Settling Up

My mom and I rarely discussed relationships or boys when I was a teenager, and I preferred it that way. I wasn't an awkward teen. Not a nerd, nor a wallflower. I was outgoing, confident, had plenty of friends, dressed in the latest cool clothes and survived both middle and high schools unscathed. But boys didn't get me, or I didn't get them. I'm not sure which. So, I went through high school without really ever having a boyfriend. Oh sure, I kissed a few boys, let them feel me up and what have you, but never a boyfriend to speak of. The only advice I really ever remember my mom giving me was, "don't get pregnant and always marry up".

This week I seem to be discussing marriage a lot among friends. Marriage is always one of those subjects that people either blab too much of their intimate relations and then have blabbers remorse or they only say the positive aspects of their marriage in which the rest of us look at them and think: bullshit. I'm not sure which is better. It is rare to find a friend that can listen to your latest gripe without comparing her own marriage and feeling triumphant that she isn't as fucked** up as you. Women are jealous creatures, after all.

Several years before I married my husband, I was head over heels in love with another guy that I was certain I would marry. He was accomplished, smart, cultured and philanthropic. In the words of his mother, he looked good on paper. (Yes, his mother actually said that to me). On the other hand, he was selfish, mean-spirited and superficial. In the end, the latter qualities trumped the 'good on paper' ones and our relationship ended. I realized then that even though I may have 'married up' had we stayed together, I was really settling for less than the man I deserved.

Coincidently, my husband not only looks great on paper, he looks pretty damn good in person too. Would he enjoy an evening of Maya Angelou readings over a beer at a dive bar? No way. Does he prefer the bright lights of the city over a quiet small town? Never. In the end I suppose I didn't marry up. I would say I settled up. I settled for kindness, humor, security and generosity - which is probably what my mother meant in the first place. Have a blabbed too much?

Marriage is both simple and complicated. We give all of ourselves to one person and hope like hell they don't drive us into the ground. We can make ourselves crazy analyzing our fights, trying to be right, trying to change our spouse or just trying to hold it all together when it is inexplicably falling apart. And we do all of this while having babies, raising children and working like mad. It is no wonder most of us are ending up divorced. I think it is like this: fall crazy in love, get married and hold on for dear life while riding that roller coaster. You might be scared to death, but the thrill of the ride can't be matched.



**Sorry for the profanity in this post, but you aren't a kid, right? And if you are letting your kid read this, then quit judging me and get a mirror.

Wanna Play?

The end of summer always comes suddenly. One day you are fanning yourself in 80 degree weather, and the next you are crunching through fallen leaves. My son has started his second year of preschool and all of a sudden he seems so grown up. Somehow he went from being my sweet little baby to a little man. Our conversations flow so easily I sometimes forget I am talking to a three year old. I love taking him to preschool and seeing his eyes scan the room as he soaks up every vision of education until I think his eyes will burst. He comes home singing songs, telling stories, reciting his ABC's and counting anything and everything. It makes me think of my own daily activities and whether they resemble anything like my childhood. As a kid, my free time was usually spent with Megan, my childhood best friend, and playing in the woods behind my house. I remember my mom installing a tether ball pole in our driveway because it was my favorite recess game. I had a favorite tree in my backyard that I would climb, perch myself on a limb and read a book. I remember riding on the handlebars of Megan's bicycle as she pedaled us around our neighborhood (sans helmets). Today my days consist of the mostly mundane: paying bills, cleaning the house, laundry, working out, identifying random smells. That last one happens more often than I would like to admit. Above it all, I dread working out. Yes, I feel good afterward. No, that feeling does not carry me through to the next sweat session. I miss the days of 'play'. Long before parents were setting up play dates, we were picking up the phone every day after school, calling a friend and asking one simple question: wanna play? Now it sounds more like this, "today I have to go do this boring thing, then that boring thing, then I have to drag my ass to the gym and exercise". Sounds fun, right? So, as a little experiment, I have been using typical playground activities as my workouts. Today I decided to jump rope. I used to jump rope for what seemed like hours. Double jumps, running jumps, criss cross, backwards - however creative I could get. After five minutes today, I soon realized why I was such a skinny kid. Jumping rope is hard work. If you are feeling like giving it try, here is my workout from today:

30 second warm up (two foot jumps with one jump in between rope turns)
1 minute jumping
20 pushups
1 minute jumping
35 toe touch sit ups
1 minute jumping
25 squats
1 minute jumping
40 planking knees to elbows
1 minute jumping
20 double lunges (20 per leg, 40 total)
repeat circuit 2-3 times

Have fun! Maybe tomorrow I will climb trees.

