Little Turnip on the Prairie

I've been re-reading the Little House on the Prairie books this week for the first time since childhood. I picked up the set for a great deal at a little used bookstore in town, and for a while I was hesitant to read them again, since I feared they might have lost some of the magic they held for me as a child. My fears were in vain, however, and I have felt all manner of heartswelling emotions as I've lived the pioneer saga again with the Ingalls family. I will even admit to openly weeping today as I finished the last book, which is extremely rare for me to do, on account of my stone-cold heart. I've noticed things this time that I didn't notice as a child (Ma's deep-seated hatred of Indians, for example), but overall I have been in a happy little prairie cloud.

Anyway, in one of the books (I can't remember which one, exactly), the family is busily harvesting turnips and talking about how much they (and their horses) enjoy eating turnips, raw and cooked. I realized that I have never in my life tasted a turnip, but I figured that whatever is good enough for the Ingalls is good enough for me. So off we went to buy some turnips.

Now, I don't know if the produce folks at our local Fred Meyer have some kind of sick sense of humor, but for some reason they store the turnips in the same bin with parsnips and rutabagas. I am thinking that none of those vegetables are currently at the height of their popularity, so I feel I am not alone in being uncertain how to distinguish the three. No, that's not entirely true. I could definitely tell which one was a parsnip. But turnips and rutabagas? If you ask me, the turnips should be stored in a bin with, oh, let's say broccoli and apples. That would make choosing a turnip very easy.

Nevertheless, my powers of reasoning (and faith) prevailed, and I managed to come home with two robust and lovely turnips. I put them in the fridge, after which I proceeded to stare at them several times a day for the next three or four days, since I had no idea what to do with them. Finally, I just decided to cook them and mash them and hope for the best, but not before tasting a little bit of raw turnip. A note here: if you like strong radishes, you will like raw turnips. I do not like radishes.

Cooked and mashed with some milk, butter, salt, and pepper, turnips are actually pretty good (how could they not be?). They're very reminiscent of cooked cauliflower. And I mean very reminiscent. I can't say that we'll be eating them weekly, but I'd go for a turnip again. I'm just like Laura! But first, I think I'd like to tackle a rutabaga.

These teeth are made for cleaning

Clara recently took her first trip to the dentist--a task I have been putting off for a good long while on account of my own dental phobias. All I can say is this: if I got to go to the dentist where she gets to go to the dentist, I would go all the time. The office had a slide, games, trains, video games, and toys, and once she got into the exam room she got to watch the end of "Kung-Fu Panda" while getting her teeth cleaned.

All in all, a pleasant visit and a clean bill of dental health. And she got some new "tooth-taste," the kind you have to spit out, which has added a whole new level of adventure to her evening cleaning.

Best Friends

If any of my dear readers have seen the PBS show Word World, I want you to picture, if you can, the character Shark. Got it? This image will be important for you as you study this picture of Clara. I'm sure you'll be able to tell this without any prompting from me, but just in case, this is a picture of Clara with Best Friend Pretend Shark. That's what she calls him, and that's who she has her arm around.


Clara just loves Best Friend Pretend Shark. He is a great friend to her, and he's generally quite fun to have around. He doesn't live at our house, of course, since he's water dwelling by nature, so he's usually either "very far away at the ocean" or "very far away at the lake." The phrase "very far away" is clearly relative, since we are but five minutes from the lake but a solid five hours from the ocean. Nevertheless, Shark manages to make either commute in good time when he is summoned to our home.

The funny thing about Best Friend Pretend Shark, though, is that sometimes he is either unwilling or unable to get to our house by himself. This typically happens when we're in the car.

"Where's my Best Friend Pretend Shark?" Clara asks.

"I'm not sure," I'll reply, hoping that he'll show up so we won't have to spend our whole car ride talking about where he is and why he isn't in the car and where he'll possibly sit when he gets here since the diaper bag is on the passenger seat.

Typically, though, if we're in the car and Shark needs to come along I'll either have to convince her that he's spending the day with his family or I'll have to be close enough to the lake to swing by. If we can get a visual of the lake (and by this I mean if Clara can get a visual of the lake) then Clara will start yelling at him to get in the car.

