Paper Napkin

Weird Food Wednesday

We're all moved and unpacked. Everything is organized and spiffy, except for the basement storage room, aka The Black Hole of Stuff. I'll get to that sometime this week, after I have a few beers.

I've had a rough week.

First, we've been involved in a loooong interview process for a volunteer position with a local organization that helps moms who are putting their kids up for adoption. We were applying for something called Cradle Care, which means that we would have been the interim home between hospital and adoption. While the mom chooses which family her baby will be adopted to, the baby would stay with us. I applied for the position mainly because Haley LOVES all things babies. We've been going in for marathon interviews for months now, and Tuesday they told us we were not getting into the program. I wasn't disappointed about not getting the position, because babies are my least favorite age, but I was really disappointed because I felt it was an iron clad judgement about me and our family. Aaron's take on it was that we had experienced too much neglect in our childhoods, and that was what disqualified us. My take on it was that I suck as a mother, and no one in their right mind would leave me alone with a baby. So yeah, that was a little upsetting. I think I cried so hard I broke a few capillaries.

So that was Tuesday. Then yesterday my sister called to tell me that mom was in the hospital. She just found out, and wanted to know if I knew. Um, no. Apparently she's been there for five days. They were doing another biopsy on her liver cancer and they clipped an artery. They didn't know it and sent her home. A few days later she was rushed to the ER when she passed out. Why my dad didn't call us is kind of a mystery, but when I talked to him he was pretty upset, so I didn't ask. I offered to fly out there, and of course he said he could handle it. That's practically my mantra, I'm so much my father's daughter, so I said, just because you can handle something on your own doesn't mean you must. If you want me to come out I will. So I'm waiting for his call.

And to top it all off, two of my kids left for New Mexico today. They're taking a little trip over the weekend with some friends, which is awesome, but mah babeeeees are goooone. So, sucks for me.

Yeah, not a good week. Let's talk about something else.

I love to try new foods. I'm really interested in eating all kinds of weird stuff. I draw the line at eating bugs or rodents, or drinking blood, but within reason, I have a taste for adventure. My kids and my husband are pretty picky eaters, and I really wasn't getting to nurture that adventurous part of me so I instituted Weird Food Wednesday. One Wednesday a month, I make a weird food, and every one has to take two bites without complaining.

Last night we had fried lamb heart. I found it at a Middle Eastern market in Denver. The hearts have a membrane on the outside you have to peel off. You have to cut off the fat and devein it. I sliced ours and pounded it with a meat mallet, then marinated it in a citrus honey glaze with rosemary. No one really liked it, including me. It's not a part of the lamb I recommend, but Weird Food Wednesday is about trying something new-- liking it is just a bonus.

While I was at the Middle Eastern market, I also picked up something called Gata bread, which is a sweet bread, that tastes a lot like a danish. That part of Weird Food Wednesday went over a lot better than the lamb heart.

Weird Food Wednesday

We're all moved and unpacked. Everything is organized and spiffy, except for the basement storage room, aka The Black Hole of Stuff. I'll get to that sometime this week, after I have a few beers.

I've had a rough week.

First, we've been involved in a loooong interview process for a volunteer position with a local organization that helps moms who are putting their kids up for adoption. We were applying for something called Cradle Care, which means that we would have been the interim home between hospital and adoption. While the mom chooses which family her baby will be adopted to, the baby would stay with us. I applied for the position mainly because Haley LOVES all things babies. We've been going in for marathon interviews for months now, and today they told us we were not getting into the program. I wasn't disappointed about not getting the position, because babies are my least favorite age, but I was really disappointed because I felt it was an iron clad judgement about me and our family. Aaron's take on it was that we had experienced too much neglect in our childhoods, and that was what disqualified us. My take on it was that I suck as a mother, and no one in their right mind would leave me alone with a baby. So yeah, that was a little upsetting. I think I cried so hard I broke a few capillaries.

So that was Tuesday. Then yesterday my sister called to tell me that mom was in the hospital. She just found out, and wanted to know if I knew. Um, no. Apparently she's been there for five days. They were doing another biopsy on her liver cancer and they clipped an artery. They didn't know it and sent her home. A few days later she was rushed to the ER when she passed out. Why my dad didn't call us is kind of a mystery, but when I talked to him he was pretty upset, so I didn't ask. I offered to fly out there, and of course he said he could handle it. That's practically my mantra, I'm so much my father's daughter, so I said, just because you can handle something on your own doesn't mean you must. If you want me to come out I will. So I'm waiting for his call.

And to top it all off, two of my kids left for New Mexico today. They're taking a little trip over the weekend with some friends, which is awesome, but mah babeeeees are goooone. So, sucks for me.

Yeah, not a good week. Let's talk about something else.

I love to try new foods. I'm really interested in eating all kinds of weird stuff. I draw the line at eating bugs or rodents, or drinking blood, but within reason, I have a taste for adventure. My kids and my husband are pretty picky eaters, and I really wasn't getting to nurture that adventurous part of me so I instituted Weird Food Wednesday. One Wednesday a month, I make a weird food, and every one has to take two bites without complaining.