5 years can be a lifetime...

Today I came across a five year old email between my then boyfriend and me. It was a break-up email (go ahead and laugh) and at one point in our exchange I told him I wanted to be married and have kids within five years. This got me thinking about what can happen in just five short years. 

Five years ago. In a candy bikini.

Five years ago I was working a job I hated. Five years ago I was living alone. Five years ago I was dating a guy that was shorter than me. And he had red hair. I repeat, he was shorter than me and had red hair. Five years ago I changed my life. 

After graduating college, I found work in parks and recreation - the same field as my hard earned degree. Well, okay, maybe not hard earned. Let's be real, Recreation Management isn't exactly neuroscience. But it was fun and let me be outside for at least half of every work day. So it felt like only working half a day. Which was basically the case. I started out really dedicated, worked late hours and did whatever my boss asked. I gradually came in to work later and later in the morning, sometimes not arriving until 10am. I simply couldn't drag my ass to work every day to do the same thing over and over. I seriously do not understand how people can do that. I've never been very good at that. I needed more change, more excitement, more vision. I just needed to breathe. 

So I quit. I had no plan, a tiny savings account, and a broken heart. I had been epically dumped (twice!) by guys that were all wrong for me. I wish I could say here that this lead me on some envious journey around the world, but no. I made it as far as Colorado to bum on my sister's couch for a few months before I came back to Washington to bum on a friend's couch for a couple more months. I became even more awesome when I moved back in with my parents. I took a job managing a wine bar and felt like the guy in high school that should have graduated two years ago but just keeps repeating his senior year. I didn't fit in. 

Aww! Look at us lovebirds!

I began casually dating a friend I had known in college which was interesting but unfulfilling - I've never been good at casual relationships. How do girls do that? I always get attached, even to guys that never interested me in the first place. Somehow the guy that I didn't want to date, ends up dumping me and I am left in a drippy sad puddle on the floor. So when I began casually dating my friend, I was worried by how much I liked him. I could feel myself begin to liquify every time my phone calls went unanswered or he was too busy to see me. Great, I thought, here comes dripping wet Amanda - saturated in insecurities. What had happened to me? I wasn't supposed to be 28, living with my parents, working at a bar and waiting around for some guy to call me. My big plan of quitting my career to seek out a new way of life wasn't shaping up the way I had pictured. 

My heart and soul.

Then I got pregnant. And that friend I was casually dating ended up being my best friend, father of my child and then my husband. It turns out that I didn't need a solo trip around the world to find myself or a critically acclaimed career to win the accolades of friends and colleagues. It turns out that what I really needed was to listen to my own voice. Five years ago, I knew what I wanted. Five years later, I have it. 

Finally, a handbook to my life!

I am so excited that my fellow commercial fishing mom and excellent writer, Jen Karuza Schile, has released her book, 'Captain of Her Crew: The Commercial Fishing Mom's Guide to Navigating Life at Home'. I absolutely cannot wait to read this book. If any of you know a commercial fishing mom/wife (and you do!), can I just say, please read this book. You will have such a greater understanding of our lives, our habits and all the things we are thinking about but couldn't begin to explain in a simple conversation. I can already think of a few people I'd like to give this book and say, "Here! Read this and please get off my back!".

You can find Jen's book on Amazon.com. You can also check out Jen's blog here.

solbites

I admit that I am a huge sucker for advertising. Which I'm fairly certain is the point of the entire advertising industry. For instance, take something as simple as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Easy enough to make yourself, and yet with the right packaging I may be inclined to buy a packaged PB&J.  Sounds silly, but when you see this product I think you will understand. Solbites are just basic nut butters, jelly/honey and crackers all wrapped up in a completely recyclable container. I found these cute little PB & J snacks during my latest trip to R.E.I. - my own personal mecca. I love anything convenient enough to keep in my car or purse for an emergency snack for Jacob that is healthy but I also don't have to immediately use for freshness. I also love a good ol' American-made product by a small company/entrepreneur. Two Rivers Foods (the parent company of Solbites) was created by a couple of guys in Colorado that after traveling the globe, wanted to introduce Americans to new and interesting flavors. Solbites is the first of their products and while I really appreciate what they have created, I'm failing to see the exoticism of PB&J. Either way, this is a win-win as Jacob is a big fan and I feel content knowing he is happily snacking on a healthier convenience food. Happy 4th of July!

