I have my new phone and the boys have taken it over to chat to Siri. It had lots of trouble understanding me - perhaps its the accent or that my requests to find things were not commonplace. Frost also finds it more successful on esoteric matters and ventures there.
He started off with the big questions "Siri, what is the meaning of life?" Siri replied that it was 42 and then advised that the boys show kindness to living things and live a life of good intentions.
Wren then asked "What is the meaning of DOG?"
After thinking a moment Siri produced a fact sheet about dogs which included the information that:
"A domesticated carnivorous mammal (Canis familiaris) related to the foxes and wolves and raised in a wide variety of breeds. "
I have to go to the bathroom" Frost shouts to me.
"Sorry, I couldn't find any public toilets around here." Siri announces.
This started Frost off on another tangent. "Mom" he shouts from the bathroom in an echoey way. "You can use this to FIND PLACES! Where is Boom Noodle?"
It misheard him a few times and came up with odd misspellings of nothing.
Frost said: "I am going to kill you"
And received a sanguine: "Okay."
"Wanna watch TV."
"I have found a number of electronics stores close to me."
"I play the drum!"
Siri played music.
"Mom, mom! You can make the phone play music!"
Wren is happy because it has Angry Birds.
I am still a bit confused by the thing. It has imported my gmail contact list as my contacts which means I can txt everyone but have no phone numbers. I am able to browse my new Audubon Mushroom guide wherever we go but am cagey about uploading my "sightings" as they are shared on a GPS enabled map, giving away location of any choice edibles.
I have taken some pictures of Wren and I and they seem crisp. At least my blog will have pictures again if I can figure out how to synch iPhoto via the iCloud which is not yet interfacing with MobileMe.
I asked Siri for help with my contacts and she replied that she was not allowed to make contacts.
I am sure Siri could garble up a nice saying along the lines of "The road to hell is a cloud lined with good intentions."
Friday, October 28, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Learning Math aka "Killing me slowly, with his ways"
Frost started his schooling at an alternative school which emphasized math creativity and understanding. Kids sorted marbles into bottles representing 10s and 100s and counted macaroni threaded on yarn. Frost was encouraged to form his own methods for adding and solving problems and generally thinking about math. He did. He figured out ways to move numbers around long before he was taught the established ways. Even my Dad was impressed by his "mental math" with large numbers.
Fast forward to 5th Grade and these techniques are getting in the way.
He is doing story problems with decimal long division and multiplication. The typical questions are about people buying items with sales tax and discounts. They involve finding the new price by calculating 9.25% of $19.99 and stuff like that. Josh and I both recognized that these problems are easily solved by doing the grunt-work of math - the layout, the algorithm, the carrying and solving.
Frost resents this. He hates doing the straight long multiplication. He breaks things up into funny simpler functions and adds them up - typically making mistakes along the way. About half the time he solves the whole problem in his head correctly. The other half of the time they are incorrect and either show no working method (ie, are just plain wrong) or use a contorted sequence of logical steps that he has devised.
NOT the algorithm.
Today, I dropped into the 'advanced learning' school to pick up some books. I met a 4th Grade girl working in the corridor. She came up to me in some excitement and said "look how much work this problem is taking me!" Indeed, her lined page was covered on both sides with detailed, neatly laid out sums. They all seemed to be a huge number subtracting 20.
"What on earth are you doing?" I asked.
She was a bit confused by my lack of enthusiasm.
"I am solving a problem! This is how much MATH IT TAKES!!!" she asserted, waving the page at me.
"What's the problem?" I wondered, secretly thinking that we never did such long sums in 4th grade and WTF was she doing?
"Oh, these people have $10,000 and we need to know how many weeks it will take them to spend it all if they spend $20 a week. SOOO I am subtracting $20 each time. Look!"
I look, and indeed all the multitude of sums are subtractions, $10,000 - $20 = $99 980 $99 980-$20= for two whole pages!!!!
"But why do it that way?" I asked. "Why not divide? Just divide it by 20!"
"No, I am using SUBTRACTION!" She affirms with mistaken confidence.
"What about dividing by 2?" I ask, freaking out politely. This kid is in advanced learning 4th Grade, she should rebel if being asked to break down $10, 000 by $20 doing the dum sum 500 times. Even if she can't divide 10,000 by 20, intelligence demands that she rebel!
But she doesn't. She prances off waving her pages of sums, committed to solving the problem using the alogrithm du jour, subtraction.
So, I don't want Frost to be like that. I want him to say "this is dumb, there must be an easier way" but I also want him to listen to me when I tell him that he is in the hard way, that sometimes you have to exercise the brain to show it how to make something easy (like the classification of mushrooms or the mechanics of algebra).
