It's the Land of the Free, But Sometimes You Have to be Brave to Live Here

When I think about my relationship with America, I feel like a battered wife: Yeah, he knocks me around a lot, but boy, he sure can dance. ~ Sarah Vowell

Gah. I should have stayed in bed today.

First, the Republicans took the House. This is, apparently, a signal to the White House that it has been too slow to act, that government is too big, that too much money is spent to do too little.

I can totally see how things are going to get done now. On the cheap, of course.

[Aside: Yesterday I gave the kids a little "exercise your right to vote" lecture, illustrating it with a hypothetical vote regarding family vacations where everyone had a say but only The Husband and I registered our destination of choice, with the result that we ended up in the middle of nowhere. "But I don't want to have a vacation in the middle of nowhere!" protested The Girl. "Ah," I said, "but if you didn't vote, you don't have the right to complain."

Which means I suppose I don't really have a right to complain here. BUT...my not voting is not my choice. In fact, I'm pretty much my own Tea Party in terms of taxation without representation. So complain I will.]

Second, Minnesota's looking at a recount. Again. Know how long the last one took? 8 months. Know how long it felt? Like a gazillion years. This does not make me happy.

Third, it's annual health insurance enrollment time again. I hate this time of year. It makes me very grouchy. It makes me even grouchier when the benefits presenter looks up at the screen and says, "of course, these items are due to the health care bill that just passed, and who knows what is going to happen to that now, so this might all go away."

[Deep breath]

I have such an ambivalent relationship with America. Most days I love it - Netflix, Target, Chipotle, higher temperatures, interstates, a better Thanksgiving (even if less logistically appropriate - yeah, I said it) - but there are days when she sorely tries my patience.

Like today.

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In November the Snow Starts to Fly...Piling Up...Ankle High...

So long, October! We sent you out with such a bang, I'm not sure we're quite ready for November yet...

First up was The Boy's final football game. Apparently he's pretty good once he gets out on the field, except that this is his default pose:

(The Husband has to yell, "Pockets!" every three minutes or so.)

Then on Sunday was the Monster Dash. A beautiful morning! A ten mile race! COSTUMES! What's not to love?

I pulled out the ol' eyeliner and construction paper and dolled myself up as une petite chat.

This little cat ran a fan-TAS-tic race (if I am allowed to gloat a bit): 1 hour, 49 minutes. To put it into perspective, I ran 12.5 minute miles in the half marathon a few months ago, and this time I ran 11 minute miles. Yay me!

(A huge thanks to our sponsors - The Husband's parents: Official Childcare of PM Races. They came down to watch the last football game and very kindly ferried us around to various race points and The Boy to his game so that we could both run.

[Aside: We ran the same race, but not together per se. The Husband is blazing fast - so fast, we made sure we had two separate modes of transportation to get home because we knew he'd get to the finish line waaaaaay ahead of me.])

The next day, more costumes (although less racing). We convinced the kids to scrounge our existing costume stockpile this year - also yay!

The Boy went as Anakin Skywalker again. He's pretty handy with a light sabre.

I am not:

Despite only going out for an hour or so, there was a fairly major haul:

Of course, a peanut allergy and some fairly expensive orthodontic equipment (which I am not jeopardizing just so that someone can enjoy his Laffy Taffy) definitely reduced the winnings for one of our brood.

Alas, into every awesome weekend a little rain must fall, and ours came in the form of a dead television. Sharon C, our oh-so-helpful customer service agent suggested we plug it into a different outlet in the wall, after which advice she threw up her hands and said a service call was required.

So, The Husband had to find an alternate football-viewing experience:

Good times, good times....

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They Say the Mind is the First Thing to Go....

So I was just checking whether the spacing of my text worked out okay on today's post since it sometimes gets wonky after pictures.

(Note: It did. Also? World's most nitpicky blogger, at your service.)

And I realized that I pretty much posted the same post twice in a month. It even has the same title.

Sorry 'bout that. I'll try to be more original in the future.

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Is That a Rutabaga?

(Scene: Our kitchen table. Yesterday)

Husband (wearily): All you think about is food, isn't it.

Me (with guilty belligerence): Yes. So?


Okay, I admit it. I am obsessed with food.

I am constantly thinking about what next week's meals are going to be (since this week's are already covered on my weekly menu plan, with all required ingredients happily stocked in my fridge). I watch the clock at work every day in anticipation of when I'll get to tuck into my daily apple with peanut butter. I think one of the nicest Saturday afternoon activities out there is to sit down on the couch with a cup of tea and a pile of cookbooks.

On vacation, I can only sit back and enjoy the scenery if I know exactly where and when the next meal will be (and a PDF of the menu on The Husband's phone is a definite plus). Grocery shopping is an hour-long affair, with full minutes spent agonizing over which brand of pasta sauce to buy and strolling slooooooowly through the aisles so I don't miss some tasty delight hidden on the top shelf.

