Yin & Yang

I go back and forth between spring and autumn as my favorite seasons.
There is so much that I love about both of them, but right now, while the sun is shining and the daffodils are popping up, spring is winning.

I love that after such a dreary, cold time, everything bursts open with color. 
While we are holed up in our homes, so much is going on outside that we barely notice until, suddenly, the world is transformed and beckons us to come outside and play.

Buds are bursting open on the trees.

Flowers are shooting up out of of nowhere and painting the world with wonder.

New life is being born.

My garden gnomes come out of hibernation, and shake the stink of winter off of  their long pointed hats.

And the earth is waking up from a long slumber with the promise of a clean, fresh start.





But of course, like everything else in life, there is a yin to the majesty of springs yang.
With all the beautiful newness, there are critters being born that I wish would just never come back after the long winter.

Ticks and mosquitoes are my spring and summer nemeses.
I loathe those bloodsucking, disease carrying, nasty critters.

Ugh, just looking at them makes me wish it was winter all over again, and helps me remember why autumn, indeed, is my favorite season.

Off to Buy Some Off,
Lana

What Comes First

Today is the kind of day that makes me long for spring.
It's not quite the end of February, but I have spent most of the day outside soaking up the 60 degree, sunny weather.
This is the time of year when I find myself wandering into the garden department at the store and inhaling the smells of fertilzers and potting soil.  The combination of the two causes my not-so- green thumbs to twitch. 
They are eager to break apart the earth and till the soil. 
My fingernails long to be blackened from a hard days work of digging, weeding and planting.

This year, I have promised myself that my entire garden is going to be organic. 
I am not certain exactly how this is going to go down, oreven if I am going to have much luck, but I'm jumping right in.
My organic seeds, which I got from my good friends at Dayempur Farm, are sitting on my counter waiting to be planted in starter pots.  Seed packets filled with the beginnings of Fox Cherry tomatoes, Delicata squash, arugula, pole beans, kale and Malabar spinach, rattle with the promise of a fruitful harvest every time I move them across the counter.
In keeping up with my promise to myself to plant a totally organic garden, I have been careful to select even the most natural and biodegradable seed starter pots.  Many of the ones at the local garden centers boast that they are completely natural and biodegradable, and I am sure that they are.  However, a few weeks back, while I was standing in line at Lowe's, I saw a Farmer's Almanac on the rack.  Always interested in some old-school knowledge, I picked it up and began leafing through the pages until an interesting article caught my eye.
In it, the gardener talked about his desire to try and have a minimalist garden.  He was tired of growing extravagent gardens, and had chosen instead to grow the healthiest and most nutrient dense plants. In order to do that, he said, your seeds have to start off in an enviornment where they receive the best possible nutrients right from the get-go.  Instead of seed pots, he was choosing to plant his seeds into rich, organic soil that was packed into the shell of an organic, free-range eggshell.

I am fairly new to gardening, so this may be a well-known planting secret, but as I stood there reading that article, my jaw dropped in amazement at the pure genuis of it all.

First of all, eggshells are free. 

Well, sort of.

I mean, you do have to pay for the eggs, unless you are lucky enough to have your own chickens.

Secondly, we compost eggs, anyway, because it's a well-known fact that their shells are rich in nutrients that will help your soil reach it's fullest potential. 

Finally, we just happen to always have a carton of eggs in our fridge from Dayempur Farm, so I thought it only fitting that the seeds should start their (hopefully) long life in them.  I was having a sort of a circle of life moment, if you will. 

Where in Simba so I can hold him up towards the sun?

What comes first?  The chicken or the seed starter eggshell? 

Grace's allergies have been getting the best of her the past few days, but as soon as she is back to feeling better, and if the weather permits, we are going to sit out at our picnic table and fill our carton of pastel-colored eggshells with black, cool, soil.
Then, into each one, we are going to nestle a tiny seed, and watch as it eventually pushes it's tiny head out of the darkness and reaches for the light.

