Masterpieces

I love that every abstract picture paints a complete story for a child. I love that when you ask a child if they can paint a dolphin (a skyscraper, an airplane) the answer is always, "Yes. Yes I can," followed by a reaching for the brush. If only we could hold onto that optimism, bottle up that confidence that our efforts will always result in a masterpiece, and hand those bottles out to our adult selves who need to relearn how to finger paint. Here's to you and your everyday art.

For Posterity's Sake: Week in Review 31

I've been a little delinquent this weekend. We've been spending our time catching up with dear friends, so I haven't turned the computer on since Thursday. But there are just a few stories that I have to write down from last week before I forget:

On Monday while returning home from the grocery store, we passed a Chick-fil-a (Audrey's favorite restaurant). She told me she wanted to go in. I said the restaurant was closed (my standard answer when we're not able to go somewhere she wants to). She replied, "But someone just went in."

One evening, Audrey was cooking for Jason in her playroom kitchen. She has a wooden refrigerator that happens to have a small round hole cut into the back. Audrey placed an egg inside of the refrigerator. Jason stealthily slid his hand behind the refrigerator and through the hole to remove the egg. Then he asked her to get it for him. She opened the door to find the refrigerator empty.

She gasped. "Where it is?" (Her version of "where is it?").

Jason again slipped his hand behind the refrigerator and slid the egg inside, this time accidentally brushing the back and making a small sound. The egg securely in place, he asked her to check the refrigerator for the egg. She opened it.

"There it is!" she said, as if surprised. She took it out, closed the door and said, "Where it is?"
Then she reached behind the refrigerator, pushed the egg in through the hole, opened the door and said (with a little gasp for emphasis), "There it is!"


During that same play session, Audrey began pretending. "I'm at the store," she would say. "I'm going to the zoo."

Jason attempted to play along. "Where am I?" he asked.

"You're right there," she said, pointing to him.


We were hanging out at our friends' pool on Saturday. This was their first time to see Audrey swim. Audrey loves the water and fearlessly jumps in from the side and paddles around. Watching her, David said, "You're amazing!"

With an offended look, Audrey said, "No I'm not. I'm not a dog."

We explained that amazing meant that she was fantastic and had done a good job. A couple minutes later she jumped into the pool. As her head broke the surface of the water she grinned and yelled, "I'm amazing!"

After our week away in Dallas it was nice to spend a week at home playing and enjoying the hugs and sweet rituals of our daily routines. It only takes an afternoon with Audrey to see that every day at home is a new experience. As she learns and grows and invites us to see the evolving pieces that make up the sum of her parts, we realize that adventure is right where we are. What can I say? She's amazing.

Catching Up

Lately, my blog has been a little deceptive. I have not been reading The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini for months and months. In fact, I think it took me all of two weeks to devour it page-by-page. There are some horrific events portrayed in this novel, but one message that struck me is that no matter what the circumstances of our home country (hometown, etc), a national past time (or regional/family one) has a way of uniting us and bringing us back home again when nothing else can.

Of course, reading about the kite tournaments made me want to make a kite with Audrey. I assumed I would write one post about the book and the kite we made. But, we never got around to making a kite this spring. I'm hoping to move it to the list of projects for the fall.



In the meantime, I have still been reading, but have failed to update the "Now Reading" section of my blog. First, there was Julie & Julia by Julie Powell. I was in the cookbook section of the library looking for a cookbook, obviously, when I ran across this one. I had seen posters for the movie so I thought I'd give the book a quick read. And, quick it was. This was not quite what I was expecting. I think I envisioned a little more food/cooking talk and less of a memoir. But, memoir I got, which now seems to be exactly what I should have expected since the writer wasn't someone focusing on cooking before her Julie/Julia Project (for those of you who haven't seen the movie trailers, Julie Powell makes it her mission to make all 524 recipes in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in one year). This is daunting task, enough. But what I found jaw-dropping was all the dirt Powell fits between the covers of the book - from affairs to office politics, etc. Of course, I couldn't put it down as I wondered if any of her friends and family were still on speaking terms with her. Those of you sensitive to cursing or Republican jokes - this is not your book. A professor of mine gave this advice on including cursing in your writing: use it sparingly so that it has an impact when you do use it, or, use it so frequently that after a while your reader no longer notices (the movie Good Will Hunting comes to mind). This book lends itself to the latter option. (My professor gave no advice on the appropriate frequency of Republican jokes in writing).

