load where I can, to be salt and light where I can. To bring comfort where I can.

Each of us has a circle of influence and a circle of people we impact. In the sea of humanity, my circle is quite small. My place in life is small. But I can choose to be of value to those in my life. And that’s my goal. I’m excited to have the freedom and flexibility in my life to give, to share, to nurture, to extend myself. At 50, that’s what I celebrate.

At one time, I thought my heart was breaking. But now I find it was breaking open. And that’s a good thing to know, at the ripe old age of 50.

Happy birthday to the lucky ones that have birthdays on the horizon. I’ll never dread another one. That’s a promise I’m making to myself this very day. And if I’m fortunate enough to have my grandmother’s longevity, I’ll count my wrinkles and my days with joy.

Community at The Point

There’s a little art gallery/beading store/restaurant that I love here in Ketchikan. It’s called The Point, Ketchikan’s only “waterfront art cafe,”

The Point

and it is housed in a building that overlooks the water. You can have lunch and watch float planes landing, or see the big ships docked down the way. On a nice day, the water looks so blue it’s amazing.

The food is just the simple fare of lunch: soup, sandwiches, quiche, cookies. They serve artisan freshly baked bread with their soups, and the cookies are baked in house as well. In fact, from what I can tell, everything is done in house. Which is amazing, when you realize that it is more an arts business than a food business. Or at least that’s the way it began. Not sure these days that the restaurant side of the business isn’t taking top billing.

You can eat at The Point, or if you have a work meeting and want to order, they’ll deliver their full menu for the day to your office. Simple as a phone call and a credit card. And the food is so good, if you let staff know where you’re ordering lunch, they’ll show up with appetites.

But the best thing about this restaurant is that it’s local. Owned and operated by people who have been here for a long time, it reflects the personality of the place. Local artists are prominently featured in the gallery displays. Classes are held there, and at lunch you see a mix of people from town, from all ages and walks of life.

I think the success of the restaurant side of the business is a bit of a surprise to the owners. They seem to be growing in popularity and in menu offerings. I and others have asked if they plan to publish their recipes. I have a sense that they’re on to their own little “overnight” success story. And it’s refreshing to see a small town enterprise doing well…not a chain, another fast food place, not linked to national advertising: just a local effort that is paying off and is the result of hard work and risk taking.

Good for the entrepreneurs! And good for me at lunch!

What I learned today

My netbook

Blogging has been good for me. I’m sort of a medium computer savvy person, meaning, I can work my way around the standard Microsoft Office programs, and over the years, I’ve picked up a lot of knowledge the old fashioned way: trial and error. Even with the occasional formal class, I’ve learned a lot on my own. I know how to search for answers from online help, and I can frequently find the solution I need when I run into a problem. So I’m not highly knowledgeable in a technical sense, but I’m not bad either.

But with blogging, I’m learning new skills. The program I’m using makes it pretty simple. You can do a lot with a click of a button. But there are tips and tricks that I’m slowly working through. Today I learned to link another page using live text…you know, when you see a word “here” and you click to another page. I learned to do that for my blog. I’ve known how to link other sites or blogs, but this was a new little learning. I love the small victories!

The best part? You can look wonderfully professional (sometimes!) with all the tools that come with the blogging program. Confession: I’m just an at-home amateur. But it’s fun, it’s creative, it’s challenging, and who knows where it will lead?

Yay for the digital world!

Homemade Vanilla pudding

May is a fickle month, weather-wise, at least in this region of the country. Last Friday it was warm. I actually felt hot running around doing a few errands in the afternoon. But the cooler temps are back, and I have my sweatshirt on over my turtleneck. Yes, I’m still wearing turtlenecks. It’s my uniform from September through May, so I’m in the home stretch, getting ready to switch over to clothes that at least suggest warmer weather is in sight. But it will be a little while yet before I break out the tank tops.

Tonight it seemed just right to  mix up a little warmth for an after dinner treat. One of my favorite comfort foods, plain vanilla pudding has just the right everything: the right amount of sweet creamy buttery warmth that makes it irresistible on a chilly evening. This makes a small amount, so if you are making this for more a couple of people, you’ll probably want to double the recipe.

Vanilla Pudding

Vanilla goodness

Ingredients:

1/3 cup granulated sugar

1 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch

1/8 teaspoon salt

2 cups half and half

2 tablespoons butter

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Directions:

1. Combine sugar, cornstarch, and salt in a medium saucepan.

2. Whisk in about a third of the half and half, stirring until smooth. Stir in remaining half and half until well combined.

3. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until thickened (about 5 minutes, but the time will vary).

4. Reduce heat to low and continue to heat, stirring gently, until the mixture reaches a simmer.

5. Cook one minute more over low heat, then remove from heat.

6. Fold in butter and vanilla extract. Spoon pudding into serving dishes.

I like this served warm, but if you prefer it chilled, just make early enough in the day to chill in the fridge before serving. I always have a bit left over, and it keeps well for a day or two in the fridge. Just reheat briefly in the microwave if you like it served warm.

This is a thinner pudding than the instant variety, but it is simple to make, silky smooth, and has no artificial ingredients!

Enjoy!

Keep Trying

Little Riley is transitioning to table food.

Riley

She’s almost off baby foods completely, and is getting less of her daily nutrition from milk now, more from solid foods. Of course, she has a limited diet. Foods are introduced one at a time, and having only a few teeth yet, she is unable to tackle anything but soft or easily dissolved textures. Some foods she has already rejected, at least for now. She doesn’t think she likes peas. She loves pasta, and cheese, bananas and yogurt. Anything that doesn’t suit her taste is quickly moved off her tray to the floor. Surprising how early little kids learn to spit out what they don’t like.

But sometimes offering a food again gets a different result. Does she forget she already tried something and didn’t like it? Maybe her first round rejection was more a reflection of a bad mood, or she wasn’t really hungry. Who knows what a one year old is thinking when it comes to choice?

Sometimes I surprise myself with the same type of about face. I recently tried oysters again. And this time, for the first time, I liked them. I had locally harvested Coffman Cove oysters, renowned for their delicacy, and showcased on seafood menus. Not sure what made the difference: the variety of oyster, the freshness, or the preparation. These oysters were baked in their shells. The shells were easily opened after baking, and the oyster was delicate and delicious, spritzed with lemon and dipped in melted butter. What have I been missing all these years I thought I didn’t like oysters?! Turns out, I didn’t care for raw oysters. But this new taste has me excited to try them again, which I plan to do this very weekend.

Obviously, not everything we dislike at first will grow into a like. Sometimes I become more convinced, a second or third time around, that my first opinion of a food or experience was correct: never going to work for me, or be a first choice. If I’m starving, there are some foods I could eat. But that doesn’t mean I would select them, short of desperate need. In other cases, exposure equals acceptance. I’ve recognized that in many situations. I’ve had to warm up to some things, but eventually, I’ve moved a place or experience…or even a person…from the “dislike” to “like” column in my log of personal preferences.

Stephanie called me yesterday to say that Riley had eaten peas with her dinner the night before. Good job, Riley! Keep trying, and maybe you’ll find you change your mind about a food you dislike, or something even more important. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve sometimes been quick to judge, to form an opinion, to know how I felt about something, or someone. And then…a different context, or preparation, or even a different mood on my part, and my attitude shifts. Watching Riley experience the early phase of discovery of choice reminds me that I can change my mind, that trying something again can make a difference. And that you can miss out on some good things if you quit trying too quickly.

Hope

From my collection of quotes, declarations of hope:

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.        Robert Fulghum

The natural flights of the human mind are not from pleasure to pleasure, but from hope to hope.   Samuel Johnson

Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again.  Sarah Ban Breathnach

All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope.  Winston Churchill

I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy!           Louise Bogan

Hope is like a road in the country; there was never a road, but when many people walk on it, the road comes into existence.    Lin Yutang

If you want to build a ship, don’t herd people together to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.                  Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The Grand essentials of happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.         Allan K. Chalmers

You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.        Mohandas K. Gandhi

Some people believe that  having an attitude of hope is a way to practice self-deception, to hide from reality. But I disagree. I think hope is what fuels inspiration, strengthens resolve, helps us to hold on when we doubt. Hope is not a mind-numbing drug. It is an affirmation that though our wishes don’t always come true, they often do. Sometimes our own faith in the outcome is what makes the difference. We all have the ability to be self-fulfilling prophecies. I choose to live on the hopeful side of life.

Spring is sometimes called the season of hope. But hope isn’t limited to a time of year, or a time in life. It can flourish at any time.

What are you hoping for?

Getting to know myself

In the past few years, post kids in the house, I’ve had more time for myself. In some ways, with work, travel, new projects, my days seem as full as ever. But there has been a shift in the busy-ness of my free time. Now I’m more likely to spend time reading online, or exploring some new activity for myself. Not that I’m totally self-absorbed. No, there are others in my life, and I reach out in many ways. But in the quiet of the evenings, or early mornings, I have freedom that couldn’t exist in the years of getting kids out the door for school, or doing laundry for a family, or proof-reading term papers due the next day.