Green Pancakes

Do you remember when Jerry Seinfeld's wife came out with her cookbook that 'secretly' sneaks vegetables into traditionally less nutritious foods? Don't worry, this isn't an endorsement. I am of the personal belief that we should try to teach our kids about healthy foods and establish food knowledge just as we teach the alphabet or numbers. However, I also come from the camp of 'do whatever it takes' to get your kid to eat the most nutritious foods possible. Enter dinner time with my 3 year old. I am lucky in the sense that he will usually eat what a cook for him if he is hungry at dinner time. My trick is to keep him from snacking in the afternoon and not mention what I am cooking for dinner. Otherwise, he will reflexively let me know that he will be eating cereal for dinner. Not exactly the broccoli and cauliflower I had in mind. Tonight was no exception as I casually mentioned to him that I was going to start cooking dinner.

"I want pancakes," says a small but affirmative voice.

At this point, I have been living as a 'seasonal single parent' for over a week and believe me, I am already getting tired. Uh...only approximately 10 more weeks to go. I have a mental conversation with myself and think, am I really going to let him eat pancakes for dinner? Yes, yes I am. But I will not lose the battle entirely. I quickly rummage through his snack drawer and retrieve a Plum Organics baby food package. I keep these handy for quick snacks and for his lunches at preschool. You may think it is odd that my 3 year old still eats baby food, but really it is just pureed fruits and vegetables. Much better than the other conveniently packaged snacks out there. Plus, he loves them.

I started with 1/4 cup of my favorite pancake mix*, Snoqualmie Falls Lodge NutraRich Pancake and Waffle Mix. To that I added 1/4 cup of water and mixed with a wire whisk. I then squeezed a packet of Plum Organics Spinach Peas & Pear baby food into the mix. I added small amounts of additional pancake mix until it reached the right consistency. To cut some of the spinach taste, I added a dash of ground cinnamon and a dash of vanilla extract and then cooked the pancakes like normal. The result was a barely green tinged (really only enough for me to notice because I knew of the special ingredient) and a delicious perfect pancake mostly due to my favorite brand of mix and enhanced by the familiar flavors of cinnamon and vanilla. Dinner was prepared and on the table in less than ten minutes. In the end, his plate was licked clean and both mom and son were happy.

*Note: I should add that this is my super lazy method of pancakes. Here is the basic recipe for pancakes that I use on a regular basis:

3/4 C oat flour
1/4 C whole wheat flour
1 T sugar (I use organic raw sugar, maple syrup or agave syrup interchangeably)
1 1/2 T baking powder
1 C almond milk (or 3/4 C if I am including a vegetable puree)
1/8 tsp salt
(Some people feel the need to add vegetable oil, in which case I would use 2 T for this recipe, but I usually don't add oil if I don't need to.)

Esquites!

The Esquites at Señor Moose.

As I mentioned in my earlier post, we visited the Zoo yesterday. What I didn't mention was our trip to my favorite mexican restaurant in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Señor Moose. The single solitary reason this place tops my list is for their Esquites, or fried corn. Esquites is classic mexican street food, usually served in a paper cone accompanied by a spoon. It is simply the best mexican dish I've ever had and it is so simple. It may not look like much, but trust me when I tell you to make this dish tonight. You won't regret it. Better yet, visit Señor Moose Cafe.

Esquites

Fresh corn cut from the cob (figure 1-2 cobs per person)
a little oil for sautéing (1tsp per cob)
salt to taste
chili de arbol powder (or cayenne), just eyeball it
1 tbl. mexican crema (or sour cream)
sprinkle of cotija cheese
fresh lime wedges


Cut the corn off the cob directly into a frying pan. Add a small amount of high heat oil such as canola or grape seed. Sauté briefly until corn is warmed through and just beginning to brown. Remove from heat and stir in the chili powder and salt. Top with the crema and cotija cheese. Garnish with the lime wedges. Squeeze the fresh lime juice over the Esquites just before eating. Serve with tortilla chips. Yum!


Note - traditional esquites is made with epizote, a mexican spice/herb. It can be difficult to find and use if you aren't familiar with it. If you need a little fresh green, I'd add cilantro.

Bittersweet Summer

Crew of the 2012 F/V Mystic Lady
and one little honorary crew member.

