Rookie Cobblers

Several weeks ago, I went to a workshop at my friend's house to learn how to make sandals.

Here they are!

They're orange, and I love them. They are exactly the style I wanted, and they fit perfectly. I didn't go in thinking I'd make orange sandals. Serendipity at its best.

And now? Wyatt wants a pair. He doesn't want a pair exactly like these, of course, but he wants a pair perfect for him, and preferably orange. And why not? I mean, from his perspective, I can obviously make sandals. So why would I hold out on him?

I wouldn't hold out on him. But he has no idea how much assistance Rachel gave me during the workshop. She helped me a lot--I almost made two right sandals before she stepped in. But the truth is, Wyatt has a 2-week long spring break coming up, and aside from finally updating our earthquake kit (dreaded task), we've got few plans. Sandal making could be fun! And best case, we solve some summer footwear issues. Worst case? We don't.

I sat down today to price the tools we'll need, and they are, in total, about the price of the pair of sandals Wyatt likes but whose leather is, in his opinion, too rigid and uncomfortable. In other words, the tools are not that expensive when you consider the sandals he wants-but-doesn't-want will spark arguments and not get worn much.

So we have a plan: Spring Break Sandal Making. I'll let you know how it goes.

Also, in case you're hungry, I have a new recipe to share! We've made Sri Lankan Dal with Coconut and Lime Kale twice now, and it's delicious. It works well with whatever kale or other hearty greens you've got around this time of year. Today, I used a combination of kale and swiss chard, and it was great. One note: The recipe calls for "mustard seeds." I use black mustard seeds, because that seems right to me. Don't skimp on the yogurt when you serve it! It would be a pity to miss out on how it balances the flavors and textures of the dish. 

(In case you're wondering, we are still cleaning out the house. It is spring, after all, which around here means Spring Cleaning. Roughly two weeks until Easter, and we've got the garage and one closet left to go.)

Critical Thinking, Magic Treehouse Style

So, Mom. After George Harrison--I mean George Washington--captured all those red jackets--I mean Red Coats--he went back to his plantation and then became president like 2 years later.

Ah. He went back to his plantation. You know some things about plantations, right?

Yes. His plantation. Yes, I know some things about plantations. WAIT. Did George Washington have SLAVES?

Yes.

He DID? How could he even DO that? Fighting for his own freedom from the British and then keeping slaves? That's just...WRONG. It makes NO SENSE.

I cannot tell a lie: This conversation actually happened. It's a rare, beautiful parenting moment when you see a child connect the dots on something important. I also have a confession: I haven't read the book, Revolutionary War on Wednesday, that prompted this conversation. Revolutionary War on Wednesday is part of the Mary Pope Osborne series, The Magic Treehouse, which Marc has been reading with Wyatt. Wyatt borrows one book at a time from the school library in as close to numerical order as he can, and Marc and he read it as quickly as our weekday schedule allows. Few things are better at bedtime than having your dad read to you about Jack and Annie's latest adventure. And the next day? Wyatt peppers me with mom-did-you-know-thats.

Today, Wyatt asked, "Mom. Do you know how the British were defeated during the evolutionary war?" (Revolutionary.  "Revolutionary" and "evolutionary" are different, I told him.) He took it from there, giving me what he remembered about the story, including Washington's crossing a river, sneaking up on the British, capturing soldiers, and of course living on a plantation. Our conversation eventually moved from Wyatt's shock and dismay about Washington's slave ownership to the stories we have read about enslaved people, and how "nobody (like, say the city, for example) was MAKING George Washington KEEP his slaves instead of freeing them."

Historical fiction offers unique opportunities for examining a story from lots of angles. And while (I imagine) it's probably better if a parent reads the book herself before discussing it with her child, in this case, I'm glad I didn't. If I had read it, I'm sure I'd have formed all kinds of opinions that I'd be tempted to share, or possibly even impose (the horror!). Because I hadn't read it, I had no agenda. Instead, I had to listen carefully, and I was genuinely curious about the story. Mary Pope Osborne's mention of Washington's plantation provided a perfect opportunity to complicate and cast some skepticism on what I'm guessing was (remember, I still haven't read this book) a narrative about Washington's heroism that arose out of notions of freedom and liberty.

I am a big believer in the idea that if you're reading something, you should be asking questions. Who is telling this story? What are they trying to show? Who's missing from the story? What are those peoples' perspectives? Why were they left out? These (and others) are such important questions for all of us to answer, whether we're reading a story or listening to its retelling.

Weird & Wonderful

Mom. What are those fat white or pink skinned babies that shoot arrows at nothing called again? For Valentine’s Day? They look like a church thing. We had them on the wall in kindergarten. It was this picture where there were two of them and they looked like this.

Wyatt arranged his arms and put his chin on them.

They are SO WEIRD.

He's not wrong. Cupids are pretty weird.

And let's be honest. Valentine’s Day is pretty weird. I mean, it's a mid-winter pagan fertility festival the Catholic Church co-opted to celebrate St. Valentine, during which many adults celebrate romance while children all over the United States give out cards to every single person in their class and eat more candy.

I think if you're lucky, you'll experience a Valentine's Day sweet spot at least once during your life. One where, if you want to be in a romantic relationship, you're part of one, and in your bliss and joy, you'll agree on how you want to celebrate the day and each other. Otherwise, Valentine's Day is, as one of my friends has always called it, "Single Awareness Day." And if you're a parent of an elementary school child (or an actual elementary school child), it can also be "Annoying Annual School Project Day."

For the last two years, Wyatt has had no interest in giving out valentines at school. Some kids did, and he was happy to receive them, but that was as far as it went. This year, however, Wyatt came home from school towards the end of January and announced they would be having a Valentine's Day celebration in their classroom. I barely suppressed a groan. I knew the drill--everyone needs to get a valentine, which is fair enough, but there are over 30 kids in his class. Sitting down to write cards and envelopes was going to be torture, even if we did only three a day. He went on, "My teacher says that if we make anything, we have to make something for everyone. And nothing can be store bought." While I wanted nothing to do with the project or the extra “homemade” challenge, I didn't want him to know that. So I asked, offering as much happy, light hearted empowerment as I could, "So, what's your plan?" He replied, "I'm going to make everyone a heart necklace. I have the supplies I need, because I have clay and yarn. But can I please borrow your heart cookie cutter? I don't need your help. I can do it myself." Hell yes, I thought. "That sounds terrific," I said.

Wyatt set to work that afternoon. And he worked on the project most days for the next week. He had probably made 50 hearts by the time he got to stringing the 30th necklace. Why? Because he initially made the stringing holes too small, and the hearts broke when it was time to push the darning needle through with the yarn. He revised his production methods along the way, ditching the toothpick and using a clay knife to make a bigger hole in the new and improved hearts. At one point, I assisted in making a few new hearts because he was so aggravated by the constant breakage, and I know how much it sucks to work on something and feel like you will never, ever finish it.

By the 30th necklace, though? He’d had enough. The last heart was perfect. The hole was just the right size! But he just couldn't bear to push the needle through and tie the last knot. "MOM," he announced, "I'M DONE WITH THIS PROJECT. I should have NEVER thought of it. It was a TERRIBLE idea. I am NOT stringing this last necklace. I don't even CARE. No one will get anything. I'm going to put them ALL IN THE TRASH."

We've all been there, right?

