"Home"

I've been home now for almost 7 weeks. That, at first glance, is a very straightforward sentence. But for me it carries a lot of mixed emotions and tangled thoughts.

The use of the word "home" to describe my parent's house in Indiana is no longer automatic. It still feels like home, mostly because of the length of time I've spent here in comparison with anywhere else, but it some ways it feels more like a home than my home. It's a place where I used to live and where people who I love very much live. But those are their lives, not mine. I am on the periphery, floating somewhere in between a child, sister, and adult house guest. In reality, I belong nowhere at all. I have no home because I have no place to call mine.

I've had many people ask me how it is to be back, to which my response is usually "it's good!", with a slightly uncertain look. It's not that it's not good to be here. It definitely is. I get to attend family events and hang out with my sister and make meals with my parents. I get to have long talk with good friends and not say a real goodbye at the end. I just underestimated the mental and emotional difficulties in finding my place among lives that I haven't really been a part of in 8 years while dealing with the loss of a place that I loved.

It was in many ways like moving from a literal and figurative desert to a literal and figurative... rain forest (ok, which I know Indiana is not, but if you saw how much it rained in October you get my point). The emptiness that makes the desert wonderful is also what makes it lonely, and the richness that makes the rain forest beautiful is also what makes it somewhat claustrophobia-inducing.

I realize that I don't have to live at home and that when I say it's hard, I feel like people look at me like "Well, if it's so difficult living with your parents, why don't you just move out? You should be grateful." I am grateful. I'm grateful that my parents wanted me to come home and that they are willing to partially support me financially right now. But please, don't look at this like it's easy. It's not easy to be able to not be able to fully support myself. It is not easy to deal with this level of uncertainty about the next step. It is not easy to be seen as a 26-year-old child. Trust me, it is not for lack of independence that I moved home, and that independence is what makes it difficult to be here.

Perhaps only for my own sake, I feel like I should explain what lead me to this place. I enjoyed my life and my job in Utah, but I felt like it was the right time for me to leave. As my time came to a close, I began looking for jobs similar to what I had done: jobs in non-profit organizations, located somewhere in the Midwest, who deal with feeding people or educating them about food/gardening in some capacity. These jobs are certainly not a dime-a-dozen, especially full time. In August, when I came home for a brief visit, my dad wanted me to go look at a restaurant for sale in Wolcott. As a brief background, I have for some years now said that I think I would enjoy owning a restaurant someday (someday was, for me, at like the age of 50, but nevermind that). To make a long story short, my dad purchased the restaurant with the intent of giving me more time to decide if I was interested in running it. Fast-forward a couple of months, and here I am. I moved home in part to spend time with family and friends that I haven't seen in two years, and in part to give myself some time to decide if I want to make this huge commitment and forego (at least for now) a career working for non-profits.

This restaurant thing can take up a whole other post- it's not the point. The point is to give some release to this little voice inside me screaming "I'm not a lazy mooch! I'm not trying to avoid adulthood! (however you define that)" I am just slow to make decisions, especially of this magnitude. I'm trying to enjoy being "home". And I need a little space to do all of that.

If you read this, thanks for indulging me.

Here are some pictures from my time back so far, including from our recent family vacation to the smokies.

Indiana, meet Green River melons.

Goodbye

I have always been inordinately attached to places. Places provide the context, not the merely the background, to our lives. Places give us beauty. They make us feel comfortable or uneasy, calm or anxious. They are the spaces where our memories are created and our every day beautiful lives are lived. By our use of them, they are transformed into more than the sum of their parts. Because of this, they never fail to deeply imprint themselves on my heart. I am becoming uncomfortably familiar with the feeling of needing a change and yet dreading it. In a perfect world, I would have it all- I could move my family and closest friends out to Utah, grow Green River just a bit, and stay. But, in case you missed it, the world isn't perfect.

This will be my last blog post from Utah. I don't know exactly what the future holds yet (to get that question out of the way). So if I see you in the coming weeks in Indiana, please remember that I'm probably experiencing some culture shock, heartache, and I won't be able to answer a lot of questions.