I read other women’s work and at times, feel like I’m a late bloomer, or maybe just incredibly slow on the journey of self-discovery. There are women in their 30s that seem to be more enlightened about themselves, and more experienced in some ways, than I am. How can that be? And then I remember. I was busy that decade of my life. And in my 20s. And until late 40s. Not that motherhood and family prevent self-examination, or stunt personal growth. No, in many ways, parenting is a never-ending growth opportunity and personal challenge. It has made me want to be the best “me” I can be, and for the best motives. But it takes tremendous commitment and focus. And maybe I’m not as much a multi-tasker as I like to think.

I began the experience of motherhood at a young age. At twenty-three, just out of college a year and still a baby myself, I had a baby. And suddenly that consumed my world. In many ways, because my husband was equally consumed with medical school, it became my salvation. I was so absorbed with this new person in my life that I wasn’t troubled by the pattern our lives fell into. We each committed to our assigned roles (roles we assumed and accepted without discussion or question) and put our heads down to power through the next several years of life, surviving professional school, residency, another child, moves, stress, minimum income, minimum time together. Looking back, it is nothing short of a miracle that our marriage survived and that we were able to create a functional and even positive environment for our children. Somehow we did it. Now I understand that there was a cost, and we paid a price. We paid a price personally, and jointly. But at the time, we were just doing what was expected of us. What we expected of ourselves. Failure wasn’t an option.

As our children grew and I took on work, first part time, then full time, and Rob moved through various stages of a career in medicine; as the obligations and responsibilities of family and social commitments, volunteer positions and the chores of life grew to be never ending, we soldiered on. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, I realize that for all of the thought and care that I put into those years, there were pieces of myself that were dormant, just waiting to breathe, to have opportunity to surface.

Let me validate, for myself and for anyone else who cares to know, that those years were good. Reduced to a few paragraphs in blunt language, it’s easy to miss the joy, the love, the laughter, the good stuff. So let me acknowledge: it was mostly good. But it was busy, overwhelming, consuming, challenging. Fill in the blank with whatever word conveys the sense of completeness. The reality of life is: if you jump into the pool of creating a family, it’s going to consume you. It may consume you with joy or with grief, with busy-ness or guilt, but it will consume you. You can’t really dabble in it. If you do it well and successfully, that takes time. And if you do it poorly, there’s a cost to that too.

So what’s the point of all of this? The point is: I did it. We did it. We made it through to the other side. I always say if you have children, you’re going to pay the price either early or late. It’s not a question of the value of the decision to parent. That statement simply acknowledges the commitment. And the hands on commitment, whether you begin at twenty-three or forty-three, is going to take time, energy, money, thought, self.

Now I’m in a different time of life. I’ve written before about the empty nest, about growing into it, accepting, coming to celebrate it. The emotional ties with our kids are strong. The effort to be connected still takes time and thought, energy and commitment. I still spend money on our kids. Of course I do. They didn’t exit my life when they went off to college, or joined the army, or got married, or began to earn enough that they didn’t need regular rescue checks. But the hands on tasks are largely done. And that has left room in my days for self-discovery, for quietness, for thought. It’s amazing how much time you need to think and absorb.

I don’t know how I stack up against others. Maybe I am slow. Or maybe some of the writing that I read online that speaks of a self-knowledge gained at an earlier time in life is possible because the women writing have taken different paths than I did. Maybe they found themselves first, and will add family later, if at all. And I’m not saying that personal epiphanies and family are mutually exclusive. I had moments of enlightenment even when up to my armpits in the lives of my kids. I learned to do many things because of them, and through them.  But it’s easier to get to know myself without the noise of a full house.

So I’m working on it. Some parts of me I’m well acquainted with, but there are nooks and crannies that I’ve hardly looked into. I’m exploring, both to see what I’ve neglected or forgotten about myself, and to learn what I can contribute to the rest of the world. Because really, the point is not to do all this growing just for my benefit. Isn’t the goal to integrate, to give, to share, to take part in the lives of others? Yes, that’s the goal. And to do that, I have to know what I bring. I’m late (those who know me will hardly find that surprising…one of my faults…I’m chronically late). But I had a great reason for my slow start, and I don’t regret it. I was investing up front. Now it’s time to catch up, and I’m ready to do that.