I tried cajoling him. "Come on. There's only one more! You're so CLOSE! You can do it. You've worked so HARD! And they’re so GREAT!" He wasn't having it. He yelled, "I DON'T CARE," and threw himself dramatically onto the sofa. Annoyed at his short-sightedness and unable to accept that it was okay for him to trash hours of work, I said in a serious voice, "I need to go switch the laundry. While I'm away, I want you string that last necklace. I want it to be done when I come back in here."

Much to my surprise, he did it. With that impasse behind him, over the next several days, he went on to wrap and sign all thirty little packages by himself.

If there is a moral to this story, I think it is this: Valentine's Day is flawed, and thanks to that, it's full of learning opportunities. For example, Wyatt learned that determination can require digging deep, and practicing generosity can be hard. I learned it's as important to step back as it is to lend a hand. Also? It's okay to want to throw everything away, but don't actually do it in a fit of rage. Finally, planning ahead is smart. All in all, solid life and love lessons, courtesy of a pretty weird holiday.

Cultivating Our Yes Brain

"So are we not going to volunteer today because of that government money thing?"

"Yes. It's Congress' job to pass—agree on—a budget, and they haven't done that. Now, lots of people who work for the federal government can't go to work and earn money to pay for things they need, like food, or where they live. And we can't volunteer if the workers won't be there to tell us what they need us to do. I'm not sure if anyone will be at the garden today."

People talk about the benefits of volunteering. Even the United States Government talks about it on this page. You can't read it today, though, because of the government shutdown. A cached description of the page says, "Perhaps the first and biggest benefit people get from volunteering is the satisfaction of incorporating service into their lives and making a difference in their community and country. The intangible benefits alone—such as pride, satisfaction, and accomplishment—are worthwhile reasons to serve. In addition, when we share ..." I'm dying to know what happens when we share whatever it is. Meanwhile, we can add to the list of benefits, "The opportunity to discuss with your children important issues surrounding a government shutdown."

Fortunately, the shutdown did not impact the national day of service on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. And no, that link doesn't work today, either. We spent last Monday working in a different corner of the Presidio than usual. It was a truly wonderful day. The team at the Presidio knows better than anyone how to welcome, inspire, and educate volunteers. Their opening and closing circles included a short discussion of the history of the day, the importance of service, and how we were part of a larger, nationwide volunteer effort. The educational tables near the volunteer check-in included games where you match bird calls and eggs with the birds that make them, and a bulletin board to add your suggestions about how to improve your community.

Wyatt, a few friends, and I were in the family-friendly working group of about 25 people of varying ages and abilities. We were the Banana Slugs, and the kids made sure we earned our team name by finding as many banana slugs as they could. We directed our questions about what to weed, prune, and gather for compost to the gardeners who work in the Presidio every day. The kids peppered delighted educators with countless questions about critters and plants. And we all worked together to fill the dump truck with debris more than twice.

The organizers provided bagels, coffee and juice for breakfast, as well as lunch. I remarked to one of the gardeners how thoughtful it was of them to provide lunch at the end of the program. He explained they had decided that if people spent the whole morning working for free, and the program ended at lunch time, it was only right to provide lunch. After all, there aren't a lot of lunch options up in the Presidio, and a lot of people can't afford them anyway. Organizers brought in vegetarian and meaty pupusas and tamales along with plenty of curtido from Liquor Express & Deli on Geary Boulevard, a family-owned Salvadoran eatery. Our family is destined become regulars at that restaurant because the food was so good. I also like the idea of saying we got dinner from a place with the unlikely name, Liquor Express.

Regardless of what the (unavailable) government website suggests, "pride and satisfaction" are not the reasons we've continued volunteering this past year. We keep coming back to see the people and spaces we care about and to tackle new challenges. The work we do helps me show Wyatt how to live an open, creative and resilient life. And I had no idea this is what I was doing until I finished reading the new book, The Yes Brain, by Daniel J. Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson. The Yes Brain is nominally a parenting book, and it focuses on teaching parents and caregivers how to help children develop a Yes Brain. A Yes Brain has four key characteristics: balance, resilience, insight, and empathy. The book also teaches readers how to cultivate those four characteristics in themselves (it's not just for parents and caregivers). It's a quick, well-organized and engaging read. Because it's written by skilled authors with parents in mind, it's streamlined. They don't waste words, and they're gentle but direct. I ended up using a lot of the time I thought I'd be reading to reflect on what I was learning.

Read the book. It's totally worth your time. If nothing else, it may help to provide some context for why certain activities might be even more worthwhile than you had initially thought. For example, our volunteer work contributes to all four brain characteristics:

• Balance: Feeling like things are going right and you can handle yourself well. Volunteering gets us outside, and it helps us feel calm and useful.
• Resilience: Appreciating that situations in life can be difficult, challenge is okay, and the difficulties can make us stronger. While we're working, sometimes we mess up (or see others mess up), but we learn from the mistakes and we witness how group leaders meet the mistakes with kindness and gentle corrections. All of this goes a long way to helping everyone build resilience by feeling safe, seen, soothed, and secure.
• Insight: Recognizing your own emotional state before it overtakes you. Sometimes things get frustrating when you're working, and the low-pressure of volunteering allows the space to notice when you're feeling like a red volcano that's ready to blow.
• Empathy: Looking at someone with your heart, and noticing how that person is feeling. Fellow volunteers have different abilities and preferences, and you can observe a lot if you look with your heart. For example we can see and appreciate how someone with physical challenges prefers to weed in one spot while Wyatt would rather move around more, shoveling and moving rocks.

So good, right?

And for the days when any or all of these characteristics are lacking, but I stubbornly refuse to totally give up, I figure we can just eat more vegetables. Vegetables in the form of this Bok Choy Salad with Apple and Persimmon, for example. We've eaten this salad so many times already this winter, but somehow, I have no photos of it. I'll try to add a photo to this post later this week. If fuyu persimmons are elusive, we've used pomegranate seeds. I'm pretty sure it would also be good just with extra apple, too. (Edited on 1/25 to add the photo below!)

And in case you were wondering, we made it to the San Francisco Women's March on Saturday.

Rainy Glory

We were back in the garden in the pouring rain this week, and I think it's safe to say we were the happiest people in town, suited, booted, and layered in our long underwear, rain gear and Do Better Beanies. As the rain came down, we learned about nitrogen nodules while chopping up the cover crop of legumes that will fertilize the beds in preparation for the next plants. Mostly, though, we just enjoyed a little nature worship and celebrated the return of RAIN GLORIOUS RAIN.

It's the start of another new year, so I've been thinking about adjustments and changes more than usual, especially in relation to this space. I started this blog thinking I needed to write for myself. But the truth is, I only publish things I want you to read. I want you to read a piece even though I may be terrified of what you'll think of it. Maybe you'll hate it and tell me so, or maybe you'll hate it and never tell me. If we're friends, I'm not sure which option is worse. Or what if you love it? I'd like to think I'd bask in your admiration, but I suspect I'd feel mostly exposed and weirdly uncomfortable. Also? I dread that you'll read a piece and judge it (and me) as uninspiring, lame, boring, or wrong. Even listing these insecurites makes me shudder. In the coming year, I want to practice letting go of all of it. 

I hope the practice will make me a better writer (or, barring that, a happier human being). I want to be a writer who publishes inspiring, thought-provoking pieces that also make you laugh. I want my pieces to stick with you long enough so that you actually go out and try something new, revisit something old with a new perspective, or create something that, at the very least, doesn't suck as much as you thought it might when you started. Food, craft, family, and community are where I find myself these days, so I doubt those topic areas will change much in the coming year. But I'd love to be less terrible at guessing what any of you actually want to read. I mean, other than about cheese. Everyone loves posts about cheese.

