For Her

I don't get to hug her very often, and I'm not good at calling.  For all she's done, I tell her far too infrequently how special she is.

She is not overly demonstrative, dramatic, or affectionate.  Her love is solid and quiet, displayed more in actions and less in words.  Her life has been filled with a husband and seven children whose needs she put above her own.  She gardened and canned and cooked three meals a day.  She sat in my bed and read Laura Ingles Wilder and Bernstein Bears until her eyes fell shut and I shook her awake.  She made us our favorite birthday dinners every year. She cleaned the house and tolerated us as we threw our bags by the door and tracked in mud.

Within her is the softest of hearts tempered by firmness and consistency.  She convincingly chased children to the stairs under the threat of a wooden spoon with no real intention of using it. When I tattled on my brothers for pinning me to the ground, she asked, "Did you deserve it?".  She cried for me as I shook with nerves the mornings of cross country meets. She patiently raised ornery, sensitive, stubborn, and dramatic boys and girls.  She has witnessed our choices and mistakes, but never hovered or condemned.

She did it all so quietly that we hardly noticed. Without buying anything expensive or extravagant, she made us the luckiest of children.  We had the gift of a wonderful mother.

Happy Birthday Mom. I love you.

The Victoria Sandwich

I've never been a baker.  I love cooking.  I love throwing things together, adjusting as I go, using what's on hand.  It's the best.  But combining things in exact ratios and sticking in an oven where I just have to wait and it might be ruined at the very last second when I turn it out of the pan- that's the worst. My sister Andrea has always been more of a baker, and growing up I was always perfectly content just to eat her 4-H practice trials.  My mom was also a wonderful baker.  She didn't make a lot of cakes or sweets for everyday dinners, but she put the effort into making homemade things like biscuits and breads and rolls and coffee cakes... Midwestern German mom cooking... mmmm.  Somehow the things she made just always seemed to turn out well.  I can't remember ever seeing her flop.

Cake was just about the only thing my mom didn't make from scratch.  So like most people, my childhood was filled with Betty Crocker cake mixes on my birthday (but beautifully decorated with her perfect handwriting).  Eventually I reached this age where I decided I didn't even like cake very much, so I started requesting more non-traditional birthday desserts.  My high school self was even determined to not have cake at my wedding.  Maybe cheesecake, or a layered trifle pudding, but none of those boring one-dimensional sheet cakes.  My views on cake and baking remained pretty firm, until one day...

I watched the Great British Bake Off.  And everything changed.

I want to just put in a plug for this show.  The BBC knows how to do television.  For starters, the contestants are so nice to each other and so helpful.  They clearly care about winning, but their competitiveness is at the "I just want to do well" level, not the "I want to take everyone out" level.  The show is actually about the baking itself, not about some drama that was cooked up for entertainment's sake.  The challenges don't require big twists and gimmicks because baking is enough of a challenge in itself.  And BRITISH ACCENTS.  Need I say more?

As I watched the first season and learned all this fascinating history on cakes and scones and sandwiches and the like I began to appreciate how lovely they really are.  Their stories are integrated with the development of society as we know it.  And to think that at some point people figured out that mixing ingredients in certain ratios will give you all kinds of these fluffy, chewy, buttery, flaky, sweet things just amazes me.

So how is it that cake- this thing that the British would eat for a casual tea time- turned into this super sweet treat that we only pull out at birthdays and weddings and only make from boxes or buy from a store?  Like most packaged food stories, I'm sure it dates back to the 1950's, but I think it's really unfortunate.  And because I feel sorry for the state of cake in America, I decided to attempt a classic British sponge cake: the Victoria sandwich.

(oh, an aside, one of the other reasons I love the GBBO is that I get to learn British terms for baked goods, which are often quite or slightly different than our versions.  And I've never heard the word "sponge" used so often as I do on this show.)

This cake was lovely.  To make and to eat.  It tastes like a buttery sugar cookie in cake form.  Of course, true to my baking luck, it sank in the middle, which could have been due to a variety of factors.  Hooray for bread knives to slice off the top and fluffy frosting that covers all ills.  Here's the recipe, straight from Mary Berry.  I made it using a food scale, so I'm not sure how things come out if you use weight/volume conversions.  A Victoria sandwich usually is just dusted with powdered sugar, but that's no fun.  So mine had a whipped filling and topping made from 1 pint of whipping cream and 1/2 cup of powdered sugar.