I could never fully express how much my time here has meant to me. Here, I have seen and experienced and belonged to a world so different from what I have ever known. Felt the wind of the west and watched the tumbleweeds roll. Climbed mountains and buttes and hiked many miles through the desert. Learned about place names and public lands. Called it all Home.

I've built a solar irrigation system from scratch and perfected my PB&J skills. I've successfully written grants, grown plants from desert soil, and won a few hearts- big and little. I've raised beautiful chickens and resurfaced floors and put countless little pieces of myself into this place. It will go one just fine without me or it won't, and neither of those feel great.

I know that some day these two years will feel like just a blip, but I want to imagine that some part of my heart will always be here, still sitting on the river and shimmying through canyons.

I know that it's time. I'm just not ready to believe it.

Fruit Squishies

The internet has a conspicuous lack of good fruit snack recipes.

It's true. I'm convinced it's some kind of conspiracy. It's not that they don't exist... it's just that they're all almost exactly the same and none of them are like real fruit snacks. Suspicious.

So, for personal and professional reasons, I embarked on a journey to create a decent homemade fruit snack. It was a journey fraught with gelatin pit-falls, and I can't say that I've reached the destination. But, for the sake of you granola moms and food adventurers out there who might find this useful, I will relay what I've learned:

1. You cannot create a realistic fruit snack using just gelatin. It's just like extra hard jello (duh). None of that chewy texture.

2. You cannot create a realistic fruit snack using a lot of normal corn starch. It's just... starchy. And weird. Which leads me to...

3. I'm not going to be able to replicate real fruit snacks. Partly because I don't have easy access to modified corn starch. Partly because of the great Fruit Snack Conspiracy that prevents me from learning how they're actually made.

On the plus side, these little Fruit Squishies are pretty tasty in their own way and make a very fun activity for kids (of all ages). I created this recipe by working backwards from a Welch's fruit snack label. However, mine don't really feel like them at all and they have a lot less corn starch (and less sugar). You're welcome to change the fruits if you want. It could affect the outcome due to different pectin levels in different fruits, but it shouldn't matter all that much. For further experimentation, I would suggest leaving the fruit snacks out for awhile on the counter (uncovered) or dehydrating them for a bit and see what that does to the texture. You could also try to find a high-amylopectin (waxy) starch, as this should form a firmer gel.

Before you attempt this, purchasing a set of candy molds and some syringes will make your life easier (and awesomer). You can get boring molds, or culturally-relevant molds that will make you the "fun mom" (or dad, aunt, grandma, cousin, etc).

Fruit Squishies
1 1/2 cups whole grapes
3/4 cup strawberries, chopped
1/4 cup honey (I also tried this with corn syrup, but it just didn't have as much flavor as I wanted it to)
1 teaspoon corn starch
2 pkgs plain gelatin (0.5 oz)

1. Set molds on a small tray or baking sheet. Spray evenly with a thin layer of cooking spray or oil.
2. Add the grapes, strawberries, and honey to a blender or food processor. Blend until smooth as possible.
3. Pour about a cup of the mixture into a small bowl. Sprinkle gelatin evenly over the top of the surface and set aside. When the gelatin mixture looks wrinkly and the gelatin has "bloomed" (absorbed liquid and softened), whisk to incorporate.
4. Meanwhile, to the remaining mixture in the blender, add the corn starch and blend until smooth. Pour into a saucepan set over medium heat. Heat until bubbling, stirring occasionally, and cook for another 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
5. Add the gelatin mixture to the hot corn starch mixture, whisking until smooth and gelatin has dissolved (if you rub it between your fingers, it shouldn't feel gritty).
6. Push the mixture through a fine mesh strainer to remove pulp/peel, which would clog the syringe.
7. Use a syringe to fill the silicone molds to the top with fruit squishy mixture. Let set for about 2 hours in the fridge, until hardened. Pop out and enjoy!

Note: it might seem like there are extra steps in here ("why can't I just throw everything in a blender, cook it, and call it good?"), but I assure you that they're necessary. Getting gelatin too hot can weaken its ability to gel, which is why it isn't blended in with everything else and cooked. You also cannot add gelatin powder straight to a hot mixture, it will "cook" the gelatin before it dissolves and create clumps, which is why it is first dissolved in the cup of fruit puree.

