Books and Things

I haven't done much in the way of reading or updating my reading list for quite some time. When I taught at OCC last fall, all of my reading time was consumed (and then some) by reading my students' ever captivating and cleverly nuanced essays. Those classes were followed by the most intense (not necessarily in a good way) Christmas season of all time (may I never have to be in charge of another ward Christmas program!), and now it's March and who knows what I've been doing!

My mom asked me today what I'm reading, and I had no response, which I thought was borderline pathetic. So I'm back, baby! I'll start posting my new reads on my reading list (Jeremy's needs updating as well; he's done nothing but read for the last few months), and I'll rate each title as NR (not recommended), R (recommended) or L (loved it!). You probably won't see many NRs on the list, since I don't usually finish a book I don't like after the first 50 pages or so.

I think my first selection of the new reading year will be Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking. I love her essay collection, Slouching Towards Bethlehem, and her novel Run River, though not my favorite book, nevertheless played an important role in my thesis, so why not try more Didion? She's a good seed.

Things that go "grind" in the night...

And of course I mean "grind" here in the sense of "grinding up old food and chicken bones." Because this is what happened: Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a notoriously light sleeper. This was true even before my Mighty Mom senses kicked in when Clara came home. So last night, I was snoozing away in whatever light sleep cycle I spend most of my time in when suddenly, at 2:30 in the morning, I heard a soft "thud" followed by a distant whirring. At first I thought I was just hearing the fan we keep on in the hallway for white noise, but before long I realized something more sinister was afoot.

In the past, if something like this had occurred I would have immediately woken Jeremy to go investigate, but because of 1)our super-duper deadbold and 2)our squeakier than squeaky floors (seriously), I feel extremely confident that no intruder would dare come into our house to steal our finery. Or at least if they did we would hear them easily. And since no squeaky footsteps preceeded the "thud," I decided to investigate myself.

I followed the sound of the whirring into the kitchen, where the noise became more of a grinding, and this, I quickly discovered, was because the garbage disposal was on. Yes, friends, at 2:30 in the morning, the garbage disposal was running of its own accord. I switched it off, turned on the light, and looked frantically around the front of the apartment. (Could someone have gotten past our intruder-detecting floors?) Assured that no intruders lurked in the shadows, I darted back into our bedroom, stood next to Jeremy and said, my heart pounding, "Uh, Jer, I just turned off the garbage disposal."

I always expect my nocturnal announcements to be met with a bit more shock and awe than they ever are, but all Jeremy said was, "Oh, yeah, I think that might be my fault." And as it turned out, it was. Jeremy had balanced a new loaf of bread on the sugar canister, which sits just beneath the switch to the disposal. From 9:00 p.m. until 2:30 a.m., gravity slowly worked its magic on that loaf of bread, until suddenly its center shifted, knocking it off the sugar canister and switching on the disposal.

This should have satisfied me, but he has made up stories before to get me to go back to sleep, so I had to go examine the evidence for myself. He was in luck: the bread was lying on the counter, half resting against the sugar. And so I knew it was true. And so I went back to sleep. But I will say this: fewer things are more freakishly off-putting than the spontaneous running of the garbage disposal in the middle of a snowy Syracuse night.

Easter

We enjoyed a lovely Easter weekend. I actually didn't get any pictures of our Sunday activities, which is too bad since Clara was wearing the new dress I made her this week. I had thought to take one when we got home from a delicious Easter dinner with friends, but we were chagrined to discover on our return that she was covered front and back with some of her own brand of loosey-goosey filth. Happy Easter.

But despite the somewhat inauspicious ending to our day, our Easter was wonderful. When I was growing up, the Easter Bunny always came to our house on Saturday, so we've decided to carry on the tradition. Unfortunately, half of our Easter Bunny team was out late on Friday night and forgot about it when she came home. So the Easter Bunny had to come Saturday during Clara's nap. She didn't care. She was thrilled to find a candy necklace and three packages of Smarties in her basket, and she also enjoyed discovering the little stuffed dog and book about Jesus that I bought her several weeks ago and have just let her play with because I am lazy. Again, she was still pretty excited.