Addiction and Neanderthals

Hi, my name is Lana and I am addicted to The Bachelor.
I hope that you will continue to read my blog and not judge me.
We all have faults and the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

Every Monday night, for two hours, I transform into a total couch potato.
During this time, I shush Jim and give him dirty looks while he tries to talks to me. 
Lucky for him, he is a quick learner and has discovered that the best rememdy for this situation is to sit side by side with me and share in the Oh-My-God-What-Is-He-Thinking and Daaaaaamn-That-Chick-Is-Crazy looks.

I love that he uses this time to bond with me and I would just like to publicly apoligize for telling the world he, too, is addicted to The Bachelor. 
And The Bachelorette. (Sorry, Babe!)

Last night, while watching the Hometown Date episode, I had a revelation and I am wondering if anyone else has had it.
I think that Ben had a little acting gig before he was on The Bachelorette. 
I have to say, it's amazing what a little shaving cream and a good razor can do for a guy.
What do you think?

Now, Ben.  I could care less what you look like, really.

But when you start acting like a caveman, (ahem, skinny dipping with Little Miss I'll Boil Your Bunny) that's where I draw the line.

I wish I was strong enough to say that I am going to stop you cold turkey but you and I both know the truth:

I can't quit you.

So get it together.

One the road to recovery,
Lana

The Real In Between

Yesterday I wrote a silly little post about shoes.
I entitled it "In Between" and I wrote in while I was waiting for my dear friend to come and pick me up for cocktails.
In the day that has passed, I am a little ashamed of that post. 
You see, the reason my friend and I were meeting up for drinks, was because her father is dying and she is in town to help him.
So, while I was at home fretting about what shoes to wear, she was at home dealing with a totally different kind of In Between.

Over drinks last night, we sat and talked about her dad.
We talked about what we believe happens when you die.
She talked about the amazing togetherness that her family is feeling right now, despite the tragedy that is bringing them all together.  She told me stories that made me smile and she shared moments with me that made me want to cry with her.
As I sat and listened to her talk, I thanked my lucky starts that she is my friend.  She is the kind of person that even when things in her corner are just about as bad as they can get, she makes me laugh.  She is happy and positive and optimistic and I just love her to pieces.

The moments that our loved ones spend in between life and death can teach us a great deal about how we should live our lives. Often, after someone dies, we say that their death has opened our eyes to what is truly important. Then, as time slips by, we lose that insight and again find ourselves worrying about a damn pair of shoes.

I suppose this is the way that it always goes.  We feel the most connected and appreciative of one another in the beginning and ending moments of our lives, but there has to be a way to not be so inattentive in our In Between time. 
A dear friend of mine told me that the key to living a good life and dying a good death, one in which you have no regrets, is to die before you die.
What she meant by that, is to make peace.
Be kind to yourself and to others.
Love and forgive and be happy.
Always go that extra step to show someone how much they mean to you, because let's face it, no one ever complains of feeling too loved.

In the time that it has taken me to write this, my friends dad has come a few moments closer to death.  So have you and so have I.
Today, in honor of my dear, sweet friend and her dad with the quiet, simple smile, make the most of your In Between time.
Die a little before you die.
You won't regret it.

In Between

Okay, so I am sitting here waiting for my friend to come and pick me up.
We are going to have margaritas.
I can't wait, and even though I have already eaten, I will probably get a side of guacamole, too.
I live for margaritas and guacamole, and I will eat them no matter what.

Here is the problem I am having.
We are going to an in between place.

You know what that is, right?
A place that's not too fancy and not too laid back.
It's just right.

I love in betweens.
Because, well, I'm sort of in between on every single aspect of my life.
Every aspect except shoes.
I am stumped on what qualifies as an in between shoe.

I know what you are going to say: ballet flats.
I refuse to wear ballet flats in the winter because most of the time, the ground is wet and the air is cold and I can't stand frozen toes.
I rank comfort very high above fashion.

