I want to eat that so much.

I think I should change the name of my blog to 20 Minutes After Bedtime because that’s about as much time as my brain will function after the kids are asleep. Thoughts?

It’s surprisingly easy to be vegan. I’m not into complicated recipes – the more steps the more mess and I wouldn’t exactly call myself highly motivated to clean up. I currently hold the state championship for tolerance for dirty dishes piled in the sink, on the counters, on top of the toaster – wherever. So a nice simple one pot recipe is what I’m looking for – maybe two pots. That’s what I had tonight – a two pot soup. I found the recipe for Scottish Red Lentil (and Barley) Soup at christinascucina.com. It’s not a vegan website but I figured it wouldn’t be hard to alter it and it wasn’t.

My husband loves lentils and barley and all sorts of things from the British Isles like Islay whiskey, rain, and tartan, so I figured I couldn’t go wrong. Time will tell as he arrived only moments ago and is currently reading a 14th story to my middle son who napped from three to five and will subsequently be awake until exactly 5 minutes before the baby wakes up in the morning…

It wasn’t hard to veganize this recipe as it simply required substituting vegetable stock for the beef. Today I used store bought because I used up the homemade stock the other day. Can I just say here how easy it is to make vegetable stock? Take all the scraps you create from peeling carrots and cutting the leafy bits off celery. Throw in an onion and whatever other vegetable rejects you have, fill the pot with water and boil until you remember that you have a pot on the stove filled with boiling vegetables -if you’re like me that’s generally 5 or 6 hours later or when my husband says “is something cooking?” Even easier is cooking the stock overnight in a slow cooker. Unless you store your slow cooker on a high shelf and can’t be bothered to take it down OR unless you saw This is Us. Just saying.

Also, in trying to follow the How Not to Die (HNTD) guidelines, I skipped the added salt aside from what was already in the (reduced sodium) vegetable stock. The soup was yellowish so I threw in some turmeric because it’s supposed to be amazing for you. Also I threw in a secret spice that she doesn’t mention but it turned it from something very good to something ridiculously good. Saffron. In the past when using saffron I’ve taken literally one strand of the stuff and put it into whatever I’m making. Because it costs about as much as our mortgage. But this saffron has now made at least two moves with us and I figured it was time to bite the bullet and actually use an entire capsule, which is what the directions say. Let me just say. Yum.

So my husband walked downstairs (followed moments later completely unsurprisingly by our son on the search for medicine to make his tummy and elbow feel better) and looked on the stove, saw the soup and declared, “Oh my God I want to eat this so much.” Thank you Christinas Cucina and saffron distributors everywhere. Bon appetit!

Deconstruction

We live in an up-and-coming area of town. Most of the original houses around here were built sometime in the middle of last century, many relatively small compared to the rest of town. The owners of these houses have lived in them forever. They probably got married and then moved into these houses. They had their children in these houses. Now their children have grown up and moved away and they remain because their friends are all here and because they’ve lived here for their entire adult lives and because our town is a great town and our neighborhood the best of the best (#biased)(as I’m reading this through I realize “biased” might not be an awesome hashtag but I can’t erase it because I want you see how my brain works sometimes).  The location couldn’t be better – a mile or less from the center of town, which is walkable but far enough away to breathe. We can walk to all of the schools. The sounds of Friday night football games resonate throughout the streets creating a classic small-town vibe that you might expect to find in the Midwest but probably not in the suburbs of a big city. The neighbors are friendly, the schools are great, the highways are close but not close enough to hear. So it’s no wonder everyone wants to move here and no one wants to leave once they’ve arrived.  But sadly, no one wants to move into one of these small, old houses.  I’m not criticizing – I felt the same way.  We’re an obnoxious generation in many ways –  #genHGTV – we expect big and shiny.  We want marble countertops that won’t stain. Stainless steel that will hold a magnet. Blue-stone patios that lead to a fenced-in yard.  I don’t blame us – we know these things are possible because a lot of shows tell us it’s possible. Either we can buy a house that’s already perfect or we can fix it up ourselves and come in under budget.  Right?

Well – this neighborhood is prime Fixer Upper territory.  The houses are just not big enough or new enough to survive.  So they’re being demolished and replaced by big, new houses.  I know because I live in one of the new houses and because since we’ve lived here 4 more have popped up right on our street.  The parallel street had 4 new constructions all for sale at the same time over the summer.  And driving up the street to drop the kids off at school today I noticed another one on our street being knocked down.

This house belonged to a family.  All the happiness and the birthdays and the how tall are you now ticks on the wall.  All the fights and the screaming and the unwarranted (or warranted) sass from children far too young to be sassy.  Every memory, every boyfriend, every girlfriend.  You know for a fact many a mix tape was made in that house. Many a treadmill not walked on.  Many a plate of vegetables fed to the dog. And now it’s being torn down.  Yes – a new house will be built with a new family and new memories.  No – tearing down the house doesn’t erase the memories.  But – it took months for the house to be built and many years to build the memories and within a few hours the whole thing was gone.  I find this to be extremely sad.

Maybe I’m feeling especially sentimental today because it’s my son’s birthday – he’s 5. Five!  It’s hard to wrap my brain around that one.  He told me in the car on the way home from school that he wanted a cake shaped like the Tortuga from Wild Kratts.  Well??? How good is this rainbow Tortuga? Did I whip that together or what?