Last night we had fried lamb heart. I found it at a Middle Eastern market in Denver. The hearts have a membrane on the outside you have to peel off. You have to cut off the fat and devein it. I sliced ours and pounded it with a meat mallet, then marinated it in a citrus honey glaze with rosemary. No one really liked it, including me. It's not a part of the lamb I recommend, but Weird Food Wednesday is about trying something new-- liking it is just a bonus.

While I was at the Middle Eastern market, I also picked up something called Gata bread, which is a sweet bread, that tastes a lot like a danish. That part of Weird Food Wednesday went over a lot better than the lamb heart.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

A while ago I mentioned that I'm joining the Catholic Church this Easter. And boy is it screwing with my head. It's really difficult for me, because no one else in our family is joining with me. Emily went with me to RCIA (the class that non-Catholics take to become Catholic), but last week she decided that she doesn't believe what the church teaches about communion, so she's not going to "graduate" with me into the church. I totally understand and would never pressure her to join anything she couldn't assent to, but for me it's a bummer because none of my family is not going to be with me.  We'll still go to church together, because I will go with them, but it's doubtful they will come with me, at least not very often. So I feel alone.

The other part of my loneliness and isolation stems from the fact that many Protestant Christians do not think Catholics are Christians. When I was a protestant I was always aghast at the audacity of this mindset, but nevertheless, there it is. I can't read people's minds, and their thoughts and opinions are none of my business, but I can read people's reactions to the news that I'm becoming Catholic. Judging by the looks of surprise, shock, or pity and the scramble to find a polite response, I've got a notion that a lot of people think I'm spiritually anemic, at the very least. And people who aren't religious at all cannot fathom why I would tether myself to an organization like the Catholic church. It's not a good feeling to be misunderstood, and yet if I took the trouble to explain myself I don't think that it would really change any minds, so I just have to let them be them, and let me be me.

I guess it's hard to let me be me because lately I don't feel too jazzed about myself. I just have the sense I'm doing life all wrong. I don't have time or inclination to get into all the details; I'm just in a general malaise, I guess. I feel like we're all slogging through this swamp called life, only everyone else has a top-of-the-line GPS, machete, proper waders, sunscreen and water, and all I've got is a pocket knife and half a candy bar. I'm pretty good at MacGuyvering my way through, but sometimes I just think, how the hell did I get here, and which way do I go?

I know somewhere in my head that people aren't neccesarily better equiped to navigate life than I am, but it sure looks that way on the outside. Anyway, that's enough self pity for today (if that's what this feeling is), I've got boxes to pack and carpets to clean. We don't have internet hook-up until the 12th, so catch you on the flip side.

Too Long To Tweet

In about an hour I have to go to Starbucks to meet a stranger. My neighbor is applying for a security clearance, and as part of the process they asked to interview me (and pretty much everyone he's ever met in his life). This neighbor and I do not get along, and that's putting it mildly. Imagine, not getting along with me. You have to work pretty hard to get to the point where I am not speaking to you, and will not even give you a passing wave when we see each other in the yard. As I only have a minute to post I won't go into the details of our story, but it involves many letters to our landlady, threats of lawsuits, and threats of contacting the police. Now just to give him the benefit of the crazy doubt, don't you think if we were that much trouble, there would complaints from our other neighbors? Um, no. We get along fine with everyone else. Our landlady is unfazed, because apparently he harassed her about the last tenants she had too. What can I say, harassers gonna harass.

So I told the guy doing the interviews, "Look, if these questions involve me forming a judgement or giving my opinion about this guy, you might want to go to the next person on your list. I don't want to interfere with his goals, and my opinions aren't favorable." The guy assured me that my interview wouldn't have that much weight, so I agreed to meet him this morning.

The kids called me on our "relationship" the other day, "Mom, aren't you supposed to love your neighbor?"

"Yes, I replied. I do love our neighbor. I just want no interaction with him whatsoever."

I mean him no harm, I'm willing to help him if he needs it (like taking time when I'm very busy to give an interview that I don't want to give), but I want to limit my exposure to him. I don't think it's a loop hole, I just think I don't have to like everyone I love.

Dust Bunny Colonies

Friday the guy came to fix the fireplace. I'd forgotten he was coming, and we are in mid-packing chaos around here. We've reached the point on the Tidiness Continuum which is just above Apha Sigma Chi Pledge Week. A few well placed beer bongs, and a passed-out freshmen or two, and you probably couldn't tell the difference. Wow, is it ever embarrassing to let a stranger into your house when it's a mess. When we move, I vowed, I will keep the house so clean that at any random moment the president could drop by and I could confidently welcome him into our living room.

Moving is overwhelming, because it's not just about filling up box after box with our crap, it's about who I want to be vs. who I really am. I am not a person who moves the furniture when I vacuum, or cleans under the couch cushions. I'm not a person whose pencil drawer is filled with sharpened pencils. I am a person whose pencil drawer is filled with cough drops, old batteries, chapstick, pennies, and if you're looking for a pencil, good luck and God speed.

I could be a perfectly organized person, but I live with four other people and I could not be a perfectly organized person without being a pain in the ass. It's a trade-off on the Neat/Neurotic Diagonal, which looks something like this

I think in this new house I'm going to live a little higher on the cartesian plane, and maybe I can find a way of doing it without being a nag. In any case, for a while after we move, my pencil drawers will hold nothing but freshly sharpened pencils. Ahhhh.