Excuses--Cookies and Cake

I'll admit it. I have a problem. And that problem is baking unhealthy things and not finding anyone to eat them.

Is it weird that when I do bake things, I honestly don't do it because I want to eat them myself? Oh, sure, I want a cookie or slice or bowl or so, but I would be just as happy sending my experiments off to some event that returns my plate ravaged over with nothing but crumbs.

In any case, here are my latest excuses for trying new recipes.

The Book Club: Butter Pecan Shortbread Cookies

I first experimented with shortbread cookies last year. Did you know that the basic recipe has nothing but butter, sugar, and flour? That's it. So I had a book club meeting coming up (we were reading The Goose Girl, which is a beautiful, engaging, worthwhile read if you haven't yet read it). For some reason, shortbread cookies seemed a nice, classy, bookish choice. I dunno, maybe it's like people who see numbers in color. Short bread cookies, especially butter pecan ones, seem like a very literary type of dessert to me.

(Oh, and if you desperately want more details or the recipe, please let me know.) Here's how it began:

Chopping pecans, of course! Cambrie had so much fun; that is a real, non-mommy-coerced smile on her face. Then came the mixing, cutting in of the butter, shaping (you do the edges like you would a pie crust), baking, and cooling.

Since it was for other people and not just to munch on at home, I threw the cookies on a glass plate and added some pecans to make it fancy. And voila!

Butter Pecan Shortbread Cookies

They turned out pretty good, too! I was happy with the recipe and the end result, so I think I'll tuck this one away for future use.

On to my second excuse.

Patrick's Birthday: German Chocolate Cake

This year for his birthday, Patrick wanted German Chocolate Cake. Again, what better excuse to experiment? I decided to go all out and make the frosting from scratch, too. Since the whole process was kind of long and tedious, I actually made the frosting the day before. My other little trick I stole offline: I stuck circles of wax paper in the bottom of the cake pans. It made cake removal easy peasy!

When I made the batter, it took a LOT of stirring and beating. I had to alternate adding wet and dry ingredients, beating well each time, and then I had to beat a bunch of egg whites and add those to the end batter. The end result looked promising, but there's a secret hidden in these pictures. My cake actually failed horribly.

German Chocolate Cake--Patrick turned 26, not 10, by the way.

It looked pretty, but after I (carefully, gently) took the fully risen beautifully browned cake layers out of the oven, they shrunk like nobody's business. I should have gotten more pictures; when it was all put together, the cake was very moist and very dense. Eating it was actually like eating a German Chocolate Brownie cake. I was confused and a little disappointed, but I wasn't too worried because 1) I don't really like cake anyways, so the brownie texture was a plus for me, and 2) Patrick must have liked it since he kept saying he never wants German Chocolate Cake from a box again--and that's saying something, since he loved it before. I'll just have to make sure he only requests this particular dessert once every five years or so. It is kind of a long process. Happy Birthday, Patrick! :-)

So it's only a matter of time before my next excuse crops up. Until then I'll just experiment with other new and exciting recipes (I made Chicken and Sausage Gumbo for the first time last night; it was good, but I wish someone had told this poor northerner that okra was slimy!).

Stopping and Watching

This is my favorite part of being a mom.

Like all parents, I usually find myself caught up in the day-to-day, rushing, planning, cleaning, cooking, nose-wiping, tantrum-ignoring, and so on. My eyes are on the clock. Time for lunch? Time for nap? Is she up already? Time to make dinner? What time is it? Can I count down to bedtime yet?

But I love it when I can take the time to just stop. And I watch. New questions, like tiptoes, quietly cross my mind.

What is she thinking? What does she see? What is she tucking away in her mind about how the world works? What will she do with that rock/stick/leaf/book/toy? What is it to her? What is she thinking? What does she see?

Cambrie loves to touch things. I'm a toucher, too. I'm the person who has to touch all the interesting fabrics on the clothes racks while browsing and who likes to walk barefoot outside just to feel the concrete or grass on my feet. I love to picture Cambrie storing away these textures and feelings as she explores: Rocks are cool and rough, sticks are bumpy and light, last year's leaves are papery and crumbly.

I love to wonder as I watch her. For instance, this one afternoon we were outside, she went to every ledge she could find, turned away from it, slowly backed into it, sat down, smiled a little, then jumped back up and kept exploring. Why, I wonder?

She reminds me that I, too, love to watch and explore--something that's getting harder and harder to remember. It's refreshing to see the world with such new eyes. I start to find pictures like these cropping up on my camera, simply because something made me stop, look, and smile, and I don't want to forget what I saw. (Though I hate that it makes me think unromantic, materialistic thoughts like "I wish I had a better camera.")