Often we have to do a bit of hard work to get to the easy path.
Frost does not believe me, yet.
Fast forward to 5th Grade and these techniques are getting in the way.
He is doing story problems with decimal long division and multiplication. The typical questions are about people buying items with sales tax and discounts. They involve finding the new price by calculating 9.25% of $19.99 and stuff like that. Josh and I both recognized that these problems are easily solved by doing the grunt-work of math - the layout, the algorithm, the carrying and solving.
Frost resents this. He hates doing the straight long multiplication. He breaks things up into funny simpler functions and adds them up - typically making mistakes along the way. About half the time he solves the whole problem in his head correctly. The other half of the time they are incorrect and either show no working method (ie, are just plain wrong) or use a contorted sequence of logical steps that he has devised.
NOT the algorithm.
Today, I dropped into the 'advanced learning' school to pick up some books. I met a 4th Grade girl working in the corridor. She came up to me in some excitement and said "look how much work this problem is taking me!" Indeed, her lined page was covered on both sides with detailed, neatly laid out sums. They all seemed to be a huge number subtracting 20.
"What on earth are you doing?" I asked.
She was a bit confused by my lack of enthusiasm.
"I am solving a problem! This is how much MATH IT TAKES!!!" she asserted, waving the page at me.
"What's the problem?" I wondered, secretly thinking that we never did such long sums in 4th grade and WTF was she doing?
"Oh, these people have $10,000 and we need to know how many weeks it will take them to spend it all if they spend $20 a week. SOOO I am subtracting $20 each time. Look!"
I look, and indeed all the multitude of sums are subtractions, $10,000 - $20 = $99 980 $99 980-$20= for two whole pages!!!!
"But why do it that way?" I asked. "Why not divide? Just divide it by 20!"
"No, I am using SUBTRACTION!" She affirms with mistaken confidence.
"What about dividing by 2?" I ask, freaking out politely. This kid is in advanced learning 4th Grade, she should rebel if being asked to break down $10, 000 by $20 doing the dum sum 500 times. Even if she can't divide 10,000 by 20, intelligence demands that she rebel!
But she doesn't. She prances off waving her pages of sums, committed to solving the problem using the alogrithm du jour, subtraction.
So, I don't want Frost to be like that. I want him to say "this is dumb, there must be an easier way" but I also want him to listen to me when I tell him that he is in the hard way, that sometimes you have to exercise the brain to show it how to make something easy (like the classification of mushrooms or the mechanics of algebra).
Often we have to do a bit of hard work to get to the easy path.
Frost does not believe me, yet.
Mushroom Season
Its mushroom season in Seattle. The season when I forage wild mushrooms for the pot, identify them and do botanical illustrations. The season seems to be getting going a bit late this year, perhaps due to the later arrival of the rains and some unseasonal warmth in September.
Still, I have already eaten 4 lbs of gathered chanterelles and frozen many more pounds from a sale on chanterelles on Vashon island. (Mum, I picked in the same place we went on Vashon last year, there were fewer but we went on the last day before the park was closed for two weeks for hunting season). I have also gathered boletes, Chlorrophylum Brunneum (shaggy Parasol), birch boletes (leccinum scabrum) and some others for the art rather than the pot.
Beezle has been accompanying me into the woods and has proven to be a great undergrowth dog. He can squeeze under most logs and through ferns without impediment. He hangs out with us and does not go far astray. He sniffs at mushrooms and even tried to eat the boletes in my basket. He has good taste!
Just today, jogging around Greenlake, I collected my first boletus edulis (porcini). It had been disturbed by the lawnmower tractor which had clipped the button in the grass near a pine. I found a few larger (still small) ones nearby with the distinctive white reticulations at the apex and am going to eat them for dinner.
I have advertised on the PSMS mycoweb list for companions to practice mushroom ID during the week in local parks. I am failing to advance as much as possible due to lack of keen company. Already, I have three people who would like to join me so I am anticipating a few more weeks of mushrooming before the frosts.
Anyone interested, come and stay with us for Mushroom Season next year!
Still, I have already eaten 4 lbs of gathered chanterelles and frozen many more pounds from a sale on chanterelles on Vashon island. (Mum, I picked in the same place we went on Vashon last year, there were fewer but we went on the last day before the park was closed for two weeks for hunting season). I have also gathered boletes, Chlorrophylum Brunneum (shaggy Parasol), birch boletes (leccinum scabrum) and some others for the art rather than the pot.