Happy 2018, and thank you (yes, YOU!) for being here.

"Snowy Winter"

Warm wishes for a wonderful holiday season.

With love!

Show Up, Listen Up & Speak Up.

Christmas Toilet

". . . They're gonna build a toilet around the Christmas tree . . . Mom. How would you even do that? Build a toilet around the Christmas tree? And WHO EVEN DOES THAT?"

"It's TOYLAND. Not TOILET."

"Ah! That makes more sense. Toys. What's a toyland?"

I love the English language, don't you? And Wyatt's mondegreen might be the best thing that has happened to "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town." I mean, would they move the toilet? Or would they move the tree? Or would they, as Wyatt also mused, "Get like a dozen port-a-potties and line them up in a circle around the tree?"

This week, we are working steadily to get all the things done before school lets out for winter break on Friday. In case you are (or your partner is) engaged in the seasonal emotional labor of creating thoughtful, pretty, handmade gifts that someone might actually want, look just the right amount homemade, and are low enough value that no one would mistake them for a bribe, this post is for you.

We opted for edible gifts. Here are some ideas.

Apple Butter. Here's a recipe. Personally, I washed the apples, cut out the cores, and then roasted them, unpeeled, in large chunks in baking dishes with about 1/4 inch of water in the bottom of the dish. Once soft, I pureed the apples (skin and all) in the Vitamix. And then I reduced the purée over many hours in the slow cooker on low. I added lemon juice and honey to taste just before canning. The yield is low (just over a half pound of apples made 4 ounces of apple butter), but it's delicious.

Herbed Nuts. These are the best nuts ever. I always use more sage than the recipe says because the dried sage leaves are easily the best part. Also? They keep way longer than 3 days in an air-tight container.

Granola. Granola would also be a lovely gift. I like this recipe a lot.

Caramel Corn Clusters. Yes, we make them every year. If you omit the peanuts, use more salt. This year, we substituted slivered almonds and I used 1 1/2 teaspoons of Diamond Kosher salt, and the result was perfect.

Choose appropriately-sized mason jars and then conscript the other members in your family to decorate and label them. We used a gold paint pen, some address labels, and a snowflake paper punch with a glue stick to make these jars fancy. We also used tie-on tags to personalize them. Double-sided-satin ribbon around the top of the jar looks pretty great, too. (The caramel corn clusters would work in jars, but I usually use treat bags because the shape is more forgiving, and I tie them closed with red and white baker's twine.)

Stitch It To The Man

Do you curse?

Some people don't, and I respect that. I, on the other hand, enjoy a well-placed, well-timed "bad f-word," even if it's only in my head because Wyatt's around. Strictly speaking, curse words aren't necessary, but neither is cheese, chocolate, or whiskey.

The subject of cursing brings me to my latest pattern: Stitch It To The Man. It's my tenth published pattern and last pattern for 2017. All three of the designs in the pattern—from clean to full-on curse—came together easily for me, and I finished knitting the sample quickly. But then I got stuck. I couldn't, for the life of me, name this pattern. Even worse, I could only write terrible, stilted descriptions of it. Good thing I have clever, irreverent, and generous friends. My high school friend, Molly, and her oldest daughter (both in Massachusetts) named the pattern. Isn't it perfect? Once the pattern had a name, Sarah (in South Carolina) wrote the best blurb ever:

Let’s work together to dismantle white supremacy. With delicate snowflakes and a gut punch of solidarity, this beanie roars the message you choose: “end white supremacy” for your grandmother, and “fuck white supremacy” for your daughter. Choose a character mark for a whiff of mystery, or pick a vowel to make your point loud and proud. Suggestions for customizing the ribbing band are also included.

We’re serious. This privilege absurdity needs to end. 100% of proceeds for this pattern are donated monthly to the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI).

And then? My editor (in Texas) decided to charge me exactly zero dollars to work on this project.

I love all the generosity that went into this hat. And I love how this project, thanks to all five of us, spans so much of the United States.

Of course, the proceeds are going to the Equal Justice Initiative (in Alabama):

The Equal Justice Initiative is committed to ending mass incarceration and excessive punishment in the United States, to challenging racial and economic injustice, and to protecting basic human rights for the most vulnerable people in American society.

While I was knitting the sample for this pattern, I listened to Bryan Stevenson's book, Just Mercy. I won't try to describe the book here, but I will say it's an absolutely essential read, and it is the reason why I chose to support EJI with this project.

I'd love to count you as a collaborator on Stitch It To The Man. Whether you're a knitter or a friend of a knitter, you can buy the pattern here.

Other books I've been reading while working on this project are: Michael W. Twitty's The Cooking Gene, and Rivers Solomon's  An Unkindness of Ghosts. Both of these incredible books are written by authors of color, and they address in their own distinct and riveting ways how truly critical it is to end, f*ck, or fuck white supremacy. Read these two books, too. Or give them as holiday gifts. Or both!

That's right: it's the holidays. This weekend, we decorated the Christmas tree, in and around doing about a zillion other things. And I finally used the butternut squash that arrived in our CSA box during the week of Thanksgiving. I made soup with a recipe that went as far away from sweet butternut squash flavor as I could find: Butternut Squash and Tomato Soup. I'm pleased to report it is a new family favorite. All three of us happily ate it two days in a row (it's gone now, or we'd still be enjoying it), and that never happens with squash soup. I served the soup with a kale Caesar salad. This Caesar vinaigrette is the best. And don't roll your eyes when I tell you that you need to massage the kale before you dress it. It only takes five minutes and it makes all the difference. Here's what to do: Once you've washed and stemmed the kale, chop the leaves into salad-sized pieces and put them in a big bowl. Drizzle a little olive oil on the kale, and with your (super clean) hands, squeeze and smoosh the life out of the kale. The volume of leaves will shrink by about 1/3 or 1/2. When you're done with this step, add dressing to your taste, and toss. The salad will keep beautifully for several days in the fridge if you have left-overs. Some good cheese and bread rounded out our plates nicely.

Better and Better

Have you heard? I just published a new pattern. It's called the Do Better Beanie. I've been writing all the social media blurbs for it in a super positive light, because, you know, POSITIVITY. And the messages are totally positive, and I do truly mean them that way.

But I've already started joking with friends who are peeved about, say, being ignored, "It sounds like you might need to borrow Listen Up!" Or say, hypothetically, there's a huge school fundraiser this weekend and parents aren't signing up for shifts (even though they know that have to), thinking they can duck responsibility without being noticed. Wouldn't it be nice to slap them with a Show Up hat? Or maybe you know someone who could use their power and influence to make things better for others, but doesn't. Speak Up for that one! Unfortunately, it's way more practical for me to passive aggressively make a totally insincere offer to lend any of these people the appropriate hat than to actually knit them. Scaling craftivism is tricky, obviously.

You can find the link to the Do Better Beanie here on this site under Designs, or just click directly to my Ravelry shop.

How was your Thanksgiving? Ours was great but weird. Marc came down with a beast of a cold on Thursday morning, so Wyatt and I made our second annual Thanksgiving trip to Sebastopol without him. Not only did Wyatt and I miss having Marc there, so many of my relatives were so disappointed not to see him. They had saved up all these great things to tell him since they last talked a year ago! I think that if you have to skip Thanksgiving, the next best thing is to be genuinely and specifically missed.

