Easter 2011

We're on a roll! Two blog posts in two days! Here are some pictures of our Easter festivities -- I did manage to get some extra petting from our two guests, Aunt Brooke and Uncle Tony, but I stayed out of the main action and let the holiday center around the little big guy.

Brooke and Tony arrived on Saturday, and immediately presented our lucky little guy with a giant Rabbit, which he named Tata. Tata and the loon (all the way from Minnesota) quickly became fast friends.

Brooke ("Gigi") and Tony ("Gagi") were a great help dyeing Easter eggs with Super Peter (pictured in cape). Martin tried something fancy involving a needle, onion skins, and a candle wax, while Peter stuck to the tried and true Paas kit.


Easter morning dawned rainy, but the Easter bunny did deliver. He cleverly hid the eggs *inside* the house so that none of us had to get wet. Peter found all of the eggs, which ended up all pretty much the same color. These photos were all taken pre-chocolate binge. The aftermath was not so pretty.




Luckily we had "Gagi" there to keep Peter entertained while "Gigi" and Erika cooked.

Martin also kept us entertained with the Czech tradition of forming whips out of decorated branches. These whips are used to chase the girls and demand eggs. Luckily Brooke and I were fortified with plenty of jelly beans. Note Peter's super cool Skoda shirt, a present from Babicka Jana in the Czech Republic.

Jelly beans are now banned from our house. But at least we got one cute family portrait out of the day.

Peter is still Daddy's Boy. Good thing Erika has me.

Guest Post from Erika: More About Food and Feeding

I can't believe it's been over a month since anybody updated this blog! Pawlene has been catching up on her sleep and cautiously venturing out into the weak sunshine while I have been happily working on a number of projects, including a new, paid, contract position as the Program Coordinator for Live Healthy Nevada County's Food and Nutrition Action Committee. My task: get healthy foods into Nevada County's schools in the form of garden stands and an alternative school meal program. It's my dream job.

Oh, and then there was Easter and happy visits to friends and relatives and delightful visits FROM relatives and a week-long birthday celebration, culminating in a visit to the California State Railroad Museum, for my THREE-year-old son, and goodness, life. I wouldn't say spring has actually sprung (we've been fooled before), but life is certainly happening in a very active way for us.

So Peter is a big boy now. He tells us this at every opportunity. He can take off his shoes All By Himself. He can go pee pee in the potty, when prompted. And he is full-on into the "Why?" stage, meaning you can't read two sentences in a book without him asking why something is the way it is. Example:

We are driving down Highway 49 through Auburn, when we spot a giant pickle on the sidewalk, waving a big sign selling who knows what.

Me: Look, Peter! There's a giant pickle on the sidewalk!
Peter: Why is there a giant pickle on the sidewalk?
Me: Good question!
Peter: Because if he was in the street he would get run into by cars!

Smart kid. At least he answered his own question that time.

We are three weeks away from our last winter vegetable delivery, and I am out, out, OUT of ideas for parsnips, swiss chard, black radishes, cabbage, and leeks. No more, please! Today, as Peter napped, I was agonizing over how to get rid of utilize the latest crop of winter's bounty. When Peter woke up, demanding a snack, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I quickly chopped and steamed both last week's AND this week's cauliflower, and threw in a bunch of seasonings inspired by my dear friend Amy's family recipe for whole, steamed cauliflower that she so generously shared with us a few weeks ago. I put it on a plate, and set it in front of Peter.

Peter: What's this?
Me: Cauliflower! Yummy! Like broccoli, but white!
[Peter shoves a floret into his mouth.]
Peter: Like Broccoli!
Me: You like it?
Peter: It's yummy!
[Vegetable overabundance problem solved!]

He vacillates between being an extremely adventurous eater, and a frightfully capricious picky eater. I never know what is OFF the list, or when it will be perfectly acceptable again. And so I keep trying.