On Food

Awhile back, I was hanging out with a group of friends, and I was asked this question:  "Amber, with all the people in your family, how many refrigerators did you have?"  "Just one", I responded.  "Oh wait, no, we had another one in the basement that we used for overflow".... several seconds later.... "Wait, there was the walk-in cooler and freezer too".  And finally, "Oh! There was also the condiment fridge by the kitchen table".

I grew up with a father who would drive to all the Krogers in Lafayette if he couldn't find what he wanted, cater his own office parties, and fill the house with ridiculous amounts of produce because "it was a good deal". My mother prepared amazing food for a squad of people breakfast, lunch, and dinner (and supported my father in all of his crazy dinner schemes). Deliciousness was never sacrificed.

Is it any wonder, really, that I turned out the way I did?

I have few interests relative to the people I spend time with in Utah. Not only fewer, but less intense interests. Except for food. (Which just so happens to be something that everybody loves because everybody eats. Translation: I'm really just kind of lame. But I'm a lamo who will happily make you dinner.)

I don't think either of my parents ever set out to teach me about food, or cooking, or eating well, or even agriculture and gardening. But the message was implicitly woven throughout my growing-up years. While other children were watching Tony the Tiger on TV ads, I was picking sweetcorn with dad (not always because I wanted to) and watching mom make biscuits. We ate breakfast and dinner together almost every single day. Our Christmas plans were really "What are we having for Christmas dinner?" plans. The two pretty fool-proof topics of dinner conversation at my house: food and farming. Even the coupon-clipping days in my early childhood, marked in my memory by cream of mushroom-filled casseroles, it was clear: food is important. It is important enough not to waste. Important enough to spend time and money on. Important to try and important to like. And whether a hot dog or a filet mignon, important to appreciate.

I would say that when I went to college most the people I interacted with had grown up in a similar way to me. But the more time I spent in food policy and nutrition classes, the more I realized that I had had a very privileged food childhood. It's not that I believe that everyone should grow up just like I did. I do believe, however, that every child should experience homemade food. They should see the eyes sprout on a potato and they should know that you harvest apples in the fall. I believe that every adult should have the experience of making food. Which means that they should have the access, knowledge, and skills necessary to plan a nutritious meal, purchase those ingredients, and prepare that meal. Why does it matter? If convenience foods can offer us equivalent nutrition to homemade foods, what's the point? Because food touches so many areas of our lives. When we eat a meal that someone has prepared for us, we receive their love and hospitality. When we grow food or make food for other people, we give of ourselves. It requires our knowledge, creativity, patience, and practice. In return, it gives us a rewarding sense of accomplishment. One of the best feelings in the world (surpassed maybe by like birthing a child or something- I wouldn't know) is successfully making a delicious homemade loaf of bread.

Sometimes I look back and wonder why I studied food science- the degree of the people who gave us pop tarts and easy mac and took away our desire to make our own food. But it taught me so much, and I have a real appreciation for the food industry. They also gave us sour cream and cheddar Ruffles, mustard pretzels, and Wheat Thins (not to mention American Cheese), all of which I have difficulties imagining my life without. I firmly believe that every food has it's place. I studied food science because I love food. The reason I didn't join the food industry after college is simply because my passion does not lie in providing people with mass-produced food.

I've spent almost two years now in Green River, Utah, and things haven't always gone like I've planned. The non-profit world is not always fun or easy, personally or professionally. Sometimes though, Flor begs to make fresh fruit popsicles again, or I hand off a box of fresh produce from the garden, or I watch Brian run to the chicken coop to gather eggs, and I'm reminded of the thing that explains all the things I have done and will do:

I believe that making food and eating it with others is an essential part of the human experience. I believe that it connects us to God, to each other, and to a deep part of ourselves. In so many ways, I believe it's worth spending a lifetime on.

