tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43771493088013066042024-03-13T02:04:00.536-07:00toddlerspit(parenting and other stuff)Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.comBlogger499125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-66176214048824237602014-04-08T20:18:00.003-07:002014-04-08T20:18:35.161-07:00Colors.Now that we're under contract in Boise and under contract here, it's a little like I'm seeing things in color again. In lots of ways, things feel totally vertiginous and out of control--I'm buried under assignments that need to be graded and manuscripts to evaluate and proposals to figure out. I'm doing real estate like it's my job and trying to get to the gym and to the girls' performances and travel every other minute. The mental gob of trying to figure out how and when to say goodbye to so many people and this life, and remember that I'm still me after we leave, is totally overwhelming. It doesn't all just go away and the hours completely evaporate before me. Every day.<br />
<br />
But I'm seeing things in color again. The sunset over Coors Field last night, the feeling of drinking a beer outside. I mean, it was freezing! I was exhausted, and had to get up early this morning. But the experience was like the slightest whiff of spring, and it was beautiful, and I could relax into it for a minute. <br />
<br />
Or today. It's been the longest day and I still have to watch a movie for class tonight yet, but it's dark and quiet in the house and there's a candle burning and <i>I get to watch movies for work</i>. That's <i>cool</i>. I can appreciate <i>that</i>. There is also the fact that I didn't really need tights today because it's warming up, and there's a lone cherry blossom peeking out of the deadish gray branch outside my window. There's knowing that soon we will be a little bit settled, and there might be some room to create and move and not just react. I'm seeing all of that again, and I'm really grateful.<br />
<br />
Because it's been kind of a long slog, you know? There was the business with me and E. last year, and then the downward spiral at work, and then the do-we-move-to-Boise thing, and the interviewing, and the deciding, and the selling houses and buying houses, all while trying to be a not-too-damaging parent and colleague and the barest bones friend. And knowing there's lots more "excitement" to come. God. It's something.<br />
<br />
But the colors. I'm glad they're back.Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-58938582481208597902014-03-24T13:44:00.000-07:002014-03-24T13:44:05.195-07:00Better DaysToday: better. So far. I say so far, because I've had a few good days here and there lately, what I thought were good days, and then ended up weeping for two hours for reasons that are hard to explain. Such has been this month. But today felt different, maybe because I took the leap of coming back to this blog yesterday and openly showing my metaphorical ass in public. Even if it is only to seven of you.<br />
<br />
But, better! I'll take it. As in:<br />
<br />
Crosffit. Crossfit makes things better for me. We're almost done with the <a href="http://games.crossfit.com/workouts/the-open">Crossfit Open</a> at my gym, and though I had no intention of participating, I'm glad I did. I had no intention of participating because, well, I'm an <i>older</i> athlete, compared with most crossfitters, and I have a bum shoulder and a bum knee and sometimes pee my pants when doing lots of repetitive jumping. Also, formal competition makes me very nervous and self-conscious and a little sick<br />
<br />
[informal competition, on the other hand, is my thing, as you probably know. I get all passive aggressive with <i>that</i> shit. Like it was <i>my job</i>. Oy]<br />
<br />
but I'm glad I did it! I learned some new skills and accepted a few low scores pretty graciously, I think, and did well on workouts I expected to tank on. Take this week's WOD (workout of the day):<br />
<br />
Row 60 calories<br />
50 toes-to-bar<br />
40 wall-balls<br />
30 95-pound cleans<br />
20 muscle-ups<br />
<br />
in 14 minutes. IN 14 MINUTES.<br />
<br />
Ha.<br />
<br />
I knew I'd be able to row 60 calories. That doesn't sound like much, does it? But it really is. It's pretty tiring, burning 60 calories. If I was in my old body-hating phase, I would have used this information to scold myself for eating treats. [See how much energy it takes to burn 60 calories? Why do you eat so much? Now you have to go run, pizza-cow!]. I'm not in that phase at the moment, though. I ate 1/2 a pint of Ben and Jerry's after lunch, in fact, and though I almost never do that anymore, it's fine that I did, and I don't feel the need to self-flaggelate.<br />
<br />
Maybe self-flatulate, though. Thank you dairy products. But that's a different post.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I knew I could row the 60 calories, and that it would be tiring but do-able. <br />
<br />
But 50 toes-to-bar? No way. Last time I tried toes-to-bar the coach had to stand behind me and push me so that I'd know when to try to throw my legs up. I looked like a seizing giraffe.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxGF4VCuHPnFGbd4ANMdGuOlvaWDoqSjPdk7_G6Q8_2mbOBLonbjTQq4mV-YBybnXzaMFtvcWX9lBGhaP7mKF6o7Cf4E41N-kVga44O0uG5OSU5ajirPQadxdGAsq_o3dchVDqIfLeSs/s1600/t2b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxGF4VCuHPnFGbd4ANMdGuOlvaWDoqSjPdk7_G6Q8_2mbOBLonbjTQq4mV-YBybnXzaMFtvcWX9lBGhaP7mKF6o7Cf4E41N-kVga44O0uG5OSU5ajirPQadxdGAsq_o3dchVDqIfLeSs/s1600/t2b.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not me, obvi. Just an illustration of T-t-B.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But miraculously, today, I was able to do them, and faster than I thought. My goal, honestly, was just to finish. But I finished <i>with time to spare</i> (we only had 14 minutes to get through everything). This was both <i>awesome</i> and <i>terrible</i> since then I had to go do 40 wall-balls, even though my shoulders were Jello and I could barely breathe.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkiWC2Z7PMCLtdW8jSLwk4qNc0ynN3Oo-Sgv_yY8X1iYEoXQGIo5xZ0bVbgcgATf0-eu2_qQgtofc2f0PTNc6Il36JR2ieCRomcF3CNesMa1Rlu7FpBaz6iDsl5LiN1ec4iYnjVhknPos/s1600/big-homie-trojan-crossfit-wod-snatch-balance-deadlifts-wall-balls-250m-rowing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkiWC2Z7PMCLtdW8jSLwk4qNc0ynN3Oo-Sgv_yY8X1iYEoXQGIo5xZ0bVbgcgATf0-eu2_qQgtofc2f0PTNc6Il36JR2ieCRomcF3CNesMa1Rlu7FpBaz6iDsl5LiN1ec4iYnjVhknPos/s1600/big-homie-trojan-crossfit-wod-snatch-balance-deadlifts-wall-balls-250m-rowing.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wall Balls. Ouchie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For wall-balls, you're basically dropping into a below-90-degree squat and then standing up and throwing a 14-pound medicine ball up to a mark on the wall. 40 times. When I started Crossfit in August I couldn't get all the way into a deep squat, and could barely throw an 8-pound ball up to the mark. Sometimes I couldn't even catch the ball and it would hit me in the face. So I was pretty happy to get through 40 Wall Balls.<br />
<br />
Except at that point I only had 90 seconds left in the 14 minutes and was wheezing like an asthmatic geezer and then had to try to clean 95 pounds 30 times, which clearly was not happening, since 95 pounds is close to my one-rep-max for cleans.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_rcpSnhdpQV-Oxp6vT27HaEXFnqYv8iVliJ68QQZ0j856dJhjxUz9GVeJjkP0n8941V2m_L8XTM-5KvMePfJxgKMmHxopiUHI_zOBkemMC6SNRIAxq9IgMyfKTmfYFo8h0NYkxYBtz8/s1600/clean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_rcpSnhdpQV-Oxp6vT27HaEXFnqYv8iVliJ68QQZ0j856dJhjxUz9GVeJjkP0n8941V2m_L8XTM-5KvMePfJxgKMmHxopiUHI_zOBkemMC6SNRIAxq9IgMyfKTmfYFo8h0NYkxYBtz8/s1600/clean.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is kind of what a Clean looks like. If you're the Hulk. It's the move that's most likely to make you poop your pants. IMHO.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I bent over and looked at the bar for a good 12 seconds just trying to breathe and then some coaches yelled at me to pick up the damned bar, so I did, but I couldn't clean it all the way cuz <i>I was just so tired</i> and just dropped it instead. Then I cleaned it 3 times then dropped it again on the fourth but then cleaned it 1 last time for a total of 4, my fellow Math Wizards. Which gives me a score of 60+50+40+4=154. I feel really good about that.<br />
<br />
But not too good. Just for humility's sake, I'll say that the women's Crossfit Open leaderboard has a max score of 256. Which means that some lady-hulk out there was able to go through that entire workout plus do another round of rowing. Christ.<br />
<br />
And now Crossfit has been explained to you. You're welcome.<br />
<br />
Oh, except for Muscle-Ups, which I can't do because I've never tried and they're the hardest thing you can do so I might never try them except some time in the future I might. I've learned not to say never with Crossfit, I guess. Here's a muscle-up:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujvSZfcUvBtL-eUtMk2vYsk1MpiQ50xMdvGlhuyJUQZNeHrjPWNI6THhdKsuBrrcu1DVgnGW7HO667sU-rCI23JnzCkz9gYNNNgXNphyphenhyphen7djk5gLNvjQyxZhsYBMhTKYWjZp-1UKDhlpY/s1600/slide11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujvSZfcUvBtL-eUtMk2vYsk1MpiQ50xMdvGlhuyJUQZNeHrjPWNI6THhdKsuBrrcu1DVgnGW7HO667sU-rCI23JnzCkz9gYNNNgXNphyphenhyphen7djk5gLNvjQyxZhsYBMhTKYWjZp-1UKDhlpY/s1600/slide11.jpg" height="616" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muscle-Ups: Crazy Olympic Gymnastics Kind of Shit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyway: proud of my score and was glad to get out my head this morning, is all I'm saying. Then I went to a thesis defense. The student was really smart and did a great job but as always with these things at Mines my contributions were minimal because science and engineering students never really have time to get to the "social" part of their work so I'm always just on those committees playing a symbolic role and I'm bored with that. So it's probably good I'm leaving after all, was the reminder. Because that job was killing me in lots of ways.<br />