In addition to my overabundance of winter vegetables this week, I also ended up with an overabundance of goat meat. At least I can freeze goat meat. How in the world did I end up with five pounds of goat meat?, most sane people might ask. Well, it was kind of the like the grapes in Buffalo, New York, when I was a silly young 20-something who had moved to the East Coast to row for the summer. If Shannon Kopplin is reading this, she is laughing right now. We (Shannon and I) were grocery shopping in some random market, and when I asked the cashier how much I owed him, he answered "$14.83, without the grapes." When I naturally queried him: "What grapes?", he pointed out a display near the register and told me how delicious they were. So of course, we had to buy the grapes too.

How does that relate to goat? Good question. Back in January, the aforementioned Amy invited us to tour her landlord's farm, as baby lambs had just made an appearance. We had a wonderful time, and Peter loved the lambs:

Fast forward to two weeks before Easter, when I had not yet found a local source for my traditional Easter meal of leg of lamb. And then I remembered the baby lambs... One phone call later, and we were back at the farm, getting spoiled by the farmer. First, she served us the most divine fresh sheep's milk yogurt...then she found the perfect size leg of lamb (organic, grass fed, blah blah blah) and gave us a GREAT deal. But then she continued to dig through her freezer. "Ever tried goat?", she asked us. Uh...no. Needless to say, we left with five pounds of various cuts of goat meat, accompanied by vague recipes.

And so, last night, when I couldn't find anything reasonable in the refrigerator to feed Peter, I decided to give it a try. I found a great source for recipes on the Sierra Foothills Meat Buying Club website, which featured a recipe for goat shoulder chops from Cook's Illustrated that looked promising. I cooked them up, and put them in front of Peter. I thought they were a little tough, but with good flavor. He devoured every bite and asked for more. Goat! Who knew? Next week: goat chili.

The only person in the house whose appetite has lately been more capricious (and occasionally ravenous) than Peter is me. One explanation could be that I am eating for two, and the little one is a demanding master. Yep, we are expecting another family member (Human! No more cats!) to arrive in the neighborhood of Halloween. Believe me, nobody was more surprised than we were to discover this happy news. Peter is taking it well. He has requested a sister, but we'll have to wait until October to find out if he gets his wish. He frequently gives "his baby" hugs and kisses, and has even requested a baby in his own tummy. Guess it's time for Part One of the birds and the bees talk...

Rain Snow Rain Snow Sleet Hail Rain Snow

Hello...Spring? Not as far as the eye can see around here. Talk about cabin fever. At least we get some interesting permutations in all the precipitation. Today's special guest: Wind. We are hoping the giant oak tree next door can hold out for one more season...

And we are back in the House of Plague. While I huddle under the comforter, Martin and Peter are coughing and sniffling while Erika uses her daily dose of fresh squeezed orange juice (thanks Winter fruit CSA!) as a talisman to protect her from sickness. She is also avoiding the gym because, well, think of all the GERMS concentrated indoors there!

In other news, I am feeling rather petite in the context of this report on one of my kin. Thanks, Sally Syberg, for bringing this to our attention. A cat the size of an 8-year-old child!?!

The "Where Shall We Live?" debate continues, with a new lobby from Martin to move back to Portland. Erika is holding strong in her position of Never Moving Again, so we'll see how it all shakes out.

The rain outside the window just turned back into snow, time for me to dig deeper under this comforter and wait this whole Winter thing out...

Guest Post from Erika: My Life as Pac Man

Alternate title: Erika Shows Her Age

First of all, if you've never played Pac Man, this post is unlikely to make any sense to you, but I can try to explain. Pac Man is a video game that was popular in the early 80s. Now for all of you youngsters out there, 80s-era video games were nothing like the incredibly realistic blood and guts shoot 'em up games that today's youth (and a few older gentlemen I know) spend hours "engaging" in.

