March Forth

There's a sticker in my bathtub and a Thing toy underneath my living room chair, remnants of a rainbow-sprinkle-smile whirlwind that visited us this month.

A new grill has made it's home in the cupboard and our favorite pub down the street invited us in for a pint or two. We beat the pavement downtown, tasting Cuban pastries and the local candy store's finest.

We cheered on dogs and compared chai tea recipes, watched cheesy Korean gangster movies and listened to creepy stories read amidst macabre clowns and Guinness cupcakes.

We celebrated Mr. E on another year; older and possibly wiser, though wise was never his strong suit. Compassionate, eloquent, hard-working and brilliantly funny are more his style.

We debated and cajoled, unraveled and stitched ourselves back together, both sides searching for understanding in the midst of being understood.

The visits are few and far between, citing a myriad of justified excuses (work, money, kids, distance) but enjoyed thoroughly until the very last drop, until, exhausted, we part ways and fall asleep two hours too early on the couch.

Belated? I Prefer "Continuing the Love"

There are so many things to be grateful for in my father.

He explained to me who was "good enough".

He instilled a deep abiding love of all things nerd and geek related.

He challenged me to take responsibility for myself and my actions.

And he continues to impress me with the choices he makes every day to be a better person, friend, son, father and husband.

I knew what to look for in a husband because of my dad. Thank goodness they get along.

Song #fiveminutefriday

Write. For five minutes straight. One-word prompt, five minutes, no editing. I'm linking up over at Lisa-Jo Baker (aka The Gypsy Mama) where we read, write and encourage.

I would ask you to sing for me, each night before you tucked me in. It was our little ritual: one that has been so long buried and avoided I'm not even sure I could remember the song myself. I think I've had a lot of songs sung to me over the course of my life- G-ma singing "my Brianna lies over the ocean", Mr. E sang of killing beetles to save me- but yours is always the one I think of when I seek comfort.

I loved to pull my covers up tight beneath my chin (I've never liked my shoulders to be exposed) and watch your face as you sang to me of His amazing grace. Grace that you've always found present in your life, grace that shines through everything you do.

Even now I think my love of music stems from you. Some of my favorite memories are dancing around the house, singing and cleaning. I do this now and Mr. E thinks I'm nuts, but I do it in remembrance of you and the things you taught me. To enjoy what I'm doing. To express my happiness to others. To sing of His amazing grace, even when we shouldn't sing, precisely because we can't sing. 

I miss that part of you. 

Are You my Mother?

I have never known anyone as strong, dedicated, understanding, unselfish, patient, forgiving, helpful, honorable, creative, practical, charismatic and beautiful...

as my mother.

If I can be half the woman she is, I'll know I did something right. 

Mom, I chose one without us crying...or blinking. Apparently that's difficult for us.

LOVED This Weekend

How much did we love this weekend? Let us count the ways...

You know, not everyone's into kids...

Mr. E's movie, Ganas, screened this Saturday. For the last few weeks (and for a month after this) student theses screen on the weekends to present and showcase all of the fantastic short films that have been made this year. Mr. E has worked on or has friends who have worked on films almost every week, so it's been a great free date night.

The key creatives on Ganas. Yeah, that's our Key Viking.

Mr. E and his producer, Ms. Clay- fabulous get-it-done lady!

The outpouring of love and support for my sweet hubs was heartwarming. Family and friends came together to watch his short film both in person and through the live streaming event provided by Chapman. We chowed down on food and puppy love before the screening and spent a restful day at the pool on Sunday. Ain't nothin' like an 15 person Eccles dinner, amirite?

Here #fiveminutefriday

Write. For five minutes straight. One-word prompt, five minutes, no editing. I'm linking up over at Lisa-Jo Baker (aka The Gypsy Mama) where we read, write and encourage.

"Here," he said as he held out his worn, calloused hands, indicating I should relinquish my grip on the bouquet. How does one hold these anyways? I thought, irritably. Not too close to the dress, but don't brandish it like a weapon.

I handed him my collection of green, white, and pink ribbons, odds and ends of a collection of pre-nuptial gifts, perfectly put-together by my mother. The little paper plate they were pinned to looked so small in his grasp. The way I have always felt. He towered over me when I was little, bundled me up in bear-hugs home from deployments and fierce embraces when I came to him with tear-streaked cheeks.