In some ways I feel bad for Shark, since every time he finally makes it into the car (and I buckle his seatbelt) he is almost instantly forgotten. He doesn't get to go swimming with us or to the store or to the park. He just gets buckled in and has to sit around in the hot car. Poor Shark. Oh well. It probably beats swimming around in the lake. He is a shark, after all.

All Hail the Birthday Boy!

Our little sunshine baby turned one today. I'm not sure how it happened, since for the past two months or so I've been telling him to stop growing and to stay a baby forever. He is so young to be so disobedient.


Despite the fact that I can't seem to freeze time, we had a fun day with Jonner. He didn't seem phased by the fanfare in his honor, although he certainly enjoyed playing with the balloons with Clara.



Clara, for her part, was super pumped about Jonathan's birthday. Her favorite thing, I think, she summed up as follows: "When I went into my room for my rest, there was no party. Then after my rest, I came to the door, opened it, and there was a paaaarty!!" She is thrilled with all of Jonathan's new toys and wasted no time in taking his new boat for a spin in the tub tonight. Jonathan, luckily, is very magnanimous and didn't even seem to notice.


And let's be honest: what's a birthday without a few adorable misadventures? I made a caramel apple upside down cake, which was definitely not the most child-friendly of cakes (plus, I forgot to have him blow out his candles until after I'd cut and served half of it). It was this cake, and its evidently bad karma, that contributed most of the misadventures (and laughs).





Oh, Jonathan! What would we do without you? Happy Birthday, Bug!

See ya, summer!

So I did my triathlon yesterday (holla!), which signaled for us the unofficial end of summer. Good riddance, I'd say. If I could live every day in one of the shoulder seasons, I would never feel sad again. Alas...

The triathlon went well, in that I finished it and did not die. Several times during the event I said to myself, "This was dumb. I am never doing this again." But as soon as I got home I started trolling the internet for next year's event. Today I'm feeling a bit sore and a bit tired, but I'm glad I did it.

Clara is so inspired by me being a triathlete that she informed us that this coming Saturday she'll be competing in her own event. It's a "girls' triathlon," evidently, and it will involve "doing strokes," riding a bike, and dancing. "And you will stand and wait for me and cheer," she told us. So far, her training schedule has been quite rigorous. Earlier this afternoon she told Jeremy and Jonathan to go play in the kids' pool so she could practice her strokes. Jeremy and Jonathan huddled in the corner of Jonathan's room while she "swam" on the carpet. When she was done, she joined them in the kids' pool. I guess she noticed that one time when I was not with them in the kids' pool. At any rate, she is looking to be in top shape for her big race.

While I was gone with my friends at the triathlon (which was in Montana) Jeremy stayed home with Jonathan and Clara and spent a surprisingly ambitious 26 hours with them. On Friday evening he took them to the community center for a fun evening out, then on Saturday, in a fit of bravery I don't think even I would have attempted, he loaded them up for a jaunt to the county fair. He came home several hours later and still had both of the kids, so we'll call that a success. I'm just glad they were able to go at all. Evidently, on the way there Clara kept harping on about wanting to ride the ferris wheel. Jeremy kept telling her she was too short and that she'd have to content herself with the farm animals. When she wouldn't let it go, Jeremy said, "Clara, if you mention the ferris wheel one more time I am turning the car around and going home." Apparently it took her several minutes before she would say even a single word, lest she accidentally mention the forbidden f----s w---l. Fortunately she stayed true and was rewarded later by a spin on the carousel. It's hard being two sometimes. And sometimes it's awesome.



All said, we had a nice summer. Not a single person in our house was in her third trimester of pregnancy, which can't help but make everything seem a bit better. Also, we finally got a pumpkin to start growing in our garden, so Halloween is destined to not be a bust. Now all I really want is a very long fall so we can enjoy my favorite flavor of air (crisp) before the snow starts to fall.

Jeremy's turn to tri

Jeremy did his triathlon relay on Saturday. He and his teammates did an Olympic triathlon, and Jeremy brought them home with a swift 10K (48 minutes!). The man runs like a gazelle.

