Lessons from a Canister Set

People were generous. We started as an engaged couple with almost nothing but the clothes in our respective closets. Remarkably by the time we were married, we had our new little apartment supplied with all of the essentials. There was even enough money left over for a few small luxuries. As we shopped with the end of our credit, I found I kept coming back to this set of porcelain kitchen canisters. I absolutely loved them and they matched our colors beautifully at the time. John was cautious if not a little skeptical. They were rather pricey. Would I really use them? Would we have room for them on our small countertop? And then he asked me one more probing question: “If you had to, would you grind them up to make plaster for a temple?”

As a young 20-year-old who’d never owned anything particularly fine before, I had a difficult time answering “yes.” But once I could, I didn’t feel so guilty making an indulgent purchase. We went home with the canisters. I never was able to look at them though without thinking “would I grind them up like the early saints did for their first temple?”     http://lds.org/friend/1975/03/sparkling-walls?lang=eng

Over sixteen years have passed since that event. The canisters have since held a wide variety of contents: the usual kitchen staples of flour and sugar, measuring spoons and cups, even box tops and milk caps the kids have collected for school. When I finally realized that their usefulness in my home was spent, when it was at last time to pass them on to another owner, I faced another struggle. I was reluctant to give them up, not so much for their functionality as for the reminder they have been to not set my heart upon material things. In the end, I sent them off as a charitable donation. Perhaps sharing them with someone I don’t even know was finally passing the test that allowed me to justify their purchase to begin with.

http://intuitivehomemaking.blogspot.com/

Puzzled

John gave me a new puzzle for Christmas which we assembled on New Years’ Eve. It spurred a week of puzzling—something we’ve not done in a long time. Of the five we began, most notable was the 1000+ piece Mickey Mouse photo-mosaic puzzle that my eldest received for Christmas two years ago. It has never been put together in its entirety, as it was a daunting task for him to do all alone and he gave up after a while. I decided to tolerate living without a dining room table long enough to see it completed. Chris was highly amused that I was drawn in so easily and so frequently to the week-long project. He commented “It’s been so cool to have this out! It started as something I was just going to do with Em, but now it’s become something the whole family has worked on.”

Wouldn’t you know it though, as we got down to the last few pieces, there was one that was simply not to be found! Somehow it wandered off in the last two years of inactivity. As with most things, even our best efforts don’t always turn out perfectly. Even so, the process and product were no less satisfying to its participants. Who would have thought that filling in the missing gaps of a picture could be such a unifying and bonding activity? Though we didn’t always work on it at the same time, it created a unique sense of purpose to see it through. Now if I could only get them to have a similar drive to keep their shared bathroom clean...

http://intuitivehomemaking.blogspot.com/

To Be a Kid Again

I recently made a discovery: I like being a grown-up (it has perks like driving, shopping, and setting your own schedule), but there’s a part of me that really misses being a kid. Every week I spend a portion of my time volunteering in my kids’ school. It’s a fun environment. I like sitting in the back grading papers or tacking artwork to the wall and listening to the kids learn. I enjoy hearing them chatter with one another about the things that are of greatest importance to them. It’s fun to feel the energy in any given classroom full of kids. But I can’t say I’m terribly reluctant to leave at the end of my shift. Sometimes too much energy makes me tired.

A couple of weeks ago, my youngest daughter’s teacher asked me, not to pin up artwork on the wall, but to make a couple of samples of the artwork to use with future classes. She showed me the “Haunted Houses” that had been put on display already and requested that I make two or three for her files. I loved the mysterious watercolor backgrounds and the whimsical nature of these pieces.

My daughter proudly showed me her own masterpiece in the top-left corner. Delightful.

So I rummaged in the supply cabinet for paper and watercolor paints. Fortunately, my husband is an experienced watercolor painter and has taught me how to mix colors so as to have more options than just what’s in the Crayola tin. I felt prepared. For the next twenty minutes, I thoroughly enjoyed myself as I painted three sunset backgrounds, nearly oblivious to my surroundings and absorbed in my work.

While they dried, I took pencil to black paper and started designing my own version of a haunted house. Though I was pleased with the finished result, as I looked at the genuine kid versions, I found mine somewhat lacking in the whimsy theirs all had. Too rigid, I thought. Too planned.