Amber's Guide to Hiking in the Desert

I've had wonderful visits from family and friends throughout my time in Utah. Every time I have visitors, it seems like I keep repeating the same instructions on how to prepare and what to bring. So, I'm putting down my thoughts for any inexperienced adventurers who plan a trip to Utah (or really any hiking destination).

Go on the hikes!
Whenever my family went on vacations that included national parks or scenic areas, we pretty much did the drive through version. It's great, but we barely scratched the surface of what's there. So, even if you think you're old or really out of shape or whatever, go on the hikes. Trust me, I've seen all sorts out on the trail.

Do your research

If you're going to a national park such as Arches, make sure you attempt to go at a time that won't be extra busy. I mean, Arches is a madhouse from early spring into late fall, but there are still times that are worse than others. For example, Moab's annual Jeeping festival. Don't do it. Or the NPS free-entrance days. You'll save money, but you'll pay for it by fighting the other thrifty hikers.

There are ways to save money on your accommodations. If you want to rough it, you can camp on any BLM land that's at least 100 ft away from the road. Free and easy. If you're more the hotel type, look into staying places that are a little further away from the main attraction (like Green River!) at least part of the time. You might drive an extra 45 minutes, but you can easily save a few hundred bucks.  

The main reason that National Parks are so popular is because they have been set aside to be protected and promoted. That doesn't mean you can't find really cool hikes in surrounding areas that will be far less crowded and probably just as cool as the national park. In fact, all the pictures included in this post are from non-national park locations. Find local websites that provide hiking guidance. That being said, make sure you pay attention to the type of vehicle required to access the hike. Several sites in my area are only found down rocky high-clearance roads. And I've found that sometimes people overestimate how cool hikes are, so check out some pictures if you're questioning. 

Also be on the lookout for changes in hours and other announcements that may affect where you're planning to go. For example, the Narrows in Zion are often closed in the spring because the river flows too quickly.

Kanarra Creek falls

Dress for the hike

There is a range of attire that is appropriate for any given hike, but here's a couple of ground rules: Don't wear jeans. Don't wear flip flops. Don't be the dork that brings your trekking poles for a 2 mile hike (unless you're gaining significant elevation per mile or you're 80 years old. If you're hiking at 80, you can do and wear whatever you want).

The Utah sun is intense! For summer hikes, I prefer to wear loose-fitting clothes that cover a lot of skin to avoid weird tan lines and stressing about sunscreen (don't forget to sunscreen the hands... my hands are so much browner than the rest of my body). Some lightweight pants will keep you a lot cooler than leggings, even cropped leggings. That being said, if I do a hike that requires any scrambling, squeezing in tight spaces, or getting wet, I prefer a pair of non-cotton leggings. In the spring and fall, wear layers. It might get down to 50 at night but be 85 during the day. Even when it's 85, you might get to the top of something and be cold in the breeze.  

For many hikes, especially the typical hikes in National Parks, a sturdy pair of tennis shoes will be just fine. The main reasons to get hiking boots, in my mind, are for traction and ankle support. It might be worth getting a pair if you are planning to do a fair amount of hiking in the future.

Crack Canyon

Be prepared

You don't need to go out and get a nice new hydration pack for a week vacation. That being said, they are very nice to have. (:  If you are buying a pack, make sure you go to a store and get fitted/try some on. Packs do come in different sizes, and different brands will fit differently. Pay attention to the capacity you need as well. Day packs are usually around 20 L, while overnight packs are usually 50+. [Promo: REI is a magical place]  

Having a first aid kit probably isn't necessary if you're just doing the national parks, but if you're hiking in more secluded areas having a small first aid kit will give you some piece of mind. Even just in case you need Band aids for blisters or you get a splinter or something. And ladies (sorry gents), make sure you have tampons handy in the car or in your pack. There's nothing worse than starting your period on a hike.

Even if you feel like your hikes will be between meal times, always carry a couple of granola bars. There's also nothing worse than hiking hungry. And you never know when you'll fall off a ledge and get trapped for days (... kidding! mostly).

Take more water than you think you need. The general rule is one gallon per person for a day of hiking. This is where having a bladder can come in handy because carrying all that water in bottles is a bit cumbersome. 