In *my* day, we went to the pizza parlor or the video arcade, plopped a few quarters in, and played for a few minutes (or more, if we were lucky, or really, really good). But I digress. In Pac Man, your character is an endearing little yellow circle who is mostly mouth. He navigates quickly through a maze, eating as many dots as possible. He has to eat all of the dots in the entire maze before the monsters that are chasing him catch him. Occasionally he'll eat a special dot that allows him to eat monsters for a brief period of time. As you play, everything speeds up faster and faster until you are navigating on pure reflexes.

This is my life!

Today I have to figure out how to get from one end of the maze to the other, making sure I pick up beer and ice for tonight's Tech Talk (starring Martin Kosina!), our CSA box, and, oh yeah, my son, along the way. Sounds simple until you add in a 1:00pm meeting, a 3:00pm meeting, a 4:00pm meeting, the fact that I can't pick up the CSA box until after 2:00pm, the fact that ice melts and there are no refrigeration facilities at the Tech Talk venue, and the fact that I have to pick up Peter by 5:00pm, yet arrive at the Tech Talk venue with dinner in my stomach no later than 5:30pm. Hmmm.

It's an interesting math problem. But it's all good. I feel lucky that I get to enjoy being a mama AND work part time at a job that I love, and that stimulates me intellectually beyond today's math problem and beyond changing the latest poopy diaper (yes, we are still working on that whole potty training thing). I get the best of both worlds. And thank god I have a willing and supportive partner (thanks Martin!) without whom I could never get it all done. It's just that sometimes my worlds collide and I feel like monsters are going to eat me if I don't figure it out quickly enough or miss just one of those blinking yellow dots...

Snow Day

Well, I've found a new excuse to creep under the quilt and stay there all day long -- snow. Not my thing. Erika, Martin, and Peter seem to be enjoying it though, with differing degrees of enthusiasm.

It started Thursday morning, when Erika opened her eyes, looked out the bedroom window, and saw white stuff drifting past. Unmistakably snow, and none of that weird hail/sleet/rain combo we've been getting lately. It being the first day of snow since November, there was much excitement in the house.

They built a snowman in the front yard.


They build a snowman in the back yard (which is really just an extension of the front yard).



Erika and Martin sport their warm Czech hats (thanks Jana!) and prove that there is no bad weather, only bad gear.


Peter still prefers the rocket, but quickly discovers that it is not the best vehicle for snow.

Better to stay inside and drink hot chocolate in fleece jammies.

Or rock out with a guitar in front of the one working stereo speaker.

Now that it is the second day of pretty much nonstop snow, the novelty has worn off. Erika has new respect for her Minnesota relatives. Yesterday Erika and Peter made snowmen, played with paint, baked pretzels (long and complicated process!), made that weird stuff that you make with cornstarch and water, went for a walk in the snow, made snowflakes, and watched the first half of Mary Poppins. Today they walked all the way to Cafe Mekka (and back) for hot chocolate, then took advantage of the cheap child care at Erika's new gym for an hour. Next up: the library. Or maybe a visit to Nell. And then pizza (in a Restaurant!) and the rest of Mary Poppins. Tomorrow: Martin's turn.

I am happy looking at the white stuff out of the living room window, which is conveniently located right next to a heating vent.

Guest Post from Erika: Happy Valentine's Day

Today was Valentine's Day. I generally like Valentine's Day as a holiday, despite the social pressure to be in love and do something incredibly romantic with your sweetie (or, better yet, have your sweetie do something incredibly romantic FOR you). Anyway, I'm all about the cookies and the Valentines and the chocolates, and telling people that you love them. All good stuff.

But today was a rough day. It started at about 1:00am, with Martin's phone ringing very loudly (wrong number). Phone rang loudly again at 5:00am (Martin's alarm clock), followed by my phone ringing two hours later at 7:00am (my alarm clock). Peter, who crept into our bed some time before the first wake-up call, slept through all of this, thank god. But I, sandwiched between a snoring, wriggling child and a fat, hot, furry cat, did not.