And now a few shots of the action:

Clara and Jonathan waiting for Jeremy to start running (if you look closely you can spot Jeremy in his sweatband. Awesome look, JB!):



I was also there:

The big bike-to-run tag (Jason could spot Jeremy really easily, on account of his headband):

Starting the run (don't worry--that's not actually his running stride; I caught him coming around a u-turn, and his headband may have thrown him slightly off-balance):

Crossing the finish line, and looking good! (Funny story: an "elite" triathlete who'd finished by the time Jeremy was running (the relays start last) was sitting along the route cheering people on. When Jeremy ran by the guy said, "Keep it up, Headbandy!" I am still laughing just thinking about it. Classic.)


And a nice team shot:

Now that I've written this post, Jeremy is reading it and telling me why he needed to wear a sweatband. His reasons are threefold: 1)they hold his glasses on; 2)they keep the sweat out of his eyes; 3)they are awesome!

Regardless, nice job, JB!

Try a tri!

On Saturday I did the bike leg of a triathlon relay with two friends of mine. I will admit that it was my idea--I can be very rash--and that it was brutal, but it was fun. I think. The main problem was that the race organizers changed the bike course about 36 hours before the race, so instead of a 12.4 mile ride with one steep hill (the rest of the course was mostly smaller rolling hills) I had to ride a 10 mile course that was 5 miles more or less straight uphill and 5 miles more or less straight downhill. Since I'd trained for different terrain, my poor body was not prepared. Nevertheless, I finished--and in less time than I thought I would take. So there you have it.

And to prove how rash I am, this morning I talked my friends into doing another triathlon--this time not as a relay!--just four weeks from now. They're on board, I'm having second thoughts, but I'm strapping on my running shoes this evening for my first training run. And I bought goggles, so clearly I'm committed.

Are you ready to try a tri yourself? Be like me: don't think, just do!

The sound of two hands clapping

This is nothing but an adorable baby post. But what an adorable baby he is! He just learned how to clap, and, as you can see, is absolutely bursting with pride.

Cave people

One of the most vivid memories I have of summertime as a child is how dark everything always was. I grew up in northern California--hardly a sunless place, which is precisely the point. My mom, always keen to conserve energy (and money) wherever possible, worked hard to beat the typically scorching California sun through a careful combination of air circulation, darkness, and occasional mania. The air conditioner, as a result, ran comparatively little, considering that midsummer temperatures often soared past 100.

The process went something like this: open windows and fans in the relative cool of the night brought interior temperatures down to a manageable comfort level. As soon as the sun dared show its ugly mug and start to heat up the house, we'd all be ordered to run around and close the windows and the curtains, and most of the day we would spend in the comfortable darkness of our downstairs family room. After reluctantly running the air conditioner for a few of the hottest afternoon hours, my mom would begin her vigil of periodically opening the front door to determine when the outside air was more pleasant than the inside air. Evidently, once this occurred there was literally no time to waste, which we gathered when my mom's frantic, "Open the house! OPEN THE HOUSE!!" would ring through the air. We kids knew better than to delay our response to the call, so we'd scurry through the house again, this time opening the windows to allow the evening breezes (and a blessed taste of late-day sunshine) inside.

We still tease my mom for her comfort-keeping, cost-cutting obsession with temperature, but I must confess that my apple hasn't fallen far at all from her tree. At present, we live in a city with very mild summers, meaning that relatively few people have air conditioning. Night air is typically quite cool, so this works out fairly well.

Except for when it doesn't.

We are currently in one of those "doesn't" times. The average high temperature in July here is a mere 83 degrees, which sounds so spectacular right now I can scarcely bring myself to think about it. We are currently ending our second week of highs in the mid-nineties, and the forecast shows much of the same for the week ahead, including two days where the forecast high is 98. Ninety-eight degrees and no air conditioning. Perish the thought.

But it's probably not the thought that will perish, but rather just me and my poor sweaty family. We are shoulder season kind of people, and strongly prefer to neither sweat nor shiver too much. There must be a lesson to be learned here (I'll let you know when I discover it). In the meantime, I'll just keep doing my best to make Jonathan and Clara's memories of their childhood summers as dark as my own (though I do try to let them out of the house occasionally, as did my own dear mother). And as soon as the temperature cools down, I'll definitely open the house.