On Saturday morning we went to our ward Easter party, which was fun an full of energy. Clara does not always respond well to noisy crowds, and she's going through a little bout of separation anxiety, so she stayed pretty close to us. But we did convince her to pick up a few eggs, and I got teased by a few people on Sunday for being so over-protective of her eggs. Who could blame me? We were standing outside in 30 degree weather (thank goodness for the sun!) trying to coax Clara into picking up a mere four eggs, and just when she'd reach down to grab one, a big kid would try to take it from under her nose. Stay away, big kids! I think it's important to teach kids early to stand up for themselves. :)


On Easter Sunday we had a great, if busy, day at church, then went for and Easter feast/birthday party at our friends Julia and Spencer's house. Two other families were there as well, and we had delicious food and fantastic company.

I am grateful for Easter, not only for the opportunities to have fun and start fantasizing about spring in earnest, but also for the sweet reminder about the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ. I am grateful for my faith in him.

Happy St. Patrick's!

We had a fun day with our favorite leprechaun. I didn't do anything too fancy to mark this very special holiday (we were just discussing at dinner how little we know about the origins/meaning of St. Patrick's Day) but we did make sure to dress Clara in green, and we very wisely taught her how to pinch. She's been giving us the best "pinchy-pinchies" all day. I told Jeremy we should not encourage her to pinch, so we'll probably not bring it up again (well, I can only speak for myself; Jeremy thinks it's great). And you may also notice that we made sure she gave herself a nice bruise on her forehead on Friday so that it could be just the right shade of green by today. We really get into the minor holidays at our house.


Jeremy said his favorite part of the day was when I brought Clara around the corner this morning wearing her red jammies and this green necklace saying, "You can't pinch me, Dadoo!" Interesting note on the origins of the necklace: we bought two of these necklaces a couple of years ago when we were in Chicago during the St. Patrick's Day parade. Three dollars seemed like a ton for two cheap bead necklaces at the time, but clearly the gems continue to pay for themselves.

And this is Clara standing on her truck, as I was telling her not to (and taking her picture, of course) and warning her that if she persisted in standing on her truck she would fall on her face. And then she did. She did not seem bothered by it.

Soylicious!

During a moment of motherhood reflection the other day, I realized that a really solid portion of my waking hours over the last sixteen months or so have been spent trying to somehow get nourishment into this girl. Clara is a great eater and there are very few things she won't eat, yet between 13 months of breastfeeding, then the challenge of getting her to eat solid foods, then the task of teaching her to feed herself with her hands, and now working with her on being able to spoon/fork feed herself, I feel like it's a never ending project! Fortunately I have witnessed countless children who, at some point, are extremely proficient at total self-feeding. For example, I have never seen a kindergartner who could not eat completely by herself. This gives me hope.

Actually, Clara has been doing well with her spoon/fork feeding. At the very least, she thinks it's enormously novel. Yesterday at dinner Jeremy helped her to spear some of her delicious chicken onto her fork, and then she successfully speared several pieces of her own. And then it just became too difficult, but she was so proud of herself for holding her own fork that she never put it down, and in fact before picking up each piece of chicken with her fingers she would give a perfunctory tap with her fork onto her plate. *tap* *tap* *tap*, pick up chicken with fingers... You get the idea.

She has had great success with self-feeding thicker liquids and cereals, like Farina, oatmeal, and this delectable soy yogurt. I think I should send this picture to Silk to see if they want to give her money for being so cute while eating their product. I practically wanted to pay her myself!

Winter is for the birds

When we lived in Montana, I thought the winters seemed very long and cold. And they were. But I'm sorry, Montana, you hold no candle to the never-ending drear that is Syracuse. Bozeman, I'd say, had longer stretches of bitter cold than we have here in S-Y, NY, but Syracuse wins for the most snow coupled with the least sun.

Saturday night the wind howled and blew, bringing with it first an ice storm then a snow storm. Jeremy wakes up very early on Sunday mornings so he can leave the house by 6:30 to walk to church for his bishopric meeting (we only have one car), and I found out later that he slipped and slid his way up and down the hills to the church (which is about a mile away), with snow blowing in his face the whole time. Misery!