Here is a Thanksgiving photo along with photos of  some new-to-us junk sculptures by Patrick Amiot.

Finally, if you're looking for a great recipe for brussels sprouts, check this one out. We made it this weekend. It tastes way better and is much less fussy than the one I have tried from Cook's Illustrated where each sprout half must be placed individually and none of them get much color. Whether you use Minimalist Baker's recipe for dipping sauce or your own, don't skip it unless you want to make Wyatt sad.

Giving and Getting

This is the face of a happy volunteer.

I thought I wasn't the kind of person who needed the attention that comes from appreciation parties. True givers do the work for the sake of the work, not to be celebrated for it. Right?

We've been volunteering in the Presidio for the better part of this year, and last Thursday was the annual Volunteer Appreciation Dinner where the staff throws a terrific party. The staff cook several turkeys, and everyone who attends brings a dish to share. I debated whether Wyatt and I should go. We'd be out late on a school night, and we didn't really need to be appreciated. We'd show up to work next time with or without a party. But parties are fun, and we like to dress up. So we went, and we are so glad we did.

As we drove up to the party, Wyatt noticed another car arriving at the same time and he said, "Hey! I know those people! That's Abby's car. The convertible BMW. It's got to be her." And sure enough, it was her. She was driving, and had given a ride to several other women we know from the garden and nursery. Once we had said hello, Abby asked if we could carry in some of the things she brought to share. Of course we could.

We checked-in, made our name tags, wrote a label for our shared dish (vegan! gluten-free! with nuts!), and then went in to mingle.

The staff had transformed the office into the most festive dining hall, and they were all still hard at work. Rebecca was tending bar, and she made Wyatt's night by mixing him a Unicorn ("Ginger ale, cranberry juice, and as much sparkling water as your mother would like.") Jean made sure we knew to look for the dressing with the gluten-free sign--she made sure they made some special. And Desmond brought us back to what looked like a gift shop and told us we could choose anything we wanted off the table.

Wyatt chose the orange blanket and I opted for a fleece vest that says "Golden Gate National Parks."

Dinner was truly spectacular. Best potluck ever. While we ate and chatted, they played a slide show of photos from previous years' appreciation parties. Wyatt kept spotting people we know, laughing at goofy photos, and trying to figure out where the photos were being projected from. On the drive home, we debated which side we liked the best (it was the dressing, but so many of the salads were close seconds!), discussed why halvah tastes weird (we tried every gluten-free offering on the dessert table), and exclaimed how glad we were that we went.

It was such a good night, and while we didn't need to be fed an amazing dinner, the truth is we kind of did. It felt good. And it reminded me of a Brené Brown quote: “Until we can receive with an open heart, we're never really giving with an open heart. When we attach judgment to receiving help, we knowingly or unknowingly attach judgment to giving help."

The dish we made to share was the Brussels Sprouts, Apple, and Pomegranate Salad from Smitten Kitchen. It's fancy (thanks to the pomegranate seeds), fast to prepare, and delicious. I couldn't find any brussels sprouts at the store, so I went with a savoy cabbage instead. It was terrific.

Little Chicken

"Mom. I showed Jim the yellow chicken I knitted and you know what he said? He said he'd give me five dollars for it. Can you even BELIEVE that? He only offered me five dollars. Why did he do that? I worked on it for SO MANY WEEKS. I wouldn't sell it to him for less than...NINETY dollars."

Ah, the value of craft. It warms my knitter's heart that Wyatt fully grasps that crafts take time and energy, and that makers should be compensated well for their work. We will discuss market forces another time. Meanwhile, our neighbor, Jim, will have to hunt for a bargain chicken elsewhere.

This little yellow chicken was Wyatt's first knitting project at school. I (obviously) wasn't there to document the process, but this knitting project is even easier than the bunny. The steps are: (1) knit a square with yellow yarn, (2) sew the square on two sides to make a triangle., but leave a little space for stuffing, (3) stuff the chicken, (4) close the stuffing hole (5) get brown yarn and make one stitch for each eye, (6) get orange yarn and do three stitches for the beak.

Looking at crafts from a time, materials, and skills perspective with a child who understands how long it takes to make things means we start from the idea that handmade things should actually be expensive and possibly out of our price range. It means that when we see amazing things, like this wooden village with a candle-powered propeller that costs a small fortune, our conversation goes something like, "Wow! This village is amazing. Look at all the careful work that they did and all the details. We can't spend that much money, but it is really beautiful."

Crafts, cost and value reminds me of the trivets from last year. We're not working on anything nearly as complicated or time-consuming this year. I don't actually have a plan for homemade gifts yet, but every week that goes by means whatever we do will be that much more simple. We can always make some more paper lanterns.

Speaking of lanterns, over the weekend, we went to the German International School's Lantern Walk. It was lovely! While we were there, Wyatt made a lantern out of half of a plastic container that had holes punched in the side to attach a mini LED on a pipe cleaner and a beaded pipe cleaner handle. Some Elmer's glue, tissue paper, ribbon, and stickers made a beautiful, sturdy, and portable lantern.

I don't have a new recipe to share this week, but we recently tried two new (to us) products! The first is a gluten-free gochu jang from Sinto Gourmet. I've been looking for a gluten-free gochu jang for over a year, and this one is amazing. I found it in the refrigerated section of Whole Foods.

The second thing we tried was Beyond Meat burgers. Two out of the three of us thought they were amazing. I, however, was not a fan. I thought the burgers smelled weird out of the package, cooking did not improve the smell, and I could only eat half of mine.  Neither Marc nor Wyatt noticed the smell and said they'd eat them all the time. The ingredient list, however, is pretty long and sciencey-processed-sounding, so "sometimes" might be a better call than "all the time."

I prepared the burgers according the the package instructions (down to using a thermometer to confirm they reached at least 165 degrees before I served them). We also really did them up fancy with condiments and toppings.

The Cure

"Mom. Don't you love this song? I do. I didn't know it was on this cassette. Did you know that this is The Cure?"

"Yes, I did."

"What's he saying? Boys don't cry? This song is very old. Like back from when people thought boys shouldn't cry, I guess? Mom. You know that boys are tougher than girls, right?"

I laughed, and not a "HA!" laugh, a real legitimate laugh. "No, they're not. I mean, seriously, just for an example, can you name me any man tougher than Harriet Tubman?"

He was quiet.  "No," he finally said, "I can't. But for women, Flo Jo might have been faster than Harriet Tubman."

Happy November, everyone.  In case you couldn't guess, Wyatt and I just finished Rad Women A-Z and we are currently reading Let It Shine: Stories of Black Women Freedom Fighters. We'll be getting back to The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, soon. Meanwhile, I'm really enjoying Wyatt's unlikely comparisons between heroic, strong women.

And in recognition of cold and flu season, as well as everything else that's wearing us down, keeping us up, and demanding our action (I mean, WHERE TO START?), I thought I'd post about what most people used to call Fire Cider, until a company trademarked that name. Now a lot of people call it Master Tonic. A lot of people except, I guess, Kitchn, whose recipe I use. And except for us, at home, in conversation. "Master Tonic" is basically a folk remedy that we drink the moment we feel a throat tickle, have a couple of sneezes, or get that vague run-down-before-a-cold feeling. Marc and Wyatt used to joke that they couldn't sneeze or cough around me or I'd chase them with a shot of it. But now, they come after me with it, too. And as of today, we were into our last bottle, so it was time for another batch.