Ten months

Jonathan marked the end of his tenth month on July 6th. For some reason I have not been able to reconcile how fast Jonathan's first year is passing with how slowly Clara's first year passed. Then it hit me: since Clara was a preemie, she and I basically did not leave the house for the first five months of her life. That can make anything drag on a bit.

Jonathan, on the other hand, has been dragged to every corner of hither and yon in the last ten months, which probably explains why he has had so many colds. The two weeks leading up to his ten-month birthday were marked by a general pallor and a whole lot of this:


Other than lots of juicy snot rockets, his tenth month was full of firsts. He learned to sit himself up, crawl, and pull to standing within the space of about three weeks. This has required adjustments for everyone, since before than he was basically just a stationary cupcake of love. Homeboy barely even rolled, even though I liked to pretend to think that he knew how.

Aside from his physical achievements, he also witnessed his first thunderstorm, crawled through is first play tunnel, got tied with yarn to a toy for the first time, and enjoyed his first Independence Day. It's been a big month.

Thirty

Happy Birthday to Jeremy! He's been waiting 30 years to turn 30, so this is a big day for all of us. That's a long time to wait.


Here's a list of thirty things I love about Jeremy, in no particular order:

1. He is a super hard worker.
2. He is pretty good looking.
3. He is curious and genuine--two of the qualities I most admire in people.
4. He loves his children and is an excellent father.
5. He loves me.
6. He wakes up early in the morning, and he's always awake when the kids wake up. He gets them ready for the morning and often doesn't wake me until 6:30! There are times in my life when that would not have felt like sleeping in. This is not one of those times.
7. He loves to set goals and have something to work toward.
8. His every move is guided by an underlying philosophy. Sometimes that's exhausting, but he is a deliberate fellow.
9. He is reflective.


10. He loves to see new places. Few things thrill him like the call of the open road--even with our kids in tow.
11. He has a keen sense of humor and keeps me laughing.
12. He tends to see the most positive options available.
13. He is a very appreciative eater. There are few pleasures in life equal to putting food in front of someone who will truly love it and be grateful for it.
14. He likes to run.
15. He is a diligent student of life and the gospel.
16. He has pure faith.
17. He is extremely good at ironing. Once we went to a little gathering in exquisitely pressed button-down shirts. One of the guys there said to his wife, "You should really learn to iron like Rachel does." Imagine how shocked he was to learn that all those sharp creases were a result of Jeremy's meticulous nature!
18. He thinks hard about everything.
19. He is really good at geography.
20. He mows the lawn, even though he doesn't like to.

21. He is tender-hearted.
22. He is sentimental, in the best sense: He keeps a small collection of rocks on his desk, and it wasn't until we'd been married for quite some time when I finally asked why all those rocks were on his desk. He picked them up one by one and said, "This is the rock I picked up when I prayed to know whether I should ask you to marry me. This is a rock I found on the beach on our honeymoon..." Each rock had a story, and for someone who doesn't feel the need to keep many things, those rocks say a lot about his character and what matters to him.
23. He is affectionate.
24. He loves music.
25. He gets excited about new opportunities.
26. He writes in his journal.
27. He does the laundry--at least our laundry. Apparently, tiny children's clothes aren't really his "thing."
28. He is a great partner.
29. He had the good sense to ask me to marry him.
30. He is my very best friend.


I love you, Jeremy. Happy Birthday!

Art Education

Earlier this week I realized that I have a significant gap in my cultural education: art. I appreciate art, I like art, but I don't feel like I really know much about it. Other than a surface knowledge of major styles and a slightly more in-depth knowledge of modernism, I am a hopeless case.

Once I realized my deficiency, I of course headed straight to the library, where I got this book for myself:


and this book for Clara:


I have yet to read my book, but Jeremy has read Clara's to her several times. Of course, the best part was before the second reading, when Clara said, "Dad, I need to go outside and paint on the ground. Like Jackson Pollock."

Yes, Clara has a deep and abiding ardor for the art of Jackson Pollock. If pressed, she can also point out the Mona Lisa, Picasso, and Van Gogh, and she likes Monet's water lilies. But it's Pollock she likes the most. Perhaps it's his methods:


Any other art or art history aficionados out there? I'd love a good book recommendation--for me. I don't want Clara getting any more ideas just yet.