Sometimes it takes a bit of a shake-up for us to realize what we have. Maybe we just have to have our days not go quite as planned. Maybe we have to be in a funk. Who knows. What I do know is that my life has been turned on its ear lately. Normally this is the quiet time of year for us. About a month after school has started, students have settled in, the leaves start to turn, weather cools off, and we have yet to start the rush of the holiday season. But this year we just can't seem to catch a break. The stress is showing itself wherever it can-our health, our sleep patterns, our appetites, our stress levels, everything. I said the other day to my husband, "How can I even be expected to catch my breath when each time I try to something else comes barreling around the corner?!" At that point I didn't even have the energy for emotions any more.
Thankfully today I am a bit more rested, a bit more in good health, and working on moving forward. You see, last night and this morning one of the biggest joys of my life reminded me of a simple practice that keeps me from becoming bitter in the face of adversity-gratitude. After an evening of errands and dinner we arrived home and piled into bed-me, husband and son. And hour before bedtime filled with giggles, tackles, talking, and merriment. At one moment I sat back and took it all in-the messed up pillows, my perfect husband laying back on the headboard, our son dancing to his own tune, and this family that I love so dearly in a spot that we all seem to come to. I was filled to the brim and more with gratitude for them and for my infinite luck to have such a wonderful family. Then this morning as I was making my coffee I heard a creak of a door. Our son wandered into the kitchen and up (ooofff...he is 40 pounds now) into my arms. Moms, is there anything better than the soft, warm cheek of a just-woken child? I dropped him into bed with my husband and as I left was serenaded "I love yous" by the boys I love the best. Be still my grateful heart.
Yes, I am still feeling overwhelmed with our current crazy life. Yes, I am feeling quite a bit of stress. But I am going to continue with my daily practice of gratitude. And I encourage all of you to do the same. Remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for in your life. Whether it be a perfect family moment, a lovely pair of new shoes, the fact that you made a delicious grilled cheese today, or that you simply remembered to breathe in and out. We all have stress. But we all have blessings as well. Focus on those and you will find the knots in your shoulders melt away just a little. Happy Wednesday.
notes from the middle
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Our Story
This week marks the end of ABC's All My Children. I've passively watched a few interviews, read a few articles, and monitored the tail end of this dynasty with interest. You see, AMC is my story.
Quick question, how many of you (show of hands) had a grandma who watched at least one soap opera and called it "her story"?
Raises hand. High.
Each week day during her "off season" (grandma was an avid golfer in the summer months) you were not permitted to contact grandma between the hours of 1:00-2:00. No phone was answered. No knock on the door was acknowledged. No life seemed to emit from the house, save for the glow of the TV. Then, promptly at 2:00 she resumed her activities. Without fail. I started watching her story with her around the time that Tad and Dixie became an item. When Tad stole Dixie from Adam. I watched it in the summer so I could update her during her golfing season. I would watch on the weekdays, she would golf. On Friday nights she would pick me up, we would grab an Italo's pizza or Barberton Chicken, eat on the front porch while doing our toes, and I'd fill her in on the week's events. Pretty steamy stuff for an eleven year-old. After dinner it was time for some Golden Girls, 20/20 and for her to set her hair in curlers and Dippity-Do. Oh, and a giant shared bowl of buttered pecan ice cream.
All through my college years I knew if I desperately needed to talk to my grandma, I could call her at 12:55 because she would answer and she would be home. She had to be, because her story was about to start. Of course, I would be scolded for calling so close...usually with a sharp "Jen! For crying in a bucket! I'll call you back in an hour and five minutes! (click)" Then she would. Like clockwork. I would watch our story from so many miles away, eating a bowl of buttered pecan ice cream, painting my toes, and waiting for her to call. It tied me to her.
Grandma has been gone for nine years now. We miss her every day. But somehow there are still pieces of her in my life all the time. Phrases I utter. Monarch butterflies that float through my days. A blanket that still smells like her house. And for these nine years, there has been Erica Caine, Adam Chandler, Tad Martin, and Dixie Martin (I think she's Martin again...). I suppose it is time for the world to make way for the new, but the eleven year-old me will miss this connection. Even if I don't watch our story any more. Even if she's been gone for nine years. At least I'll always have buttered pecan ice cream to soothe and heal. And pedicures. Always pedicures.
Quick question, how many of you (show of hands) had a grandma who watched at least one soap opera and called it "her story"?
Raises hand. High.