(Like Bright Morning Chocolate Spread. Straight from Israel to the ethnic food aisle and then into my cupboard. It's like Nutella with no hazelnuts - dreamy chocolatey goodness for crepes nut-allergy style.)

This whole eating seasonally thing has pretty much put me over the edge. Today I started to panic a bit when I saw how so much of the farmer's market has turned to root veggies and storage crops. I frantically grabbed broccoli and peppers, which have since been cut, blanched, and now lie in their own early winter in my freezer.

Of course, the insanity leads to significant joy. Know anyone else who bursts out "SPINACH?!" on the street, scaring the poor farmer minding her own business behind her produce stand?

(Although, seriously - wouldn't you go a bit crazy if you hadn't had fresh spinach for three months and then these beauties showed up like manna from heaven?)

The Husband tolerates the culinary craziness since it gets him off the hook for meal planning/prep. (Heh heh - doesn't save him from dish duty, though - our rule is "whoever cooks doesn't have to clean the dishes. One of these days he'll figure it out....)

The kids aren't huge fans, since it invariably means new recipes and experiments that more often than not elicit "grosssssss" and "how much of this do I have to eat?" and "Mom, we are having *too* much _____" (any vegetable will do - squash, spinach, brussel sprouts).

But I wave away their complaints and merrily move along to the next recipe, usually from my Simply in Season, which is, quite simply, the best cookbook I've got in my arsenal at the moment. (Ooooo - look at this one - it's got three whole cups of zucchini!)

And it's going to get a workout in the next while. Just look what the CSA fairy dropped off for me today:

Yup, that's 60 pounds of winter storage vegetables. (Well, 58, probably - there's 2 pounds of kale that I need to use in the next few days.)

Wish me luck! Well, probably better to wish The Family luck. I'm pretty pumped about beets and turnips, but I sense that the rest of the PM clan is less than thrilled right now. (As per The Husband: I hate beets. They taste like a$$.)

I'll try to let you know what I come up with. I'm mostly scared of the rutabagas. Also, $5 to anyone who can identify the large turnip-looking veggie behind the butternut squash on the right.... I'm thinking if all else fails I'll make soup - you can make soup out of anything, right?

Oh, and the best news - this is only my first delivery. Round two comes in four weeks!

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Making Space

So you're probably all worried...checking every day and seeing that I haven't posted since the beginning of October...thinking, "Oh man, PM must be simply drowning in to-do lists these days."

Actually, not so much.

I'm really not that busy.

In fact, I'm so not that busy that I've been busy not being busy.

These days I'm busy harvesting the fruits of a labourious few months of saying "no":

"No, I will not be volunteering again at the MCC sale this year."

"No, I will not direct the Christmas pageant again this year."

"No, I will not teach ESL this year."

"No, we do not need to enroll the kids in swimming this semester if they are already involved in an extra-curricular activity each."

It's not easy, saying "no." You hear about it all the time - the guilt that we women feel (is it only women? I feel that it might be...) when we say it, as though by saying it we're admitting we can't do it all.

Know what?

I can.

In fact, I have. (See: single parenting two toddlers while working two jobs. See also: moving to a new country and finding a job/church/friends. Feel free to throw in 8 houses in as many years if you like.)

But I don't want to anymore. And I've decided that that is enough of a reason to hand out a few "no's" this year.

Oh, I'm still doing some great stuff. I'm still doing church small group and praise band. I'm still running (Monster Dash 10 mile race is in 11 days with costumes, whoop!).

But what I'm not doing is overscheduling myself or my family. Until I stopped doing it, I didn't realize how anxious and frustrated I got when the inevitable scheduling conflicts occurred or how depleting it was to go out for a third (or fourth) evening in a row. (Holy nerd alert, Batman!)

Turns out, I'm a total homebody. I kinda knew that already, since my favourite date night = Netflix and some cold Canadian beer. And it's not like I want to do this full-time. But I'm loving coming home, snuggling with my babies, helping with homework, puttering in the kitchen for an hour...even having the option to do a bit of reading before bed.

Best part is that I get to do this four nights a week!

Oh, better get going...it's 8:45 and I have just enough time to go tuck some littlekins in and shower before heading off to bed with tea and a book.

(Yup, I am officially O-L-D. Next stop - drinking plain hot water and sweaters with kleenexes tucked in the sleeves. [Oh wait...I already do that, too.])

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Webster's vs. OED

Mom...

Yes?

How do you spell "favourite"?

F...A...V...O...

[hesitant pause]

And then?

[defeated sigh]

R...I...T...E....

(Can I claim the When in Rome defense? Or mollify you with protestations that he is already having to learn how to spell in both English and French and to throw in a dialect form of English is possibly a bit much for the second grade?

Yeah...it doesn't fly with me either.)

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