Next try. What about a haunted castle? That would be fun. This time I nixed the pencil and cut freehand. It was too hard to cut circular windows with classroom scissors, so I reached for the paper punch. More spontaneous now. “Hmmm. A castle needs to sit on a hill, but that would block the whole sunset. Maybe I should give the castle a moat, or make a river coming out from the drawbridge.” Two somewhat shapeless blobs became my ground, but somehow, it looked like it was falling off a cliff rather than having a moat emerging from it. Well, if it’s going to fall, might as well make the best of it. I dumped out the paper punch and finished the look. Still didn’t look like one of the kids’ but it was a bit more creative.

OK. Last round. “What about a graveyard? Yeah, that might be interesting. Hey, the castle door I cut out looks like a tombstone. I’ll just cut a couple more here. Well…looks pretty flat and uninteresting. Let’s try putting a haunted mansion up on a hill. Wait, that looks more like an abandoned factory. Guess we’ll just go with it. There. Done.”

Looking at the three, I realize that I had become more fluid and inventive just by going through the process of thinking and creating. I can’t say I love the last one, in fact, it’s probably my least favorite of the three. I can't even say that any of them are stellar. But what I did come to appreciate is the creative zone I found myself in by the time I finished. And I wonder: “Is this where kids live all day long? How cool is that!”

Where do we lose that as we get older? I know plenty of people who never do let that piece of themselves go, though I don’t believe I’m consistently one of them. There are many remarkable artists, musicians, architects, dancers, and other inventive people in the world who make creating their love and livelihood. There are those who live by and for the process of creating. But it takes a bit of effort even for them. It requires some time to get “in the zone.” Part of the beauty of being a kid again is simply living in the creative zone sunup to sundown. And for that, I wouldn’t mind being a little more childish from time to time.

http://intuitivehomemaking.blogspot.com/

Chicken Curry

My husband has long had a fascination with India. Several months ago it occurred to us that we’d never been to an Indian restaurant and experienced that type of ethnic food. We went with some friends to a local restaurant and enjoyed it tremendously. However, I was a bit dismayed to receive my bill and realize “I just paid $13 for a bowl of sauce!”

Anxious to sample Indian cuisine again but reluctant to pay a big price tag for it, I set out in search of some recipes I could try at home. It didn’t take me long on allrecipes.com to find a winner. It helps to know that if over 1900 people have tried and reviewed it and it still has 4.5 stars, that it’s probably going to be pretty good. Here’s the recipe as I discovered it.

Ingredients:
• 2 teaspoons curry powder
• 1 teaspoon curry paste
• 1 (13.5 ounce) can coconut milk
• 2 tablespoons fish sauce
• 1 tablespoon packed brown sugar
• 1 cup chicken stock
• 4 chicken thighs, cut into bite size pieces
• 1/2 cup frozen peas
• 1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper
• 1/2 cup chopped carrot
• 1 tablespoon cornstarch
• 2 tablespoons chicken stock
• 3/4 cup chopped fresh pineapple

Directions:
1. Cook and stir the curry powder and curry paste in a saucepan over medium-low heat until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Pour the coconut milk into the saucepan and mix well. Stir in the fish sauce, brown sugar, and 1 cup chicken stock.

2. Place the chicken thighs, peas, peppers, and carrots into the saucepan with the curry sauce. Bring the mixture to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat to low. Simmer until the chicken is cooked though, about 25 minutes.

3. Whisk together 1 tablespoon of cornstarch with 2 tablespoons of cold chicken stock. Stir cornstarch mixture into the curry. Mix the pineapple into the curry and cook until the sauce thickens, about 5 minutes.

http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Thai-Chicken-Curry-with-Pineapple/Detail.aspx

Now of course I can’t hang on to a recipe without tinkering with it just a little:

• I’d never bought coconut milk before and I’d never even heard of fish sauce. Curry powder and curry paste were also not in my cupbords. But I liked curry enough to go out and spring for the unusual ingredients and give it a try.
• I’m not a big dark meat fan, so I only ever have chicken breasts on hand. They work just as well.
• And I’m way too cheap to be buying fresh pineapple to put into a recipe. I’d rather have it on the side fresh and cold. I’ve tried using canned and it’s not very good. I skip the pineapple.
• To get the vegetables to cook at the same rate, I omit the peppers and use frozen peas & carrots, thaw them slightly under running water and add them in 5-10 minutes before serving so they don’t overcook.
• I like my sauce a little less thick, so I consider the cornstarch optional.