And now he looked at me with such questioning eyes- as if our roles had somehow reversed and he looked to me to tell him when the shots would be called. Did he feel like this when I turned to him growing up? Unsure but cocky, nervous but deliberate.

Once my shoe strap was fixed, leaning slightly against his frame, I adjusted the bouquet again. Our cue came and we glided down the grass as he mumbled in my ear how to walk in time with him. Things I should remember for tomorrow. But all I had eyes for was Mr. E. I was here and now, caught in that peculiar moment of present and future when your imagination gives color to what you're doing.

Dad hesitated at the arch, only to kiss my cheek and smile reassuringly. After all, tomorrow we'd do it all again.

Easter Tidings

Easter Sunday we were off to see our brother-in-law and his family. Life moves at a different pace out here where your party is threatened by cows, where Mass is said with grass under your feet, a dog in your arms and the view is spectacular! 

I whipped up some impromptu (and rather un-traditional) Eccles Cakes for the gathering. I figure if you're going to be late, at least bring something tasty! Not the cheapest of recipes, but this family couldn't get enough of them! Every time I turned around someone was chowing down, encouraging others. What an ego-boost.

Eccles Cakes
2 boxes of puff pastry
1 bag of assorted dried fruit (we used an antioxidant mix for fun)
1 beaten egg white (forgot to separate, so it was actual just all egg)
1 tsp of mixed spice (mixed is a fun word for baking: we used varying amounts of fresh nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger and allspice)
2 tbsp butter
1 cup of sugar, divided

Oven 425F. Thaw the puff pastry: we didn't and then had to alternately roll it out and warm it up. Made for some wonky sizes.
Melt the butter, add 3/4c sugar, dried fruit and spices until evenly coated. Technically, Eccles cakes use candied fruit peel, but when you're under a time-constraint, ain't nobody got time for that. So technically, this may have been a little scone-like.
Cut the dough into rounds, like biscuits, and spoon the filling into the middle. Add another dough biscuit on top, wet and crease the edges with a fork to make sure they stick together. 
Baste the top with egg white (or a beaten egg because you NEVER remember to separate for breads) and sprinkle sugar on top.
Tradition says to cut three lines on top. I say cut SOMETHING because puff pastry...puffs. And then you get giant biscuit monsters.
Cook for 15 minutes, or until the top and bottom are golden. 

Unfortunately, no pictures of the end result- they were eaten too fast! But it looked like a puff pastry from a store with the sprinkled sugar on top!

Enjoy on a mountaintop, with friends or covet every crumb and wish for more. They were seriously that tasty.

Of course, it wouldn't be Easter without some egg-dying. We may have grown up and out of the hunt of the holiday, but my mom wanted to try a new dye-method. Shaving cream, anyone?

Take Jurassic Park shaving cream- you know, the Newman used to transport dino embryos- because it's all white. Drop on food coloring and swirl. 

 Realize you don't have red. And your teenagers will remind you that you now have green, yellow and blue. Which really gives you green...and green.

 Place egg and roll. You'll need plastic gloves for this one. Or suffer dyed hands.

 Leave the eggs coated for at least four minutes.

 We re-coated a few after the first egg was not nearly "swirly" enough. 

Wipe the shaving cream off- keep the gloves on. 

Enjoy radical looking eggs! They were pretty light in color, but it didn't smear! Perfect for making colored egg-salad. 

Getaway

Sometimes you need to get away from the hustle and the bustle.

Where the road to get there has so doubled back on itself that every turn is blind.

Where radio stations cease to exist.

Where you accept that three blankets and smelling like smoke is normal because otherwise you'd be cold. Teeth chattering cold. Three dog night cold. 

That's basically my parents house. I am incredibly fortunate, not only to have a close relationship with my parents, but also to remain close by them. I can shove the dog, the sewing machine and an iPod in the car and in two hours I'm back to home cooked meals and a house full of people. You know, the kind that know you and understand you and love you unconditionally. Mostly unconditionally.

I get to recharge my batteries by doing nothing, or doing everything I want. I can sleep in or go for a run in the morning (yeah, remember those?)- take the dogs or leave Ripley to play with my parents' dogs. I can cook or ask my sister to do it with me. I can sink into that damn couch and nap throughout the day because that's how life moves up here.

I'm sinking, slipping, sliding into calm. And when I come out? I can stand to face the daily grind once more.