Every year the Pacific Northwesterners suffer through endless months of rain and gray skies, patiently waiting for our few summer months of perfection. I've had the opportunity to travel around most of our country and I can positively confirm that our summers here are the best. And yes, I am biased. So you can imagine the cruel irony of being married to a commercial fisherman who has not (and will not) spent a single summer at home since the age of 13 when he first began his fishing career in the Alaska waters. No summer family barbecues, picnics, parties, vacations or general merriment and relishing of the best time of year. Summers mark the beginning of my 'seasonal single parenthood' and seriously boring evenings at home alone after the young sprout hits the sack. It is infrequent phone calls from remote areas of Alaska, being the role of both Mommy and Daddy, no sex (well, it's true), exhaustion, loneliness, worry for my husband's safety (commercial fishing continues to top the list of the country's most dangerous jobs), and mostly the adjustment to having a part of me missing until he returns in September. The day he leaves in June, we stand at the mouth of the harbor and watch his boat head north. When he rounds the point and his boat is no longer in sight, Jacob and I make the short drive back to our house. That usually gives me enough time for a moment of sadness and a quick cry. The first few nights are always restless as I adjust to sleeping alone and to my irrational fears of break-ins and natural disasters. I usually spend a lot of my late night hours plotting our escape routes.

A sweet goodbye between father and son.

Now that I have made each and every one of you feel really badly for me and quite possibly depressed, let me tell you about the silver lining. I can watch whatever I want on TV including but not limited to: Real Housewives of anywhere, The Bachelorette, and anything on Lifetime which is usually banned from our airwaves. My house can be as dirty clean as I want and no one is around to judge me for laying on my couch rather than doing the dishes. I don't have to wear make-up or do my hair or wear any uncomfortable underwear for the sake of looking cute. And other than caring for Jacob, I am able to really focus on myself and indulge in my own hobbies and activities that I usually feel too busy for during the rest of the year. I've learned that it helps to set a goal for myself such as training for a 10k, start a garden, plan a wedding, or work on my writing. This year, Jacob and I have made an alphabet list of things to do. For example, for the letter A - ride in an airplane. C- visit a castle. G- ride in a gondola.  Z-visit the zoo. You get the idea. So far, we have already crossed 'Z' off our list. Now if anyone out there knows of a castle near by, let me know!

Pony Swing

Check out that bicycle! And dragon! And airplane!

Our adorable swing.

A couple of months ago my parents went for a weekend away to wine country in Walla Walla, WA. While I was supremely jealous, as I love both wine and beautiful Walla Walla (if you've never been, go!), I was at home celebrating my little J's third birthday. My parents were sweet enough to cut their trip short and show up at the last minute with the most creative gift/toy I have ever seen. A pony swing made from an old tire that they picked up at a small feed store on their trip. I love this. It is one part fun and one part 'green'.

The Best Caramels. Ever.

About a year ago, I was perusing the Ballard Farmers Market and stumbled upon the best caramel ever made. If you are unfamiliar with the Ballard market, I highly recommend you make the trip. I have discovered many small start-up food companies by just browsing the booths at this market. When it comes to high quality vendors, Ballard has the best of the best. So while strolling the street with my mother, enjoying a slight drizzle of rain and spicy chai tea, I spotted a small unassuming booth with sample bits of caramel. One bite and I wanted to leap over the table to get to the rest of the caramels. Jonboy Caramels are soft and buttery with the perfect amount of salt. It literally melted in my mouth. I was completely blown away. I love these caramels so much that I ordered a huge box to be given away to the guests at our wedding. Jonboy Caramels come in multiple flavors including Fleur de Sel, Molasses Ginger, Absinthe with Black Salt and a seasonal blackberry variety. Last Sunday on Father's Day, I brought Mike and Jacob with me to the market and loaded up with a couple boxes. I admit, both boxes are already empty. I ate ALL the caramels myself. I don't share.

Get your own Jonboy's here.

You can see the caramels in the pictures from our
wedding. Photos by Brooks Scribner.

Pinterest Propaganda or Why I Should Use Common Sense

Don't you just love Pinterest? It is a perfect storm of pretty pictures and clever ideas. Posting little thumbnails of other peoples' creativity gets me all warm and fuzzy inside. Occasionally, I even actually do the activity/recipe/design posted in that adorable little picture, though not nearly as often as I just repin it and give all of my followers a little insight into who I am. Look at this adorable outfit that I have no idea where to get it and I don't actually look like the gorgeous model wearing it. Truthfully, you can usually find me at home wearing stretched out yoga pants and my husband's old tee shirt. Say it with me guys, hot.