Aside from this cake, I've been on a bit of a baking kick that's included cornbread, biscuits, baguettes, pizza dough, and a few types of cookies.  That probably doesn't sound like a big deal, but these are strides for this non-baker.  Through all this, I've realized that the real harsh reason I probably don't like baking is that I don't like failure.  I don't like that I can put a whole bunch of work into something and it may not turn out.  As anyone who knows me pretty well teases me about- I just want things to go right the first time.  Don't give me any of that learning through mistakes nonsense.  I don't want to make mistakes.  Well, this year has probably been one big lesson in getting over that.  Not that I'm over it yet.  But baking therapy sure helps.

When Life Gives You Eggs...

When you're in college, people love to ask you, "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"  I've always hated that question because in my experience so far, life is quite unpredictable.  For example, I never would have imagined that in 2016 I'd be in Utah building a chicken coop, but here I am. 

Ok, so this post isn't really about the fallacy of plans and unpredictability of life... it's about the chickens.

I don't really remember when we decided to get chickens.  There wasn't ever "the conversation" when we hashed out all the pros and cons of having 15 fluffy birds running around the community center yard.  I do remember one day surreptitiously placing a chicken coop in the amazon cart and Justin getting so excited at the prospect that he got a little teary-eyed (give him a break, chickens were a part of his childhood).  But whatever the process, the day came when the post office called to say that a rather noisy parcel had arrived for us.  It also so happens that Sarah, one of the post office ladies, hates chickens.  Whoops.

This seems like a good place to insert my "Justin with the chickens" series. 

Day one: love.

Hanging out at work together

Sometimes, they just need some quality time.

He put feed all around him to lure them in.

It's a love-hate relationship.

All the ladies.

We had ordered 15 chicks thinking that a couple of them would probably die on the journey.  But lo and behold, the chicken people had outsmarted us and sent extra chicks with the same assumption.  Our little two-day-old birds seemed to be especially hardy, and we went home with 18.  A couple of days later we did lose Paprika, may she rest in peace.  I just need to throw this in here... chicks are so. cute.  If you're wondering, you can get chicks of a specific sex because most breeds can be sexed quite early (and no, you don't need a rooster for the hens to lay eggs).  However Justin, in his chicken enthusiasm, decided to get a few of a cute little bantam breed that were too tiny to be sexed.  And we now have four roosters. 4 out of 6.  Those are unlucky odds. 

The little balls of fluff.

My office productivity took a bit of a dip with their arrival.

Our chicken plan was so not thought out that the day they arrived we were like... well, I guess we need to figure out a home now.  You can buy chicken coop kits online, but Justin had the oh-so-admirable idea of building the whole thing ourselves from scratch.  I think in his confident mind he imagined finishing it in a couple of days.  Well, many weeks later... We've finally finished the chicken coop.  What did they do in the meantime, you might wonder?  They spent their first few weeks exclusively in a repurposed cooler.  As they grew, we made a little temporary pen outside the front door where they spent their days.  Of course, the day came when those little chicken wire walls could not contain them, and they just ran around inside the fence that surrounds the community center.  It is by no means secure, and they can easily escape, but chickens (thankfully) are quite the homebodies.  We've only had a few complaints from the neighbors and daily complaints from our food pantry attendant, Kay, a sassy woman who takes her fly swatter to them whenever she gets the chance.  This whole time, they've spent their nights in that cooler inside.  Which means, yes, every night someone had to wrangle the chickens into the cooler, top it with chicken wire, and get it in the door.  You may be beginning to understand my joy at having this chicken coop finished.  I do, however, appreciate the chicken catching skills I've gained. 

When they eventually lay eggs, which usually happens between 4-6 months old, they'll go to the kids' snack and cooking classes and excess to the food pantry.  The kids love the chickens so far, and I'm excited at the prospect of them learning about the food system, animal care, and general responsibility.  What you feed chickens actually translates (often visibly) to the nutritional quality of the egg, so our half free-range chickens are also a bonus. 