I hope that even as my little girl grows and learns more things to fill her mind and occupy her time, she still manages to keep that curiosity and wonder for the world around her. In the meantime I'll just keep stopping and watching...

She's so tiny in the larger picture! So small!

...watching her, that tiny little human being, forging her way in this vast, beautiful, complicated world.

When it Rains...

Well, the blessings have been pouring lately. Life feels a little strange now, after months of spinning our job-searching wheels--of being suspended in some vague void where money rarely comes in but slowly, steadily seeps out, and we stand solemnly by and wave goodbye. It's strange to kiss Patrick goodbye in the morning and hug him hello in the afternoons after a full day of work. It's strange to write checks and swipe the debit card without debilitating pangs of guilt.

It's strange, but I could get used to it. :-)

So here's the update--the temporary work that Patrick had a few weeks ago has turned into a pretty secure job! It's not stellar pay, but c'mon. We're recent college graduates, we don't expect a fortune to be handed to us, and we are acknowledging this as the step it is in the right direction. It also has absolutely nothing to do with Patrick's degree, but again (as my dad has noted), to get something in your field right out of college is a luxury few enjoy.

His job is good experience, and he will continue to research graduate schools and other future careers. We still have our medium-term (not really long or short) plan in place. Patrick, while working, takes the GRE, applies to and is accepted to an MPA program, and continues to pursue his professional future.

Funny how every picture of Patrick involves Cambrie in some way.

I'm not left out of this plan. In fact, this is really why I feel we've been kind of bombarded with blessings. A week and a half after Patrick first got this job, I received two different inquiries from students in need of tutoring. That was on a Thursday. I tutored almost four hours on Friday and Saturday, and have continued to do more this week.

That same Thursday, at a Relief Society meeting, a friend in the ward came up to me and asked if I would teach her daughters piano. Three days ago I taught my first two piano lessons, and the whole process (preparation, lesson time, post-lesson plans for working with the girls) was a lot of fun. I think this is the beginning of something I'm going to love doing for a long time.

Who'm I kidding; all my pictures of everything involve Cambrie in some way!

So here we are, our spinning wheels starting to gain traction, our vague void materializing into direction and purpose. It's exhilarating to be busy again, with things to plan for, and accomplish, and create. Though through objective eyes it seems small, it feels like what life should be; it feels like success.

One chapter in our lives (the post-graduation joblessness) has closed, and a new one is opening. The strange thing is, there isn't anything particularly amazing or extraordinary about it--we're finally entering the proverbial "real world," where life carries on, sometimes exciting, sometimes boring, usually plain old normal, but always moving forward.

And that's good enough--wonderful, in fact--for us.

Things I Hate

In some of my recent posts, there have been some comments regarding how positive Patrick and I have been in the face of some of our recent challenges. Well, I certainly thank you all for your thoughtfulness, but I assure you, things have not been all gumdrops and roses around here. We all have our grumpy moments:

(Just imagine Patrick and me making this face.)

So I decided to take this time to debunk any Stephanie = Pollyanna myths by making a very pessimistic list: a list of things I hate. These are the things that really drive me nuts, for one reason or another. You know how pregnant women are often more easily annoyed or driven crazy? (I know I was.) Well these are just a few of the things that provoke those same perturbed, pestered, peeved feelings in me, and that's with no baby in my belly! So on to the hate-fest:

I hate getting ready for bed. I know, weird, right? But I can't stand it! I hate the whole process of having to clear off the bed, brush my teeth, change into PJs, complete all those annoying routines like removing earrings, putting on lotion and chapstick, and drinking my water. I wish with all my heart I could one day just say, "I'm tired," then walk into my bedroom and flop face down on my pillow into peaceful oblivion. (Aren't you all glad I stick it out and still brush my teeth? :-p)

I hate bad deodorant.  (Skip this one if body odor disgusts you.) For the record, Dove deodorant stinks, literally. It just plain doesn't work. Unfortunately, I had bought two on sale soon before we moved to Georgia, so my ($$) poor self couldn't justify buying new deodorant when I already had some. I hated the stickiness, the feeling that I was never clean, and the frustration that comes with that annoying residue on my clothes. Luckily, this one has a solution: I'm going on about a week with this stuff, and I smell infinitely better! The roll-on takes a bit to get used to, but so far I'm loving the natural option!

I hate when my hair is too long. One of the unhappy side effects of unemployment: I haven't had a haircut since last August. I've never been super prissy, so though my hair predicament wasn't ideal, it didn't bother me too much until recently. One day I suddenly woke up and realized that I really hate my hair. I never want to wear it down. It feels thin and lifeless and impossible. I'm four more failed hair-do attempts away from grabbing the craft scissors and chopping off three inches myself. I hope to remedy this one soon.