Damn Pinterest Strawberries.

Tonight I put my post where my mouth is and tested out a Pinterest recipe. Has anyone else been captivated by this picture floating around Pinterest lately? And the oh so tempting caption to go along with it? Tastes just like candy! So easy! Dried in the oven! Did we mention candy and easy?!? Now this should have been where common sense came into play. Listen up pinners, this photo has in fact been photoshopped. That's right. Go ahead and take a moment to collect yourselves. Let me back up a little. This is a pin attached to a simple recipe for dehydrating strawberries in your home oven. The directions are this simple: heat in the oven for three hours at 210 degrees and voila! Chewy little rubies from strawberry heaven.

My Dead Strawberries.

Here is my final outcome and I won't even bother editing the picture as I want you to know what an utter disaster this recipe truly is. I followed the instructions to a tee and the end result were wilted, gray bitter balls of misery sweating in their own rancid berry blood. Turns out, my Dad was right. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. This recipe is the Enron of all recipes (is it a few years too late to be referencing Enron?). My point is, there is some a-hole out there on Pinterest using his fancy Photoshop to dupe you into ruining your perfectly plump fresh strawberries. Don't fall for it!

Salmon is my frienemy. Watch us feud on TMZ.

DISCLAIMER: If you are wondering why I am blogging the crap out of you lately it is because I have been stuck at home, immobile for days with a bad back. Feel free to send me flowers, gifts, and cold hard cash. I'll wait. Now, standby for an awesome recipe.

If you choose this brand of salmon
there is a good chance it was caught
by my husband.

This may surprise you, but I don't really eat seafood. I simply wasn't raised on it and the only fish I ever ate growing up was canned tuna laden with Miracle Whip (Zing!) slapped between two slices of Wonder bread. Now the smell of Miracle Whip is enough to make me gag. Which is odd, really, you'd think whipped miracles would be heavenly. Whoever came up with that genius marketing ploy should be both praised and slapped. Talk about false advertising. Don't even get me started on that Wonder bread. I'd love to say that I have since evolved into an oyster slurping fiend, but that would be one big (omega-3) fatty ass(id) lie. Maybe it is the texture, or smell, or just the way seafood looks. It just doesn't ring my culinary bell. I did, however, marry a commercial salmon fisherman; proof alone that God has a sense of humor. Thanks for that, big guy.

Being the nutrition and wellness weirdo that I am, I can't really deny the benefits that wild Alaskan (and Washington) salmon offers our bodies. A can of salmon has four times the amount of omega-3 fatty acids than that of a can of tuna. The low down on omega-3's: good for your heart, brain, bone, joints and a whole list of other body parts. Why am I talking about canned? Because I take baby steps, people, baby steps.

I am happy to report that this particular land-food only girl has found a way to get my salmon and eat it too. Here is a kick-ass recipe that I know you will love. If you are a salmon virgin, this just may be the meal you need to pop your salmon cherry.

Black Bean & Salmon Tostadas

From EatingWell:  January/February 2010

Pickled jalapeños, cilantro and avocado perk up convenient canned salmon for a quick tostada topping. Skip store-bought and make your own crispy shells in the oven. Serve with: Brown rice cooked with diced tomatoes and onions or salsa.

4 servings, 2 tostadas each | Active Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes

Ingredients

• 8 6-inch corn tortillas
• Canola oil cooking spray
• 1 6- to 7-ounce can boneless, skinless wild Alaskan salmon, drained
• 1 avocado, diced
• 2 tablespoons minced pickled jalapeños, plus 2 tablespoons pickling juice from the jar, divided
• 2 cups coleslaw mix (see Tip) or shredded cabbage
• 2 tablespoons chopped cilantro
• 1 15-ounce can black beans, rinsed
• 3 tablespoons reduced-fat sour cream
• 2 tablespoons prepared salsa
• 2 scallions, chopped
• Lime wedges (optional)

Preparation

1. Position racks in upper and lower thirds of the oven; preheat to 375°F.
2. Coat tortillas on both sides with cooking spray. Place on 2 baking sheets. Bake, turning once, until light brown, 12 to 14 minutes.
3. Combine salmon, avocado and jalapeños in a bowl. Combine cabbage, cilantro and the pickling juice in another bowl. Process black beans, sour cream, salsa and scallions in a food processor until smooth. Transfer to a microwave-safe bowl. Cover and microwave on High until hot, about 2 minutes.
4. To assemble tostadas, spread each tortilla with some bean mixture and some salmon mixture and top with the cabbage salad. Serve with lime wedges, if desired.