<br />
Not killing me in a good way, like Crossfit. Ouch. Hurts to brush my hair right now.<br />
<br />
Okay, back to work, because I still have students and deadlines and more houses to look at and agonize over and children to raise and husbands to scold. But if you want to call and talk Crossfit I could probably find five minutes.Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-87715907781412889802014-03-23T14:04:00.001-07:002014-03-23T14:04:10.383-07:00No Tiny StitchesAddie just brought me this tiny little doll dress to mend:<div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0PNH1_a-k_wzyLDTDwN5gsathpG8Xhb9gnKEV7LRx6jjXAV69XfbkfBqhkpegYAzrB40bKRWbX-41cE2HG0JdGb9BPHsv5eH3C9vfAhIeyJHnYTHRuNWd8nkDfWpvg6UydizcGaL200/s640/blogger-image-1504644568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0PNH1_a-k_wzyLDTDwN5gsathpG8Xhb9gnKEV7LRx6jjXAV69XfbkfBqhkpegYAzrB40bKRWbX-41cE2HG0JdGb9BPHsv5eH3C9vfAhIeyJHnYTHRuNWd8nkDfWpvg6UydizcGaL200/s640/blogger-image-1504644568.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It was my mom's surely--the satin is soft from age and the rick-rack is starting to come apart. Addie wants it to dress up her bunny in, but it was ripped down the back. Part of me wants to mend it and then put it away, preserve it, the sweetness of it. But doll dresses were made to be treated roughly by little kids, in my view, so I give it back to her for bunny. My mom has literally dozens of large boxes in her garage, filled with her childhood doll collection--I was never allowed to play with them as a child, and I don't think she's looked through them in decades. Who knows what shape they are in? Their meaning? Their worth? I do have a little trunk full of gorgeous Madame Alexander clothes for a Revlon doll Mom gave the girls last Chrismas. Those I did abscond with, having been one of the more precious items I can remember playing with as a kid. I dress up the doll every change of seasons and put her out. Which probably makes me a total weirdo. Or connects me with my mom in some way. Ah: both.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I wish I could say I mended the dress with tiny, painstaking, even stitches. But I didn't. I only have white and black thread out at the moment, no blue, and the fabric had frayed enough I needed to gather it up in big, ugly white stitches to get it to stay together at all.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There's lots of big and ugly going on, right now, in fact. We have most likely sold our house, though we won't know for a few more days if we cleared the last hurdle, and we sold it for more than we listed it for, which is good. I mean, better than good. I'm so grateful for that, the speed with which it happened, and the money, which we can definitely use.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But we struck out in finding a new house in Boise. We bid on one, but lost it to someone who had a lot more cash to put down. And now I don't know what. Our money is not going to go as far as I thought there, and we might end up in a not-great neighborhood, far from my work. Eric doesn't have a job lined up. Unemployment has almost run out. We don't have a house to move into. I just have no idea what's next, and it's got me down.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I feel big and ugly about it all, and am having horrible second-thoughts about whether I've done the right thing, quitting a secure job and a nice house and all of our friends here. Maybe I've been horribly selfish and hasty, as some have suggested, and now everything is about to fall apart. At every stage there has been something I could do--prepare for the interview, pack up the house, scout out properties online. And now: nothing. We just wait. The next steps aren't clear. Do we buy a house without having seen it first? Rent for a few months? Fly up last minute and try to beat someone out in a bidding war? Move the kids around from school to school while we sort things out and I try to make a new job work? It all sounds absurd.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I sound absurd, I know that. I'm sad and angry and frustrated. Everyone just waves their hands and reassures me the right house will come along and that will be that, and that everything has fallen into place and is meant to be. We'll be fine. But in my head it feels like the big unresolved thing that will make or break our being okay in this city that I've dragged everyone to. There are no tiny stitches to make, just big ugly knots to jump into the center of and hope they come out alright.</div>Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-68592077611466626382014-01-27T11:53:00.003-08:002014-01-27T11:53:29.741-08:00On Eating a Whole Lot of Animals, All at Once Warning: Long, self-obsessed post. As always.<br />
<br />
There were those nine years once where I was a vegetarian. Remember that? I mean, I ate fish and eggs once in a while, and had a wee bit of turkey at Thanksgiving. If my hot and sour soup had pork bits in it at a restaurant, I wasn't going to raise a huge fuss. But pretty much no meat, from the time I gave birth to Addie on.<br />
<br />
For lots of good reasons, I think. Factory farms are heinous. They contribute a lot to climate change, for example, and I think are illustrative of some of the nastier elements of American gluttony and disrespect for the environment. I have also been raised (by my own self) on a steady diet of women's magazines and advertising which suggests that a diet "rich in whole grains, fruits, vegetables, and low-fat dairy" is the way to go. And maybe it is.<br />
<br />
So it may come as a shock (it does to me) to know that for the past two weeks I've eaten nothing but meat and vegetables. Like, 20 OUNCES OF MEAT A DAY. That's a lot of animals I've consumed.<br />
<br />
Writing that sentence just made me a little nauseous. But I'm going to persevere.<br />
<br />
This has not been part of a "diet," like the "Paleo diet," though it's related to that--it's a "food challenge" (which maybe is the same thing as a "diet") sponsored following a workshop at my Crossfit gym (which CF nerds call a "box"). The challenge is to eat nothing but high-quality, meaning grass-fed and organic, animal protein and unprocessed vegetables and high quality fats, meaning only coconut oil, olive oil, and avocados for three weeks. Then see what happens to us in the gym and how we feel in "real life."<br />
<br />
I'm on the first day of week 3. If you had tried talking to me last week, when I was still going through nasty sugar withdrawals, my head would have spun around and I would have spit venom at you. This week, though, I'm feeling real good about things. Like, weirdly healthy and happy.<br />
<br />
But why do this? Why the big turn around?<br />
<br />
Answer: for some of the same reasons I tried vegetarianism, I guess. Because I'm always interested in experimenting with food. Because I'm curious about what making big changes in my diet does to my body. Because I had gained pounds the past few years and couldn't seem to take them off by doing more exercise, and eating less just pisses me off and makes me very obsessive. So, essentially because I'm pretty vain. Also because I had high cholesterol readings despite being really "healthy." Because as convincing as I found <i>The China Study</i> I also found <i>The Paleo Diet</i> quite convincing. And you know I read diet and health books like it's my job, so I'm not just being random here. But I'm also trying this challenge because I lift heavy at Crossfit four times a week, and I love seeing new muscles appear and feeling strong and challenged, but didn't like feeling nauseous or super-sore after a workout because I wasn't eating right. Because I'm sleeping so well and have energy during the day. Because I think a lot of advertising just tries really hard to make it super-easy for us to over-eat processed food. I find the arguments about the perils of wheat and soy production in this country really compelling, for example. <br />
<br />
Because challenges are fun. Even when they suck.<br />
<br />
But here are the things I'm thinking about:<br />
<br />
1) I hope they provide us with some guidance for what to do after the challenge, because this really is a shitload of meat I'm eating, and even though we're paying extra for the "good" stuff, stuff that I hope is humanely treated and killed, it's still animals being slaughtered and really I don't know how good they're being treated. We may have to look into doing something more local where we can see how the animals are treated once we move to Idaho if I'm going to keep this up, like maybe buying a big freezer and part of a cow or something. That is so crazy that I just wrote that. Again, regurge. But I have lingering questions about the long-term effects of this, and how to effectively modify given those concerns.<br />
<br />
2) This thing has made me come face to face with some of my worser habits around food (lots of snacking, too many processed and refined foods that had snuck in without my really considering them, eating too fast, mindless eating, and, of course, having dessert after every meal for the last 20 years). But mostly I've had to face my emotional attachments to food. People who talk about using "food for fuel" have always seemed like nasty perverts to me. Like an alien race. Like flagellants. I mean food <i>tastes</i> good. It makes you <i>feel good</i>. It's <i>social</i>. People who eat cardboard bars for "energy" are pervs.<br />
<br />