And wait till you see the candles –

Is this a #momfail? or a #momwin? 4 children in the house but no birthday candles to be found.  This is because we ran out of Shabbat candles so we had to use birthday candles in their place – now we’ve run out of birthday candles and I pulled out the skinny tapers my parents gave us that they bought some time in the 1970s. Possibly they received them as part of a wedding present.  Or possibly they got them at a quaint department store that’s since been demolished and replaced by a bigger, shinier department store.  In any case the 5 year old thought they were pretty cool and even though the cake looks like something you’d tell your 10 year old you’re proud of her for making it tasted good and I should know because I ate most of the scraps. NO it wasn’t vegan #cakedoesn’tcount. But I did just eat a slice of tofeatloaf – you know you’re having food envy right about now.

 

 

 

 

…..And we’re back.

Have you ever closed your eyes and opened them only to find that 9 months has passed (past?)? The last time I wrote was April. April of 2018. It’s officially 2019 and I’m hanging my head in shame that I haven’t managed to write a single word.  What I have managed to do is cancel my subscription boxes of clothes. Because I’m not a person who needs subscription boxes to go shopping.  I like to personally go into a store and manhandle every coat, every shirt, every scarf, every shoe.  I like the process of going into Bloomingdale’s and trying on 25 pairs of jeans.  I love to try on coat after coat analyzing which hoods are furry enough but not too furry.  I adore the smell of the beauty counters and the perfume samples and the sight of children running that aren’t mine because I’ve left them in the capable hands of (school, the grandparents, the nanny). The mall is my default.  I walk the mall for fun.  I don’t also need boxes of clothes delivered every month.  Which is why I subscribed to Hygge box.  A box for people who enjoy that trendy and ever just out of reach Danish concept of coziness.  It didn’t send me clothes it sent me things! But it turns out I really like to buy things too.  I love to pick out great earthenware mugs and if I want a cuppa tea I’m happy with my decaf lady grey, thanks.  I don’t need someone to send me fuzzy socks in a box because truth be told they probably won’t fit my feet anyway (#bigfootproblems).  So I canceled my hygge box subscription too. And my birch box subscription because – well remember how I like beauty counters?  I already spend all of my husbands hard-earned money on furnishing my vanity with every la mer product known to man.  I don’t also need to spend even $10 a month on samples of beauty products I will literally never use.  I haven’t gotten up the nerve to cancel my fab fit fun subscription.  In fact I’ve upgraded it to the option where you get to customize your quarterly box of goodies.  Okay so from the latest box I have used exactly one item (the jade face roller thing that is either all the rage or only seems to be all the rage because google is creepy and sponsored ads are everywhere) for – you guessed it, every day for a week and then never again. Should I cancel fabfitfun? Probably.  Will I? Time will tell.  I sense a box reveal in the not-too-distant-future.

What else have I done since April you ask? Well I have binged every episode of Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Lewis, The Tudors, The White Queen, Versailles, Elizabeth I: The Virgin Queen, The Durrells in Corfu, Mr. Selfridge, and many other shows I can’t remember.  Also Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Paw Patrol and Wild Kratts but only because at 5am when I stumble downstairs still sleeping and my kids ask if they can watch a show before I’ve had a chance to inject caffeine into my veins the answer is always “uh yeah whatever i’m just gonna be over here ignoring the fact that my bladder is seconds away from bursting because I’m afraid if I get up the baby will take it as a sign that I want to be up and moving about the house and he’ll ask me for breakfast and to play with the sink and…what’s that? You don’t actually care? The show is already on? So yeah. One show, eight shows.  Good times.

What else?  Well, I bought all the supplies for refurbishing old furniture and – didn’t. I suddenly became obsessed with luxury designer handbags, much to the distress of my ever-tolerant and obliging husband. I joined a gym and went every day for a week and then never again for the subsequent 3 (I joined in December trying to preempt the New Years challenge buzz.  I figured if I signed up early I might trick myself into actually sticking with it – whereas New Years’ resolutions to go the gym are begging to be broken.  I think it’s actually a law in some states.).  Also I challenged myself and all of my 2 friends on Goodreads who might notice to read 52 books in 2019 (will be re-reading all Bill Bryson, all Harry Potter, and throwing in some Crazy Rich Asians). And I became vegan.

Well when I say I became vegan what I mean to say is that 2 weeks ago I read the book How Not To Die by Dr. Michael Greger and became sufficiently convinced to stop eating animal products.  I will say no more since I hate preachy preachiness but it’s a thought-provoking book and worth a look.

Well I will say more but just a little. I really don’t care what anyone else eats (except the people I have control over like my children – Ha. Ha. Control is a funny thing and definitely not something I have when it comes to what my children put in their mouths.) And so I will not expect anyone else to cut out meat, eggs, milk, cheese, etc.  You may eat it all to your heart’s content and I’m not convinced given the right circumstances I wouldn’t too – not sure I can say no to Hibachi steak. And I sure do love the full English breakfast from Tea and Sympathy.

I may have a hard time saying no to an aged gouda.  But generally for the most part I feel like this is a change I could make in my life.  Look at this food:

…and tell me you wouldn’t eat it.  Okay but tell me it doesn’t look pretty.

Really it all started when a mom friend of mine invited me over to eat her leftover vegetarian chili and I didn’t vomit when I ate it. True. Just about any moment in time from birth until a month ago if you had asked me to eat vegetarian chili I would have said thanks but no thanks. The truth is I just felt that a meal without meat or cheese or both was just no meal at all.  But the chili wasn’t just not-vomitable it was really good and downright satisfying.  My world was rocked and it made the lessons from How Not To Die a bit more – palatable.  (Ha. Ha.)  I’m officially a semi-committed but very well-meaning vegan. And everyone reading – all 8 of you (hi mom and dad!) – have my permission to ask me if I’m still semi-committed in a few weeks.

Meanwhile I am not pregnant (a question you may have asked yourself if you know me even a little AND a question I have been asked several times in the past year – (oh, hi, gym membership.))

And with those updates and that somewhat abrupt ending – until next time –

Me.