I would say they've quite stolen the hearts of everyone who works at the community center (even Kay, though she would never admit it).  We even have a little list of their milestones so far hanging on our wall, beginning with the first chicken poo date, and ending with the first crow of one of the roosters (which, as you may imagine, sounded exactly like a chicken going through puberty.  Justin and I thought one of them was dying).
            
I never expected to become invested in chickens, of all things.  Honestly, I thought they were kind of ugly and smelled pretty bad and were only a plus because of the laying eggs thing.  But I have so enjoyed watching them grow from little puff balls to elegant ladies and gents.  Kind of like children, they do the funniest things.  I am not ashamed to admit that chunks of my day are spent just sitting in the sidewalk watching them peck and scratch and try to steal things from each other (seriously, if you want some real entertainment find a flock of chickens and throw something desirable into the middle of them).  I love it when their curiosity brings them over to climb and perch on me, or when they eat out of my hand, or most of all, when they nestle in and chill for a bit.  And I think they're quite soft and sleek and beautiful.

This was definitely one of my favorite moments.  The chicken basically sat in my hand and leaned over until it was supported by my hand. 

Life is full of surprises.  A year ago I had just finished a Master's degree, and now I'm saying that if you like the idea of having fresh eggs all the time, or if you'd just like an unconventional outdoor pet, I can give you some tips on chicken care.            

The "Barred Rock" ladies are probably our laziest.  They're a big fan of roosting.

The "Speckled Sussex" are so lovely.  This one is named Duchess.

These poor little "Mille Fleur" bantam roosters walk around with such dignity, but they're probably at the bottom of the general pecking order. 

The most popular hen, Blue, is an "Easter Egger", which means we really won't know what her eggs will look like until they come out.  

One of their favorite activities: chillin' in the mint.

They're Not Perfect, But They're Mine

In honor of my recent week back home, I'd like to verbalize a few the reasons I love my family. Of course, all families have their struggles and their bad eggs (ahem, Luke), but in general mine's pretty great.

1.  We're huge.
Yeah, not like Duggar size, but there are plenty of us.  I love that we practically fill restaurants, that my parents are building a dorm into their new house to fit all the grandkids, and that Christmas feels like a constant storm of jokes, giggles, meltdowns, games, arguments, squeals, and some good conversations.  It can be quite a barrage on the senses, but you know, I just really can't think of who I would get rid of.

2. We're different.
I think some big families feel something like clans of clones. There's nothing wrong with cohesion, and it probably makes those hand-me-downs a lot easier, but I'll take some variety in my siblings. We come in all shapes and sizes, and our personalities are as different as our outsides.  Even if it means we don't always agree, things usually stay interesting.  My theory is that Mom and Dad are so very different they couldn't help but have the whole spectrum of children.

3. We'll go out of the way for people, and especially each other.
Maybe it was always having random people living in our house, or watching my dad invite people over for dinner when he barely knew them. Maybe it's the fact that you must learn to share with so many people in the house.  Or maybe it's just a general Midwest thing.  Regardless, we'll do a lot of each other.  My sisters and I always complain that we help out the older siblings (kids, painting houses, moving, etc.) far more than they will ever help us, but really I don't think we mind.  (ok, honestly, I'm probably much more on the receiving end than the giving end... my sisters have helped me move way more than they should have and my brothers have gotten me out of many pickles throughout child and adulthood... especially automotive pickles).  My favorite thing is that we had/have this weird thing with food where we save leftovers for the people who like them best (especially for dad), and we ask every single person at the table if they want more of a dish before we finish it).  Which leads me into the next point.

4. We connect over food.
In our house, the kitchen was the center of it all, literally and figuratively.  The only time we all hung out in the living room was probably Christmas (or when someone started watching a random movie and everyone else filtered in, including dad, who asked a bunch of annoying questions and then promptly fell asleep).  With a Mom who's a dynamite cooker and a Dad who's always coming up with new things, I guess it makes sense.  Anytime we get together, I would say around 70% of it is spent preparing and eating food.  And no matter how much Heather tries to run away from it, I would say we're all farm kids at heart.  