Sigh. But yes, food is also fuel. I kind of get that a little better now. There are other, more fulfilling ways to comfort one's self, and finding those might also make your life better in other ways. Like, slowing down my work schedule and getting outside everyday, <i>whatever the weather</i>, makes me feel soooo good. Better than a quesadilla, even. <br />
<br />
3) I've been thinking about what "cheating" means. I don't like the language of "cheating" because it implies a "diet" which doesn't seem particularly sustainable to me, and like I said, makes me go a little crazy. We're not supposed to have any sugars on this thing, which means no alcohol or sweets. But I've been pretty much like, fuck that. Friday and Saturday nights I have a glass of wine. And I make a wicked chocolate pudding from avocados that's incredibly decadent but not too bad for you:<br />
<br />
<b>in the food processor, blend up two avocados, 4 T honey, 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa, 1/4 c coconut milk, 1t vanilla extract, and 1t instant coffee. Chill. Stick in in your pie-hole. Send me a thank-you note.</b><br />
<br />
I have a spoonful (or ten) of that every night. Fucking delicious. You'll have to pry it from my cold dead hands, and if I can't have something like this everyday on this "diet" or "challenge" or whatever, I'm not going to do it. I don't think that's cheating, I think that's called living an awesome life. At least, that's what the pudding whispers to me as it's sliding down my throat. And, see #1.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to think about how I might make something like this work for me long term. I think most paleos that I respect try for an 80/20 split, where you eat paleo 80% of the time, and 20% of the time you can eat other things. Which means working fruit and nuts back into the diet. I miss them a lot. And maybe dairy and pasta once in a while. Though I weirdly do not miss them at all.<br />
<br />
4) And neither does the old poop-chute. I'll spare you the details, obvs, but let's say this little experiment has certainly made me wonder if I didn't have a little gluten/dairy intolerance there for a while. Like, for my whole life. I don't miss the tummy aches, at all.<br />
<br />
5) Some things will get worked back in. Fruit. Nuts. I'll probably have my homemade granola at home once in a while at the end of the three weeks, and our semiannual binge at our favorite Mexican restaurant has to stay in. Cause it just makes me glad to be alive. And I need to do some more research making sure my liver stays happy and I'm still getting the shite-tons of fresh vegetables everyday, because that is a beautiful, healthy thing. I'll let you know how it goes.<br />
<br />
Try that avocado pudding, friends. You won't regret it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-21491907708320318602014-01-08T12:59:00.001-08:002014-01-08T12:59:13.341-08:00Today's Dose of Almost Unbearable Sweetness<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Fts8-oV57NSoz1G1KzBOq8GcuXdOZQg2NZDJYUn8aQuuXXs8T64zVTqztxHUUy0jat-vp2GmTMIUjuFux7xtRHlr3K_L0z0UmO7Pr8R1yiRAZHlVZFmvwiQBYs2dsTtXD69ybJyDHL0/s1600/2014-01-07+08.04.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Fts8-oV57NSoz1G1KzBOq8GcuXdOZQg2NZDJYUn8aQuuXXs8T64zVTqztxHUUy0jat-vp2GmTMIUjuFux7xtRHlr3K_L0z0UmO7Pr8R1yiRAZHlVZFmvwiQBYs2dsTtXD69ybJyDHL0/s1600/2014-01-07+08.04.29.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nolie held my hand almost all the way to school today, and then said, "Mama, I think I just want to walk by myself now." Addie wouldn't even look at me when I kissed her goodbye.<br />I guess that's that.</td></tr>
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<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-46248326647535087632014-01-08T12:56:00.002-08:002014-01-08T12:56:47.601-08:00All and AroundThere's this amazing group of women that gets together every few years or so for a weekend-long slumber party--and once in a while, the stars and frequent flyer miles align just right and I get to go and be with them. These ladies have been friends for years and years (I try to create a timeline of how long they've known each other and how they all know each other, but it always ends up looking more like a loop-di-loop because of all the hilarious side stories and remember-whens and I'm still not sure how it all fits together. It doesn't matter). I'm a new addition but they've taken me in like one of their own. It's a blessed feeling.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was a winery tour involved.</td></tr>
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After two weeks of very quiet family time in our house--the last time we'll probably be alone for Christmas for many years, I imagine--I was pretty ready to get out of the house. As you know, I'm a hermit by nature and love to hunker down in jammies for a good chunk of time. But even I needed to get out by the end of it, and there was a slumber last weekend, and so I went.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was awesome. And gorgeous. And drunkerly.<br /></td></tr>
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Loooong introduction just in order to say that one of the women at the slumber was telling a story of a very, very difficult time she went through ten years ago or so. Heartbreakingly difficult. But she says the one thing she really remembers about that time is not so much the pain anymore, but the way everyone in her life rallied around her. The visits. The phone calls. The meals. The caring that extended itself and embraced her through that difficult time.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sky looked like this.<br /></td></tr>
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Maybe if we're cynical we see that as a cliché sugar coating of difficulty. Maybe we've gone through things and people haven't shown up, or have shown up in ways that felt wrong. I get that. But her story really resonated with me, because I had a similar sense of being embraced and supported this fall. Nothing bad or tragic happened, thank goodness. But you know, I was pretty sick with nerves during the process of getting this job in Boise. Lots of "what have I done's" and "this is going to be a disaster" and "why would they want me" was happening. Everything went down so fast, and I had to really tune in to my intuition and tune out a lot of other, left-brained stuff. Otherwise I think I would have completely big-time freaked out. The little freaking out looked instead like: Lots of not sleeping at night and waking up anxious when I did sleep. Talking to myself. Reviewing my resume and everything I've ever done and being sure I'd come up short. Angst.<br />
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Then I got the interview, and things got even more intense, fear-wise. But on the day of the interview, when I woke up in the hotel room in Boise, friends and family essentially barraged me with texts and emails wishing me well. Even though they weren't sure they wanted me to get the job, or wanted me to get it more than anything, or were busy with their own lives, they made sure I knew that they had my back, and that I was supported no matter what happened.<br />
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God, this is another "all about me" post, I think. But that's not what I mean--it's not the point. It's the fact that we have this incredible community of loving and loved people around us, and that has become so beautifully clear lately, and I'm so glad for it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Things got a little wild and we may have broken a chair. No, that is not real hair on the chair, that is a wig. But you get the idea.</td></tr>
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<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-40237977859597932122014-01-07T09:46:00.001-08:002014-01-07T09:46:24.285-08:00Jakcie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-90788719664587155822014-01-07T09:39:00.000-08:002014-01-07T09:39:14.726-08:00My Boys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These are from this summer, obviously. Look at the trees outside that window! Whatever house we end up buying in Boise, old-growth trees are a must. They are so beautiful, and the sound of wind blowing through them is so soothing, and the shade so protective. It's like living in a treehouse, being in our master bedroom. </div>
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Milo loves to get in E.'s face until E. rubs Milo's face. His nose is so cold and his lips so drool-y and you feel like you're being accosted by a giant, stinking camel. But he's so gentle and sweet, so you have to obey.</div>
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It's the worst at mealtimes, because both dogs get in your face because they have to be fed RIGHT NOW. Peanut's breath has the stink of a thousand outhouses and Milo just slobbers on you and it's a totally unwinnable situation.</div>
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And totally perfect.</div>