Of course, what I keep thinking about when I remember this book has nothing to do with the personal dramas depicted or the food, really. What sticks out is a little fact about Julia Child: She didn't go to cooking school and begin the career that we all associate with her until she was 37. I have to say, I love this. I'm all about slow starts and late-found passions. I hate the conception that 37 or 57 or 77 is too late to begin again, learn a new skill, find a new direction. I believe in the slow simmer. I would hate to find all my best flavor extracted by a quick boil. Oh no. I want the slow simmer - to get good and aged and seep in new flavors every once and a while.

So now, I've moved on to Julia Child's memoir with Alex Prud'homme, My Life in France. To be honest with you, it's not a memoir I would have imagined myself reading before. If I had to choose a European cuisine to master, French wouldn't be it. Unlike Julia, my favorite city is not Paris (although, I could eat the pain du chocolat I was introduced to there - essentially chocolate baked in a puff pastry - every day). But after reading that she began this whole process of mastering French cuisine at the age of 37, I'm interested in hearing just how this all came about.

So in honor of Julie Powell's brave experiment and Julia Child's inspiration (and the mountain of cucumbers in our refrigerator), I made Julia's Concombers au Buerre, or Baked Cucumbers last night. While these got rave reviews on the website where I found the recipe, and in Julie & Julia, they were a little too tangy for me (I might have used too much vinegar). Maybe I need to try a different variation.

(Oh, I also read The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold while in Dallas. It had been on my list for a while, ever since I learned that the narrator is a deceased character, which seemed an interesting perspective for a writer to tackle. Sebold does this creatively and seamlessly, and I flew threw this book in a week.)

And now we're up to date with my reading - and I still have a mound of cucumbers in my fridge.

When Left to her Own Devices...

I remember the squish of fresh mud between my toes, its easy yield to my palms as I rolled it and turned the newly dug clumps into balls or shapes. Few things seemed to draw me in as a kid as fast as a pile of dirt, an open wood, or a summer day beginning with dew and capped off with a lightening bug chase.



I don't know if these pictures are a reflection of the apple not falling far from the tree or just a reminder that children learn to appreciate all things before we teach them otherwise. Unless I show and tell her differently, Audrey will find art in all things - material just outside our door. She will find beauty wherever she steps - a lesson in every walk.

If I can only pause long enough to remind myself that perhaps I should seek out the voice of a girl who remembers what it feels like to run barefoot up dirt hills, to paint with mud and sculpt with clay, before I answer with the voice of the woman who thinks, "I'm going to have to clean that" - perhaps, I can help her summer days last just a little longer.

And keep the wonder that is childhood alive for the both of us.

Rainy Day Fabric

We found ourselves with an abundance of rain today, accompanied by thunder and lightening.



This little guy decided to bravely sit the storm out on our fencepost, letting the rain slide off his back.

We took a different approach to weathering the storm: secure inside with stamps and ink. Audrey got to work with her own stamp pad and ink on blue paper, while I made some custom fabric.

A couple weeks ago I went in search of fabric for a project I've been meaning to get around to all summer. Not finding anything that stuck out at me (for a price I was willing to pay), and itching to try out this tutorial from the talented Geninne Zlatkis that I've been eyeing for months, I decided that this rainy day was the perfect day to create some custom fabric. As luck would have it, I had carved my two stamps using the tutorial last night. Of course, never able to completely follow directions, I used wood carving tools instead of the tools she suggests (because that's what I was able to find on short notice when I decided I MUST make stamps last night) and in an attempt to be frugal, I used both sides of my "carving block" (that was actually a blending eraser) and didn't cut completely around the edge as to not chop off part of the stamp on the other side. Not cutting around the stamp completely made the actual stamping a little bit tricky, so maybe I'll follow directions next time.