Beezle has been accompanying me into the woods and has proven to be a great undergrowth dog. He can squeeze under most logs and through ferns without impediment. He hangs out with us and does not go far astray. He sniffs at mushrooms and even tried to eat the boletes in my basket. He has good taste!
 |
| Chanterelles for breakfast with some birch boletes and slippery jack |
 |
| These coprinus micaceaus were a bit watery on toast. |
I have advertised on the PSMS mycoweb list for companions to practice mushroom ID during the week in local parks. I am failing to advance as much as possible due to lack of keen company. Already, I have three people who would like to join me so I am anticipating a few more weeks of mushrooming before the frosts.
 |
| I believe this is Zellers Bolete due to characteristics and the wrinkled cap |
 |
| I suspect these are porcini buttons. From Greenlake area. I have cleaned them up after ID. They were a bit damaged by the lawn-mower tractor. |
Monday, October 24, 2011
The third wheel has the most fun.
We are dealing with sibling-adoration issues Wren (4) adores Frost (10) and believes that Frost's playdates are an open invitation for a group date. He loves being the third wheel. Today, he had a great playdate with Matthew (11) and Frost (10). He watched Halo, played Lego, played Zombies, lazer tag and ran around in an imaginary game slaying zombies in the garden.
When I insisted he come with me to Trader Joe's to "give the boys some private time" he collapsed on the ground, hit the floor, threatened me with loathing and sobbed so long that his diaphragm jumped and he couldn't breath without hiccupping and sniffing. I dragged him out in his pajamas still clutching his gun.
In the car on the way to the grocery store he waved his pistol in the air, each gesture reminding him of how he could be hunting zombies with the boys. His dramatic monologue of misery went something like this. Reading this, bear in mind that the therapist suggested we ask Wren to rate the strength of his feelings out of ten so he can convey their intensity:
Wren: "You are SO MEAN. I have never been this much sad. Now, I am three hundred two billion, seventy thousand, one million and forty-eight SAD! That is how much sad! I have been one hundred ten million forty eight sad before but now I am that much more!!!! The boys did not say they want me to go away! They did not say "go away!"
Me: If they had asked for some time alone, would you go?
Wren: They did not tell me to go away! I would go away but they did not tell me to go away.
[This is not quite true, Frost was mouthing silently to me to ask Wren to go away so they could play on their own a bit.]
Me: Well, we must ask them to choose a good time to play on their own next time and you can play with me. So you can play the most important game.
Wren: But zombie hunt is the most important game. I can never never play that game now. It will be finished. I will never play it! [sobbing piteously]
Me: Can't you play it another day with Frost and Alex?
Wren: But Alex doesn't know the rules!
Me: You could teach him.
Wren: No, I don't know the ruuuules. It was a new game. It was the best game EVER. Now my heart is broken! I am two million and five hundred and a billion sad.
He recovered a bit during our shopping trip. He found Sam, the hidden orangutan and won a taffy from the service desk, he had a free cookie and persuaded me to buy dried mango and mixed dried fruit and to give money to the man with the sign HELP ME who was feeding his dog croissants.
By the time we got home he was doing okay but I talked to the big boys on the way to drop Matthew off and suggested that they ask me to help when they want time alone and try and make it on the screentime activities rather than running around in the garden playing Zombie Ambush because then Wren will be one billion percent happy.
When I insisted he come with me to Trader Joe's to "give the boys some private time" he collapsed on the ground, hit the floor, threatened me with loathing and sobbed so long that his diaphragm jumped and he couldn't breath without hiccupping and sniffing. I dragged him out in his pajamas still clutching his gun.
In the car on the way to the grocery store he waved his pistol in the air, each gesture reminding him of how he could be hunting zombies with the boys. His dramatic monologue of misery went something like this. Reading this, bear in mind that the therapist suggested we ask Wren to rate the strength of his feelings out of ten so he can convey their intensity:
Wren: "You are SO MEAN. I have never been this much sad. Now, I am three hundred two billion, seventy thousand, one million and forty-eight SAD! That is how much sad! I have been one hundred ten million forty eight sad before but now I am that much more!!!! The boys did not say they want me to go away! They did not say "go away!"
Me: If they had asked for some time alone, would you go?
Wren: They did not tell me to go away! I would go away but they did not tell me to go away.
[This is not quite true, Frost was mouthing silently to me to ask Wren to go away so they could play on their own a bit.]
Me: Well, we must ask them to choose a good time to play on their own next time and you can play with me. So you can play the most important game.
Wren: But zombie hunt is the most important game. I can never never play that game now. It will be finished. I will never play it! [sobbing piteously]
Me: Can't you play it another day with Frost and Alex?
Wren: But Alex doesn't know the rules!
Me: You could teach him.
Wren: No, I don't know the ruuuules. It was a new game. It was the best game EVER. Now my heart is broken! I am two million and five hundred and a billion sad.