Here are some of the things I discovered:

1. Curry powder and curry paste are both necessary for the right flavor. I nearly double the amount listed in the above recipe because I like mine really strong.

2. It doesn’t taste nearly as good without fish sauce. It’s only a couple of dollars for a bottle in the Asian section of the grocery store and lasts for a long time.

3. Coconut milk can be really expensive. You might pay $2 for a can in the average grocery store. Fortunatly for me, I live in an area with a high percentage of Hispanic and Pacific Island people. There’s a grocery store down the street that carries more of their ethnic foods and I can purchase a can for $.88 to $1.30. Look for coconut milk in ethnic food stores for a better deal.

On that note, I might add here that not all coconut milk is created equal. The one on the left was $.88 and had coconut milk as the first ingredient. It's not always available at Super Saver, but I stock up when it is. The El Mexicano brand in the center cost about $1.20, but is full of fake ingredients and didn't taste good at all. The Pacific brand on the right was pricier at $1.39 a can, but worth every extra penny. It was primarily coconut milk and was much richer and creamier than the other varieties. And still far less than the Thai brands in a neighboring store. Long story short: read the ingredient list. If coconut milk is the first ingredient and there's less than three all told, you're getting the better product.

I found myself one day pre-preparing a lot of food for the evening, like cutting up chicken for various recipes (a much easier task when handled with the kitchen shears as opposed to a knife). To remember this was for the curry dish, I sprinkled it with curry powder and let it marinade. Not necessary, but a nice bonus of flavor when thought of in advance.

So here's my adapted and simplified recipe (which I always double to satisfy my hungry family, the photos below show a larger batch):
• 1 tablespoon curry powder
• 2 teaspoons curry paste
• 1 tablespoon packed brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons fish sauce
• 1 (13.5 ounce) can coconut milk
• 1 cup chicken stock (or 1 t. chicken boullion & 1 c. water)
• 2 chicken breasts, cut into bite size pieces
• 1 package frozen peas & carrots

Whether you mix the curry paste and powder together before adding in other ingredients or just dump in everything together, it still turns out about the same. You just want to get enough liquid into the initial mix so that the powder doesn't form into lumps.

If I've marinaded the chicken beforehand, I add it in the beginning to let the flavor cook in longer. If I've not taken that step, all the other ingredients can be added and then I'll cut the chicken into the sauce as I bring it to a boil. It's really hard to cook this recipe the 'wrong' way. :)

Once the chicken is thouroughly cooked, I lightly defrost the peas and corn and dump them into the mix.

 Mmmmm...now just hope I remembered to cook the rice. Jasmine rice is my preference if I have it.

 A feast for the eyes as well as the stomach.

My favorite part: I can feed my whole family for less than the bowl of $13 sauce. :)

Enjoy!

http://intuitivehomemaking.blogspot.com/

That Stuff You Make when Dad's Not Here

Admittedly, I don't enjoy cooking for an unappreciative audience. Usually, my husband enjoys and is grateful for nearly everything I fix for dinner. Not so for the kids. (Though now that I have a couple of teenagers, they are beginning to eat just about anything...)

There is one particular dish, however, that John is not especially fond of. But all my kids like it. This simple creation takes about 15 minutes to throw together, and as it was originally concocted from some odds-and-ends in our food storage, it is standard fare for when Dad's out-of-town. No matter what name I try to give it, they don't understand what's for dinner until they look in the pot and say, "Oh, that's the stuff you make when Dad's not here." As of tonight, I believe that is its official name. Dad is on a scout camp with our youngest son tonight, so here's my evening meal before I consumed it:
In a large pot, cook up a 16 oz. bag (or box) of any type of pasta. I typically use maccaroni, but I take whatever choice the child willing to enter the depths of the storage room chooses. Tonight we got rotini. When done, drain and return to pot.