Get to your hike as early as you can

The majority of people are not early risers. 'nough said.

Respect Nature
"Leave No Trace". Stay on the trail, don't litter, and pick up other people's litter if you see it. Don't climb on things that you're told not to. Don't bust the crust. The beauty of Utah's landscape is partially in its fragility.  

Be safe 

Don't climb up anything without thinking about how you'll get down. (see "The Lessons of Misadventures")

Don't attempt things beyond your skill level or what you're comfortable with after a logical assessment of the situation. It might be a rush, but probably not worth it.

Don't hike in slot canyons if there's a chance of rain. You will get chlamydia. and die. (or just drown in a flash flood)

Do as I say, not as I do

  

Bananas for this bread

The next installment of the baking saga...

I love banana bread (and really anything with cooked bananas), but I've never had a go-to recipe. Which means that every time I make it, I scour the internet for what looks like the best version. Apparently they are never really memorable enough for me to save. I may be a wee bit picky in my banana bread standards: It needs to be moist and oh-so-soft on the inside, with no nuts or chocolate chips or anything breaking up the texture.  I want it a little crispy on the outside with a chewy caramelized sugar topping. I prefer a buttery bread over one made with olive oil- there's just something about that dairy. Most of all, it needs to have that scrumptious cooked banana flavor.

Awhile back I made banana bread for a Family Game Night that we have every month at the community center where I work. I wanted a recipe that picky children and parents alike would enjoy. In my customary internet search, I found this recipe that Epicurious claimed as their favorite. Golly. We ate it still warm and steamy from the oven, and it was nothing short of perfection. This is not your semi-healthy-I can justify-eating-the-whole-loaf banana bread. You'll note that there is a stick of butter in here. But do me a favor. Make it once in it's all of it's delicious, Calorie-laden glory. Then, if you just can't handle the decadence, do your tweaks.

"Our Favorite Banana Bread" from Epicurious, with a few modifications:

Ingredients
4 ripe medium bananas, peeled and mashed (about 13 ounces- for me this was 3 med/large bananas)*
1/4 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter (1 stick), room temperature*
3/4 cup packed dark brown sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature

2 Tablespoons packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Directions
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9x5 loaf pan with butter and dust lightly with flour.
2. Combine the mashed bananas, sour cream, and vanilla in a bowl. Sift together the dry ingredients into another bowl (flour through salt).
3. Beat the butter and brown sugar together until light and fluffy (about 3 minutes). Add eggs one at a time and beat until fully combined.
4. Add banana mixture and beat until just combined. Add dry ingredients in two batches, mixing until just combined. The less you mix, the less gluten will form, and the softer your bread will be.
5. If you're adding nuts, chocolate chips, etc., now is the time to gently fold 1/2 cup in.
6. Pour the batter into your prepared pan and smooth the top with a spatula. Mix together the packed brown sugar and cinnamon and sprinkle on top.
7. Bake, rotating halfway through, until the batter is set, top is dark brown and starting to crack, and a tester inserted into the center comes out clean- 60 or so minutes.
8. Cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then use a butter knife to loosen the edges before tipping over to release the loaf. Transfer to a cooling rack or cutting board and let cool completely before slicing. (or, if you're impatient like me and you have a group who can eat the whole thing, just cut it open after another 15 minutes or so. If you're planning to save part of it, don't cut into it until it's cooled.)

*I think one of the keys to good banana bread is not using those super over-ripe brown bananas. You get better flavor with ones that are just very ripe. Keeping your bananas in the fridge when they start to turn will prevent super-browning for a week or two. If your bananas aren't as ripe as you want them to be, you can just microwave them for a bit before mashing. Works like a charm. 
*I always use salted butter because I don't feel like buying unsalted. From what I understand, people use unsalted butter so that they can better control the salt levels. But I've never minded a little extra. (: 

Now if you must go and make this bread healthy, here are a few suggestions:
- use 1/4 cup vanilla yogurt in place of sour cream (and reduce the amount of brown sugar)
- substitute 2/3 cup whole wheat flour for 2/3 cup of all-purpose
- cut down on the butter and sugar just a tad- maybe 6 T of butter instead of 8 and 1/2 cup of brown sugar
- adding 1/2 cup of walnuts or pecans won't reduce Calories, but it will add a little extra nutrition