He recovered a bit during our shopping trip. He found Sam, the hidden orangutan and won a taffy from the service desk, he had a free cookie and persuaded me to buy dried mango and mixed dried fruit and to give money to the man with the sign HELP ME who was feeding his dog croissants.
By the time we got home he was doing okay but I talked to the big boys on the way to drop Matthew off and suggested that they ask me to help when they want time alone and try and make it on the screentime activities rather than running around in the garden playing Zombie Ambush because then Wren will be one billion percent happy.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Would it be so bad to let my dog have balls?
This in the email today:
Dear BEEZLE,
How are you? We just wanted to remind you that
you are due for your following:
11/11/2011 CASTRATION CAN. UNDER 50 LBS.
11/11/2011 MICROCHIP w/Dr service & registration
Please tell your owners to call us for an appointment soon!
Your friends at the Veterinary HospitalBeezle did not pass on the message. He is considering leaving town. Since I am leaving town that weekend, I am considering letting him pass on his erm, checkup.
Would it be so bad to let my dog have balls? They are small and very furry.
Monday, October 17, 2011
My name is Vampire Tiger
This evening Wren asked me why we gave him such a boring name. He said wanted "a cool name" instead.
"We called you Wren because we though it was a cool name" I told him. "What is a cool name you would like?" I wondered.
"Oh, you know, like TIGER or VAMPIRE. I like Wren. So, instead of (names changed for publicity purposes) Wren Victor Smith I would be Wren Vampire Tiger."
"Oh" I said. I mean, what is there to say.
"Yeah, or Wren Vampire Smith."
"Well, you can change it when you get older if you like."
"Okay," he said "and where are my mushrooms? I want to eat more of our mushrooms before my Otter Pop."
Wren has developed a great appreciation for foraged mushrooms as the season of all things fungal comes into the Northwest. Last weekend we collected 3 lbs of chanterelles on Vashon and I bought another 7 lbs at the store where they were on sale for $3.99 a lb!!! I have never seen them that price before. I wish I had bought more but I have to cook and preserve these first. People here call them 'shanties'.
I have also enjoyed a snack of coprinus micaceus (Shiny cap) for the first time. I identified them in the forest but didn't know they were edible and collected them later in our neighborhood on a rotted buried log.
I also ate mixed boletes (birch bolete and suillus luteus slippery Jack) from the neighbors yard. All utterly delicious.
"We called you Wren because we though it was a cool name" I told him. "What is a cool name you would like?" I wondered.
"Oh, you know, like TIGER or VAMPIRE. I like Wren. So, instead of (names changed for publicity purposes) Wren Victor Smith I would be Wren Vampire Tiger."
"Oh" I said. I mean, what is there to say.
"Yeah, or Wren Vampire Smith."
"Well, you can change it when you get older if you like."
"Okay," he said "and where are my mushrooms? I want to eat more of our mushrooms before my Otter Pop."
Wren has developed a great appreciation for foraged mushrooms as the season of all things fungal comes into the Northwest. Last weekend we collected 3 lbs of chanterelles on Vashon and I bought another 7 lbs at the store where they were on sale for $3.99 a lb!!! I have never seen them that price before. I wish I had bought more but I have to cook and preserve these first. People here call them 'shanties'.
I have also enjoyed a snack of coprinus micaceus (Shiny cap) for the first time. I identified them in the forest but didn't know they were edible and collected them later in our neighborhood on a rotted buried log.
 |
| I ate these for a snack on my pasta tonight. Wren said "they taste like water" |
I also ate mixed boletes (birch bolete and suillus luteus slippery Jack) from the neighbors yard. All utterly delicious.
 |
| Mixed Vashon chanterelles and boletes from the neighborhood |
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Some bread and lots of dumbass dogpoop
So the yeast relationship is developing well. Yesterday, I produced my first wild-yeast sourdough bread after 14 hours of courting. There was the kneading and the waiting, the cooling off period and the time it played hard to get (when I tried to put it in the oven without a baker's peel to move it from the counter to the hot baking stone without losing its shape, I used an old co-op preschool placemat which was laminated over the 3 year old faces.)
My bread came out bloody delicious. It has a lovely hollow ring to it, a great crust, moist and even centre and a slight sourdough tang. It is perfect with salted butter, wickeder than perfect with camembert and homemade cherry preserve.
Due to beginner's mis-timing, the bread came out of the oven at 10.45pm and so it wasn't really ideal for breakfast. I am still pleased and forcing it on everyone. I say "isn't my bread delicious?"
Wren says "did you kill the yeast pet?" I have been calling my yeast culture a "pet" as I feed it daily with some enthusiasm.
I say "no, I picked some of its apples" although that is not a realistic analogy for the biology involved. It was easier to explain than "it had 100 000 brothers and I only killed half of them."
