Diane

The country we call home

In the wake of the spa shootings in Atlanta that left eight people dead, six of whom were Asian Americans, I’ve increasingly seen tossed around idea that people should “check in” on their Asian American friends and acquaintances. The spa shootings were just the latest in a string of attacks on Asians in the country. It seems that in the past year, anti-Asian sentiment has been exacerbated by a pandemic that started in China. The “China flu” or “Kung flu”, the whole list of xenophobic labelling has certainly been indicative of a casual and pervasive racist attitude, one that was amplified by our former president. It has made me so unspeakably angry.

I’ve been thinking of the idea of “checking in” a lot lately. No one has asked me how I feel or how my community is doing, and truth to be told, I think I would find it a little awkward if someone I don’t regularly have contact with were to contact me just to “check in”.

At the same time, I’m not going to lie, the radio silence does sort of sting – not because I personally want a spotlight on myself as an Asian American. Rather, the lack of discussion on the topic in my day to day conversations has left me wondering if the anti-Asian bias that I’m seeing is all in my head. Were these shootings just another American mass killing, that really isn’t about race? Is the anti-Asian sentiment which I feel has really come to the fore in the past year – is it something that I am imagining? Does being a model minority mean that we are expected just to ignore this and not make waves? When we don’t talk about racism (or ageism or ableism or sexism, or misogyny, what not) it gives the impression that it isn’t perceived as a problem in the world we live in.

I don’t want my children to feel like being half Asian is a burden, or makes them a target. I don’t think they quite understand that very real possibility yet. And while it would be great if they could go through life thinking that they have the privilege of being white, I want them to understand that there is a very real bias that they could face in life. It is a bias that may lead to them being fetishized, passed up for jobs, stereotyped, bullied or teased. I mean maybe not, hopefully no, but I’m not going to tell my kids that this will never happen. I tell them that this is something we as a society need to work on, even myself.

I understand the hesitancy to talk about this with one’s Asian friends, acquaintances and colleagues. Heck, I even wondered if I should have said something to our favorite sandwich guy who is Korean. I didn’t and I kind of regret it. I understand not knowing if one is doing or saying the right thing. And, to be fair, there is no one size fits all for this kind of thing. Some people would appreciate to be asked. Some people would rather not. Some people would welcome the opportunity to contribute to the narrative. Some people would resent being seen as a spokesperson for a whole continent. Some people would appreciate the sincerity. Some people would label it just another in a long string of performative gestures. It’s difficult to navigate – I get it.

But even if we aren’t talking about it, I hope people are thinking about it. I hope people are acknowledging that even if anti-Asian sentiment is not something they themselves see, it is indeed a very real and scary and is a legitimate reality. I hope people realize that it is not okay for these things to be happening.

I for one, though I might find the conversation awkward, would never fault anyone for doing what they felt was the right thing. Connecting is hard enough as it is, and any opportunity to do so is good, right? Awkward conversations are still conversations.

Anyhow if you were to “check in” with me, this is what I would say:

My father walks several miles a day. Lately he has taken to carrying a pointy stick with him on these walks. I would like to tease him about it and dismiss him as being paranoid and melodramatic, but I can’t. For him, being a victim of violence because of his race is a very very real fear. My parents, who have been on this continent for over fifty years, have done all the right things to be good Americans (and before that, good Canadians). They have contributed only good things to the society and economy of this country. And it really sucks immensely that this is how unwelcome they feel living in the country that they call home.

Weekly recap + what we ate – vaccine impatience

Trees and Rocks – another of our weekday park adventures.

It feels as if everyone is impatient these days to get the vaccine, and it seems like such a fraught topic. So many of the eligibility requirements are deeply personal so even as I am curious as to how people my age are getting their shots, I feel like it would be intrusive to ask. I’m trying to remind myself that I will get my shot soon – our governor’s goal is to open eligibility for everyone over 16 by the end of April – and that I just need to practice safe habits til then. Having the prospects of getting my shot in sight has given me a little sense of momentum, but I feel like our state has been slower than many other states and that makes me restless. Restless momentum. Seems appropriate.

Whenever I try to look into it, it appears like the pathways to a vaccine appointment are varied and scattered. There are so many options and websites to check. I am amazed and grateful for the people who have the time and know how to help others find the vaccine and who are working so that those without internet or other such resources can get their appointments. This grassroots type of vaccine hunting is really inspiring. I suppose there is no easy way to vaccinate hundreds of billions of people and everyone is doing their best.

More sign of spring:
The birdsongs are incessant these days. It reminds me of the days when I was in college, staying up all night to finish that paper that had been put off too long and was due imminently. I usually got into such a deep sense of flow writing that I wouldn’t realize that I had pulled an all-nighter until I heard the first bird calls of the morning. And the whistle of the Dinky train.

There is something about hearing birds that will always be associated with mornings to me. Although I do love how birdsongs change throughout the day.