And finally,

I hate diaper bags. To be more specific, I hate lugging them around. I hate trying to think of everything I'll need for the trip, then carrying all these extras we never use around only to have forgotten the one thing that will pacify Cambrie. I hate having to open the door to our basement and travel down those narrow stairs while carrying two jackets, Cambrie's shoes, the bag of groceries, the stupid diaper bag, and my daughter who also happens to be carrying a dolly, a ball, and her toy purse. *seething*


Whew! That was cathartic. I suppose if I were in second grade I'd have to say two nice things now about all these things I hate.

...

I guess I didn't learn my lesson then, because I'm certainly not going to try now. :-)

(And fess up--I know you all are secretly haters, too! Your turn to share!)

Rhubarb and Strawberry Pie

So, for my birthday last fall, Patrick's aunt got me this:

Oohhh I was excited. I've never been a big pie maker, but I'm beginning to discover just how wonderful this world can be. You can see I've already experimented with the Peanut Butter Pie. That recipe was from this book. I've also recently tried the German Chocolate Pie--I seriously had never imagined just how good that pure German Chocolate/coconutty/caramelly/creamy taste would be in pie form. There are lots more I want to try!

Well, I wanted to pay homage to my most recent inspiration for pies, but my last pie adventure actually came from somewhere else--Patrick's grandma. It went something like this:

[Opening the freezer.] "Oh, Stephanie, I just wanted to let you know, there's this bag of rhubarb--it's been in there for a while. It needs to be used up." [A little more digging around.] "Strawberries, too."

Say no more! Wheels start turning, plans start growing, and I head to the recipes.

Unfortunately, though the Lion House cookbook had a rhubarb pie, it did not have a Strawberry Rhubarb Pie. I ended up finding my recipe from allrecipes.com, another favorite recipe source. Luckily, there were some frozen pie crusts in the the freezer as well, so I didn't have to subject myself to any unnecessary crust-making torture.

And so it began.

I used frozen fruit instead of fresh, like the recipe calls for, so I thawed it before hand. After letting it sit in the flour and sugar for half an hour, I was able to assemble the pie and bake it.

Confession: I completely forgot the butter in the recipe. Either it doesn't make that much of a difference and I saved some extra calories, or I'm missing out on something spectacular. Eh. To be honest, I liked it well enough without, that I'll really have to consider whether I include it next time.

Tips I learned:

• Store-brand pie crusts don't work very well for lattice crusts. It kept breaking in the middle, so the lattice isn't very clean or pretty.
• The best way to seal crust together (like around the edge of the pie) is with plain ol' water. I was surprised how well it worked!
• To get that pretty brownness, I brushed the top pastry with beaten egg yolk then sprinkled it with sugar. The Lion House book actually suggests using whole milk or something similar instead of the egg yolk--haven't tried it that way yet. Anyone have success with that?
• Let the pie cool all the way, and it will set up very nicely.

And my final tip: definitely, definitely, eat with ice cream. Yum!! The balance of tart rhubarb and sweet strawberry was perfect. It was a big hit and has been requested again; I'm making it for Patrick's grandma's luncheon next week. Even Patrick's grandpa said he liked it!

So, to sum, if you haven't done a lot of pies, fruit pies are actually really simple (if you don't do a pretty-but-annoying lattice crust). And they make it feel like summer. Give 'em a try, and if you are already a fruit pie fanatic, feel free to share your recipes!

On Feeding Oneself

For breakfast every morning, Cambrie usually has one of two meals--scrambled eggs, or oatmeal. Months ago I discovered that eggs had a distinct advantage. Once cool enough, they are the perfect texture and shape for her to stab with a little toddler-fork and successfully transfer to her mouth. I can leave her in the high chair, wish her luck, and go about the kitchen making my own breakfast, eating it, and cleaning up.

Oatmeal used to be just as easy, with the exception that I would feed it to her. I felt so motherly, gathering up a yummy, nutritious breakfast for the two of us, setting our little corner of the table, tucking the bib around her soft, cute neck, then encouraging her to fold her arms and bow her head as we said a short blessing on the food.

After we were both ready, I would feed her small bites of that oatmeal she'd been waiting for all morning. She would jibber jabber lovingly with me, I would look adoringly at her, and, every now and then, I would sneak her a bite of my cereal, because I was a cool mom. Ahhhh, those perfect moments.

Then. Then, the independence kicked in.

A few mornings ago, she had oatmeal again for breakfast. Once everything was ready, I scooped up a baby bite of oatmeal, tested its temperature on my lips, and held it out winsomely for the wee one to eat.

"Ah bih-boh!" She swung her hands demandingly at the spoon.