Frost said "when I ate your bread for lunch I thought is this bread from a store? It is SO DELICIOUS. Your bread is now my favorite snack!"
Frost has always been a charmer. He knows how to please.
The Thief
The thief has nothing to do with me. Its Joshua's dog. [Ever notice how beloved things become someone else's problem when they are one? Well, I think that its Joshua's part of Beezle that is now a troubled child.]
Beezle continues to have problems understanding where we want him to poop and pee. Our plan is that he poops and pees outside on the grass 90% of the time and if he cannot get out in time (due to being left inside overnight or while we are out) he can pee on the thoughtfully placed piddle pads in the bathroom.
Beezle believes that we want him to pee and poop outside first thing in the morning, in the bathroom (whether or not a piddle pad is thoughtfully provided) and on plush surfaces (preferably around tables) if one is available any time.
Tonight, Josh stood in a poop in the den downstairs and walked it around the carpet a bit. I discovered a crop of pee in the living room after Frost asked why the room "smells spicy and fruity." He also pee-ed on the bathroom floor but missed the mat nearby.
On Sunday, I took him to University Village - the high end shopping precinct which is pretty dog friendly (to cater to the eccentricity of the affluent) and we went to Storables. As soon as we crossed from the wooden floor to the carpet, Beezle squatted to poop!
I was mortified.
I carried him in the store for 10 minutes, unwilling to check if poop was hanging out or I had caught it in time. Wren kept opining to all staff and other customers who caught his eye:
"Our dog is a DACHSHUND called BEEZLE, he is 8 MONTHS OLD. He is a CHOCOLATE TAN DAPPLE. He LIKES TO POOP and PEE ON CARPET!"
Today, he added:
"WHEN HE IS PARALYZED he can't POOP or PEE anymore. It won't come out so you have to SQUEEZE HIS SIDES to make the POOP come out."
Nobody at Daly's Home Decoration knew what to make of this pronouncement although the shop assistant kindly mouthed reassuring things at me.
This addendum came from us giving Wren dire explanations of what could happen to a dachshund if its back was broken due to careless handling. He seemed fascinated, not unduly disturbed.
Anyway, the thief part doesn't come from a reference to Beezle stealing my sanity with his dumbass toileting but due to his obsession with chicken poop.
Wren's preschool has free-range chickens. Beezle loves to eat chicken poop! For god's sake where is Natural Selection when you need it? He doesn't get sick, we all just get grossed out.
Well, over the weekend I fertilized our lawn with natural organic fertilizer with a chicken poop ingredient. In Beezle's mind it is as if I sprinkled the entire lawn with bacon bits. He can't go and "do it" or "hurry up" (our euphemisms for toilet behaviours) out there anymore. It would be like 'going' on a pizza. Instead of peeing he just walks around with his nose in the grass trying to shovel up granules of organic fertilizer.
And he won't eat the gourmet raw diet I bought him for $17.99 a bag.
So, that's my complaint of the day. But the yeast worked. My advice is if you are considering getting a pet, get a sourdough culture. It froths kindly at you, eats only a bit of flour daily and if you want to go on holiday you can eat your pet before you leave.
My bread came out bloody delicious. It has a lovely hollow ring to it, a great crust, moist and even centre and a slight sourdough tang. It is perfect with salted butter, wickeder than perfect with camembert and homemade cherry preserve.
 |
| RECIPE: From Macrina Bakery Cookbook |
My yeast friends!
Due to beginner's mis-timing, the bread came out of the oven at 10.45pm and so it wasn't really ideal for breakfast. I am still pleased and forcing it on everyone. I say "isn't my bread delicious?"
Wren says "did you kill the yeast pet?" I have been calling my yeast culture a "pet" as I feed it daily with some enthusiasm.
I say "no, I picked some of its apples" although that is not a realistic analogy for the biology involved. It was easier to explain than "it had 100 000 brothers and I only killed half of them."
Frost said "when I ate your bread for lunch I thought is this bread from a store? It is SO DELICIOUS. Your bread is now my favorite snack!"
Frost has always been a charmer. He knows how to please.
 |
| Before you read the next section you have to see our dog Beezle so you know how cute he was an how we let him be such a crappy crapper. |
The thief has nothing to do with me. Its Joshua's dog. [Ever notice how beloved things become someone else's problem when they are one? Well, I think that its Joshua's part of Beezle that is now a troubled child.]
Beezle continues to have problems understanding where we want him to poop and pee. Our plan is that he poops and pees outside on the grass 90% of the time and if he cannot get out in time (due to being left inside overnight or while we are out) he can pee on the thoughtfully placed piddle pads in the bathroom.
Beezle believes that we want him to pee and poop outside first thing in the morning, in the bathroom (whether or not a piddle pad is thoughtfully provided) and on plush surfaces (preferably around tables) if one is available any time.