Nutrition

Per serving : 319 Calories; 11 g Fat; 2 g Sat; 6 g Mono; 16 mg Cholesterol; 43 g Carbohydrates; 16 g Protein; 12 g Fiber; 352 mg Sodium; 670 mg Potassium

2 Carbohydrate Serving

Exchanges: 2 starch, 1 1/2 lean meat, 1 1/2 fat

Tips & Notes

• Kitchen tip: Look for convenient preshredded cabbage-and-carrot “coleslaw mix” near other prepared vegetables in the produce section of the supermarket.

No sun? No dirt? No problem.

Yep. This is how I picture the future.
Gardening in a haz-mat suit.

I don't know about you, but it seems everywhere I look nowadays people are growing their own food. Suddenly, we have become a culture obsessed with home farming. I have to admit that I, too, have fallen victim to this home economics epidemic. There is something about spending an afternoon up to your elbows in soil, planting tiny seeds and starters and then anxiously awaiting the harvest. I love the feeling of snipping fresh veggies from my very own garden. So, when I heard about the various chefs and entrepreneurs in staunchly urban environments cultivating their own gardens in basement apartments and city rooftops without the use of actual soil or sunlight, I was intrigued. Hydroponic gardening uses nutrient and mineral rich water to grow plants of all kinds without a single smudge of dirt. And with artificial growth lamps, who needs the sun? Hydroponic gardens allow for less space needed and the elimination of common garden pests which mostly come from the soil used in traditional gardening. Sounds fabulous, right? Still, there is something about the idea of hydroponics that conjures images of Kevin Kostner in Waterworld or Cormac McCarthy's, The Road - which, if you haven't read it, is basically a book about living through an apocalypse. I don't know that I can give up my hours of weeding, composting, soil spreading, cursing at the aphids and slugs and dodging of bees. The back to basics feel of home gardening makes me feel triumphant when I can make an entire salad straight from my backyard. What do you think? Has anyone tried hydroponic gardening?

Friday Finds

Sporting our gear on Mt. Rainier.

I am starting to feel like flash sale websites are the Costco of the internet. Each morning I check my email and eagerly read about the daily deals of the likes of Groupon, Living Social, AmazonLocal, and some of the more specialty sites like Haute Look, Zulilly, One King's Lane and Gilt. Yes, I am on each of their mailing lists. However, none of them have given me quite the excitement of my latest flash sale site discovery: The Clymb. This site is all about outdoor recreation gear. I. Love. It. Being a self-professed 'gear head' I scan the website and virtually toss anything and everything into my cart. "It's on sale! It's a good deal!', I tell myself. Just like my visits to Costco when a ten pound bag of pretzels and a three pack of 1-gallon jugs of mayonnaise seem like a must when really I've come in to the store for...what was it again? Oh well, I've got mayo to last me the next five years.

Check out The Clymb.

I used to be a writer.

Here is a fact that will shock you: I graduated from college ten years ago. I'll wait for your jaws to come back up off the floor. Well, okay, maybe that little known fact doesn't shock you as much as it does me. Today, I was looking at the itinerary for the upcoming Port Townsend Writer's Conference. I've never been, but my current favorite author is teaching one of the clinics so I started rolling the idea around in my head about attending. Not long after reading each syllabus, I was more than intimidated. Oh, I thought, this is for 'real' writers. Yikes, that's not me. This got me thinking. When can you call yourself a writer? Which led me to a Google search on 'when to call yourself a writer'. Isn't it funny how we put so much faith in the opinion of others? Because really, that is what a Google search often is, a consensus of a million other people's opinions on one topic or another. And then I thought, maybe the better question is, when did I stop thinking of myself as a writer? 

When I was in college, I was writing every day. I have pages and pages of my writing saved in a file cabinet from my five (yes, five) years of college. At this time, I couldn't even tell you where my actual framed degree is, but I know exactly where the culmination of works to earn that degree are stashed. Today, I realized that I stopped thinking of myself as a writer the day I stopped having my writing critiqued and validated and have since been solely judged on the simple existence of my degree. And now that I am a stay-at-home mom, I'm not really even judged on that. 