5. We're hardcore teasers.
When I was about 12, this was probably the thing I would have said I liked least about our family.  But that's when I was mostly on the receiving end.  Once I could dish it out on my younger sisters...  (;   You really can't get away with anything in my family.  If you do something foolish, someone always notices, and someone will say something about it.  I've also found in my adult life that I get along well with people who are also teasers.  Mom and Dad used to get on us all the time for being mean to each other.  But I think we had this weird understanding where punching someone and calling them stupid was actually a statement of love.

People think that having so many kids must be a ton of work.  They look at my mom and say "how did you do it?!".  For one, I was blessed with parents who gave us the freedom to become our individual and independent selves.  Parenting that many kids today would seem like so much work because people have made parenting so much work.  I think the other thing people miss is that when there are so many of you, you practically raise each other.  My siblings have had a huge impact on the person I am today.  Maybe that's true for anyone, but I'm just saying... I've had 6 of them to learn from.

Round 2

The secret's out- I'm staying in Utah for another year, which means August of 2017 I'll be done with my second VISTA term. (it wasn't really much of a secret)  Some of you already know that I'm staying mostly because I feel my projects will benefit from the continuity of having the same person two years in a row.  It's a logical reason, but I'm sometimes asked (and ask myself) how I'm able to continue to live so far away from everything I knew and loved for the first 24 years of my life.

There are so many things I miss about living in Indiana.  I miss the close friendships I developed in college and sitting in a room full of people that I'm deeply comfortable with.  It is difficult to picture my nieces and nephews getting older without me witnessing their milestones, to know that I am  not as much a part of my younger sisters' lives as I could be, to miss the countless dinners, birthdays, and special moments that are a part of my family's lives.  Those are the kinds of things that should and do make it hard to decide to stay in Utah.

When I chose where to go to college and grad school, remaining close to my loved ones had far greater impact on my decision than anything I wanted to do with my life.  I don't think there was anything right or wrong about that.  It was just what I needed to do at the time I made those decisions.  Wanting to have strong relationships and be involved in my family and friends' lives will always be a good thing, but there are also associated things that are not so good.  I am prone to making decisions based on what I think people want from me, what I think will win their approval, love, or admiration, and based on the fear of "missing out" on fun and exciting things.  I was a rather timid child and young adult (like afraid-to-call-the-dentist-to-make-your-own-appointment timid), and for a long time my actions were also heavily influenced by remaining within the comfort zone of the people I'm attached to.

But there was a point in my life when I realized that I honestly had no idea what drove me or what I wanted, which was clear in my undecided status on my major as a Freshman and my lack of enthusiasm on job options when I graduated grad school. I realized that I couldn't continue to make my life decisions based on other people's lives and thoughts and my attachments to them.  I needed to do something that I wanted to, even if it detached me from everything I knew and loved.  It's honestly difficult to say that without feeling selfish and slightly guilty, like I'm choosing to care more about what I want than about anyone in my life.  That's a feeling I will carry with me however long I live away from my home.  I also have this feeling, though, that the more I learn about myself and what I want, the more I have to give to others.  

My quarter century has taught me so much, each stage bringing new successes and hardships and with those, new lessons.  In undergrad, most importantly, I learned what it felt like to have real relationships with the people in my life.  I learned about hard work- how to push myself beyond the limits of exhaustion for something important to me.  I learned what it felt like to succeed.   In grad school, I learned how to feel comparatively stupid and incompetent.  Through that, I learned not to validate myself based on my successes.  I learned that I will always be driven by people, not generally by money.  I learned how to systematically address a problem in front of me.

And now here I am, and I had no idea what to expect when I moved to a small rural town in the middle of Utah, a state I knew nothing about.  I've learned a lot about what I am naturally good at and and what I've just tried to make myself good at.  In living and working so closely with such few people, I've picked up on a few of my not-so-great habits.  I've learned what it feels like to have your work affect something beyond yourself (and the positives and negatives that go along with that) and done things I thought only other people were capable of.