Tonight, Josh stood in a poop in the den downstairs and walked it around the carpet a bit. I discovered a crop of pee in the living room after Frost asked why the room "smells spicy and fruity." He also pee-ed on the bathroom floor but missed the mat nearby.
On Sunday, I took him to University Village - the high end shopping precinct which is pretty dog friendly (to cater to the eccentricity of the affluent) and we went to Storables. As soon as we crossed from the wooden floor to the carpet, Beezle squatted to poop!
I was mortified.
I carried him in the store for 10 minutes, unwilling to check if poop was hanging out or I had caught it in time. Wren kept opining to all staff and other customers who caught his eye:
"Our dog is a DACHSHUND called BEEZLE, he is 8 MONTHS OLD. He is a CHOCOLATE TAN DAPPLE. He LIKES TO POOP and PEE ON CARPET!"
Today, he added:
"WHEN HE IS PARALYZED he can't POOP or PEE anymore. It won't come out so you have to SQUEEZE HIS SIDES to make the POOP come out."
Nobody at Daly's Home Decoration knew what to make of this pronouncement although the shop assistant kindly mouthed reassuring things at me.
This addendum came from us giving Wren dire explanations of what could happen to a dachshund if its back was broken due to careless handling. He seemed fascinated, not unduly disturbed.
Anyway, the thief part doesn't come from a reference to Beezle stealing my sanity with his dumbass toileting but due to his obsession with chicken poop.
Wren's preschool has free-range chickens. Beezle loves to eat chicken poop! For god's sake where is Natural Selection when you need it? He doesn't get sick, we all just get grossed out.
Well, over the weekend I fertilized our lawn with natural organic fertilizer with a chicken poop ingredient. In Beezle's mind it is as if I sprinkled the entire lawn with bacon bits. He can't go and "do it" or "hurry up" (our euphemisms for toilet behaviours) out there anymore. It would be like 'going' on a pizza. Instead of peeing he just walks around with his nose in the grass trying to shovel up granules of organic fertilizer.
And he won't eat the gourmet raw diet I bought him for $17.99 a bag.
So, that's my complaint of the day. But the yeast worked. My advice is if you are considering getting a pet, get a sourdough culture. It froths kindly at you, eats only a bit of flour daily and if you want to go on holiday you can eat your pet before you leave.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
A date with my yeast
You know how us mothers always do things for the kids? Well, its screwing with my mind. I am starting to have flashbacks of singlehood in which I have the luxury of melancholy, keep quiet for hours and I listen to music of my own choice
.....[without explaining "What is major Tom DOING?" ]
Loud
....[without anyone asking if it is a Dance Party / saying you are giving me a HEADACHE / or doing crazy and barking or hiding]
and I think about actually doing something I want to do in spare time rather than just consume entertainment to chill out.
I have been trying to draw and paint but while I have been able to do technical practice drawings with Wren, its hard to connect with yourself and CREATE while having a loud and demanding relationship with a persistent and intense 4 year old. When I try and connect with my inner image all I see is myself vanishing into a dark wood transforming into a wolf and leaving them all behind. I think this is the middle-class equivalent of a child raised by wolves - a mother lost to the wolves in the throes of a vision quest.
So, tomorrow I am doing something for myself, with my yeast, the wild yeast I enticed to grow in a rather disgusting looking culture that has sat on our countertop for the best part of 3 weeks being fed every day or so and frothing productively.
I have a baking stone and am planning on trying to make the sourdough loaf from the Macrina Cookbook.
As with all blind dates, this might end badly but so what? Hey? I have been so busy that I haven't even been mushrooming in the mountains yet and its almost the second week of October. What is that about?
Anyway, this morning Wren was thrilled to find a packet of Frosted Flakes that had been overlooked after a summer camping trip. He had the bowl in front of him but no spoon and demanded one. I gave him a clean spoon and in his joy he sang:
.....[without explaining "What is major Tom DOING?" ]
Loud
....[without anyone asking if it is a Dance Party / saying you are giving me a HEADACHE / or doing crazy and barking or hiding]
and I think about actually doing something I want to do in spare time rather than just consume entertainment to chill out.
I have been trying to draw and paint but while I have been able to do technical practice drawings with Wren, its hard to connect with yourself and CREATE while having a loud and demanding relationship with a persistent and intense 4 year old. When I try and connect with my inner image all I see is myself vanishing into a dark wood transforming into a wolf and leaving them all behind. I think this is the middle-class equivalent of a child raised by wolves - a mother lost to the wolves in the throes of a vision quest.