Where are you? Did you begin early, or late, to know yourself?

Kid foods

Kid stuff for dinner

Stephanie was taking care of a friend’s kids recently, and for dinner they had fish sticks and mac and cheese from the blue box. You know, the classic Kraft mac and cheese, food of kids everywhere (and secret weakness of some adults I know). Made me think about some of my kids’ favorite foods. Let’s see…when they were little, they used to eat:

  • Sloppy joes and tater tots
  • Spaghetti
  • chicken fingers
  • the classic grilled cheese
  • Fairy Cake (recipe here)
  • Animal crackers
  • Goldfish
  • Gummy bears
  • String cheese
  • Applesauce
  • Rice Crispy treats (homemade, the only way to go)
  • Oatmeal
  • Kid pizza (mostly cheese)
  • Fruit leather
  • Ketchup (a food group to my daughter)
  • Milk (needed a cow in the back yard for my two milk-a-holics)
  • Potato soup
  • Pop-tarts
  • Hot pockets (Alex loved these. I was probably a terrible mom for buying them for him, but looks like he survived that abuse)
  • Pizza Rolls (see above confession)
  • Beef stew
  • Orange sherbet push ups
  • Chocolate chip cookies, the original recipe from the chocolate chip bag
  • Tiny green peas
  • carrots (see, they did eat some good stuff!)
  • Bacon and eggs
  • Waffles and pancakes
  • Strawberries
  • Breakfast cereals (shall be nameless here…what can I say, they wore me down)
  • French fries
  • Chicken noodle soup

The above items were some of their regular and favorite foods. They ate other things too, some of it healthy. I’m usually in the camp of “all things in moderation,” so while I’ve tried to make good choices at the grocery, I’m not fanatical about avoiding sugar or fat. I’m happy to say that they did not grow up on a diet of fast food. That’s one gift we gave to them, mostly by accident of where we bought a house: too far from fast food restaurants to be even remotely desirable for a dinner option. 

Well, maybe that list isn’t so bad. You’re only a kid once you know. And that old blue box mac and cheese…it isn’t gourmet, but it is tasty, especially if you’re a little kid who’s just learned how to open the pantry door and point. And what do you think that kid wanted for breakfast? That’s right! Kraft Mac and cheese. Long live kids! They like what they like, and they don’t get hung up on time of day to eat the right kind of food. 

Confessions from a cookie monster

I’ve been good for a long time. I rarely buy junk food: chips, sodas, cookies, all those things that get their taste from sugar, fat, and artificial flavoring. They aren’t good for you, and I’m usually strong enough to avoid them.  But I had a major downfall this week. So here’s what happened.

Had an event I needed to take a little treat for, and in a very uncharacteristic choice for me, I stopped by the grocery to pick up something rather than bake a dessert myself.  What can I say? I don’t always have to be in the kitchen! I was strolling around the bakery looking for a likely treat when I spotted them: the Lofthouse Sugar Cookies. You know those fat, soft, white sugar cookies with the really bright frosting? They aren’t the most beautiful cookies I’ve seen. But I love the soft texture and the just right mix of the frosting and the cookie. So I bought a tray of them.

Downfall of the diet

Then…no event! Ended up being rescheduled. And now I was home, facing these cookies, just watching them watching me. I decided to have just one. Of course they wouldn’t keep for another week, so no need to save them all. My back up plan: take them into work, which is a frequent option for me when I’m in baking mode. But somehow, I walked out every day this week without those cookies. And every day, I’ve had another one. Ok, twice I had two for dessert. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to have enough left to take into work at this point.

I comfort myself. I can’t remember the last time I bought cookies. I certainly don’t know the last time I ate a whole batch by myself in one week. Maybe this is a once in a lifetime behavior? I’ll just finish these off and then I’ll be done with this episode. That’s the plan. Don’t bring them in the house, they can’t stare at me from my kitchen counter if I don’t buy them first.

Ok, it’s everyone for themselves. I tried to save myself, but it looks like I’m going down with the ship…er, cookie. I can’t ignore them. They call to me. Just try them, see if you’re any stronger. I dare you. I double dare you! These cookies are evil! And delicious. And addicting. And fattening.

Sorry, I know there are lots of world issues occurring. I’m just having a moment here. I’ll pull myself together and give up being self absorbed shortly. I just have one more to go and then I’m finished. I can throw the evidence…box…away, and go buy myself the makings for a week of salads.

No standing on the scales until next week. By then, I hope the salads will have erased the cookies. It works that way, doesn’t it?