Each week day during her "off season" (grandma was an avid golfer in the summer months) you were not permitted to contact grandma between the hours of 1:00-2:00. No phone was answered. No knock on the door was acknowledged. No life seemed to emit from the house, save for the glow of the TV. Then, promptly at 2:00 she resumed her activities. Without fail. I started watching her story with her around the time that Tad and Dixie became an item. When Tad stole Dixie from Adam. I watched it in the summer so I could update her during her golfing season. I would watch on the weekdays, she would golf. On Friday nights she would pick me up, we would grab an Italo's pizza or Barberton Chicken, eat on the front porch while doing our toes, and I'd fill her in on the week's events. Pretty steamy stuff for an eleven year-old. After dinner it was time for some Golden Girls, 20/20 and for her to set her hair in curlers and Dippity-Do. Oh, and a giant shared bowl of buttered pecan ice cream.
All through my college years I knew if I desperately needed to talk to my grandma, I could call her at 12:55 because she would answer and she would be home. She had to be, because her story was about to start. Of course, I would be scolded for calling so close...usually with a sharp "Jen! For crying in a bucket! I'll call you back in an hour and five minutes! (click)" Then she would. Like clockwork. I would watch our story from so many miles away, eating a bowl of buttered pecan ice cream, painting my toes, and waiting for her to call. It tied me to her.
Grandma has been gone for nine years now. We miss her every day. But somehow there are still pieces of her in my life all the time. Phrases I utter. Monarch butterflies that float through my days. A blanket that still smells like her house. And for these nine years, there has been Erica Caine, Adam Chandler, Tad Martin, and Dixie Martin (I think she's Martin again...). I suppose it is time for the world to make way for the new, but the eleven year-old me will miss this connection. Even if I don't watch our story any more. Even if she's been gone for nine years. At least I'll always have buttered pecan ice cream to soothe and heal. And pedicures. Always pedicures.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Fowl. Trussed and Roasted.
Yesterday we ate the most perfect roasted chicken. Perfection I tell you. I cannot get over how delicious it was. And how simple. So awesome that I'm going to detail how easy it is to create.
We get our birds from our CSA. (that's Community Supported Agriculture to those of you who aren't in the know) They raise their chickens out on the farm, where they forage, roam, sun themselves, and eat whatever falls in front of them. They're organic and as free range as one can get. We even visit them each week at pick-up. Talk about knowing your food source! Well, we are gearing up for our final bird pick-up of the season by eating the last of the ones in the freezer, and last night I wanted the most simple way to roast a chicken, as I was feeling a bit under the weather. I've roasted chickens about one million and one ways under the sun. In white wine, with butter sauce, stuffed with 40 cloves of garlic, over root vegetables, lemon butter and thyme, basted with beer...I could go on and on. Each variation is good in its own right. However this one takes the cake on taste, simplicity, and idiot-proofness. First you must learn how to properly truss your bird. This is something I've never taken the time to learn. (smacks forehead) I looked up videos and now I know. Thank the interwebs for You Tube. Here's the video I used:
See? Easy-peasy. Now, on the the actual roasting of the bird. I couldn't tell you exactly what mine weighed. Probably 6-7 pounds. It was one of our larger birds though. I found the recipe on Epicurious (which, by the way, is my favorite iPad/iPhone app for cooking!). It is titled, My Favorite Simple Roast Chicken. Here are the basics for you:
Preheat your oven to 450 degrees.
Line roasting pan with heavy duty foil.
Wash and thoroughly dry your bird. Dry. Dry. Then dry some more. You want no moisture so you have no steam. I used lots of paper towels.
Liberally salt and pepper the cavity with freshly ground pepper and kosher salt.
Truss your bird. (I did this backwards and it worked just fine)
Rain salt over your bird. The recipe recommends about one tablespoon of kosher salt. I did not measure, I salted until it sparkled. It freaked me out, but in the end was perfection.
Place into roasting pan you have lined with heavy duty foil.
Put bird into oven once it is up to temperature and roast 50-60 minutes (until it is done cooking...use your meat thermometer!)
Remove from oven, placing bird on cutting board. Baste with pan juices. I also basted with butter I melted with some sage and thyme. Allow bird to rest 15 minutes. Then carve and enjoy.
This will be the most tender and delicious chicken you've ever eaten. We devoured it. I don't know that I'll ever make one another way. The skin was crispy and golden. The meat was tasty and moist. And the best part was it was very little work! I only am sorry I didn't get any photographs for you. I was too busy cleaning up the mess I made when I burned a batch of roasted butternut squash and ruined my favorite sheet pan. Stupid juicy squash and maple syrup.
At least we had chicken!