So, while I am sitting here in in between jeans and an in between shirt waiting to go to an in between bar, I need some advice.
What, in your opinion, is the perfect in between winter shoe?

Simple

A funny thing happens when you move to a small town where the culture is diverse and the hippies are abundant.
You start to make changes in your diet that you had no intention of ever making.
You buy, and actually use, reusable grocery bags.

You don't run errands, you walk.
Everywhere.

You recycle and try to buy in bulk when possible.
You make an effort to buy local or organic, even when the costs are astronomical.
And, if all truths are being told, you start really paying attention to the food in the cart of the person who is standing in front of you in line at the grocery store.
Yes, I admit it, I am a Cart Critic, but that's beside the point.
The point is, making the move to this tiny town has forced me to slow down and miss the pull of the "Big City" less and less.

Instead, I am finding immense joy in the fact that three out of the four people I bumped in today while out running errands knew my name. They smiled and said hello to Grace, too.
They greeted us both by name.
That's a really nice feeling, and one that I think is being lost this modern, technological world.
Everything here just seems sort of simple, and I love it.

Sometimes I spend hours wondering out loud what the hell is going on in the world today.  Why are people so disconnected from one another and what makes them happy? Why, when people should be enjoying the moment, are they already planning their next big adventure?
Doesn't that get exhausting?

It seems to me, that Jim and I are part of a small handful of people who sort of wish we could hit the rewind button.
We find importance in eating together as a family and reading to our daughter.
We don't text during dinner, or glance at our phone while the other person is talking. 
We watch minimal television. 
We laugh with one another, we hug often, and we have common goals and aspirations.
We believe that there is great importance in being present in our everyday life with one another.
We don't own the newest clothes, cell phones or car, but I think we are doing just fine without them.
In fact, I think we are doing more than fine.
We are content and happy.
It's that simple.

The Chocolate Covered Truth

One of the best things about yesterday being Valentine's Day was that everywhere I went there were samples of some kind of chocolate covered something.

Chocolate covered strawberries.
Chocolate covered caramel.
Chocolate covered espresso beans.
Chocolate covered strawberries, dipped in caramel, and rolled in crushed espresso beans.
Okay, I made that last one up.

Anyway, all that chocolate got me thinkin' about how I am so grateful that chocolate is good for my heart.
Then, as I was eating my third chocolate covered strawberry sample, (I knew it was wrong at the time, but I just couldn't help myself!) I started to wonder if maybe I was overdoing it.
Sure, they say chocolate it's good for our hearts, but how much is the "right" amount? For instance, is is okay to have a giant sized Hershey bar every night after dinner? Is that the right amount? Something was telling me that might not be the case, so I decided to look it up and find out.

According to researchers, 6.7 grams of dark chocolate per day, (a bit less than half a bar a week!), represents the ideal amount for a protective effect against inflammation and cardiovascular disease.
Well, looks like after yesterday, my heart's good for the rest of the year.

Being Good to My Ticker,
Lana

Amore & Benadryl

Grace is sick today.
Again.
I swear that this child is setting the world record for runny noses in a lifetime.

We have spent the past two days snuggling, reading books and watching Elmo and Dora DVD's.
Everytime I get up to get a drink or use the bathroom, her hoarse, little voice calls out, "Mommy?"
It's heartbreaking.

This morning, as she was drinking out of my cup, Jim warned me not to drink from it after her, but what's the point? She has already sneezed directly into my face about 100 times in the last two days. When she isn't wanting me to hold her, she just wants to sit in the rocking chair and read books by the light of her flashlight.

Before I had Grace, Valentine's Day meant something totally different to me. It meant dates, flowers, cards and chocolates. It meant romance, and I thought that was the best kind of love.  Boy, was I wrong.
As it turns out, the best kind of love is the kind where you don't mind getting someone else's germs sneezed directly into your mouth, and when the snot-soaked Kleenex in your pockets aren't your own.  That's love.