I think life looks something like a flowchart where each move leads us to something meaningful, as long as we can see the lesson.  Whatever the life stage, the times I have learned the most have always been when I pushed myself out of my comfort zone.  Those are also the times when the things I've learned have the chance to actually impact my life.  Utah is no exception.  I am not here because I'm looking to find that one thing I want to do forever, that will come (or not).  I am just looking to do what I can for others and learn what I can about myself.  We'll see where that takes me.

I will continue to love and miss all of you.

Why You Should Cook With Your Kids

As I've mentioned, every week I teach a cooking class to youth aged anywhere from 6-12.  There have been moments filled with stress, joy, and everything in between.  Before I started, I knew next to nothing about working with elementary-age youth, and even less about teaching them cooking skills.  It's been about 8 months now, and there's a few things I'd like to say to those of you with kids.  Or if you don't have kids- grandchildren, nieces/nephews, babysitees, or future kids. (:

If you have young children (or old children), please have them help you cook.  Give them tasks and projects, let them explore and figure things out.  Let them help you plan meals and choose things at the store.  Cooking is the perfect place to start exposing them to a multitude of concepts and skills- critical thinking, measuring and math, cultural appreciation, creativity, understanding nature and the environment, and so on.  Not to mention getting them used to the idea (girls or boys) that home chores can be shared rather than being the "job" of one person- and they're fun to do together!  (and seriously, imagine how great it will be when you can ask your 10 year old to make that recipe of rolls for you and they don't even need any help)  It definitely requires more time and energy to delegate and teach than it does to do it yourself, but it's so worth the learning moments.  Cooking together gives both of you the chance to explore new foods, learn new techniques, ask questions, and bond.  It's also an opportunity to get them to articulate their dislikes and preferences.

Speaking of dislikes, when I started there were so many things I would never have anticipated that the kids didn't like... onion, garlic, cheese, NUTELLA... I am just so curious as to what's going on in their little mouths and minds when they decide they don't like those delicious things...

You might not think they're capable of much in the kitchen, but I promise, they'll surprise you.  It seems like every week in cooking class I'm like whoa, that actually turned out!  And I'm talking pastry crust... not just mac and cheese.  Resist the urge to take over and just do things for them... let them work through it.  You must accept that your food will definitely look less than perfect.  They will interpret your instructions in ways you could not have anticipated, and it will be messy and ugly and beautiful at the same time.  At the end, no matter what it looks like, they will be proud of what they've created and you will be too.

Stepping on a soap box now: please, please do not just limit them to "kid food".  At what other point in their life are they ever going to need to make a bear shaped mini pizza with olives eyes and a red pepper mouth?  Sometimes it's fun to show them that you can home-make things that usually come in a box, like mac and cheese and brownies, but more often I think this should be a time for helping them try new foods, showing them that vegetables can be incorporated into a delicious dish, and giving them real skills that can be carried into adulthood.

There are hot things and heavy things and there's a chance they'll get hurt.  But I bet they'll learn their way around things pretty quick.  If knives are something that concerns you, there are some child-safe versions you can buy online.  They're not great for some things (don't even attempt that butternut squash), but there are a lot of things they work for.

If you want to take it to the next level, involve them in the cooking and gardening process.  They'll be like: a seed contains a BABY PLANT?!  Mind blown. (when my kids saw a baby succulent, they asked "is it sleeping?!"... so cute).  And it's so true that they'll be more willing to try things that they've made and grown.

And if you feel adventurous enough to make a production of it, invite your friend's kids over and have a group cooking lesson.  If you babysit, this would be a great time-killing and productive activity.

To get you started, here are some kid tested and approved (mostly) recipes.  I'm lucky if I can get the kids out here to eat carrots, so these are all pretty like-able and low on the vegetable side. You'll have to come up with that kale and beet quinoa salad on your own. (hmmm... I just put random words together, but I think the earthiness of those ingredients would be interesting together... maybe a balsamic vinaigrette with some goat cheese on top... yum.)

Lifestyle Limitations

This subject has been on my mind for awhile... sort of simmering in the background I suppose.  It's a difficult thing to put into words.  It is not intended to offend, obviously, (how often do people really intend to offend), but I hope it maybe makes you rethink a few things.