Some people say it tastes good. We are not liars, and we would never say such a thing. But we do take it. All three of us. It requires a lot of chopping and cutting, and it keeps indefinitely, so I make a triple batch at a time. Fortunately, Wyatt was happy to be my garlic peeler today, and that helped a lot.

We'll shake the jug everyday for the next 4-6 weeks (the time we will wait will depend on whether we run out of our last batch), strain out the solids, and then funnel the liquid into bottles for storing.

It's Halloween: Save the Chubby Unicorns

Happy Halloween! As usual, this year's costume has been underway since the summer. But I only had to make the hat this year. Well, the hat and the oxpecker we attached to the hat. Somehow, the elephant suit I made Wyatt two years ago still fits. This fact is astounding--the pajamas that fit him perfectly six months ago are now, well, very much 3/4 length. The elephant-rhino suit is a Halloween miracle, obviously. And because O-Wool is awesome, it was easy for me to get more matching yarn for the hat.

If you follow me on Instagram here, you will have seen my attempt at a slow reveal of the costume.

And today? It's time to show you the whole costume.

The hat is from this book. And the oxpecker (with which we obviously took artistic liberty) is from this book. The poses are all Wyatt.

I wish you the most magnificent Halloween.

And in case you're looking for some fun cooking inspiration after today (dinner is always a disaster at our house on Halloween, and it makes me feel better to think that the same is true at yours), Gluten Free Girl is doing 100 Days of Making Food. Find her recipes every day on Instagram and Facebook. We made the marvelous dairy-free vegetable gratin over the weekend. It didn't hurt that I got an impressive mortar and pestle for my birthday, and who knew, but we already had someone living with us who loves to grind spices! Our gratin included some sweet potatoes and a celery root, in addition to the vegetables GFG suggested And sure enough, the leftovers were terrific in fritters. Here's GFG's recipe, lifted from her Instagram:

I made a gratin, based loosely on one from @reneeerickson's cookbook. It has an unexpected depth, thanks to the time I spent steeping the coconut milk with a couple of pinches of garam masala. Danny took a bite, looked at me, and stared. "Honey, this is really good." A few more bites, and he said, "We are making this for Thanksgiving." I agree.
5 large russet potatoes, peeled, cut lengthwise, then chopped into quarters
5 large carrots, peeled and cut into 4 pieces
1 13.5 ounce can full-fat coconut millk
1/2 teaspoon garam masala (Kelly's Note: I mostly followed this recipe, but added bay leaves and black cardamom, and omitted coriander because coriander is my kryptonite.)
1 bunch green kale, leaves off the stems, chopped
Heat the oven to 400°. Set a large pot of cold water onto a burner. Add enough kosher salt to make the water taste like the ocean. Add the potatoes and carrots. Turn the burner onto high heat. Let the water come to a boil. Allow the vegetables to cook until a knife slides through the potatoes easily, about 20 minutes. Drain the potatoes and carrots immediately.
As the potatoes and carrots are cooking, put the coconut milk into a small skillet set on low heat. Add the garama masala. Let the coconut milk simmer, in slow surges, and stir it occasionally.
Mash the potatoes and carrots. You're not going for a puree here, but a rough mash, with lumps of each vegetable visible. Add the chopped kale and fold it into the potatoes and carrots. Pile it all into a 9x13 pan.
Drizzle the seasoned coconut milk over the gratin and gently tuck it into the vegetables.
Bake until everything is fully hot and the top is beginning to brown, about 30 minutes.
Feeds 8.
Feel like playing? If you can eat dairy, you can butter the pan before putting in the gratin. You could also cover the top of the gratin with a hard cheese like Parmesan or Gruyere.

If you have leftovers the next morning, stir them up with an egg and a handful of gluten-free breadcrumbs. Make golf-ball size pieces, squash them into cakes, and fry them up.
#100daysofmakingfood

Below are my photos. As if I had to tell you that. So much less impressive than GFG's.

Hooray for Librarians! And "Brownies."

This weekend, I published a new pattern! It's the Librarian Beanie. My friend, Anne, who is a librarian in real life, modeled for me. I have the best friends.

I did not come up with this design all by myself. As I said before, I have the best friends. My friend, Sarah, (who is a librarian and very busy with graduate school, work, life, and raising two little boys) and I were texting a couple of months ago about volunteering, politics, and how there's basically not enough time to resist and connect in all the ways we would like. In a text that might have had a slightest whiff of frustration tinged with exhaustion, she wrote something like, "I don't think I can take on more right now. Also? I'm a librarian. Librarians are f*cking helpful." I about died. Sarah wondered about putting that last sentence on a t-shirt. I offered to knit it into a hat. Around the same time I offered to knit it into a hat, she revised the sentence to read, "Librarians: Helpful AF."  Collaboration at its best, right?

Normally, I design patterns in wool yarn. I love Sincere Sheep's yarn, and I used Equity Fingering in this design. But my friend, Anne, is allergic to wool, and this project seemed like a perfect opportunity try something new. Vegan Yarn seemed like a great choice. I used their Pleiades Sock yarn, which is made of bamboo, cotton and elastic, and dyed with low-impact dyes. If you don't (or your favorite librarian doesn't) do wool, it's a terrific alternative.

So please tell your knitting-library-and-librarian-loving friends about the Librarian Beanie!

Quick totally unrelated question: What are you all doing for breakfast foods lately? We're still into homemade yogurt (lately with sheep's milk, of all things, which is amazing and so mild), and I've also started making a version of this custard, but with roasted sweet potatoes instead of pumpkin. It has been a big hit, but I'm ready for the next great make-ahead idea.

There are also school birthdays coming up where Wyatt will bring-his-own treat, so we made these "brownies" on Sunday, and they're good. I would never mistake them for actual brownies, but as a gluten-free, reasonably healthy bar cookie, we like them a lot. If you make them, do not make the mistake we did and use an immersion blender to mix (is that what they meant by "hand blender?"), because if it's like our immersion blender, it will seriously overheat before you're done mixing. I think a regular mixer would work fine.

I cut the bars and then froze them individually for easy, single servings.

Ikea and Memory

Do you remember the first time you went to Ikea? I do. I was in high school, and I was on a summer exchange program in Oslo, Norway. My Ikea guides were two young Norwegian women who had befriended me and were shopping for furniture for their new apartment. I remember being totally bowled over by the size of Ikea, its blue exterior, the clean lines of all the designs, and how comfortable I felt trying everything out.

My memory of the shopping trip is still so vivid. It made such an impression on me that I thought for sure I had taken photos of it. But I looked back at my album, and there’s no sign of Ikea anywhere. In fact, there’s only one photo of my two friends, and it is of them with their new sofa(?), in a shop that’s not Ikea. I suppose at the time, the photo mattered because they had maybe accomplished their mission. Decades later, though, I can’t help but notice that I was really into taking photos of unremarkable things that were only worthy of forgetting. That is, except for the farty street signs (and you know the photo of the flowers is terrible if you have to label it "flowers.").