<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-34804767316566049372013-10-10T18:55:00.001-07:002013-10-10T19:25:32.583-07:00This is the kind of messed up stuff my husband is doing in his overly copious amounts of spare time.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-71357130643368171482013-10-10T18:54:00.001-07:002013-10-10T19:22:43.177-07:00Necessity and Mothers and Invention and All That<div><br></div><div><br></div>So, I did have a wee breakdown yesterday. I don't know if it's hormones or just that I've been working a lot or it's the underlying stress of having a major shift in our lives, but I did cry loudly and snottily for about an hour and then felt tons better.<div><br></div><div>Now I'm back to having a good attitude about the whole thing, but you wouldn't have wanted to see the swirl of dark thoughts that were going round and round in my head for a while there. Thankfully, none of them were real.</div><div><br></div><div>Anyway, one of the very cool byproducts of being on a much stricter budget is that it encourages us to be creative when we need stuff rather than just going out and buying something new (which I was always pretty quick to do, since I was pretty sure I loved shopping). What's funny is that I like making stuff a lot more. </div><div><br></div><div>Remember when I used to make stuff? And how much I liked it? I had kind of gotten out of the habit, and had forgotten how much I liked it.</div><div><br></div><div>Anyway, it's getting cold again now and we needed a little sweater for Sargeant P., but of course didn't want to go buy one. So...TADA!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQWqGIYj3hlNUAN0ay-qIWvdlI5TYAtqhyphenhyphenrN4L1im1mw8yEP8CQInv4t-Ysbt-KhTLZkkGXV8gFFgzmi8Vz0XfHxDcal025N0o2iTs2s44mTtxhaOnbCVNI_WwSTh0M1n8_cv-L9sjFU/s640/blogger-image-874971265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQWqGIYj3hlNUAN0ay-qIWvdlI5TYAtqhyphenhyphenrN4L1im1mw8yEP8CQInv4t-Ysbt-KhTLZkkGXV8gFFgzmi8Vz0XfHxDcal025N0o2iTs2s44mTtxhaOnbCVNI_WwSTh0M1n8_cv-L9sjFU/s640/blogger-image-874971265.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Awww, yeah, I made him a HOODIE, yo! Eric gave me a pair of crappy old pair of sweat pants and I chopped them up and after some seriously hilarious attempts at fitting him I think I got it right. He looks like Chihuahua Rocky. It's a little off kilter in this photo. It covers him up a litle more in real life. </div><div><br></div><div>We also needed a humidifier in our room because there's always this point in Colorado autumns where every last bit of moisture is sucked out of the air faster than a keg gets drained at a fraternity party and it pretty much stays like that until June rolls around again. Which means you basically wake up with a sore throat every morning and feel a sudden and strange desire to roll around in a vat of Crisco just to ease the taut spread of your skin across the bones.</div><div><br></div><div>Anyway, humidifiers can be forty bucks, and that's for the crappy ones, and we had that fountain outside that was just going to get snowed on, so I cleaned it out, pulled it inside, and smacked a Buddha in the middle, and voila! </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcnWaKybRttNjaQnSVRxJw5VQbc7O5u7P-lhxPEvfVS7Gjo22PHcmA6wEKs7HP8A_X5izeqQ3PEdfHkhqy0OFM3PFWnGWb-Dj3XRs9lD5KQ_MqBP4NxwKkHI9LB5kVgOsYtZHofwhcI0Q/s640/blogger-image-1472852289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcnWaKybRttNjaQnSVRxJw5VQbc7O5u7P-lhxPEvfVS7Gjo22PHcmA6wEKs7HP8A_X5izeqQ3PEdfHkhqy0OFM3PFWnGWb-Dj3XRs9lD5KQ_MqBP4NxwKkHI9LB5kVgOsYtZHofwhcI0Q/s640/blogger-image-1472852289.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>No more sore throat in the morning. It's not putting out mist but just having the bowl in the room seems to help. Plus, it's pretty, and the gurgle blocks out the sound of E.'s egregious snoring. Bonus.</div><div><br></div><div>Finally, sometimes you just find great shit by the side of the road. Like this solid wood Crate and Barrel vanity that somehow had stuck out in the trash. It was covered in drywall dust, but I could see the love in it, so I singlehandedly dragged that heavy fucker into the back of the minivan (thank you, Crossfit), brought it home, cleaned it up, and check it out:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFoKIMrvGYEHg5gWXezpINviF8TZZESwCigBWhAybTZcTlTH1YmpdLc2ZI6rRvYvg7K8Tjo0eLIGsv2xXAPqcy0qhhWEFvgh-wUWgCpuyIBjWOj4Jk0Olq8tfUrNVARn8PLMX_1yxYODY/s640/blogger-image-362267511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFoKIMrvGYEHg5gWXezpINviF8TZZESwCigBWhAybTZcTlTH1YmpdLc2ZI6rRvYvg7K8Tjo0eLIGsv2xXAPqcy0qhhWEFvgh-wUWgCpuyIBjWOj4Jk0Olq8tfUrNVARn8PLMX_1yxYODY/s640/blogger-image-362267511.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Nice, right? The top's a little messed up, but everything else looks great. And then we could move the old chest that was there before up to our room so that E. could have a larger bedside table, which he had been wanting.</div><div><br></div><div>Of course, there are things that can't be found or made so easily. Nolie accidentally broke E's classic guitar last night. No money can fix that, unfortunately. I had to turn down some friends' invitations to go out this week, and that smarted a little. There are some fun winter things we like to do, like skiing, or going to holiday plays, that we probably can't do this year. That stinks.</div><div><br></div><div>Still, that's just stuff, and figuring out creative things to do and make instead feels exciting and interesting.</div>Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-83136497579912811412013-10-07T07:04:00.001-07:002013-10-07T07:04:10.499-07:00My Kid is Weird.<br />
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<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-62914988460711124542013-09-30T12:57:00.000-07:002013-09-30T12:57:05.981-07:00Notes <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-88684272135130738652013-09-29T11:31:00.000-07:002013-09-29T11:31:00.771-07:00GiftinessI promise soon to post something about how shitty it is to go from having two incomes to one, and how I'm freaked out and want to punch someone in the throat. Perhaps, someone I'm married to. But that is not this post. This post is about gratitude, instead.<br />
<br />
One of the interesting byproducts of E. losing his job has been that it has heightened my noticing of everything we have that is <i>free</i>. Everything that is a <i>gift</i>. Everything, every experience, every feeling that we just get by virtue of where we have been and where we are now and just dumb luck. <br />
<br />
Let me be clear: we are nowhere near poverty. I have amazing benefits at work, and a decent salary and savings that will see us through for a good while before things get really sad (like, losing our house sad). But all of the frills have been cut, or will have to be cut--eating out, shopping, all of those little monthly expenses that were just "in the noise" before. Pretty much all mindless spending of any sort, from Starbucks to the grocery store, is going to have to be eliminated or pretty seriously curtailed if we're going to buy E. enough time to explore and figure out what's next for him. <br />
<br />
But I feel like it's important to acknowledge the extraordinary safety net we have in place, since so many people don't have a net like ours, and so I'm really just talking about how we're still going to be middle class, just maybe more on the lower end of the middle class spectrum. I say this not to gloat, but to acknowledge how many would truly struggle with basics like food and shelter were they to lose one income. That is not us, but I feel solidarity with those folks just the same, despite our crazy amounts of privilege.<br />
<br />
Anyway, all the FREE and amazing joyful things! Sure, I am still overcome occasionally with wee bouts of sadness and panic when I realize how <i>conscious </i>I have to be now about money. It can be a pain. But mostly, I'm like Maria twirling in the Alps, hands outstretched in amazement at the surrounding beauty. Like walking the dogs off leash at the junior high nearby: Milo's big, dopey, loping gait and Peanut's low quick pounces. Sometimes he gets going so fast his hind legs can't slow down and he does an endo! I mean, how amazing is that? You can't see it and feel sad, I guarantee it. The grass is so green from all the rain, it's starting to feel cool out, and I'm pretty sure there is nothing more beautiful than sunsets in the Rocky Mountains. The girls chatter and do cartwheels in the grass, and I have such a feeling of well-being. It helps to knock the fear on its ass.<br />
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There is the feeling of overwhelming gratitude when we leave the local library with a huge canvas bag stuffed positively full of books. We get home and I brew a coffee and we snuggle up on the couches or in our rooms and we just read for hours. It's got to be one of the best things in the world.<br />
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There's the top deck. Granted, the kids and dogs can't really be out there because there is no railing. I probably shouldn't be out there with my extreme klutziness. But we have a little table and umbrella, and a burbling fountain, and the huge branches of the cherry tree form a canopy over the rest. It's extraordinary out there, really.<br />
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And then, jeez, there's just the spillover goods. All the books we own but haven't read, all the tv shows we can stream for free, all the crafts we have supplies for, all the athletic equipment we own and could use more of. We're good cooks and can make delicious food for pretty cheap. I'm cleaning my own house again for the first time in over a year, and I'm even enjoying that, seeing my "objects" again, and rearranging them, and seeing what we really want to keep and what we don't.<br />
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Above all: each other, and you. Potlucks at each others' houses, phone calls, hugs, laughs, bottles of cheap wine. You help me to overcome my sadness and fear and longing. You're supporting E. with ideas and love, too. We're so grateful.Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-86066931992956342682013-09-24T07:17:00.001-07:002013-09-24T07:17:24.918-07:00NewsThe good news is that E. had been miserable in that job for years, and now he gets a chance to figure out what he'd rather do or be instead, and that's a chance that everyone should have.<br />
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The good news is that we're in good shape in a lot of ways...it's not 2008, at the beginning of a nasty recession. We have great health insurance. I have a good job, that I love, in a lot of ways. Above all, we're all healthy and love each other hugely, our house isn't flooded, and mostly our day to day lives won't change too much. Not for a while.<br />