Over Christmas, when I went home, the contrast between the worlds in which I have existed was thrown into sharp relief.  My life in Indiana was surrounded by the middle class, even middle/upper class.  The middle class norm was my norm, and my concept of the number and quality of things we need to make our lives happy and comfortable stemmed from what surrounded me.

The view of life from my seat had a certain pattern: you go to college, get a good job, get married (which includes accumulating a large amount of wedding registry items), buy a house, accumulate more stuff, have children, buy your children all the things they could ever need, send them to college, retire, travel, etc.  It seemed that all around me people were walking this invisible timeline with its invisible milestones and visible stuff.  No one says it's what you have to do, but they're all walking it.  It's the good ol' American dream: the pursuit of the middle/upper class.

That's natural, right?  I mean, when you get married, you gotta get that Kitchen Aid mixer, right? (never baked in your life? so what)  And of course you need to redecorate the room as a nursery when you have a child, right? And for my summer wardrobe this year, I just really need two more pairs of shorts, a flowy tank top because I don't have one of those, and a pair of strappy sandals that would round everything out.  And really, if my TV were just a little bigger it would make my life better.

Actually, I think that our own concepts of what we need in our lives is entirely skewed.

By the way, if it sounds like I'm pointing fingers, I'm totally guilty of this. Definitely more with clothing, food, and smaller items because I've never had enough money to buy furniture or matching appliances.

If you ask most of the 3rd graders in Green River what they want to be when they grow up, they say a cashier. It's all they've ever known.  I would venture to say that 90% of the jobs in this town are part-time.  The 9:00 to 5:00 just doesn't exist, and the middle class hardly does.  And shockingly, people are still happy with their lives. But beyond those who get somewhat stuck here- because of cycles of poverty and lack of opportunities- there are some people who actually choose to live here, accepting this isolated small town and it's lifestyle limitations.

I'm only one example of a Green River resident, and I have it better than most.  My current reality is $10,000 a year (the poverty line for a single person).  There are still a few costs I haven't totally taken over for myself (holding off on that health insurance until 26), but for the most part, $10,000 a year is totally doable for me.  It just means that I have mismatched furniture, a TV from 1980, and a plastic dresser for my clothes. I won't be buying a new car anytime soon, and I visit the food pantry once a month or so. It requires the conscious effort to look at nicer, more aesthetically pleasing, more exciting or even useful things and say yes, that looks amazing.  I would love to have it.  But that doesn't mean I need it.  And, of course, it means I'm not walking the invisible timeline.  I can't accumulate many things, I'm not looking at buying a house anytime in the near future, and since I'm not married, I don't have to worry about children drawing on my meager funds.

Sometimes I feel like people look at me with a little concern, and the doubts about whether it's worth it creep in: But what if you never do anything with your life?  What if you stay in this little small town forever and no one beyond your little community and your family has ever heard or cared about you?  What if you don't ever have a large home, or a wardrobe with all the things you want, or the ability to go out to eat and buy all the high-quality cooking ingredients you want?  What if, though not quite as relevant, you never have a family?  What if, in short, you life doesn't follow the invisible timeline that you've never acknowledged but have always wanted?

You know, I'm becoming more and more OK with that.   

You don't have to embark on a journey to the middle/upper class to have a worthwhile life. 

You don't really need those matching mugs or throw pillows or new furniture or the latest technology.

Those things are pretty and useful and tempting and so seemingly harmless, but they rob us of something very precious- the opportunity to spend our time and our money doing and creating things we love, things of purpose, rather than accumulating things we only marginally care about.  You can be happy choosing to have less and less-than-perfect things.  (Besides, you really won't be satisfied with your new furniture for long.)  I'm not going to go with the "use your money to travel and experience things" because while those things are cool, there are even more important things.  Invest in something you really care about.  Support a friend.  Give it to a local non-profit who's cause you care about (I guarantee they would love your unrestricted funds).  Start a small business.  If it's time you have and not money, find a thing that you really care about, no matter how big or small, and make that thing happen.

Please, just do anything except continue to consume things you don't actually need.   We are made to do so much more.

It's easier for me.  I don't have money.  So my challenge, I suppose, is to those of you who have a choice.

And really, with views like this, what else do I need?