Happy Snotty Valentine's Day,
Lana

Puffed Up

Am I the only person in the world that always makes way too much food for dinner?
Somehow, no matter what I am cooking, I always end up with copious amounts of leftovers.
This would be fine if we were leftover kind of people, but we aren't.

Sadly, I have a serious problem throwing anything out. 
I hate wasting food, so instead, I end up freezing everything that is leftover and then forgetting what I have in freezer.
In doing this, our freezer becomes so jam-packed, that when I open the door, bags of frozen vegetables, popsicles and mystery leftovers avalanche out onto the floor in front of me.
I's quite dangerous.

I really need to get some kind of caution sign for that sucker.

Think this will do?

This week, because we literally have zero freezer space, I started using up some of the frozen leftovers.  The first thing I came across was frozen Superbowl Chili.
I loved the chili I made on Superbowl Sunday!
It was full of beans, corn, sweet potato,, and fire roasted tomatoes.
We served it over elbow macaroni and topped it with super sharp cheddar, green onions and oyster crackers.
We ate more than we should have, fell into chili comas and never saw the end of the game.

Despite it being so delicious, the thought of just reheating it didn't really seem appealing, so I decided to make it a little more fancy.

I found some puff pastry in the freezer, (imagine that!) and let it thaw for about 45 minutes.  Once it was easy enough to work with, I unfolded it and cut 1 inch strips up each side.  After that was done, I filled the center of the pastry with chili, topped it with grated cheddar cheese and alternately folded the strips to make a lazy lattice. 
Once everything was tucked into the pastry, I brushed it with an egg wash and baked it for 30 minutes in a 400 degree oven. 
Once it was slightly browned and puffy, I took it out of the oven and let it cool for a few minutes before sprinkling it with cilantro and serving it with a side of sour cream.

Let me tell you something:
You can't go wrong with chili and puff pastry.
It's just not possible.
This was so delicious and converted me into a leftover fan.
Never thought I'd see the day.

Loving Leftovers,
Lana

Sunday Confession

I love Sunday mornings.
Especially the ones in which I somehow manage to be awake while the rest of my family is still sleeping.
The house is quiet and the coffee in my mug is hot.
Both are a rarity in my life.

I have a confession:
This year, I turned into one of those crazy bird feeding people.
You know how it goes.  You buy one feeder, fill it up and wait for the birds to find it.
Then, once they start coming, you spend hours looking out your window, as if in all of your life, you have never seen a bird.
They become fascinating, sweet and hilarious.
Suddenly, one feeder turns into three feeders and before you know it, the woman who works the bulk seed section at Rural King knows you by name.
Then, because you are convinced that these tiny birds are "yours" you start to buy them houses and bird baths.
You start to loathe squirrels.
It's ridiculous, I know, but today, as I look out the window and see the tiny birds hopping around in the snow, I am really happy I'm a crazy bird-feeding person.
There is something very Zen about watching them. They make such a stunning contrast against the gray, cold earth.

I watch the male cardinal, with all his bright red bravado, crack open sunflower seeds and lovingly place them in his brown partner's hot pink beak.  I love that he does all the work while she sits there, puffed up against the cold.
What a man.

My favorites, though, are the tiny chickadees that come to the window feeder and peep happily while they dance around in the seed.  They seem so vibrant and happy.
Shouldn't that be how we all start each morning? 
Full of joy, good food, and song?
I like to think so.

Happy Sunday.

Love, Monday

http://naturemandalas.etsy.com/

Haiku for Beets

Beets, covered in dirt.
I wash them clean in my sink.
Beets, clean in my hand.

Beets, earthy and red.
Fingers are totally stained.
I chop, grate and slice.

Beets are good in soup.
And in hot rissotto, too.
Today we eat beets.

Beets are good in cake.
Dark chocolate layer cake.
Dense, moist and delish!

Beets good for your heart.
If you don't eat beets, please start.
Beets cannot be beat.

Challah-lujah!

In the small town in which I reside, there is a local market that sells homemade Challah Bread.