Thankfully, I managed to get Peter to pre-school at a respectable time for once, although I was unable to persuade him to eat any breakfast besides the candy stick and candy bug I had gotten him for Valentine's Day. He was a little keyed up when we arrived. Sorry, pre-school. I showed up again an hour after I had dropped him off, just in time for the Valentine's Day party. It took me about an hour and a half of waiting for the other parents to arrive to realize that the party was for kids only. Well, at least I got to meet some of Peter's little buddies, and help the teachers out with some of the party games. Yes, I was embarrassed.

In the afternoon, my thoughts turned to how I might make this evening special for Peter and me. My dear husband is away in San Francisco tonight, so champagne followed by a wild night in downtown Nevada City was out of the question. For me, special equals fabulous dessert, but Peter had already ingested WAY more sugar than he was used to, so I crossed that idea off as an invitation to disaster. Going with the food as love theme, I did, however, make the effort to prepare a delicious dinner for the two of us, from a favorite recipe that I found on a fellow mama's blog: Teriyaki salmon with vegetables and brown/wild rice, topped with a spicy yogurt sauce and Asian slaw. Mmmmmm. Lots of garlic.

Later in the afternoon, I checked the mail box, in hopes of finding a cheery red envelope from someone who loves me, or at least loves Peter, but all I found was a package for Martin (no doubt containing some sort of airplane part) and a letter from our insurance company. Not very romantic.

Just before leaving to pick up Peter, my day started to look up. A very sweet woman dropped off a lovely bunch of flowers from my dear husband. Awwww. Sadly, the warm fuzzy feeling didn't last.

We arrived home from pre-school and brought Valentines and cookies to our neighbors. The husband was preparing oysters Rockefeller and steak for his beautiful wife. That sounded pretty good to me. Back at our house, Peter wanted attention: "Mom, play with me!" So we sat, and opened Valentines from pre-school, for about a minute and a half, when his mood shifted: "Mom, go make dinner." Gee, thanks.

Peter is in a new stage, in which he offers a running commentary (almost always negative) on whatever it is he is doing. The commentary is interspersed with demands that range in tone from matter of fact to operatic. For instance, on the topic of our carefully and lovingly prepared dinner:

Peter: What this, mom?
Me: It's YUMMY salmon with delicious vegetables and rice! You love salmon.
Peter: I don't like this. I don't like salmon. I want milk. I want treat.
Me: You've had lots of treats already today, Peter. Try some salmon!
Peter: I don't like salmon. I don't like this. I don't like this, mom (dropping pieces of the $16.00/lb wild-caught salmon off the edge of his tray). I want milk.
Me: Please don't drop food on the floor. If you don't like it, just put it on your tray.
[Peter continues to drop pieces of salmon onto the floor.]
Me: Try some cauliflower -- it's like broccoli, but white.
Peter: I don't like cauliflower. I want all done, mom. I don't like this. I don't like salmon.
Me: [sigh of exasperation]

At this point I need to take a break and think of the things I am thankful for today:

1) Pre-school. Thank goodness for the competent, warm, loving group of women who take care of my son three days a week. It makes me a better mother.
2) A phone call from my parents. They still love me!
3) Flowers from my dear husband -- awww, he made an effort!
4) A text message from my friend Chris that came at just the right time. Yay!
5) And lastly, the e-cards that we received from Kristina, Dave and Beth, and Uncle Bill. It's the thought that counts -- thank you!

And now I hear noises coming from the refrigerator, which carry potential for much destruction and a very large mess. At least I get to spend the evening with someone I love more than anything. And a large glass of red wine.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

Guest Post from Erika: Things that Start with a"B"

So it's been a while since I posted to this Blog. Call it holiday Busyness. Call it a Burst of inspiration to work on other things. Procrastination doesn't start with a "B", so it couldn't be that.

Peter is getting Bigger every day. Either that or his pants are really shrinking in the wash. Also pickier, more demanding. He may grow up to be Master of the Universe, he's getting some really good practice.