The second time I went to Ikea was when I went to college. I was with friends looking for bookshelves when I suddenly realized I had been there before, only in Oslo. I hadn’t bothered to remember “Ikea” because I thought the store was a Scandanavian thing I’d never see again. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Memory is such a funny thing. Some memories are so vivid, some just disappear, and there are the hazy ones where you know you were there because there’s a photo of it. There is also all the science that tells us that every time we retrieve a memory, it changes, so we can’t really trust that we remember everything exactly as it happened. Right? Maybe. But for the purposes of real life, getting hung-up on the very specific details is to miss the bigger picture. I mean, if your boss jerked-off in front of you, his aiming into a potted plant is a good detail, but totally not the point.  I’m so glad that, this week, from my perspective, people seem to be believing more victims’ accounts than usual. As I read all the #MeToo statuses on social media and reflect on my own #MeToo, I realize that I’ve always assumed that every woman I have ever met has been, at the very least, sexually harassed during her life, and likely worse. We’ve all learned to deal with it. “Dealing” takes many forms, including tolerating, ignoring, avoiding, and getting therapy. Consider all that daily effort by so many women, while the perpetrators carry on as usual with the patriarchy’s support. Do you remember the first time you experienced or witnessed harassing behavior? It starts early. I remember in second grade being told to “grow a tougher skin” so the daily, stomach-churning harassment of a boy could continue but wouldn’t bother me. After all, the refrain of the grown-ups was, “Aww. It's fine. He just likes you!” Unchecked, bad behavior of course only gets worse. Like in seventh grade wood shop when the boys would surround me, the only girl, to taunt me with talk and gestures of blow-jobs while the teacher hid in his office. I eventually transferred into an art class. And then there's what we deal with as high schoolers, and as grown-ups. We must raise better boys, and we must also hold accountable the grown-ups who are behaving terribly.

But let me get back to Ikea. Memories of Ikea. And the reality of Ikea today! I hadn’t been to Ikea in years, but we took Wyatt this weekend. As far as I can tell, Ikea has only changed for the better since I was there last. The small living spaces with perfectly arranged, just colorful enough furniture and accessories make me feel like I could totally move in. I mean, there are even clothes hanging in the closets.

We weren’t shopping, but we did buy hangers and dishtowels (I dare you to go to Ikea and buy nothing), and Wyatt got a stubby pencil and catalog as souvenirs. More importantly, though, Wyatt left with context for Catherine Newman's One Mixed-Up Night, which he has now heard twice. I read it to him the first time and Marc the second time. “Didn’t you love it?” I asked Marc. “It’s one of the saddest books I’ve ever read. But yes, it’s great,” he responded. While I didn’t find it that sad, I do understand where Marc’s coming from. No spoilers here, so you’ll have to read and decide for yourself.

This trip to Ikea, I didn’t forget to take photos.

And in further recognition of Catherine Newman's work, and my own need to not spend a moment more in the kitchen than absolutely necessary, we ate nachos for dinner on Sunday. Her nacho cheese sauce is really good. Our somewhat unconventional toppings included tomatoes, chopped fermented dill green beans, hearts of palm, lettuce, pepperoncini, and black beans. Weird salad on chips. With nacho cheese sauce! You know you want to try it.

October Is Here

Mom. I always thought that when they made donut holes instead of donuts, someone cut the middles out of donuts to make the little...round lumps. You know? BUT THEY DON'T.

No, they don't. You can easily have donut holes without the donuts, and vice versa. Mindblowing.

On Monday morning, we revised our plan to hike in the Presidio, because, as you may have heard, the entire state of California is pretty much on fire right now. It's scary and horrible to see the destruction, never mind how the fires are still raging. The smoke is intense even in San Francisco.

Wyatt and I flipped through cookbooks to find a suitable birthday treat for Margaret's Birthday Breakfast for Dinner that evening. We opted for Apple Cider Doughnut (Holes) from Gluten-Free Girl's American Classic's Reinvented. We discussed the risks of trying a new recipe for the occasion and decided to go for it anyway.

After some grocery shopping, we headed downtown to visit our friends who were spending the day at the Contemporary Jewish Museum. We learned from Sukkah Artist in Residence Ari Salomon how to take vertical panoramic photos and he gave us some terrific prints.

As far as the donut holes, I think our batter was too runny. I'm not sure why, because I was really careful about following every instruction meticulously. I mean, I was meticulous to the point of, "This batter looks too runny to form into balls. But I had better leave it alone because what do I know, I've never made this before." Anyway, our apple cider donut holes didn't end up even close to spherical, but you know what? They still tasted amazing. And we all preferred the weird sticky-out pieces because they got crunchier. The stack of about thirty of them made an excellent birthday-cake-mountain, and because they were donut holes, we didn't have to save them for dessert.

The rest of our weekend was full of Northern California October Things that all fell on the same weekend this year: Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, Lambtown, and The Blue Angels.

The concert was terrific. It was also more political than in previous years, and it was way more safety-conscious. I guess it's fair to say it was Very 2017. Wyatt learned a few more "bad words" from some of the performers, but he has since forgotten them, and I steadfastly refuse to remind him what they were. In and around great music, we cheered for justice, equality, the end of toxic masculinity, and more. And we even played a few spontaneous and hilariously competitive rounds of Uno with two men seated behind us on the lawn at the Swan Stage. Uno is SUCH a great game. Taking a photo of our card game would have ruined the mood, so I didn't do that. I did, however get one of Wyatt working on some finger knitting while we were there.

Lambtown was also wonderful, as always. We watched young sheep dogs try to herd some sheep, visited with the animals, and saw some incredible fibers, crafts, and artwork. I got to visit with Sincere Sheep and see my Strata cowl styled ever so beautifully in the festival booth.

Wyatt opted for a ticket to the petting zoo over the (tragically circular) pony rides this year. And good thing he did, because there was a puppy section. He snuggled every single one of them multiple times. (Why didn't I pay $5 for my own puppy snuggles? I mean, just LOOK.)

And if that's not enough? When we got home, I canned another batch of fruit butter. This time was roasted pear with vanilla, cardamom and honey. It's outstanding.

Fruit Butter, Misunderstandings, and Awkwardness

This week, I'm turning my post format upside-down. Trust me. Fruit butter takes a long time to simmer, so we'll start with it first. 

First, you get the Concord Grape Butter. I got the idea from Food In Jars' Instagram feed. These preserves taste and smell more like grapes than anything I've ever had. They are the grape soda (or gum) of your childhood, only way better.

Basically, we took all the grapes, washed them, cooked them on their stems until the fruit was soft, pulled out the stems (they were hot! and the juice stained my fingers for days! good thing I'm so selfless!), Wyatt put the grapes through the food mill to get rid of seeds and skins, and then I cooked down the puree until it was fruit butter consistency. I added a couple of tablespoons of sugar until it tasted right. We funneled the butter into jars and then processed the jars in the water bath. (The basic formula for fruit butter is here, and I've got plum butter simmering in the slow cooker as I type.)

Now that you know about grape butter (I mean, I had no idea, did you?), I feel like it's fair to share my recent thoughts on showing up in life.

I'm realizing that talking with Wyatt about race, justice, and fairness is, on one hand, completely necessary, and on the other hand, impossible for me to get right all the time. (And who doesn't like to get things right?) For example, last weekend, we were making dinner and Wyatt was, for the first time in his life, in charge of frying fritters. He was focused and attentive, and there was a lot of frying to do, so he was there for awhile. Over the sizzling pans and the whirring exhaust fan, we were discussing fairness and classmates being kind (or not so kind) at school, and I was trying to make the point that we (and he) should always be ready to help others. As I was saying something like, "...so Wyatt, if we see someone being hurt, or treated badly, it's our job to check in with the person so we can help them, stick up for them..." he cut me off and declared with a degree of solemnity I didn't know was possible, "Yes. I know. Stand up for them. And I could get killed for it."