Add in 1 can each diced tomatoes, tomato paste, corn, and beans. Usually we have kidney beans, but apparently we're out, so these are black beans. (Make sure you drain the last two--it doesn't taste good runny.)

And for good measure, I also microwave and add 1 lb. hamburger (stirring/mashing with fork every minute or so until done), a handful of shredded cheese, and about 1/3 c. ketchup. Warm for a few more minutes until cheese melts .

That's it, really. Not very exciting, but extremely fast with minimal cleanup. That's the only kind of meal I'll make when Dad's away.

http://intuitivehomemaking.blogspot.com/

The Cost of Creativity

I have long been pondering what it means to be “creative.” Collaborative creativity is even a bit harder to grasp. This isn’t the first post I’ve written on this idea, yet I’m still intrigued by the thought that creativity is as much process as product. Provided you can get through both. One particularly difficult process I experienced last spring almost got the better of me and having no product at all was very nearly the result.

My second grade daughter had been studying oceans at school. Every May, about two weeks before the end of the school year, all the classes set up presentations of special projects they’ve been working on to show their parents at the annual “Share Fair.” Her teacher did not assign much homework throughout the year, but there were two special things she had to do at home as part of the research she had to do on her assigned animal, the Angelfish. Part I was an “Incredible Edible” version of her animal, and Part II was a costume that would make her look like the animal. I know what you’re thinking here…just bear with me on this one.

Two of my other children had this particular teacher before, so I knew the ropes. Unfortunately, the seven-year old I was working with this time did not. And she’s a lot more demanding and high-strung. And extremely perfectionistic. Did I mention that she’s also quite independent? Our trip to the grocery store for “incredible edible” materials was interesting. She had a certain idea in mind. So did I. She wanted to create something that was an exact replica of the picture in her head. I had only the thought to get out of there spending $4 or less. After much frustration and discussion back and forth, I convinced her that striped fruit roll-ups really would make acceptable angelfish replicas. She insisted that she needed multi-colored licorice to make her fish. I bought both (barely within my price range)and dragged her out of the store before she could change her mind.

At the risk of looking like the type of parent who turns everything into a Mom project so it looks perfect, let me qualify here that this is never the case with me. My preference is always to let the child take over and make it their project. The more imperfect it is, the more it evidences that they really did it themselves. The more perfect it is, the more I am impressed with their growth—that which comes with experience. But I do know that with this one, if there isn’t a little guidance up front, she’ll never even start.

Back at home, she looked disgusted with my idea to simply cut the fruit rolls into the shape of fish.
“But they’re too flat.”
“Angel fish are flat.”
“Not that flat.”
“What if we give them a little dimension by making their fins and eyes pop out a little?”
“No.”
“Can we just try one and see what you think?”
“Oh…OK”

One was all it took to convince her, especially since I was more than willing to let her have at it with the kitchen scissors to finish the rest with the paper stencil I’d made. Besides, she got to eat the scraps. And she found a use for her colored licorice that was an even more brilliant addition than trying to shape and structure them into fish. To her credit, she did almost all of it herself. Whew! Part one down, now for the hardest one to go.
I know I shouldn’t have waited until the last day to start the costume, but I really wasn’t that stressed about it. You see, many thought I was going to create this beautiful fabric-and-felt whimsical creation like it was a Halloween costume set to take first prize at the state fair. I had no intention of doing any such thing when her previous two siblings were perfectly happy with the stapled-together-colored butcher paper costumes we’d made. Two weeks before the fair, I’d responded to a class email thread in which a number of parents expressed extreme concern at the difficulty of this task, and I think I alleviated most of their fears. I said “This is no big deal, it’s just for a couple of hours in the evening. Just have fun with it. The teacher will even provide the paper for you.” As the mom on duty the day the paper was dispensed, I felt ready and in control. I knew we were set and could throw this project together in under an hour as soon as she came home from school the day of the fair. Had I done it much sooner, it could have been destroyed in the interim.

I forgot who I was dealing with.