26 years

I'm sure those of you who read my blog have noticed that my posts have gotten less frequent as my time in Utah has gone on. Part of that is due to a degree of laziness, yes. I was not one of those people who could spit out a 5 page paper in the two hours before class. Sometimes I slowly change, rearrange, and add things to a post for weeks before I post it. All that to say these posts take a fair amount of thought and editing for me. The other main reason for this is that my life here is really quite tranquil on a day-to-day basis. I go on some fun weekend adventures every now and again, but I detest play-by-play blog posts (except, of course, when it's a really good story). When you first move to a place, there's so much to observe and describe, and after you've been there for awhile, it's just your life. I'm sure it would still be special and different to people who aren't experiencing it, but it becomes harder to see it through that lens.

So really my goal for the past year or so has just been to post at least once a month. In my mind, it's probably just enough to let you know I'm still alive while allowing me to not stress about posting (you know, in the midst of my busy Netflix schedule).  It seems, though, that I'm failing at even that because I missed February. It was one of the first months where I felt I had nothing to share. No posts simmering on the back burner, sitting there with little pieces of thoughts waiting to be connected into something cohesive. When I look back on February, the most obvious event was turning 26. I had a lovely, simple birthday, but that's not going to be the point of this post.

In February, I learned that life is not fair. It's a phrase that you always hear and that I've always particularly resented. Even as a child, I felt that it was wrong to sit back and accept that life isn't fair- we should try to make it that way. We should strive for justice and inclusiveness and making sure that everyone has the same chance at big and small happiness in life. So here I am, at 26, finally learning that in spite of all efforts, life still isn't fair. Without going into a whole lot of detail, the event that led me to this conclusion was a situation with an agency whose support is vital to the nonprofit I work for. They were going to end their support of us based on some hearsay about our organization- information that they made very little attempt to look into or verify. They were very uncooperative and uncommunicative about the issues. At the end of the process they agreed to continue to work with us, but I would call our renewed relationship tenuous at best. One that can be broken with the slightest infraction on our part.

The whole process left me feeling confused and powerless. For the first time, I felt like the victim of a system that put something important to me at the mercy of others. I have latent expectations that people will be thorough and fair and that in America, you are innocent until proven guilty, not the other way around. It's a sad thing to lose some faith in people and organizations that are supposed to be doing good things, but the fact that I'm just realizing these things is an indication of the privileged life I have led. The system has always worked for me, not against me. Until now, I have never had to lose sleep because something was wrong.

Other people have dealt with this their entire lives. They've experienced things that no one ever should. There's the really big ones, like being imprisoned for 10 years for a crime you didn't commit, but there's also the really every day stuff. There's a child with a single mom who's on drugs and has a boyfriend who beats her up. Or even just a child with two parents whose love looks like expensive presents and junk food and plenty of TV allowance, but not the things a child really needs. It's not fair. And it's no wonder that both of those children would grow up, get a minimum wage job, never go to college, and start the cycle over again. Sometimes people sometimes try really hard at things that should work, and for whatever reason, they don't. Sometimes everything is fine and then the floor drops out. Sometimes people who have power just make bad decisions, and sometimes they abuse their power because they can.

If it sounds like I'm trying to convince you to start taking anti-depressants, I'm not. But for those of us who can't understand why people need welfare and food pantries and struggle to keep jobs- remember that you have been sheltered from the cruelest parts of life. You haven't been kicked when you're down. You've experienced the benefits of our American economy, not the injustices that accompany it. You have a sound mind and family and friends and there was probably never really any doubt that you were going to be fine. If those things aren't true for you, but you finished your education, got more than a make-ends-meet job, and started a stable family, then congratulations. You have more will and determination than anyone I know. Either that or you had some powerful help along the way.