Marc and I looked at each other, not sure how to react. I did a quick mental sift and suddenly realized Wyatt must have been referring to the (totally inspiring) profiles in Rad Women Worldwide where women had (1) stood up for their beliefs and (2) had been killed for it. Doing our best on-the-fly-repair-job, Marc and I went on to talk about how getting killed for your beliefs can be an outcome (I mean, obviously), but it's a very unusual outcome in our community. Most importantly, getting killed for standing up for his beliefs and for others is not a thing Wyatt needs to worry about, at all. I wonder how much of all this he grasped. Marc and I later agreed that we'd pay better attention to and talk with Wyatt about examples we noticed where we, or someone else, supported others in the course of everyday life.

But that wasn't the only misunderstanding that weekend. On Saturday, Wyatt was listening on the kitchen speakers to his beloved cassette where Diana Ross sings "Workin' Overtime." He asked, "Mom. Diana Ross has brown skin, right? Was she enslaved?" I said, "No, slavery was over before her time, but her..." He cut me off, "Her ancestors probably were enslaved?" "Yes," I said, "You've got it. Why do you ask?" He responded, "Well, because she's singing, 'I'm working ALL THE TIME.' So it made me think she was enslaved.'" Of course it did. Everything and everyone is impossibly old when you're six; 1863 was a long, long time ago, but so was 1989. I explained the words were actually "working overtime," and we discussed how that was different from "all the time," and from slavery.

And then this weekend? I got the awkward-over-thinker award. We were headed to a baseball game! I realized after we had invited Wyatt's big-kid-buddy from school to join us that we might be at the park in time for the national anthem, and since we'd have someone else's child with us, I had better find out where his family was on the anthem protest issue. So I texted his mom. I felt a super awkward, and in the end, we missed the anthem anyway.

What's my point? My point is that we have to actually show up in life. And part of showing up is feeling awkward (ugh), getting stuff wrong (which sucks), learning to do better (yay), and then showing up again, and again (no, it doesn't end). Humanity needs me, and it needs you. Just these last few weeks have shown this fact over and over again, from devastating hurricanes, to the United States' failure adequately to aid Puerto Rico, to the terrorism in Las Vegas, to the United States' continued preference for the Second Amendment over human lives.

Yes, it's a lot. And this week? I didn't feel like volunteering in the garden like Wyatt and I usually do. But as Wyatt said, "Of course I want to go. Why wouldn't we go?" So we showed up and did our work. As always, it was worth it.

Make More Art; Eat More Frangipane

This summer, Wyatt spent several weeks at art camp. This past week, we decided it was time to document the work he had done. I'm so glad we did the documenting step. Taking photos of the projects allowed him to appreciate his work and decide which of it he wanted to keep (and which could be recycled, because, let's be real, enough with the four grocery bags of artwork in the dining room). It was fun going through the projects with him. I got to hear what he liked, what was hard, and what was amazing.

I know we'll revisit some of these projects, and I'm betting that some of you could use some art project inspiration, so I'm sharing my notes and photos here. One project that is omitted from most of the photos is the new sketch book the kids got and decorated every week. Wyatt had already distributed them around the house (so he can always be ready to sketch).

Animals in Art

• Animal Paws: Kid-sized rubber gloves decorated with glued or taped fur and foam claws.
• Mounted Animal (Pig) Head: Cardboard mounting board, crumpled newspaper, masking tape to help shape and hold it all together, box from bar soap to make the chin, toilet paper roll for snout, pink and black paint.
• Fish Wind Sock: Paper (choose paper that's a little on the drapey, thin but fibrous side, not crisp, more like a tyvek envelope), dowel, string, wire. Fold the paper lengthwise and draw the outline of a fish-shaped windsock so the belly is on the fold line. Cut along the outline (but not the belly) and unfold the paper. Decorate with paint (head, fins, scales). Glue the cut sides together. Find the space for the mouth (cut wider if needed). Take a wire and wind it into a circle that's the size of the mouth. Glue the edges of the paper fish over the wire "like lipstick." Attach a string at the mouth and then attach the other end of the string to the dowel so you can run around with it behind you and it will catch air and fly.
• Animal and Habitat: Habitat cut from manila folder and folded. Decorate and glue it so it is 3-D. Add a snake (or whatever animal lives in the habitat you made) made out of clay. Make designs in the clay with a toothpick. Once the sculpture is dry, you can even paint it GOLD.

Most favorite: Mounted Pig Head.

Printmaking

Solar Printing: Lots of companies sell the paper you'll need. Here's one. This project is most fun if you have a piece of plexiglass that's as big as your piece of paper. It will hold your paper and items down nicely.  Key is to have a big piece of plexiglass to hold your design in place

Stamps: Make stamps out of foam you can cut and stick to cardboard pieces, or take some styrofoam type material you can "draw" on with a pencil to make an indent. Then ink the stamp and press it on paper.

Marbling: I am not sure how they did this. Wyatt has described it over and over, to the point of frustration, but I think I'm missing something. Here are some tutorials: Japanese Water Marbling and another that uses a thickener in the water, and this one that uses shaving cream (but I know for sure this was not what they did--they definitely used a water bath).

Salad Spinner Painting: Here's a tutorial. Wyatt noted the importance of having a salad spinner for painting, and a separate one for salad.

Most favorite: Making the X print. Take a plastic platform, and put paint or ink on it. Put two pieces of paper down in an X. Put another piece of paper on top of the X and the paint. Pick up the paper and now you have an X without any paint!

Most Frameworthy of the Summer: Draw on styrofoam with a pencil, roll ink on the styrofoam, print the image on three different colored papers, mount all three on a black mat, then visit your favorite local framing store to spiff it up even more. We love Underglass in the Castro.

Drawing and Painting

Scroll: First, make your paintbrush.  Assemble four q-tips in a row and sandwich them between two pieces of cardboard. Tape securely. Now you can paint four parallel lines with one swipe of your brush. Take a long piece of paper and paint with watercolor on it. Do the same on another piece of paper. Then use your brush to paint black, wavy lines on the scroll, and on the other piece of paper. Cut out shapes from the other piece of paper. Angle them so they give contrast on the scroll. Glue them down. For both ends of the scroll, take a strip of black paper and put glue on the black piece, stick the white piece down on the black, glue a straw along the middle of the black paper and then fold the rest of the black piece over the straw and onto the white scroll. Glue the second side of the black paper down. Feed a string through the straw.

3-D model: Build one out of paper! Paint both sides and then fold it so it stands up.

Most Favorite Project: Scroll.

Mixed Media

Collage work this week was inspired by Gee's Bend Quilts and Stuart Davis.

Painted Fabric Pillow: Cut matching shapes, paint them, glue around the edges and stuff with polyfill or other stuffing.

Photo Collage: One in black and white and one color. Take a picture with a camera and then print it. Use paint pens and colored paper to make a self-portrait. You can even put underwear on your head!

Most Favorite: Self portrait. The one with the underwear.

And no, we are not over frangipane yet. This weekend, we made Food 52's Apple Galette with Tahini Frangipane & Honey-Hibiscus Glaze. It's terrific, especially if you can't eat nuts. We concluded we love this galette--the tahini and apple flavors work together beautifully. I used the same gluten-free pie crust recipe as I used last week, and it was a tiny bit less annoying to work with than last time. The crust of this galette was way better than last week's too, probably because this recipe calls for a much higher oven temperature and a pizza stone on the bottom rack. Finally, the magic of the honey-hibiscus glaze cannot be overstated. Try it and prepare to be amazed at how it comes together into a perfect syrup. I bet it would be good even if you can't find (or be bothered to find) dried hibiscus flowers.

