Rushing

Sometimes the fastest way between two points is not a straight line. I was gone all day yesterday for a field trip to Estes Park with Aidan's class. This morning, I was handed an unexpected day off from obligations; nobody owns my time today but myself. I downed a smoothie while tackling the laundry pile, and the unmade beds. I rushed from one small task to another all the while adding to my mental list of things that need to be done. Everything I took care of only seemed to bring to attention something else that needed to be done. And as the list of "should do's" piled up, so did the urgency of my pace. Until I brushed my teeth, and noticed it was for the second time. Which made me stop and think. I'm going to stop for a moment, fix a cup of English Breakfast with milk, and sit for a moment. I'm going to enjoy the quiet of the house, the hum of the washing machine, the sound of the birds, and inhale the steam from my favorite tea. Sorry dust, you're going to have to wait. And then, when I'm ready, I'm going to get up and tackle my list; but this time, I'm going to do it from a quiet place. And instead of adding to the knot in my shoulders, I'm going to remember. I'll remember why I'm doing any of this. It's because I love my little freckled girl child and understand how she takes delight in deciding what to wear in the morning out of a closet full of clean, colorful, folded clothes. It's because of the look on my boy who is becoming a man's face when he gets home from school and sniffs the kitchen discovering the fresh homemade bread I have made for his snack. It's because my husband can go off to work and know the bills will be paid on time, checks will be be deposited, the leftover breakfast dishes will make their way back to the cabinet, and his dirty rumpled clothes will magically reappear in his closet. (Okay, that last one might be a bit of a stretch as the clothes are quite likely to take a detour to the end of the bed for some fresh air before finally making their way to the closet) And his wife will be waiting with dinner on the table and in a fresh dress and pearls. (Okay, I may have also made up the part about the dress and pearls)

Happy cleaning.

Homemade Lara bars

I didn't realize how much bread and wheat items I fed the family until I started trying to cut some of it out. I usually sent the kids to school with some sort of home made baked good or granola bars (they were organic but still packed full of lots of sugar). After school snacks were often something fresh out of the oven, (breads, muffins) or yogurt and homemade granola. Aidan doesn't really care for fruit or veggies (yep, I'm kicking myself for all those cookies and milkshakes I ate when I was pregnant, but it was the doctor's orders!). Hence the baked good were usually full of an assortment of fruits and veggies processed into the batter. I found a recipe on a blog that I check out sometimes (thenourishinggourmet.com). The kids and I tweaked it some until everybody loved it. I haven't used specific measurements since the first time and we add additional ingredients that we might have and think would be good but the base goes something like this:


18 pitted dates
squirt of lemon juice from a lemon
handful of almonds
handful of coconut
half a handful of sesame seeds
about 1/8 c coconut oil
1 tsp vanilla
couple large spoonfuls of cocoa powder

Process everything in the food processor until it's all blended, (I always taste it a bit and adjust anything that's out of whack) then form into little balls. Chilling for a bit helps them to firm up and allow the flavors to meld.

Detoxing

Just for the record, I am not a fad dieter. But when I read an account by a guy in "Outside" magazine who had followed Dr Junger's program from his book "Clean", I started plotting. What struck me was that he was a reasonably healthy, exercising individual (I mean, he works for "Outside"!) who wasn't trying to lose weight but was trying it out for the sake of the article. And he raved about the results and the increase in energy and vitality he experienced. I had to try it. We are a pretty healthy family probably compared to most of the American population. We stay away from antibiotics and hormones in our food, shun high fructose corn syrup and hydrogenated oils. Cook with coconut oil and organic (mostly) ingredients. I make a lot of stuff from scratch and we generally avoid anything that comes out of plastic. We go to the chiropractor and exercise. But, I still get draggy sometimes in the afternoon. And we had enough of the symptoms listed to qualify for the need of a detox. I said "we" because giving up things are always more fun with company so I decided to drag my unsuspecting family along on this journey. (Although I am modifying the diet slightly for the small ones) Yesterday my lunch consisted of lightly sauteed (in sesame oil) carrots, broccoli, and baby bok choy (from a friend's garden) with garlic and lemon juice.

Today was similar only I added cashews, sunflower seeds and sprouts. We had our first liquid breakfast this morning. Chloe was a little appalled at the kale and pineapple smoothie, but Aidan chugged it down though, as a side note to his buckwheat pancakes. I was so hungry after 2 hours that I had to go make another smoothie. (blueberries, almond milk, almond butter, cocoa powder) It was scrumptious.

Dreaming...