<br />
The good news is that our day to day full court press will ease a bit. We have a lot of negotiating to do in the days ahead about who will do what and how and when, but the treadmill has definitely slowed. I admit to more than a little feeling of relief.<br />
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I'm not sure what the bad news is. Money, maybe. But not for a while. The fact that there's no railing on that stupid effing deck and won't be for a good long time, most likely. We're less robust, less resilient, financially, certainly. Lord, don't let other shoes drop. <br />
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And small stuff: That I won't get to eat out with you all as much? That we'll have to clean our own house? No more Boden dresses for a bit? Hard to complain about all that.<br />
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Oh, I get swept up in anxiety now and then--waves of the jitters come and go. I have a little blues here and there. I'm curious and watchful and feel a little like I'm moving in slow motion. I'm trying to make some meaning out of things but we're just not there yet. N. reminds me to stay away from the catastrophies in my head and to just focus on the moment.<br />
<br />
So I'm doing that. I walk to work and notice: the air is cool, I am breathing in and out, the sun is shining.Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-38158490884190552672013-09-13T10:16:00.001-07:002013-09-13T10:16:19.789-07:00ReturnHalf of us left for San Diego yesterday. It doesn't happen very often, where one of us takes one kid on a trip, but it's happened a few times, and when I'm the one left at home, I have these twin, dueling reactions. On the one hand, sheer giddiness at having half the responsibility, 1/3 the people to contend with, 1/3 the housekeeping and noise and interaction (because I'm an introvert, as you know). It feels like...true and total and absolute and liberating FREEDOM! My God, I could do <i>anything. </i>Because, really, living with just one kid, who is pretty grown-up and self-sufficient, is <i>super-close</i> to living by yourself. You just have some very sweet, very easygoing company. Still, I shiver to think about what it might be like someday if E. actually took <i>both</i> girls some where. I honestly think I would combust.<br />
<br />
I remake the bed with our softest sheets and our comfiest comforter. I vacuum. I set the temperature of the house TO WHATEVER I WANT, meaning I open all the windows or run the swamp cooler or the fake fireplace and nobody is skulking around, rubbing their arms and whispering about how <i>cold</i> it is (because some of us don't have hormones that fluctuate like the stock market, and our temperatures are always stable). I take a bite of cheese right off the block, without cutting it first. Addie and I eat giant ice cream sundaes and stay up late watching truly terrible reality tv shows (<i>Dance Moms</i>, because it makes me look so <i>nice</i>) and we take long baths and smear nice-smelling lotions on and nobody wrinkles their noses and I paint my nails and nobody fake-coughs at the smell.<br />
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But then, the tv and lights go out and the rain is falling softly while much of my state is flooding and it would be very nice to have someone's familiar body next to me, heating things up and to murmur about the day with and to maybe even slightly snore a little just to cut the silence. And in the morning, when it's somehow dark all of a sudden, to bring me coffee in bed and to cut my gloomy grumpiness with their never-ending morning cheerfulness, and to have the bustle of making lunches and filling backpacks and loud kisses goodbye.<br />
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They will be home soon, and I will for just a minute look back longingly at the quiet tidiness of their absence, but mostly I will be very, very glad they have returned.Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-31977814179154783632013-09-09T18:35:00.000-07:002013-09-09T18:35:15.560-07:00Cranberry Bean SoupIn yet more evidence that I get to work with some very cool people, at one of the conferences I attended last spring, there was a panel on food politics and communication, and one of the presenters there handed out seeds from her garden. There were only a few of us at the panel (it was on the last day) so I greedily packed away a bunch in ziplocs and then promptly forgot about them until July.<br />
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Give me a break. I wasn't home much this summer.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I lazily threw them out into our neglected beds--we decided not to put much energy into gardening this summer, what with all the deck-building and traveling and droughtness going on. But lo and behold, we had several gorgeous stalks of Red Amaranth come up, have munched on some delicious cantaloupe, which we barely managed to beat the squirrels to, and picked a Butternut Squash this weekend. Pretty cool for zero effort and cost, yes?<br />
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That butternut squash was something of an affront to my person, though, I gotta say. I mean, that is like <i>October</i> food, and we're barely out of <i>August</i>. It sat on the counter all weekend, not quite ripe, daring me to make something autumnal with it.<br />
<br />
Still, Monday night is soup night, and as I was flipping through <a href="http://www.amazon.com/GOOD-HOUSEKEEPING-VEGETARIAN-Housekeeping-Cookbooks/dp/1572156236/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1378776212&sr=8-3&keywords=good+housekeeping+vegetarian+meals">my very favorite cookbook</a>, I found this recipe for Cranberry Bean Soup. And it was so delicious it almost melted me and E's faces off. I especially like that it incorporates butternut squash in an interesting way, rather than a broil-it-and-stick-it-in-the-blender way, like most other squash soups. Much too fall-ish for this heat, I say.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSrSY9eHejsKGGS6fmqLTt5GWdpj03apT5ixJeQZ0eNsmfww2MbntM5-u-zTinLGONp6IXhKfxC_5Kzz1HuFCvKgMs6nxOY04XQl87svOLr9aZkI2VEMOZ8JYAH04d4fjxUkVKY9nAGU/s1600/9781588166784_p0_v1_s260x420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSrSY9eHejsKGGS6fmqLTt5GWdpj03apT5ixJeQZ0eNsmfww2MbntM5-u-zTinLGONp6IXhKfxC_5Kzz1HuFCvKgMs6nxOY04XQl87svOLr9aZkI2VEMOZ8JYAH04d4fjxUkVKY9nAGU/s400/9781588166784_p0_v1_s260x420.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh my God, I know. It's Good Housekeeping, for Christ's sake, rather than some shishi hipster joint you have on your bookcase. But seriously, this is our go-to cookbook. There is almost no recipe in here I don't like, and most of the recipes feature ingredients we have lying around the house, and they are pleasing to many of our picky eaters. And we got it for $5 impulse buy at B&N. You could probably scoop it for $.99 used right now, I bet, on Amazon. Don't delay.</td></tr>
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<b>Description: </b>Chilean-style soup, blah, blah, blah. I substituted black beans for cranberry beans (cuz I'm not running to the store for <i>that</i>)--still delicious, and we also didn't have jalapenos so I just dumped some hot sauce in. Innovate, people!<br />
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4t olive oil<br />
1 medium butternut squash, peeled and cut into 3/4-inch pieces (because who the hell would eat the peel)<br />
1 medium onion, chopped<br />
2 garlic cloves, minced<br />
1 jalapeño, seeded and minced<br />
1t ground cumin<br />
1 3/4 cups veggie broth<br />
2 medium tomatoes, chopped<br />
1.5 pounds fresh cranberry beans (or a can of whatever beans you have lying around)<br />
1t salt<br />
1t sugar<br />
1 1/4 cups loosely packed basil leaves, chopped (or a 1/2 cup of whatever's left in your pot after raiding it all summer)<br />
2 1/4c water<br />
2 cups corn kernels cut from cobs (about 4 medium ears; I suppose you could use frozen, but I did happen to have fresh lying around, and let me tell you I think it absolutely makes the soup)<br />
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1. In your big pot, heat 2t oil over medium heat until hot. Add squash and onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until golden, about 10 minutes. Transfer squash mixture to bowl.<br />
2. In same big pot, heat 2t oil over medium heat, add garlic, jalapeño, and cumin and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Stir in broth, tomatoes, beans, salt, sugar, squash mixture, 1/4 c basil, and water; heat to boiling over high heat. Reduce heat to low; cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, until beans are tender, about 30 minutes (if you used canned beans, 15 minutes will do it and still cook the squash nicely).<br />
3. Stir in corn; heat to boiling over high heat. Reduce heat to low; cover and simmer 5 minutes longer. Stir in remaining 1 cup chopped basil.<br />
4. Eat the fuck out of that shit.<br />
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Okay, sorry. That sort of vulgarity isn't necessary. It's just that my face hurts from all the delicious melting off that happened.Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-8070938393184805152013-09-08T17:56:00.000-07:002013-09-08T17:56:10.175-07:00Summer MemoriesThe forecasters say today is supposed to be our last day of 90-degree weather, and I hope they're right, because it is just weird to start school when it is still hot enough for sweat to pool in the small of your back and the sunlight to be so damned blinding. <div>