I used duck cloth as the background fabric for my stamping and, since this fabric won't be laundered, used regular ink pads (one the Color Box brand she suggests, which did work best) for my color. I was in a foliage sort of mood when I drew my stamp patterns. One is a simple leaf and the other is supposed to resemble an abstract seedling shape, but now on the fabric it makes me think of scissors. I'm still going to call it a successful first attempt. Now if I can just squeeze in some hours at the sewing machine.

Summer's Bounty

What do you get when you leave your garden unattended for a week in July? A sinkload of zucchini as big as your femur. Ok, maybe not as big as my femur, but twice the size of Audrey's femur, hands-down. Seeing a sinkful of straight-from-the-garden produce makes me feel blessed. Blessed by the warm carefree days of summer where Mother Nature does the hard work and I sit with my free pass and watch her spectacular show. Blessed that when I do have to get up from my seat to assist in Mother Nature's assembly line, my body is able and willing to do the physical work. Blessed by the vibrant colors, shapes, and tastes - each piece a once-in-a-lifetime to awaken the senses. Blessed by the small pair of fresh eyes and hands at my waist that remind me that adventures are as close as our backyard.



Of course, when I see this same produce out of the sink and and sprawling the width of the refrigerator drawers and shelves in a manner that would make a claustrophobic person gulp for air, I feel a little overwhelmed. This kind of overwhelmed requires a plan. One that sent Audrey and I to the grocery store today in search of all items zucchini-accompaniment-friendly, and me seeking out zucchini-clad recipes new and old. First up: Giada De Laurentiis' Pasta Primavera with a side of fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants bruschetta. The pasta is colorful and fresh and has a light summer feel with just a touch of olive oil and cheese en lieu of sauce. (Disclaimer: I lost track of time and roasted my veggies a bit too long, but I do wish there was a little more of a kick to the dish. What can I say, I'm a big marinara girl). And the bruschetta? It was surprisingly not too shabby, either.

Kristin's Fly-By-The-Seat-of-Her-Pants Bruschetta:

Loaf of Italian Bread
Handful of cherry tomatoes (or as many needed to fill your number of slices)
Few leaves of fresh basil
Mozzarella cheese
One garlic clove
Olive Oil

Jason and I had some great bruschetta while in Dallas, so when we came home to find a handful of cherry tomatoes ripe for the picking, we had bruschetta on the mind. While bruschetta is all about flavor for me, it's more about texture for him. He wants his bread to "melt in his mouth" rather than crunch against his teeth. I tried to make both of us happy with this recipe (or course, I left the bread in just a hair too long to reach perfect "melt in your mouth" goodness for Jason, but we were close).

Preheat oven to 450 degrees (my oven was already set to this for the veggies, so that's why I picked this temperature). Put a glub of olive oil onto a cookie sheet. Roll cherry tomatoes in olive oil and spread out on pan. Put them in the oven to roast for a few minutes until they split open. As tomatoes roast, cut desired number of bread slices. Press one garlic clove (or finely dice and smash with a knife to let out juices) and spread a little on each slice. Top with cheese. Tear or slice basil and sprinkle a little over each slice. Cool tomatoes until just able to touch. Dice tomatoes and use them to top bread slices. Return cookie sheet to oven until the cheese has melted. Enjoy.

Round One of Mission: Refrigerator Freedom a success. Time to get out the grater for Round Two. Zucchini Bread anyone?

For Posterity's Sake: Week in Review 30

We made it home from Texas yesterday. The week was a great one.

New sights to see,

New places to make our own,


Great food to eat,

And time to relax and enjoy it all together.

Yes, that's Jason enjoying one of our favorite meals while on the trip at a little place on Worth St. called Esparza's. Did I mention he came along?

Of course, no matter how great the location or nice the break, one of the sweetest things about vacation is coming home again. And, the little one that makes coming home so worthwhile? She was right there waiting for us when we got back with stories of her own week-long adventure (thanks, Mamaw and Papaw!). We're happy to have the weekend to catch up with one another. We hope you're able to spend your weekend catching up with someone you love.