“But Mom, that’s not exactly the right color.”
“Don’t Angelfish come in lots of different colors?”
“I want it to look just like that that one” she wailed, pointing to the image she’d pulled up on Google.
“Honey, I think that’s going to be just a little complicated to make every bump and stripe look just like that.”
“Hmmmph.” She folded her arms and stomped her feet and pouted “I HATE this! It's going to look so stupid!”
“Let’s just start with the shape of the fish and go from there, please.”
“Fine.” She laid down reluctantly on the paper (“…it’s getting all wrinkled…”) while I cut around her. Then I started cutting stripes. So long as they were a little wavy, she was willing to let me keep going, but with a scowl on her face the whole time. When we taped the stripes to the main body, I had to keep cutting, shaping, and adjusting until it met her critical eye. (Why couldn’t we have had the one-color seahorse again I wondered.)

I’ll spare you the details of how the rest of the fish got put together, how it didn’t fit right, how she needed to be able to duck her head in, how it needed fins to cover her arms, how she didn’t like them when they were done, and how we finally left the house with five minutes to spare. I was utterly spent and she was borderline happy with the result.

Until she arrived in her classroom and everyone told her how amazing she looked. Suddenly the whole process was successful. But she wouldn’t hear it from me.
Collaboration, I’ve found, is a painstaking process when working with two people who both have a vision but don’t see eye to eye. It can be done , but it takes a little love and a lot of determination to cooperate. Somehow, we both came out satisfied even after two frustrating evenings together. All that remains now is the memory of how happy Share Fair was that night. At least for her. I think I still choose to take a little more away from the experience because that’s what helps me to grow—like the fact that I actually exhibited barely enough patience to tolerate the whole ordeal, that I didn’t kill her in the process, and that I could leave my living room the disaster we’d made it in order to get her there on time to display her masterpieces.
Coming home from that night really drove home that point. As well as one other. Sometimes the real cost of creativity is simply cleaning up the mess afterward.

http://intuitivehomemaking.blogspot.com/

Ten Roles of Motherhood

Every mother knows that to do her job well, you have to wear a lot of different hats. Some weeks we do more quick costume changes than others. This has been one of those weeks for me. Let me take you on a quick journey through my Mother’s Day weeklong reminiscences…

Monday 2:00—arrived at my son’s school to take him for a doctor’s appointment, only to discover that he’d chipped off ¼ of his front-left tooth. Scheduled dentist appointment from doctor’s office. Role #1: NURSE.

Monday 4:00—rushed to get daughter to “Hair Day” at ballet so she’d look like all the other girls in her class for the recital in two weeks. Role #2: HAIRDRESSER.

Tuesday 11:00-12:30—drove son with broken tooth 30 minutes to dentist then 30 minutes back to school again. Role #3: CHAUFFEUR.

Tuesday 7:00—assisted teenage son in tending our next-door-neighbor’s 3 month old son at our house. Changed diapers, walked the floor when he didn’t like his bottle, kept him happy. Role #4: BABYSITTER.

Wednesday 10:00-3:00—noticed my house was looking really scary. Dishes, laundry, piles of papers in my room, too busy tonight to cook, threw pork in crock pot. Role #5: MAID/COOK.

Wednesday 4:00—drove youngest daughter to her session of “Hair Day.” Reached for my camera as I watched her practice, like I had for her sister on Monday. Found I’d left it at home. Rats. Failed in Role #6: PHOTOGRAPHER.

Thursday 2:30—took two teenage sons and some friends to the Temple, like we do every week. Role #7: SPIRITUAL GUIDE

Thursday 5:30—drove three youngest kids to their school art show so they could show off their masterpieces, then watched as they demonstrated all their favorite stunts on the monkey bars. Role #8: FAN CLUB

Friday 6:30—attended Primary Talent Show and played the piano for both girls as they sang their solo pieces. Role #9: ACCOMPANIST

Saturday 2:00-6:00—helped 10-year-old daughter sew her first quilt; doll-sized, of course. Delighted in watching her discover she has a real knack for it. Role #10: TEACHER

If I thought a bit longer, I could probably come up with a few more. No matter. There will be other hats to wear, other roles to play in days and weeks to come. No job is more challenging, no career is more rewarding than that of being a mom. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.