I've been on a "Save the Planet" kick lately. Between Bill McKibben's book "Eaarth" (not a typo) and the Wild and Scenic Film Festival, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to live in a post-petroleum world. The excellent film, "Bag It", really gave me pause about how many single-use disposables I throw into the landfill every day. See it -- you'll never look at a plastic bag the same way again. My unofficial New Year's Resolution to help the planet in my own tiny way: bring my own mug when I go to the coffee shop. And plant a vegetable garden. I haven't had a real garden in years. Chickens can't be too far behind, along with BEES. More research is necessary.

And speaking of research, I'm about to start my first Batch of sauerkraut, which does not start with a "B", but should be interesting anyway. I'll keep you posted.

What else starts with "B"? Breakfast! Peter has been eating nothing but yogurt, yogurt, and more yogurt for Breakfast lately. He calls it "wogurt". I've been reading about Bento Box lunches and making food attractive to toddlers, and today I cut a kiwi up and carefully placed it on the Bowl of yogurt in the shape of a smiley face. He picked off each piece and placed them on the side of his trays. "Don't like kiwi on wogurt." Thanks, kid. Last week I got a similar response to cute little gingerbread man-shaped almond butter and jam sandwiches. Maybe I'll go back to feeding him that grey,lumpy Super Porridge stuff. At least he got most of his nutrition for the day in that one Bowl.

It's not just food that he is picky about lately -- I am starting to see a glimmer of "fashionista" in the little guy. He prefer shirts with pictures of dinosaurs, helicopters, and hot dogs with mustard. He soundly rejects wide stripes, flannel, or anything with Buttons (narrow stripes are ok, so far). Will only wear a hat under duress. He prefers one pair of brown velcro-closure sneakers unless mommy lets him wear rain Boots, which are popular in all sorts of weather. And much to mommy's horror, he also prefers his Crocs in all sorts of weather, so maybe fashionista was the wrong word. At least he can put them on and take them off by himself -- they have that going for them.

He is also picky ("picky" might be the theme for this year!) about where and how fast he walks. We decided to go for a family jaunt in the woods yesterday. It started with questions: "Where we going?" Then, perhaps 100 feet into the walk, he decided he was done, turned around, and started walking back to the car. Martin retrieved him, and was rewarded with the latest tantrum pose: curled up on the ground, like an abandoned newborn kitten. I can't remember how Martin got him back on his feet, but moments later he was running full speed with a stick in his hand, terrorizing dogs and mountain bikers alike. That only lasted for a few minutes, and for the rest of the slog, he remained focused on Beating inanimate objects with sticks until one of us managed to cajole him another ten feet down the path. I think it took us an hour to go to the half-mile marker and back. So much for exercise.

There was one moment of cuteness that almost redeemed the rest of the walk -- something he learned from his new friend, Lindy. He spotted a "dancing stump" and immediately took the stage, dancing his little heart out on top of it. No music necessary. He even got dad to bust a few moves, much to the amusement of the other hikers. Bravo!

But I digress. This post was supposed to be about things that start with the letter "B" and "Peter" starts with a "P".

Bread. Did I mention that I can no longer get Acme Bread in Nevada City? I am very sad about this, because I have not found an acceptable alternative. I might even have to go back to Baking it myself, especially since I have just read about the proper way to bake with a clay cloche pot. (If you can get your hands on any book from the out of print "The Good Cook" cookbook series, buy it -- they are worth their weight in gold.) Luckily, dear friends Will and Cindy brought me a loaf of Acme Levain this weekend. It's in the freezer, awaiting a special occasion, along with the remaining Oatmeal Ginger Chocolate Dipped Christmas cookies.

Beep! The sound of the alarm telling me it's time to go pick up my Beloved Baby. Home-made spaghetti sauce for dinner tonight -- how could he turn up his nose at THAT?