Me, circa 2002.

So after all that, I decided to jump back in time and dig out my English 101 syllabus from my freshman year of college. After smoothing out the creases from a bad filing job and laughing a little at the archaic word processing, I read through the class assignments for that first collegiate writing class from so long ago and decided to start all over again. My first assignment was to look at a picture provided and write the opening sentence to a story based on the photo prompt. I sat down on my couch with my macbook in my lap and crafted a first sentence. Then a second. And a third. And then it came like a flood and the words have been pouring out of me all afternoon. My thoughts and ideas rush in and around my head and I have to stop to switch over to an outline because the story keeps developing out of sorts and without a timeline. And then it hit me, I used to be a writer because someone told me to be a writer. Actually, a lot of someones. Each professor, each assignment, each paper I had to write all told me, 'you are a writer'.

 It has been ten years of writing (and not) to remember why I went to college in the first place. Because I loved writing. And today was the first time I have ever sat down to write without some reason. Not for work, or to send an email, or for an article or a blog post, but just to write. Because I love writing.

Seattle shootings are making us crazy!

Three years ago, I moved out of my Seattle comfort zone, an hour drive south to the town of Gig Harbor. I really thought I would literally die of boredom. My whole life seemed to move in slow motion and the adjustment to less 'culture' was enough to make me question my insanity. But I was a new mother, in a new relationship and when everything was laid out on the table, making the move out of Seattle made the most sense.

Isn't she lovely? Maybe not.

For three years, I have pined away for my beloved Seattle, taking frequent trips north just to get my fix. But something has shifted in the 'culture' of Seattle since my absence, causing me to wonder if I should be missing her at all. The recent uprising in gun related violence has a city literally running scared. Yesterday, a mother of two was gunned down for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Innocent patrons at a U District coffee shop were also murdered. Not to mention, a string of drive-by shootings, killing of police officers, and numerous other gun related violent incidents within the last two years. 20 homicides in 2011 and another 20 homicides already this year. Even more perplexing is the shootings are often being blamed on the gunmen suffering from lifelong mental health issues, often times with a friend or family member being quoted as 'not surprised' their acquaintance went off the rails.
After yesterday's shootings, a jogger was interviewed after being seen out for his daily run with a gun strapped to his side. Another mentally ill potential gunmen? Not so, says the jogger. He simply doesn't feel safe on the streets of Seattle any longer unless he has his gun with him. Exactly when did we become a city packing heat? The crazies are making us crazy!
For the first time in three years, I don't miss Seattle. When I look at the innocent face of my beautiful little boy and think of all my fears and worries just in being his mother, I'm so glad I don't need to add 'purchase gun to protect family' to my list. I just hope Seattle figures out a way to get control and take back our incredible city before more residents pack up and move out.

How to Be a Parent...and then some.

Today, I am struck by two different parenting books that have recently come out. I am so curious what other parents think of both styles outlined in these books. One is written by an American mother who moves to Paris and raises her children the 'French' way. 'Bringing up Bebe' by Pamela Druckerman outlines the tres cool life of French parents. Able to raise their children, and have seemingly little impact on their individual and social adult lives. Yes, you can have your cheese and wine while your children play quietly around you. Your children will sit nicely at a restaurant because they are actually hungry rather than snacking all day long on goldfish crackers and juice. The other is a new book written by Mayim Bialik. That's right, by Blossom herself. All grown up, with a PhD in neuroscience, she describes her attachment parenting style in 'Beyond the Sling'. She either carries or wears her babies in slings pretty much at all times, practices diaper less training (also known as elimination communication), and breastfeeds well into the preschool age. Her method requires a heavy amount of parenting throughout the early years of childhood. Children are home schooled, co-sleep with mom and dad in the family bed and always use positive discipline rather than time-outs or even harsher forms such as spanking. French-style parenting focuses on calm and committed discipline simply by using authoritative voice commands. Interesting, non?

After a while Crocodile...

Wow. How long can one go without blogging? I'm happy to report that although it has been such a long time, I did reach the goals I set out to achieve when I started this blog. So now it is time to take her in a new direction. Drawing inspiration from my other blog, which is strictly recipes and cooking, I've decided to combine all interests into one. That being said, this will now be my place for all things related to family, cooking, nutrition, gardening, mothering, fashion, kids and whatever else comes to mind. I hope to look back on this blog one day and think, wow, I learned a lot in my lifetime.