What I'm asking you to think about is nothing new. Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes. I'm also saying that understanding that man is not enough. There is nothing wrong with being privileged, and it would be silly and ineffective to try to reverse that. But if you think for a moment that you've earned or deserve what you have, you're wrong. To me, the price of privilege should be helping those who aren't in whatever way feels meaningful to you. The world is not a kind or fair place, but it doesn't mean we all can't continue to work on that.

Preaching over. I promise to talk about happier things next time.

The California Zephyr

As some of you know, I took the train back from Indiana to Utah on New Years Eve. 29 hours from Chicago's Union Station straight into Green River, Utah. Because it's not what you would call a typical form of transportation these days, I thought I'd tell you a bit about the experience. Just as a disclaimer, I traveled with Justin, who lives south of Detroit, so we both caught the train in Chicago. Everything I say is through the lens of having a travel buddy.

The most remarkable thing initially about the train is the utter lack of security. You could take knives, bombs, raw meat (which I would nevvvver do. never ever. whaat? me?), and really anything else your heart desired. And a lot of it. From my understanding, Amtrak allows you to have two checked bags (providing you're getting off at a station that allows checked bags, which Green River does not), two carry-on items, and two personal items. Phew. It's really more than you can carry. (and I would know) So if you need to travel somewhere with a lot of stuff and you don't want to drive, the train is the way to go. Depending on who you are, the lack of security can be disconcerting or a welcome perk.

Once you're on the train, you can exist within it's warmth the entire ride. The loveliness of that is not to be underestimated. They have smoking and stretch-your-legs stops, but I was always too lazy to get off. There are many conveniences that make your ride more comfortable, such as bathrooms (they make your ride muucchh more comfortable), a snack car, observation car, and dining car. The dining car food is edible, but I would recommend planning not to eat there. It's expensive microwave food, as our breakfast dining buddy put it. Luckily I have a wonderful mother who packed a large bag of food for me.

You can also pay to have part of a sleeper car, which I did not, but the seats themselves weren't bad at all to sleep in. Unlike airplanes, you have plenty of leg room, the seats recline far back, and a little leg rest pops up at the bottom to support you. There's a gentle sway to the train car that helped me relax and sleep. (in case you're not picking up on this, the train allowed me to be very lazy)

If you like chatting with strangers, you'll appreciate the train. The environment is relaxed, and there are always people getting on and off. Because I traveled with Justin, I didn't really talk to many strangers... which is probably how I would prefer it. People are also always in and out of the observation car, and it seems like a more talkative place. I probably wouldn't have enjoyed the experience quite as much if I had traveled by myself, although I'm sure it would have been a time for much fruitful contemplation and introspection. Providing I could get rid of all the talkative seat mates.

The observation car is quite obviously for observing the views. It has bigger windows, and the seats face outward rather than forward. There are also some tables for gathering and game-playing. For the first half of the ride (Chicago to the edge of Nebraska) the views weren't worth fighting over, but once we hit Colorado the observation car filled up right quick. For good reason. Traveling through the Rockies was gorgeous.

I noticed that the train seemed to be a popular choice for families. It makes sense- on the train your kids can roam, and you don't have to worry about driving so it's a great time to play games and talk. I think kids also get into the sense of adventure and the ability to explore.

An extra bonus, in my opinion, is that the California Zephyr didn't have wi-fi. Unless you love wasting data, that means disconnecting from the world a bit. It means hours of staring out the window, sleeping, eating, talking, and reading. Those are pretty much all of my favorite things right there.

So would I recommend traveling by train? If you have the time, yes. Why on earth would I subject myself to such slowness? Well... I recently bought a teapot that only holds 1 Liter. When it came I realized how small that actually is, I wondered aloud in the office if I should exchange it for a bigger size so we didn't have to refill it. One of my office mates, Abi, said, "nah, we need reasons to make life go slower, right?" My first reaction would probably have been- No, of course not. We need life to move efficiently. But the more I've thought about it, the truer that seems to be. We have so many tools to make our lives go faster... to the point where I think we need reasons to slow down. That's the best reason I can think of for taking the train. It's not as cheap as driving and it's certainly slower than flying, but it's just so pleasant. Take the train and remember that it's ok for life to move at a different pace.

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.)