When Clara and I left for church at about 9:20, I almost fell while carrying her and my assorted gear (diaper bag, stuff for my Primary Sharing Time, etc.) from our apartment to our car. Then when I got to the car I couldn't get any of the doors open, because they were all frozen shut. I dropped my bags in the snow and found a little patch of ice to stand Clara in (easy to find ice, since the entire parking lot was like a skating rink). Then I braced myself against the wheels and tried each door with all of my strength--with no luck. I walked over to get Clara, who by this time was eating fistfuls of filthy parking lot snow with a big grin on her face (so gross; I can barely think about it) and took her back into the apartment, where she proceeded to start screaming since she'd rather have been standing in the parking lot eating dirty snow. By this time it was about 9:45, and I assumed that most of my neighbors who are Mormon had probably left for church. I made a few fruitless phone calls then finally got ahold of Jeremy at the church. By this time I was crying (talk about the last straw this winter!!) and had no idea what to do. I needed to get to church relatively quickly, since I was playing the piano for a friend's vocal solo. Jeremy had no car, of course, and not enough time to trudge the mile back to the house. He ran out to the parking lot to see if he could find a friend with a car he could borrow. Finally he spotted two of the missionaries who work in our area and sent them in their car to rescue his poor wife.

I managed to pull myself together while waiting for the missionaries to come. When they arrived, I gave them my car key then proceeded to re-bundle Clara to go back into the snow. When we got to the car, the elders had managed to get the hatchback open (we drive a VW Golf), climb through, start the car, and, through a combination of inside pushing and outside pulling, get two of the doors open. Ridiculous! Winter! Bah! I thanked the elders profusely and strapped Clara in while they scraped the ice off the windshield, then I went to church. (And just for the record, the rest of my day was just lovely, despite a depressing beginning.)

Anyway, this is obviously a long story, but I think it well illustrates how lame winter is in Syracuse. We've had nine feet of snow this winter, and we still have at least six weeks of probable snow weather left. I couldn't even bring myself to take a picture of the snow yesterday, since it all looks the same to me, and it looks dark, friends. Very dark.

With all of my naysaying, though, I will say that summer and fall in Central New York are beautiful and pleasant enough to be almost worth the long, dark winter. Almost. I can't wait for spring!

Get Lost

I've been meaning to post these pictures for several weeks, ever since the premiere of a fantastic season of Lost. Jeremy and I don't watch much TV, but we will admit to being enthusiastic Lost fans. The conspiracy! The intrigue! This is TV magic at its best.

In honor of the Lost premiere last month, we got together with our friends Spencer and Julia and a few others for a Lost party. We ate theme food and watched the episode on a 40 minute Tivo delay to avoid commercials, thereby heightening our TV viewing experience. Julia and Spencer throw quite a party, and we were happy to come along and contribute what we could.

The spread: Julia and Spencer provided some roasted "boar" skewers and several choices of beverage from the Dharma pantry.

I made these fish biscuits. I was trying to be allergy friendly for some reason, even though Clara doesn't really eat cookies, and the biscuits turned out pretty bland. But just look at them!


Jeremy and I also brough some veggies to go with the Dharma ranch composite dip.


Julia made this plane crash cupcakes. You have no idea how hard it is to find miniature toy passenger planes! The jets still get the point across, I think.


And finally, we topped off the feast with some classic Apollo bars. The Initiative fed us well, wouldn't you agree?


So, any other Lost-philes out there? We are always ready to theorize (split consciousnesses, anyone?)

When Clara is sick...

...she gets to more or less do whatever she wants. This is her watching her favorite "shhh" (show), a Little People DVD about animals. She loves that thing, even though she watches TV for only maybe an hour or so per week. Unless she is sick, which she was on Thursday and Friday (I will spare you the details, but we went through lots of diapers and lots of outfits; use your imagination).

We also made this little fort in the corner of her room. She was excited to try to lie down on her "plillow" (which she never quite reached in this picture). Eventually she would only play in there if I would too. And I am never one to say no to lying down and doing very little, so I was happy to oblige.