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While I love the start of fall--the cooler temperatures, the augur of change, the chance to trade in flip-flops for a while--I found myself a bit nostalgic for summer today. Who wouldn't be?<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A gift from Africa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwrIzeZNgSJy8MjWf52NNQFqRTm14VL1nX1kIaAaLBEI1y51n-xmOfUSb-qZu0_ZCHM1HYlUNXk_DPsV0JS812k0W2e_8fCKJephjv3WlhqaBXg8o_kGuyg2DPnV6q9bsQ_i19X6Zmto/s1600/2013-08-19+08.03.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwrIzeZNgSJy8MjWf52NNQFqRTm14VL1nX1kIaAaLBEI1y51n-xmOfUSb-qZu0_ZCHM1HYlUNXk_DPsV0JS812k0W2e_8fCKJephjv3WlhqaBXg8o_kGuyg2DPnV6q9bsQ_i19X6Zmto/s640/2013-08-19+08.03.33.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting backwards here, but okay: the first day of second and fourth grades.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT4AwygnWcwJsfQ_EEtEJCoucA7jMcpKNPIyp4syA8pcJfr0UIo1O_dubjXAy7mt5rVZIC2JnJNV_xu2fGsn9Vw7qTf2OzO4mq0Vd_S3j_KiZUckBRv72RtMVa6_aX4ohGpckKZM9hb3c/s1600/2013-08-17+19.50.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT4AwygnWcwJsfQ_EEtEJCoucA7jMcpKNPIyp4syA8pcJfr0UIo1O_dubjXAy7mt5rVZIC2JnJNV_xu2fGsn9Vw7qTf2OzO4mq0Vd_S3j_KiZUckBRv72RtMVa6_aX4ohGpckKZM9hb3c/s640/2013-08-17+19.50.34.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Colorado evening.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMMdJQjb28XaKJhoN-AKL26dTuGKB_Pv-7aalZz2YxDtR9azCfFm0zKD5V_VSuQ34sEGaOVGqCf9qv2VBYQniEGrW9RNadlScJAV-enUqGosYcqoWvVQwDMJ-Q32wiBpQNa5YuCziGuWc/s1600/2013-08-17+17.57.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMMdJQjb28XaKJhoN-AKL26dTuGKB_Pv-7aalZz2YxDtR9azCfFm0zKD5V_VSuQ34sEGaOVGqCf9qv2VBYQniEGrW9RNadlScJAV-enUqGosYcqoWvVQwDMJ-Q32wiBpQNa5YuCziGuWc/s640/2013-08-17+17.57.36.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Lyons Folk Festival, one of our most beloved summer rituals.<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgex27mZsltWglwnS8JvwpQLQyLIhD1gRfSM9_3WR2VvOQgIor9bGpCZfrS-mVXutWqyyepSL1GTDq8ns813h-k57DNrY5pHEjdGEAnp8qdW4HJgEhiIRVvbgnBTNpRYnR3vN8P-c0_Qe4/s1600/2013-08-15+12.20.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgex27mZsltWglwnS8JvwpQLQyLIhD1gRfSM9_3WR2VvOQgIor9bGpCZfrS-mVXutWqyyepSL1GTDq8ns813h-k57DNrY5pHEjdGEAnp8qdW4HJgEhiIRVvbgnBTNpRYnR3vN8P-c0_Qe4/s640/2013-08-15+12.20.28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking Two Ponds Nature Reserve.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9-P85nyBKf0vbdV6KH_TpI9cjAwiFuj3deiL_6saUlTBhOnsN4eXfIGbsV2_eroLZtvWqpJrim2Y6GgNPcR8rTDKpVRTICKhA5oL0TD5_up5ry5IxWjnW8x7aMCLmGKa7LJE0WqhSdE/s1600/2013-08-06+14.23.57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9-P85nyBKf0vbdV6KH_TpI9cjAwiFuj3deiL_6saUlTBhOnsN4eXfIGbsV2_eroLZtvWqpJrim2Y6GgNPcR8rTDKpVRTICKhA5oL0TD5_up5ry5IxWjnW8x7aMCLmGKa7LJE0WqhSdE/s640/2013-08-06+14.23.57.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turning 7!<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtdi-4Pv-3548QeqWIg72yc__-Ie0bmd-BDBC1ALFImWXjsOS8RWWuGc_VPo9zTtEgsAm2vOZg-u8_jFVmaZESsapF77KxXAffW_4pNdRWkn1YLyWDwmJSLApZ7N0oOO3JHP_LUUCq7o/s1600/2013-06-27+19.55.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtdi-4Pv-3548QeqWIg72yc__-Ie0bmd-BDBC1ALFImWXjsOS8RWWuGc_VPo9zTtEgsAm2vOZg-u8_jFVmaZESsapF77KxXAffW_4pNdRWkn1YLyWDwmJSLApZ7N0oOO3JHP_LUUCq7o/s640/2013-06-27+19.55.58.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Basil. On everything.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ujs0ALZDj7DwrDUIYoETpvvr1zxkyNc62gc5LvM2SAsDfXt2ZaiaM77Ku-vWW3JxfMgxQY5Y0yqzbhGXD-p0YYtNsiNXZP9Y10i3bKMel7zNEiEnIgQeVu4zEXhJwpAW6EeYCi2suvw/s1600/2013-06-27+19.55.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ujs0ALZDj7DwrDUIYoETpvvr1zxkyNc62gc5LvM2SAsDfXt2ZaiaM77Ku-vWW3JxfMgxQY5Y0yqzbhGXD-p0YYtNsiNXZP9Y10i3bKMel7zNEiEnIgQeVu4zEXhJwpAW6EeYCi2suvw/s640/2013-06-27+19.55.34.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Life on the cul-de-sac.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3oECNRqtpm8dAYBMZ7vHE_IBshi_6ZzOb0GGh2W_tZIIa54RxTgDYvXILybS85tPXvAGSJZgHy4SVFgkwbRS6xGnMZEeBLxjaFjbRS3wl10Uipco4dF8Q7ogRjitQpeJLaC-dqZjSWE/s1600/2013-06-20+21.53.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3oECNRqtpm8dAYBMZ7vHE_IBshi_6ZzOb0GGh2W_tZIIa54RxTgDYvXILybS85tPXvAGSJZgHy4SVFgkwbRS6xGnMZEeBLxjaFjbRS3wl10Uipco4dF8Q7ogRjitQpeJLaC-dqZjSWE/s640/2013-06-20+21.53.45.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saying goodbye to old friends. So hard.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1GFuq1bap7qXxON7-lCO3TI4-kV9PLoZQnDtBGqLsHjhYdjQ53YJJylZ46qCbRq5uUMGNgUV5KMB9bo3mirU3LI8JqVfWwMmfeir4hh1R0GCH6Bq7pke-fxgjJoK2Ll7Nu1tvo7T8QU/s1600/2013-06-16+15.07.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1GFuq1bap7qXxON7-lCO3TI4-kV9PLoZQnDtBGqLsHjhYdjQ53YJJylZ46qCbRq5uUMGNgUV5KMB9bo3mirU3LI8JqVfWwMmfeir4hh1R0GCH6Bq7pke-fxgjJoK2Ll7Nu1tvo7T8QU/s640/2013-06-16+15.07.27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking in Evergreen. If you look closely, you can see a mama elk under the tree there. Addie picked the spot for us based on an outdoor camp she went to this summer.<!--?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="no"?--> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge3U3oP2jP8KJOmMk9XV4HwA_RySH3tg9Aro7oF9KSOuZuNXp_kM6gxfdLDJqpOeEYNDqjQKlV2jhgku0Nb0FzhNHDVj3pcl6r0S46hHZ6w1dcznDEwVeOHL7RN4QKFY0zAnlU2GVXs2A/s1600/2013-05-30+11.48.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge3U3oP2jP8KJOmMk9XV4HwA_RySH3tg9Aro7oF9KSOuZuNXp_kM6gxfdLDJqpOeEYNDqjQKlV2jhgku0Nb0FzhNHDVj3pcl6r0S46hHZ6w1dcznDEwVeOHL7RN4QKFY0zAnlU2GVXs2A/s640/2013-05-30+11.48.33.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nolie's last day of first grade.</td></tr>
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≈<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqoumvaqVtrHr4e8mLpPyYkkjCFUDw1_LQqkLkrMXU0EMlNARTFqgEcpE9lHbNPqvL8HW7_j5BnErhJciSsI-6o_kHg1v98oKQcIQdLRTB7q7lP8hH9mU2B_aqV5uzyx-8lVfLNFgGwg/s1600/2013-04-28+07.53.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqoumvaqVtrHr4e8mLpPyYkkjCFUDw1_LQqkLkrMXU0EMlNARTFqgEcpE9lHbNPqvL8HW7_j5BnErhJciSsI-6o_kHg1v98oKQcIQdLRTB7q7lP8hH9mU2B_aqV5uzyx-8lVfLNFgGwg/s640/2013-04-28+07.53.10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking the boys in Van Bibber, which has miraculously stayed green almost all summer.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJ6zphMBjqP4AylqU6YtR6ZtKRQ-BbnAy2nx0OzjZsnafsq0nTJaAreKFIu6E7QjogOEUeRIPeuj4Ao-q9gqPKmxZFt65bBfpTQDT8zxlD1pJIxzz7KwLxUzkmL1cI2Y34N1F7aoIc8w/s1600/2013-07-27+15.59.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJ6zphMBjqP4AylqU6YtR6ZtKRQ-BbnAy2nx0OzjZsnafsq0nTJaAreKFIu6E7QjogOEUeRIPeuj4Ao-q9gqPKmxZFt65bBfpTQDT8zxlD1pJIxzz7KwLxUzkmL1cI2Y34N1F7aoIc8w/s640/2013-07-27+15.59.34.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the new deck with Grambie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJB13Wxz9JWcIzvJ3HmfZ5A8Wl1qO71XhZrRZfm634j2XwCar2wyy_ISL7Oeb4j3BPZUYPtYw-JVJt5TIhfrNryNr5UGQGym67BfYrcj15x0z3wrwYQS_268P2o-i1L5cmp8DgFRgUO0/s1600/2013-07-28+13.56.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJB13Wxz9JWcIzvJ3HmfZ5A8Wl1qO71XhZrRZfm634j2XwCar2wyy_ISL7Oeb4j3BPZUYPtYw-JVJt5TIhfrNryNr5UGQGym67BfYrcj15x0z3wrwYQS_268P2o-i1L5cmp8DgFRgUO0/s640/2013-07-28+13.56.02.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chilling out with Peanut and reading on one of our many rainy afternoons this summer.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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</div>
Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-34094385981718605672013-09-08T17:25:00.001-07:002013-09-08T17:25:04.790-07:00Family PotluckPhew! These last three weeks were a lot more hectic than I expected. But I just kept reminding myself that we were all back in school and that this kind of year is always crazy and that we would all be okay. <br />
<br />
As you well know, I tend to revert to complainer mode when I'm feeling things are spinning out of control, and I've been doing plenty of that. But there's also been some interesting soul searching going on, regarding our future, and what's next, and how we want our lives to look moving forward.<br />
<br />
There have also been some moments of exquisite gratitude. Have I told you that one way we manage the kookiness of being working parents is to have a meal schedule? Yep: Monday is soup and sandwich night, Tuesday is pasta night, Wednesday is make-your-own-pizza night, Thursday is Mexican night, Friday night we eat out, and Saturday is open (whatever we feel like eating, or often we have plans). It's a good system, but with some flexibility built in, and we all like it.<br />
<br />
But I think Sunday night is really all of our favorites. We call it family potluck night, and it's an awesome way for us to mark the end of the old week and the beginning of the new; to get the kids involved in preparing meals; to eat up random odds and ends hanging around the kitchen; and to really just be together in a very simple, lovely way.<br />
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It's pretty straightforward: everyone just brings something to the table, loosely coordinated, and according to one's ability. Tonight, Nolie cut up some fruits and vegetables and arranged them on a platter; Addie diced and mixed mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil from our garden to put in the pasta that Eric made; and I diced up some going-mushy tomatoes and broiled nearly-moldy bread for bruschetta. The girls set the table, Nolie made placecards, and we lit some candles. The cool thing is doing dinner like this frees each of us up to try something new, or to combine things in new ways, and the girls have serious buy-in at dinner. <br />
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I hope you're having a happy Sunday!<br />
<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-13037294891044035812013-08-15T14:14:00.003-07:002013-08-15T14:14:29.634-07:00Ready for SchoolMan, I like this. I agree with all of it. Except for maybe the toilet and comedy one.<br />