So, tomorrow I am doing something for myself, with my yeast, the wild yeast I enticed to grow in a rather disgusting looking culture that has sat on our countertop for the best part of 3 weeks being fed every day or so and frothing productively.
I have a baking stone and am planning on trying to make the sourdough loaf from the Macrina Cookbook.
As with all blind dates, this might end badly but so what? Hey? I have been so busy that I haven't even been mushrooming in the mountains yet and its almost the second week of October. What is that about?
Anyway, this morning Wren was thrilled to find a packet of Frosted Flakes that had been overlooked after a summer camping trip. He had the bowl in front of him but no spoon and demanded one. I gave him a clean spoon and in his joy he sang:
“I got a beautiful new shiny spoon that glimmers in the sunshine!”
I hope he feels a similar rapture at my yeast-risen bread.
Beezle is chewing on the furniture "TSSST" says Josh. "Don't eat this desk! Don't do it." Beezle stares at him lovingly until his attention wavers and he starts to chew the desk again.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The Age of Analogy
I doubt I'll ever catch up on the backlog of memories I hoped to impart via the blog. I have the walks in the woods with Dad, our camping near Deception Pass with preschool, walks with Beezle, dinners out and various important moments in each child's life.
However, if I am ever to blog again I must acknowledge my infirmities (that absence of time and will, that need to watch Grey's Anatomy or read another crime novel instead of blogging) and move on with the present which is still crisp enough to touch.
You know they write about the terrible twos and horrible threes. Developmentally, Wren at 4 has entered the Age of Analogies. He has always been intense, creative and dramatic and has now learned that simile and metaphor in his speech adds intensity to his demands as in this morning's:
"I cannot find the iPad and that is breaking my heart into little pieces as small as germs!"
or the later
"You are not listening and my heart is broken into millions of tiny pieces!"
Its not that I am a bad mother, playing Xbox while he withers with neglect. Wren talks ALL THE TIME. I asked him about it in the car after speaking firmly to him (a bit meanly, actually) asking him to Please. Keep. Quiet. for a few minutes.
"But if I keep quiet you will not know I am there!" he complained. Frost tries to win us a bit of time by encouraging Wren to play the Quiet Game where the person who stays quiet longest wins but really, its only 2 minutes max before he starts to ask if he has won yet.
Amidst the constant commentary on feelings and observations Wren is also fond of sharing his wisdom. As we walked to fetch Frost from the busstop Wren told me that he knew "baby trees are called saplings. They fall from big trees and grow up into small shrubs you can plant somewhere else."
I was impressed.
"Did you learn that on your nature walks?" I asked, thinking that his Waldorf preschooling was bearing fruit.
"No, I learned it on Minecraft! In Minecraft if you smash up a tree for wood to make a block of wood then bits fall down and make saplings so I knew that baby trees are SAPLINGS!"
"See, computer games ARE Educational." said Frost, with some delight.
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| "You are giving me a headache making me sit here. ARRGH" |
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| Wren with a large pop sculpture downtown on Dad's visit to Dahlia Lounge |
FACTS and FANTASIES
- I have lost my digital camera and can only take pictures with an old camera that is the size of an old SLR thus we have no new photos.
- Wren is going to school 3 days a week now, not 4.
- Wren is getting a neuro-developmental assessment in the weeks ahead (as recommended by his cardiologist before kindergarten),
- We are starting to look at Kindergarten's for Wren next year;
- Beezle is showing an interest in eating shoes but so far has only eaten paper, lego and plastic packaging, and half a chocolate donut Frost left in the car with him;
- I foraged the first 2 cups of chanterelles of the season but have not been on a serious forage since the rains WHERE ARE MY FORAGING FRIENDS & FAMILY!!!?????
- Halloween is coming up and we are considering creating a scene of zombies at our dinner table;
- My 19 year old sister has rubella;
- My step-mother fell off her bike and broke a rib but is still taking a business trip to China (or India);
- I am ready for Winter, almost. I just need to repair the roof. "Hey Josh.... we need to call that guy about the roof."
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Dad's Visit: Golf at Chambers Bay
Thanks to one of Josh's colleagues, we booked Dad in to play a round of golf at Chambers Bay in Tacoma. For those not in golfing circles, Chambers Bay hosted the US Amateur Golf Championship and is scheduled to host the US PGA Open in 2015. It is a Links course, described on the website as follows:
"Centuries ago on the Linksland of Scotland where native grasses meander between the coastal sand dunes and the sea, the game of golf was born. Providing both inspiration and challenge, the elements defined the experience. That tradition continues today at Chambers Bay."