Mixed-Up, Frangipane, and X-Ray Spex

"So, we're going to swimming now, right?"

"No! Your teacher texted me and said he'd see us next week."

"Why? Was there poop in the pool?"

"No, he has athlete's foot."

"Oh. What's...Af-leaf's foot again?"

"A foot fungus."

"Oh, right. And he doesn't want other people to get it?"

"Right. So we have the WHOLE AFTERNOON ahead of us! We could finish our book, we could make that fruit tart thing you wanted to make, or we could make jam. What do you want to do?" [UNNATURALLY LONG PAUSE]

"Wyatt. What do you think?"

"I'm sitting here in the back of the car with my mouth open trying to trick you that I had a heart attack. Honestly, I can't decide. I want to do everything."

"ME, TOO!"

We opted to make a Summer Fruit Galette and dinner (we could eat mostly galette for dinner, but we couldn't eat only galette), and because the beans I was cooking for dinner took way longer than I had thought they would, we had extra-extra time to read more of Catherine Newman's new book, One Mixed-Up Night. In very broad strokes, the book is a story of two twelve-year old best friends who share a deep love of IKEA and plot to spend the night there. You know, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler-style.

It's possible I should have saved One Mixed-Up Night until Wyatt was older, but I doubt it. I can guarantee he will read it again because on at least six separate occasions, he laughed so hard he fell off the sofa and breathlessly declared, "THIS is the FUNNIEST book I have EVER read. I am SO GLAD YOU GOT IT, MOM." I am also glad I got it. It's funny, heartwarming, sad, and somehow, as only Catherine Newman can, entirely irreverent and yet totally respectful at the same time.

Wyatt's totally on to me, too. He knows when he can wheedle another chapter (or three, or seven) out of me. I have no discipline when it comes to chapter books like this one. As I confessed to him, it was all I could do not to sneak into his room after he was asleep and gobble it up on my own, without him. He gave me the side-eye. "But you DIDN'T do that, right?" I didn't. It took all my willpower, but I didn't.

Speaking of willpower, it's all I can do right now not to eat the rest of our Summer Fruit Galette. I have watched a few seasons of The Great British Baking Show, where they're always baking frangipane this and frangipane that, and I was very much of the WHO EVEN CARES because what-is-it-anyway-I'm-guessing-some-almond-paste-thing attitude. But I was intrigued. Imagine my delight to see that in the galette recipe I chose to use up our too many plums and weirdly ripening nectarines, we'd have to make frangipane! Let me just say, frangipane is marvelous, and I regret that I have spent so much of my life frangipane-free. We used Gluten Free Girl's pie crust for our galette, and while it basically worked, it was awfully crumbly. It was delicious, but not at all sturdy. I guess what I'm saying is that Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood would have low-key forever shamed me for the crust, but it was more than fine by us. (Do any of you have a terrific gluten-free pie crust to share? I'm struggling, and my sensible child who lacks baking pride asked me this week why I didn't just buy the frozen ones from Whole Foods because it would have been so much easier...)

While we made the galette, we listened to X-Ray Spex's Germfree Adolescents. We've been checking out all the musical artists featured in Rad Women Worldwide, and so far, Wyatt loves Poly Styrene the best. Imagine my surprise when the first track started playing, and Wyatt was like, "I KNOW this one! They played it at Rock Band Land this summer while we were coming in at the beginning of the day."

Frangipane, a good book, and gratitude for other peoples' thoughtful influence on your child: Some days, you feel like you're winning because you actually are.

So Long, Summer

We had a great summer, full of fun camps and new friends for Wyatt, and room for creativity with less driving for me. We closed summer out with a truly wonderful family vacation. Then, back to school arrived with a clattering crash. We're all still adjusting.

When Wyatt was a toddler, I remember complaining bitterly about how hard transitions were. Getting from one place to another, literally and figuratively, when he was a preschooler, was daunting. And you know what? I was too hard on him. Transitions suck for everyone, including me.  I mean, surely you noticed there was no blog post last week. Oh, you didn't? I'm sure you're in good company. I was too deeply in mourning over the end of summer and too busy trying to finish a knitting project to write anything.

Wyatt has been back in school for 7 days; today, he is home sick. Such is the magic of back-to-school. Usually, sick days are pretty boring, but this morning we were treated to a naked guy doing a high-step-saunter past our house. My neighbor called to tell me about him, and to suggest we not go outside just then. Such a good neighbor.

Of course I'll take naked-sauntering-guy (or just boring) over the storms and floods so many people are dealing with right now. Climate change is real, and the effects are intense.

Last week, in recognition of the end of summer and library due dates, I returned the final third of our summer reading list. All the books were, once again, terrific. In reading to Wyatt, I learned about music and musicians I knew little about (I And I, Esquivel! Space Age Sound Artist, Jimi: Sounds Like a Rainbow), and Wyatt began to understand about boycotts (Joelito's Big Decision). Wyatt said his favorite book of this group was I And I. He isn't sure why, but I can guess it's because the poetry and illustrations were so beautiful, and because the prose explanations were so clear. We're still reading Rad Women Worldwide, so we renewed that one.

Lest anyone think I only read picture books this summer, I let me assure you that's not true. I joined Audible a few months ago and have recently finished listening to the audio version of the novel, Homegoing, and the podcast, The Butterfly Effect. They're totally different types of work (obviously), but I found both totally engrossing. I also listened to The Sympathizer (it was fine), and Between the World and Me (an absolute must-read-or-listen). Also, I enjoyed Lincoln in the Bardo with my eyes instead of my ears, but I understand the audio recording is remarkable.

I just started reading The Cooking Gene. I had the pleasure of hearing the author, Michael Twitty, speak at Omnivore Books recently. He was so engaging in person, I wondered how his written word would compare. I'm so delighted that his writing is equally captivating. As one reviewer put it,

Should there ever be a competition to determine the most interesting man in the world, Michael W. Twitty would have to be considered a serious contender. Twitty, a self-taught independent culinary historian who lives in Rockville, Md., is partial to dressing in the period attire of antebellum slaves, picking tobacco to get a sense of how his African American ancestors once lived and cooking using ancient methods so fiery that he singes the hair off his arms and eyebrows. He is a man of substantial girth — and proud of it. He has described himself as “four time blessed” — 'large of body, gay, African American and Jewish.'"

There's a fascinating interview with Mr. Twitty on Civil Eats here. And you can buy a copy of the Cooking Gene (signed even!) from Omnivore Books, or wherever you like to buy your books.

Speaking of food, well-meaning friends suggested that after a week of vacation in a hotel, where I couldn't cook, I'd be so happy to get back to it when we got home. Guess what? They were wrong. I didn't miss it even once, and getting back to it has been kind of annoying. I have, however, made one new dish, thanks to my aunt's urging. You all know I am no fan of substitute foods (zuchhini as noodles, for example), but this Spice Merchant Cauliflower Couscous is terrific.  I doubt it tastes like couscous, but it looks a little like it, and is a delicious way to prepare cauliflower. Against my better judgment, I even included the golden raisins, and they were actually good. I know. This recipe is breaking all my rules. I'm going to make it again this week.