<br />
From <a href="http://imissyouwheniblink.com/">I Miss You When I Blink</a>:<br />
<br />
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BRAVE</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> If something is hard to do, is that a reason not to do it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> Nope. That’s a
reason to be extra proud after we’ve done it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> What if we’re afraid we won’t be good at something?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">A:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Don't think about being good at it. Think of it as trying something
new.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we choose to do something or not do something because we
worry people will talk about us?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">A:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> No. People will always talk. We can at least give them
something interesting to talk about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we have to be the best at everything?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">A:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Nope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we have to do <i>our</i> best at everything?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> Yes. Always.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Even math?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> Even math.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">BE
KIND</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we ever do something that will hurt someone else?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we ever take or break something belonging to someone else?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">A:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> If we do, by accident or on purpose, harm someone else’s body,
feelings, or property, what’s the first and most important thing to say?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> I’m sorry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> What do we do if we see someone who has nobody to play with,
sit with, or talk to?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> Play with them.
Sit with them. Talk to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> What do we say to every teacher and staff person we see?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">A:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we ever make fun of our own sibling at school?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">A:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> No. Save that for home. Just kidding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we tell the truth?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> Yes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">BE
WISE</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we do anything on purpose that could result in our own
serious injury?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Does every single thing that pops into our head need to be said
out loud at the moment we think it?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">A:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Dude, seriously. No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we say or do something just because we heard it on TV, saw
it on YouTube, or read it in a book?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> No. This is
real life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> What about cutting holes in our school clothes with scissors
like that time ONE OF YOU CAME HOME WITHOUT THE LEGS OF YOUR PANTS -- is that a
good idea?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Q:</span></b><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> Do we do anything AT ALL involving comedy and a toilet?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">
<b>A:</b> No.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-83443427807552782202013-08-08T18:00:00.005-07:002013-08-08T18:00:37.992-07:00Nolie, 7Can you believe this kid is 7 already?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhDxQiNL3xGGRrnLhPoia81OO1eTRuH2GXQPfK5cJJnqEeUM-kGqCEZPJipJcdj3fsJULD8Xrp6XTSUsJt0gLVTp_dUIXuP4XTNYi5G-0IHODIvWYwVUUML4M17jRb4MgUABgoxRDNjs/s1600/IMG_9266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhDxQiNL3xGGRrnLhPoia81OO1eTRuH2GXQPfK5cJJnqEeUM-kGqCEZPJipJcdj3fsJULD8Xrp6XTSUsJt0gLVTp_dUIXuP4XTNYi5G-0IHODIvWYwVUUML4M17jRb4MgUABgoxRDNjs/s320/IMG_9266.JPG" width="204" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
She and Addie made this "outfit" from scraps in my dress-up bin, in case you couldn't tell, and then took pictures of all the outfits and accessories they created and made a catalogue.<br />
<br />
I'm part proud of this and part mortified. You know, because I have at times been addicted to catalogues, and clearly that has translated a little.<br />
<br />
Nolie: I don't quite know what to say about her, because like always, and like with these birthday posts always, you'll just never get a full sense of the cosmic, maddening brilliance that is her, the tremendous, almost spooky sense of empathy she has, for instance, from a few paragraphs written off the cuff. <br />
<br />
She is probably the most strong willed person I have ever met, and also one of the most gentle. <br />
<br />
She is so much better, physically, than she was a year ago. Her hair is full and she has grown almost an inch since April (E. measures them on birthdays and at the New Year, and for a long time, her marks were so close together as to suggest no difference, and the term "failure to thrive," usually applied to newborns, came to my mind often). She has lost one tooth on her own, without having to have it pulled, and another is loose. She loves soccer, movie nights, dancing, singing, playdates, cuddles, and reading.<br />
<br />
She turns phrases like an adult, often to endearing or hilarious results. But you laugh at your peril. She requires above all to be taken seirously.<br />
<br />
She refuses to learn how to ride her bike without her training wheels. Both my kids have been slow on the uptake with the bikes.<br />
<br />
She is still anxious and shy when meeting new people and in new situations, but it takes her five minutes to warm up and then she talks and talks and talks and makes best friends with everyone.<br />
<br />
She still adores stuffed animals. When given the choice, she will always buy the stuffed animal.<br />
<br />
She is easily hurt. Easily offended. Easily embarrassed. Still easily angered, though nowhere near as bad as last fall.<br />
<br />
She is fiercely loyal. When she wants to be.<br />
<br />
We were rafting the Salmon River this summer, and she turned to our guide and told him he had longer armpit hair than her daddy. She asks why I wear so much lipstick (I didn't think I did). When I told her her words sometimes hurt my feelings, she immediately began telling me I "look younger than my years." She is not afraid to call them like she sees them, and also totally happy to blow smoke when she thinks she should.<br />
<br />
When one of us is gone, whether at work, or on a trip, or just running to the grocery store, she is just not right until that person is back. I think she experiences our family as one unit, almost in a physical sense, and when one is gone, she finds it difficult to breathe or concentrate or be happy. This deep connection with others, in my opinion, will be her greatest strength and her greatest burden.<br />
<br />
I adore her and am inspired by her and am maddened on occasion by her. I can't understand where she came from or who she will be. She's just a gift of the most precious kind, and I feel so blessed to have her in my life.Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-20756892151839057192013-07-30T20:25:00.002-07:002013-07-30T20:25:21.496-07:00Summer Slides<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Today was the first day back at work in a meetings-in-the-office-all-day sort of way. I was sort of dreading it, but am also sort of tired of the endless travel and unstructuredness of the days, and was maybe out of sorts at first. It ended up being a lovely, easy day, and I was reminded that I very often like my work, and how lucky that makes me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And I was also struck with some premature nostalgia for the summer, which is almost already all gone:</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnfxkmjyheJ-tqjZYK884N4om6d9i2pLqmEHhmaY6lBs5k2ASW8y06L0DMccyH4ygzz7x6NrFVOEv87PRacY5Yh3g1-gSKDOjFKFUTtV5m7QOdw26tiv2mEEMoXVCQD3Ru0RDt5w7MO0/s1600/IMG_20130513_093151_608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnfxkmjyheJ-tqjZYK884N4om6d9i2pLqmEHhmaY6lBs5k2ASW8y06L0DMccyH4ygzz7x6NrFVOEv87PRacY5Yh3g1-gSKDOjFKFUTtV5m7QOdw26tiv2mEEMoXVCQD3Ru0RDt5w7MO0/s400/IMG_20130513_093151_608.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Berkeley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLv0933Wi11Xv1R5RbKfpaBqHPQlJa8TER3J-efn6Pyf46_AQ06oex3SqHApbspyRzVViovE0BtdOSFFWCsRTQGYO47YgApFq-tvI2lOModtU_4PQFDUZxtUwem7iLSelmSOByxWqUWSM/s1600/IMG_20130521_104628_710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLv0933Wi11Xv1R5RbKfpaBqHPQlJa8TER3J-efn6Pyf46_AQ06oex3SqHApbspyRzVViovE0BtdOSFFWCsRTQGYO47YgApFq-tvI2lOModtU_4PQFDUZxtUwem7iLSelmSOByxWqUWSM/s400/IMG_20130521_104628_710.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Universal Studios</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzHuBad84nKcTZc50KYCYY3jPa3scbyvFw2ldQTQNCVtZ9wzgVz5MXNh5YcOeMj3N887Ob44nVZ9emdGLd5EyyetyL3v1IuN0LMl2BImmXe-ecnO5kyv6PBQ0rbuVMB4-zk0MqirgSps/s1600/IMG_20130523_173253_034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzHuBad84nKcTZc50KYCYY3jPa3scbyvFw2ldQTQNCVtZ9wzgVz5MXNh5YcOeMj3N887Ob44nVZ9emdGLd5EyyetyL3v1IuN0LMl2BImmXe-ecnO5kyv6PBQ0rbuVMB4-zk0MqirgSps/s400/IMG_20130523_173253_034.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting in line for the Despicable Me ride</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Fuffikins<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Sweden</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bob Marley Room, Delft</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Netherlands</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Redfish</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big tooth lost, on a paddle boat in the middle of Redfish Lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sawtooths</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McCall</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Payette Lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ponderosa Pines, Magic</td></tr>