Each Friday morning, a lovely woman named Elaine is already elbow deep in bread dough before I have even dreamed of waking. She spends her mornings making beautiful loaves of golden bread for folks like me, who are incapable of getting yeast to rise .

Once all of her loaves are baked, they are delivered, still warm, to the tiny market.

Sigh.

God Bless, Elaine and her flour covered hands.

Today, despite the gray, cold, snowy day, Grace and I walked the 2 miles to the store to buy a loaf.

Halfway through the walk, I started cursing myself for taking Grace out in the nasty weather.

It was much colder and damper than I first anticipated, and I kept asking her repeatedly if she was warm enough.   

I knew that she had to be cold, but she never once voiced a single complaint.  I did, however, notice that the longer we walked, the deeper she pulled her hands and head down into her snowsuit. 

Finally, pink-cheeked and half frozen, we walked through the door of the market, and were immediatly greeted by the warm, yeasty smell of freshly baked bread.

Challahlujah! The walk was worth it!

There, on the shelves, stood loaf after loaf of golden, shiny Challah.

I selected the perfect loaf and put it into my bag, along with a chocolate covered coconut macaroon for Grace.  After paying for our treats, we wandered around the store just long enough to warm up before heading back out into the cold.

A few seconds into our walk, Grace had polished off her macaroon, succumbed to the heat of her snowsuit and fallen into a deep sleep.  As I pushed her stroller homeward, I watched as her little sleepy head lolled from side to side. I smiled at the chocolate smudges on the corners of her mouth, which was curved up in a contented smile, and I couldn't help but wonder if she, too, was dreaming of Challah French Toast I was planning on making for breakfast the next morning.  

"If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars of all the heavens."

Robert Browning

Conversations with a 20 month

Grace, let's change your diaper.
NO!

Grace, want some oatmeal?
NO!

Grace, you have oatmeal in your hair. Hold still while Mommy brushes it out.
NO!

Grace, get your shoes on so we can go for a walk.
NO!

Grace, want to go for a ride in the car, instead?
NO!

Grace, you need a jacket on. It's chilly out.
NO!

Grace, eat your lunch.
NO!

Grace, eat your dinner.
NO!

Grace, it's bath time. All set?
NO!

Grace, it's bedtime. All set?
NO!

Eagerly looking forward to cooperation,
Lana

Spice it Up!

Here in our house, we aren't really "condiment people".We rarely use them and opt, instead, for fresh spices when possible.
However, there is one condiment that we cannot live without.
It is spicy.
It's bursting with taste.
It is totally habit forming.
It is Huy Fong Sambal Oelek Ground Chili Paste.


This is for serious heat seekers only, so when you first try it, start with a small amount.
Then, as your taste buds come out of shock and you realize that not only is it hot, it's incredibly delicious.
The red chilis give it a wonderfully sweet taste and finishes it up with a snap of heat that will knock your socks off.
The combination of flavors will have you smothering everything from homemade lo mein to hoagies with this stuff in no time!

Lips on Fire but Back for More,
Lana
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All You Need is Love & Some Other Stuff

Today, in honor of The Month of Love, I decided to whip up a special breakfast smoothie for Grace.
The girl loves smoothies.
Most of the time she is a pretty good eater, but there are days when she lives off of Goldfish Crackers and orange juice.
Smoothies are my secret weapon to make sure that she is eating something healthy each day.
I can throw all sorts of stuff in there, and she'll suck it down in a matter of seconds.
When she is finished, she walks up to me, gazes over her empty cup and says, in a voice that sounds strangely like Oliver Twist's,
"More please!"
I'm not sure why she sometimes has a British accent, but I love it.
I also love that she asks for seconds and I don't mind giving them to her.

Valentine Smoothie

1 C Dark Chocolate Silk Almond Milk 

1/2 C frozen unsweetened organic strawberries

1/2 C uncooked rolled oats

1/4 cup organic spinach leaves

Put everything in a blender and whiz it up!  

Serve it in a fancy glass to your favorite little (or not so little!) Valentine.

Much Love, 

Lana