Both Dad and I like to rise early, and since it was predicted to be a hot day Dad took an early tee-time of 7.45am. That meant leaving Seattle at 6.15am to get there in good time. He borrowed Fred's father golf clubs and borrowed a driver, arriving in time for a shuttle bus to take him to the first tee along with 3 other players signed up for that time. One of the men was a local celebrity (we have been unable to track him down but he appears to have been a pro or businessman of some standing, getting VIP treatment) and Dad enjoyed the golf a great deal.
While Dad spent 4.5 hours going around the course, Wren and I planned to take a small walk /scoot around a section of the golf course and then head up to the Chambers Bay Grill. Unfortunately, I misheard the information about the trail length. I thought it was 3/4 mile but it was 3-4 miles. Wren and I bravely scooted and walked 3.5 miles up and down around the entire perimeter BEFORE BREAKFAST!!!
To make it worse, after a mile of scooting, Wren had a bleeding blister on his heel. I told him to take off his shoe and carried it. Every second person pointed out that my child was "missing his shoe!" (Americans are very helpful and nosy and worried about bare feet so there was a perfect storm of helpfulness along the trail). The bare foot made it hard for Wren who usually uses his shoe to drag behind him as a brake on the downhills. And there were Some Steep Downhills!
Thank goodness the food and coffee at the Grill were worth waiting for. In fact, it was such a wonderful destination that I would consider driving down there one day just to do the walk and brunch again. Wren ordered the kids bear pancake and it was one of the most entertainingly presented meals he has seen. He ate it ALL up. My eggs were great although I forgot to hold the bacon (or I did, but it came anyway).
After the walk and breakfast it was only 9.30am so Wren and I headed over to Point Defiance Zoo (or Poindefine zoo, as Wren calls it), making it back in time to meet Dad for lunch again at Chambers Bay. Dad enjoyed his meal of seafood but should have had the burger as they looked excellent.
It was a very happy day and I am so glad we made it down there. Now Dad has left I am looking back on it as one of the real holidays of his vacation.
"Centuries ago on the Linksland of Scotland where native grasses meander between the coastal sand dunes and the sea, the game of golf was born. Providing both inspiration and challenge, the elements defined the experience. That tradition continues today at Chambers Bay."
Both Dad and I like to rise early, and since it was predicted to be a hot day Dad took an early tee-time of 7.45am. That meant leaving Seattle at 6.15am to get there in good time. He borrowed Fred's father golf clubs and borrowed a driver, arriving in time for a shuttle bus to take him to the first tee along with 3 other players signed up for that time. One of the men was a local celebrity (we have been unable to track him down but he appears to have been a pro or businessman of some standing, getting VIP treatment) and Dad enjoyed the golf a great deal.
 |
| Dad (figure on the right) warming up by the tee-off point. |
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| Another view of the course as they move off. |
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| The sun finally makes it over the ridge to light our walk. |
While Dad spent 4.5 hours going around the course, Wren and I planned to take a small walk /scoot around a section of the golf course and then head up to the Chambers Bay Grill. Unfortunately, I misheard the information about the trail length. I thought it was 3/4 mile but it was 3-4 miles. Wren and I bravely scooted and walked 3.5 miles up and down around the entire perimeter BEFORE BREAKFAST!!!
 |
| Wren taking a break with injuries. |
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| 8am. 2.5 miles to go. |
To make it worse, after a mile of scooting, Wren had a bleeding blister on his heel. I told him to take off his shoe and carried it. Every second person pointed out that my child was "missing his shoe!" (Americans are very helpful and nosy and worried about bare feet so there was a perfect storm of helpfulness along the trail). The bare foot made it hard for Wren who usually uses his shoe to drag behind him as a brake on the downhills. And there were Some Steep Downhills!
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| "I have not dropped my shoe" |
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| This hill is too steep to scoot UP! |
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| Warning of the steep hill! Will the bare foot be enough of a brake? |
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| No! This hill is too steep to scoot DOWN! |
Thank goodness the food and coffee at the Grill were worth waiting for. In fact, it was such a wonderful destination that I would consider driving down there one day just to do the walk and brunch again. Wren ordered the kids bear pancake and it was one of the most entertainingly presented meals he has seen. He ate it ALL up. My eggs were great although I forgot to hold the bacon (or I did, but it came anyway).
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| Chambers Bay Grill - Kids Bear pancake 10/10 |
After the walk and breakfast it was only 9.30am so Wren and I headed over to Point Defiance Zoo (or Poindefine zoo, as Wren calls it), making it back in time to meet Dad for lunch again at Chambers Bay. Dad enjoyed his meal of seafood but should have had the burger as they looked excellent.
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| Dad and Fred's Dad's clubs have lunch at the Grill |
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| Dad and Wren at the entrance to the Pro Store |
It was a very happy day and I am so glad we made it down there. Now Dad has left I am looking back on it as one of the real holidays of his vacation.
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