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Tomorrow, I'm off to Logan Canyon for a writing spurt with the Hive. Last trip for a while; I'm so grateful for everything that made these trips possible this summer, and am also so grateful that soon it will be time to be home, and to give myself over to the rhythms of fall and family as we return to school and routine.</div>
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<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-30342087172389017902013-07-22T08:41:00.003-07:002013-07-22T08:41:23.756-07:00More Signs<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1F_3z_zALNxlchB6GNMHJZe2xM3ck0c6-Ksa7vbrPTf47J4ts1ZgyL9M8PTN4nkOpQL1oJKxvFhwiCvjn_siCHEdLaaD14nii49jQK51782a-7yJGYlWf84wJ1d42-aqyrMW12VsI5o8/s1600/2013-07-12+10.53.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1F_3z_zALNxlchB6GNMHJZe2xM3ck0c6-Ksa7vbrPTf47J4ts1ZgyL9M8PTN4nkOpQL1oJKxvFhwiCvjn_siCHEdLaaD14nii49jQK51782a-7yJGYlWf84wJ1d42-aqyrMW12VsI5o8/s400/2013-07-12+10.53.01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is an actual, serious sign. But I'm posting it, because by the time you figured out what the hell it means, the giant flood that is going to engulf all of the Netherlands, including you and your family, would have already swallowed you up.<br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MBtaO5oTTI3Lp03EG_D2kaZ-bF7J31CgQZ55lVQjZXVKY_dUQI5Wf5LsEoKhDtRPkF16bk3z5Z-NjuAq75OSJjD8bzNAt-BqEmNFF4irqc21MQltvsS9LiNe8_HJyxoJxriRh6EninE/s1600/2013-07-12+13.07.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MBtaO5oTTI3Lp03EG_D2kaZ-bF7J31CgQZ55lVQjZXVKY_dUQI5Wf5LsEoKhDtRPkF16bk3z5Z-NjuAq75OSJjD8bzNAt-BqEmNFF4irqc21MQltvsS9LiNe8_HJyxoJxriRh6EninE/s400/2013-07-12+13.07.18.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dogs say different things in different languages, but I'm pretty sure this is the universal dog-word for, "Yay! I'm pooping on your lawn!"</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtMQAzlo8cBuZflZmJMMIsuuS7M4xNSfrrC_9dvQ3Q3TafRLWe0ukQbJiFZVAOB135YgqNVNpiysy4D-RKBc409GsqG3G5eRi4-H-ZABdL5Hp63WyKMFqhlrSr8Y392FvX4zgBSoDIR4/s1600/2013-07-12+15.31.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtMQAzlo8cBuZflZmJMMIsuuS7M4xNSfrrC_9dvQ3Q3TafRLWe0ukQbJiFZVAOB135YgqNVNpiysy4D-RKBc409GsqG3G5eRi4-H-ZABdL5Hp63WyKMFqhlrSr8Y392FvX4zgBSoDIR4/s400/2013-07-12+15.31.07.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because fashion is an adventure sport.<br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-24361104390414767752013-07-22T08:35:00.002-07:002013-07-22T08:35:33.980-07:00Three Great ThingsJetlag kicked my ASS in the Netherlands (I barely felt it on the trip to Sweden) so the whole trip seems something like a dream. But I remember taking these three pictures and thinking, these might be the very best things about living in Northern Europe (aside from the subsidized health care and education, and all that):<br />
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1. The Town Square. There are these areas where the buildings form a square, and in the middle of the square are giant, old-growth trees, and hundreds of tables and chairs with massive umbrellas and heat lamps. All day long, people gather and congregate and have coffee, or a snack, or a beer or wine if it's the afternoon. There are places for children to play and people chatter and relax and seem to enjoy life. I don't think there's anything quite like it in the U.S., and it gives one a sense of community and the social that is totally pleasing.<br />
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And yes, I know I'm not noticing anything new here, flaneur, flaneuse, blah blah blah. But it's still striking after living in isolating American suburbia the past six years.<br />
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2. Bikes! Everyone, and I mean everyone, rides bikes. When I was a foreign exchange student in France twenty years ago (!) everyone could tell I was American because of how I dressed, even before I opened my mouth and they heard my accent. Now, everyone can tell I'm American because <i>I'm walking</i>. Sure, there are cars here, and some pedestrians, but mostly people are on bikes. In heels. In skirts. As old ladies and men. As toddlers (they have little scooters). Dragging grocery carts behind them. On crappy-shit bikes (most are). On bikes with kiddy trailers. With friends balanced on the steering wheel or the back wheel. No matter how you cut it: Two wheels are the thing.<br />
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I like this a lot. I think there is a tyranny of the fancy bike in Colorado. If you're not wearing spandex and a race jersey and on a $5000 bike, you look like a deranged bumpkin. I much prefer the attitude in Northern Europe, which is that bikes are cheap, easy, and fun to use, and you don't need any special equipment to ride them. They just get you from A to B, keep you healthy, and make sense. <br />
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It also helps that the entire culture is built around accommodating bikes. There are massive bike parking lots at most public locations, and people rarely lock them. Because most bikes are crappy, and everyone has one, so why steal one?<br />
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3. Coffee. The coffee is rich and thick and you stop every two hours to have one, and it's always served with a little shortbread cookie, which totally satisfies the urge for something sweet.<br />
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Perfect.<br />
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<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-27613531186855739362013-07-22T08:20:00.002-07:002013-07-22T08:20:47.753-07:00A Bedtime StoryOnce, there was this gal, and she had to go to Europe for a week for work. Back at home, this gal was married with two kids and two dogs, and had a nice house with a dog door in it. It was a very nice family, and a pretty nice house. <br />
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The dogs were cute.<br />
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But a little dumb.<br />
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About ten feet from the dog door was a compost pile. This gal liked to try things like composting, because she suffers from eco-guilt regarding everything she and her family consumes and throws away, being modern Americans and all.<br />
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Anyway, one night in Europe, this gal gets up early in the morning to find a text from her husband, saying that he is freaking out because he went downstairs in the middle of the night to let the dogs outside, and he found this:<br />
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See, the raccoon had come in through the dog door, because it likes eating out of the gal's compost pile, and because it had been raining real hard, and the dog door promised warmth and perhaps more food. While the gal's husband and dogs were sleeping, the raccoon had come in the house, climbed up the blinds, and was now perched on top of the window, with one of its incredibly creepy little fingers attempting to get the vent open, so that it could live in the gal's vent system and ruin her drywall with its babies, urine, and feces.<br />
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Also, the gal needs to dust the top of the lamp.<br />
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That is nose drool on the ceiling.<br />
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The funny thing is, the dogs didn't wake up because there was a raccoon in their house. Nope. They just happened to need to pee. So the gal's husband got up in the middle of the night to let them out, in the pitch dark, and just happened to hear something panting above him in the dark of the night. He fumbled with the lamp, the one hanging right by our friend the raccoon, and when he finally got it on, he found our friend.<br />
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He almost pooped his pants. That is a direct quote.<br />
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Here is the seemingly rabid, drooling raccoon. Which is the size of a toddler.<br />
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The gal's husband finally shooed the raccoon out of the gal's house, and now the gal and her family make sure to lock the dog door every night. The gal's husband had a hard time sleeping that night, for sure, and the gal threw up in her mouth a few times, all the way over in Europe, at the thought of this giant raccoon in her house, thousands of miles away.<br />
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The end.Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377149308801306604.post-48627986233411087522013-07-07T11:04:00.002-07:002013-07-07T11:04:41.010-07:00Addie Selfies: A Series<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Jen Schneiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05011052819704879104noreply@blogger.com0