We get our birds from our CSA. (that's Community Supported Agriculture to those of you who aren't in the know) They raise their chickens out on the farm, where they forage, roam, sun themselves, and eat whatever falls in front of them. They're organic and as free range as one can get. We even visit them each week at pick-up. Talk about knowing your food source! Well, we are gearing up for our final bird pick-up of the season by eating the last of the ones in the freezer, and last night I wanted the most simple way to roast a chicken, as I was feeling a bit under the weather. I've roasted chickens about one million and one ways under the sun. In white wine, with butter sauce, stuffed with 40 cloves of garlic, over root vegetables, lemon butter and thyme, basted with beer...I could go on and on. Each variation is good in its own right. However this one takes the cake on taste, simplicity, and idiot-proofness. First you must learn how to properly truss your bird. This is something I've never taken the time to learn. (smacks forehead) I looked up videos and now I know. Thank the interwebs for You Tube. Here's the video I used:
See? Easy-peasy. Now, on the the actual roasting of the bird. I couldn't tell you exactly what mine weighed. Probably 6-7 pounds. It was one of our larger birds though. I found the recipe on Epicurious (which, by the way, is my favorite iPad/iPhone app for cooking!). It is titled, My Favorite Simple Roast Chicken. Here are the basics for you:
Preheat your oven to 450 degrees.
Line roasting pan with heavy duty foil.
Wash and thoroughly dry your bird. Dry. Dry. Then dry some more. You want no moisture so you have no steam. I used lots of paper towels.
Liberally salt and pepper the cavity with freshly ground pepper and kosher salt.
Truss your bird. (I did this backwards and it worked just fine)
Rain salt over your bird. The recipe recommends about one tablespoon of kosher salt. I did not measure, I salted until it sparkled. It freaked me out, but in the end was perfection.
Place into roasting pan you have lined with heavy duty foil.
Put bird into oven once it is up to temperature and roast 50-60 minutes (until it is done cooking...use your meat thermometer!)
Remove from oven, placing bird on cutting board. Baste with pan juices. I also basted with butter I melted with some sage and thyme. Allow bird to rest 15 minutes. Then carve and enjoy.
This will be the most tender and delicious chicken you've ever eaten. We devoured it. I don't know that I'll ever make one another way. The skin was crispy and golden. The meat was tasty and moist. And the best part was it was very little work! I only am sorry I didn't get any photographs for you. I was too busy cleaning up the mess I made when I burned a batch of roasted butternut squash and ruined my favorite sheet pan. Stupid juicy squash and maple syrup.
At least we had chicken!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Bendy and Twisty
I'm fairly certain I've blogged about working out before. Yep, I know I've talked about it. Well the past few weeks I've attempted to start (again) into the groove of good old sweaty workouts. But my consistent dirty secret is that I hate it. I hate cardio with my entire being. I hate sweat. I hate heart pounding, fast moving, body jarring cardio. I get all angry at the instructor. If I'm running, I get all angry at the trail/road. I know I'm supposed to be all happy with endorphins, but really I'm just mad. Cardio seems to have that effect on me. Well, yesterday I was on my way home from work. I was wiped out. In that puffy-eyed way where you can barely look up, let alone motivate yourself to work-out. But I knew I needed to. So, I fired up good old Apple TV. Thank you lord for Podcasts. I found a ton of awesome yoga podcast videos and selected ones to string together into a playlist that gave me a good 30 minute workout (along with two others...a bedtime stretch and morning stretch).
Yoga and I are BFFs I have decided. After an exhausting day it was blissful doing those poses. Not easy mind you. Little crow nearly slayed me. Seriously, I almost fell on my noggin. Today my abs, arms and thighs totally feel it. But, I wasn't angry. Nope, I felt all bendy, twisty, stretched out and happy after my workout. I'm so over angry cardio. We are broken up. I am going to listen to my body. It wants to take walks, do yoga, and never ever be yelled at again. If you are going to jump on my comments and lecture me about how I cannot possibly be healthy without running, spinning, or some other form of cardio, stop yourself. That's your gig. Not mine. Me and happy yoga are over here. We like you and your cardio. We just won't come to the party.
Yoga and I are BFFs I have decided. After an exhausting day it was blissful doing those poses. Not easy mind you. Little crow nearly slayed me. Seriously, I almost fell on my noggin. Today my abs, arms and thighs totally feel it. But, I wasn't angry. Nope, I felt all bendy, twisty, stretched out and happy after my workout. I'm so over angry cardio. We are broken up. I am going to listen to my body. It wants to take walks, do yoga, and never ever be yelled at again. If you are going to jump on my comments and lecture me about how I cannot possibly be healthy without running, spinning, or some other form of cardio, stop yourself. That's your gig. Not mine. Me and happy yoga are over here. We like you and your cardio. We just won't come to the party.
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