"Okay, okay, I gotcha. Here. Eat it." I handed the spoon to her which, like someone shoveling coal into an engine, she hurtled into her mouth. Great! Success.

"Kay, babe, I'll get you some more." I held my hand out for the spoon to reload it for her.

"AAaa! Uh buhba bah." Her yell of protest was followed by a very definitive point to her tray. No, Mommy. Put the plate RIGHT HERE.

*Sigh* I'm in for it now. Whatever. Fine.

"Here you go. Please eat it with your spoon."

Cheerfully she complied. While I stood up to fix a bowl of cereal for myself, her not-as-chubby-as-they-used-to-be hands brought a decent number of bites to the general area around her mouth. But by the time I started back to the table, things started to change.

The spoon was tilted funny. The oatmeal wouldn't quite stick. It was yummy, and she wanted it, but it wasn't making it into her tummy. Her ingenious solution? Yes. Fingers. Never really thought of oatmeal as a finger food until Cambrie.

And now I was left with the same trivial battle I get into every time she eats.

Agh! Fingers are fine to start, but if she keeps going, soon I will be cleaning oatmeal out of her ears with a cue tip. But I have to let her learn how to use the spoon, I suppose, and if I don't, she'll never feel confident learning anything herself. On the other hand, I also have to teach her table manners, and if I don't do that, I'll have a harder time teaching her down the road. But you know what? Right now I don't even care about "down the road"--I just selfishly want to avoid giving her an impromptu bath in the sink after breakfast, AGAIN. Ugh. You know what? I'll just let 'er go at it. A dirty baby is a happy baby, right?

And so she does. While she dug and shoveled and finger-ed away, I resignedly ate my cereal. But this was not the end.

"Uh buhdah bah?" She waved her sticky finger at my cereal. Well, I knew it was coming. I scooped up some of my cereal, let most of the milk drain back into my bowl, then plopped it on her plate. She poked it around a little with her spoon before setting the utensil aside. Did you know soggy cereal is a finger food, too?

And so we finished our morning meal together. All in all, I was impressed--her fingers, hands and face were a mess and her tray was atrocious, but that was really all the damage.

"Ahh, buh dacackah. Buh BAH! BAH!" Cambrie chattered happily to me, to herself, and to the chirping birds outside. You know, I really have it pretty great. A happy, adorable baby who eats well, learns quickly, and loves the world around her. Life is good.

As though she could read my thoughts, Cambrie lifted her head in a joyful, jubilant grin and clapped. If you're happy and you know it... After those merry claps, with barely a half a second for me to intervene, those sticky, milky, happy hands swung back to grab two, big patches of her hair. The birds stopped singing. I wondered why I ever wished her hair would grow longer.

"Okay, babe, you're done." And I lugged my cheerful baby over to the sink for her impromptu morning bath.

All in a Day's (Paid) Work

For someone who has been unemployed for around five months now, my husband has been handling it pretty well.

Don't get me wrong; we've had our share of doubt, discouragement, frustration, and hopelessness. What is so great, though, is that Patrick always manages to force himself out of those ruts and get back in the game. He keeps things interesting by attending career workshops, job fairs, and resume critiques; conducting informational and networking interviews; volunteering with the Boy Scouts,Young Men's program, and other church programs; and researching new career fields.

Yesterday was a great day for Patrick--he spoke on the phone in the morning with someone who is an attorney for the state of Atlanta. This contact suggested another person for Patrick to speak to and invited him to a Georgia House of Representatives committee meeting that afternoon. Patrick arrived on time, and even though they got started late and he was only able to see ten or fifteen minutes of the meeting, he came away excited and inspired. It was one more confirmation that he really enjoys the political process (without all the nasty politics that we hear about every day). For someone who is still trying to figure out exactly what his "dream job" will be, it was enough to bolster his confidence in his ongoing, long-term career search.

The reason Patrick couldn't stay longer at the meeting was that he had an interview right after. The result of this interview was a few days of badly needed work. Though there is no guarantee of work after those few days, it is an opportunity that we are very excited for. This morning I dropped Patrick off for work at 8:30 AM. What a great feeling!

I would venture to say that there is a lot our little family has learned in these months of joblessness that we never would have if Patrick had gotten work right away--important, valuable lessons, like how to network, where to look for jobs and make connections, and how to keep busy and stay positive. I'd venture to say that we also learned that feeling like we're in the pit of despair one day (or week, or month) doesn't mean that we won't have some success the next.

Thanks to all who have been so supportive of us! We've really appreciated the love, advice, and commiseration. We look forward to being on the other side of the fence and being able to provide the same service to others who need it. Until then, we'll enjoy this very positive change of pace. Now when Cambrie asks where Daddy is, I can finally say, "He's at work! He'll be home soon." Another great feeling, for sure.