Maybe it's the coffee talking. Or my penchant to become excited about new things and ideas. Or both. Spending almost 2 years without a garden or even the freedom to work in the dirt (those darn fire ants!) seems to have lent fuel to frenzy of backyard homestead desires. (Flash back to 2 years spent in an apartment without the freedom to paint my walls--which exploded into an earnest frenzy of self expression through an ever changing palette of wall colors in our new home) Buying some chickens only added credibility to the thoughts of more sustainable, less consumerism living. I have been digging in the dirt and reclaiming wood for our backyard gardening endeavors. (Of course, the last time I tried to grow anything, it was a dismal failure. But this time I am armed with the ammunition of friends who "know everything there is to know" about such things) I have been knitting with a vengeance, taking the time of sitting at soccer practices to do something productive. "You can never have too many dishcloths" I assured my bemused husband. I've convinced Chris to drag out his mother's old sewing machine- I'm determined to learn how to use it this time, with visions of a litany of colorful sundresses for Chloe dancing off my machine. My latest (obsession) is the idea of soapmaking. It's not the actual process that has captured my fancy but the idea of a delicious array of scents and herb infused chunks of hand hewn, creamy goodness. I confess that I tend to jump into things with a definite view of what I imagine for the outcome and kinda skip over the details of exactly how to get there. (Mom, I still haven't grown out of that...) "I could make that" is now being parroted by the younger set of Cummings. Aidan was looking at soccer goals the other weekend, but was put off by the pricing and the thought of losing the contents of his wallet. Instead, after looking over the construction, he decided that we could just make one, and he should buy a nerf gun instead which was cheaper and much harder to duplicate.

See, there's something green growing. A brave little green pea, and a measure of hope.

31

Yesterday was my birthday. I peered into the mirror and noticed the little lines around my eyes are getting more pronounced, the commas by my mouth are deepening, and my hair is becoming sprinkled with silver. I've wondered if it would bother me, aging. But I can look at the skin that is sagging and stretched and remember the two lives that I carried under my heart. I can look at the lines on my face and see the joys and the sorrows they represent. My mouth crooks slightly to the left when I smile, and based on the imprint it has left-the smiles must be frequent. My body carries a million different memories, each showing that I have lived. I have lived. I have laughed and cried, and squinted in the sun. I have stretched and expanded with birth. My nose quirks from being broken in a game of softball, and my knees ache sometimes when the weather changes. I have scars from chicken pox and spots from the sun. But I have been living, and I am reminded that that is a privilege denied to many.

Ten years ago, I was 21 and 4 days out from having Aidan. I was newly married and my husband still had hair. I was pretty sure I knew what the world owed me and what part I had to play. Today, I have more questions than answers some days. In some ways, I would have imagined my life looking like this, and in some ways I never would have guessed. But here I am, and I'm thankful. I'm thankful for the journey; for the joys and the scars. For the outward evidence and the inward transformations.

In ten more years, what will my life look like? I confess, I don't have much of an idea, but I'm looking forward to finding out.

Quirky

Some things make me inexplicably happy. Curvy sticks, for example. My neighbors were trimming their willow tree a few years ago and I snuck over and grabbed some of the loveliest curvy branches destined for the trash bin. They serve absolutely no use other than that they are curvy and that makes me happy. In fact, we drug them to Houston and back. As we were leaving Houston in the frustration of all the last minute packing I threw my sticks in the front yard for the trash man. Chloe found them and in tears because "mommy loves her curvy sticks" got her daddy to find a special place for them in the uhaul. My two kids have gradually added to my collection with bits and pieces of sticks they have found that look "curvy". I also love fence posts and barbed wire. I don't know why, but I do. It makes me happy.

I found a piece of curvy wire in an open field in Texas one year while traveling back from my brother's wedding. I was sure that it was going to be perfect for something. And I resisted when Chris wanted to throw it away the first time we moved. I caught his raised eyebrows the second time I loaded it up to drag it back across the country, but packed it anyways. It still sits in my garage waiting for the something that it is absolutely perfect for. I have driftwood in my kitchen washed ashore from hurricane Ike and in Aidan's room sits a large, heavy, weathered log I found outside. It's funny all the things I got rid of in the moves. But somehow my old pieces of wood made the cut every time. See what I mean, quirky? I also love rusted metal, but that is a story for another day....

Chicken Little

Our little urban farm grew just a little bit bigger this last week. Now in addition to 2 dogs, and a newt, we have added 4 chickens. I had talked about getting chickens for so long that somehow I assumed that Chris and I were on the exact same page. Imagine his surprise when he came home from a day of skiing to discover the living room interrupted with 2 day old fluffy chicks. I hadn't intended to get them that day; I only went to JAX to pick up some dog food...but there they were. And two kids and a mommy, who want some chickens make a very convincing argument. However, my sweet tempered husband quickly fell in "like" with the helpless little creatures. Probably everybody on Facebook is tired of hearing me blather on about our new additions, and I have been beginning nearly every conversation with the information that we just got some chickens. But they are so darn cute and I'm really just a farm girl at heart.



This is Aidan's chick. Her name is Pippi and she is a Buff Orpington. She already comes to the side of the box when Aidan peeks his head over and starts talking. She seems very gentle and calm. She's best buddies with Chloe's chick-they are hardly ever apart.



This is Katy, a Silver Spangled Hamburg. She was named after the city we lived in in Texas. She is the smallest and the most high strung and skittish of the bunch. She likes to try and burrow into the pine chips which provokes Pippi to come over and step on her head.

This is Ginger, an Ameraucana, who will lay blue green eggs. She's cream and brown colored. Last night I was woken up by a chick giving it's alarm cry and came out to see that someone had pooped on her wing and she was very upset by it. The three other chicks were lined up and trying to help her clean it off.

This is Chloe's chick, Tikka Masala (one of our favorite Indian dishes). She is the fattest and the sassiest of the bunch and usually the first to confront something new. Today Roscoe stuck his nose into their cage a little too close and to his shock, she marched over and pecked him soundly on his snout.