The birds have returned to nest in our eaves.

Rainy days. There was one very very rainy day. It was the nine year old’s half day and by mid afternoon, I had had it and forced everyone outside for a little walk. The little walk turned into an hour in the light rain. I hadn’t expected to be out that long, so I didn’t bring the stroller for the baby. Before I knew it, we were at the local park, much farther than I thought she would walk. She did need to be carried the last half block home. In the long run, though, her stamina and determination to go onward on her own two feet does make for the whole process of the daily walk to be a lot more impulsive now that I don’t feel the need to drag the stroller out too.

“If all of the rain drops were lemon drops and gumdrops….”

Sunny days. Seventy degree summer weather on the heels of the rainy day. We continued to explore parks while the nine year old is in school. This one was particularly interesting because the land used to belong to one of the prominent families in the County and the original houses still stood nearby, though they are still privately occupied. In addition to the playground, there were some large boulders which the kids enjoyed climbing.

The baby turned eighteen months this week. We had a little cake to celebrate. She had a check up and a shot, this latter made her cranky and tired all day. There is still some concern about her language development, so I might have to be a little more aggressive about starting services for her than I would prefer.

In drawing class, we continued working with colored pencils:

We were to draw a still life, and I chose to set up some of the kids’ toys. The classic Fisher Price phone was the first object I chose, and then I went through the playroom looking for other toys with faces that I could gather. I feel like finding the right colour match is still difficult for me, but I’m realizing that colour is relative. So even if the blue of the police car doesn’t completely match the real thing, it just needs to be the right color relation to the rooster, say.

The slice of life I want to remember:

The four year old is very good at entertaining himself. He will play with his cars and trucks endlessly on his own. He has also always loved books and spends large chunks of time just looking at books. I love watching him as he flips through books, taking in all the illustrations and repeating the words from memory. In those moments, I envy the life in his man bubble. Also – he’s been obsessively wearing that Doc McStuffins coat.

What We Ate:

Saturday: Can’t remember. I do remember it wasn’t as simple as I usually do.

Sunday: Leftover Pav bhaji, with a mango salad on the side.

Monday: Lentils with Roasted Broccoli and Goat Cheese from Dinner Illustrated. On Saturday, we were running some errands in a certain part of town so we stopped at the fancy grocery store -kind of a local Whole Foods. It had been so long since I had been to a grocery store, that I went a little crazy and stocked up on all manner of grains, beans, and legumes. Also – they seemed to have the entire Bob’s Red Mill catalogue in stock… and I might have gone a little overboard. If I could only shop one brand for the rest of my life, it might just be Bob’s Red Mill. Anyhow, one of the things I picked up were French Lentils (Puy lentils) – I had long heard about these as being a really sturdy lentil, but never had the opportunity to try them. I made a recipe from Dinner Illustrated, and I think they are now my favorite lentils – they don’t get mushy and taste somehow fresher than brown lentils. Definitely going to try to find more ways to use them.

Tuesday: Salmon and ginger green beans.

Wednesday: Asparagus “Risotto” from Milk Street’s Cook-ish. The Risotto is in quotation marks because this recipe actually uses Israeli couscous – another purchase on my exuberant grain shopping spree. Cook-ish is the latest in my obsession with Milk Street cook books. The recipes are supposedly very simple with not a whole lot of ingredients.

Thursday: Ordered Foodhini. Foodhini is a company that delivers food prepared by immigrants. They currently have chefs from Laos, Afghanistan, The Ivory Coast, and Eritrea. It was our first time ordering, so we tried something from every country. It was all really delicious.

Friday: Pizza and Toy Story (the first one). Watching the featurette on Toy Story, I am reminded about how utterly groundbreaking this film was. They showed clips of the animators working, and I think it’s the first time I fully grasped the fact that a lot of the animation was done by manipulating numbers.

Weekly recap + what we ate: Back to school!!!!

A welcome sight – the school bus fleet back on the roads! And also – the trees starting to bloom!

On Monday, the nine year old went back to in person school. It’s such a fraught decision, and no one-size fits all choice; every family needs to see what is best for them. So we looking at CDC guidelines and weighing our sense of risk against the stress that distance learning was causing for everyone – we knew that sending her back was the right choice for our family. She was so happy to see her friends again, though only about a third of her class elected to return to in person learning. The look of joy on her face at the end of every day helps me know that we made the right choice. At least the right choice for now. It might not be the right choice in two weeks, or three week, or what not, but it is the right choice for now.

So this week was about, again, adjusting and finding a new rhythm.

There is the commute to school. I don’t love having to drive up and down the freeway four times a day – actually only twice because I come home on local roads – but it felt like a more controlled environment than the school bus.

There is the morning routine and having to get used to leaving the house again.

There is the way my day is now defined by drop off and pick ups – which I think is helpful for me to focus my energy, but at the same time I still feel a little lost on how best to use the time.

I’ve decided that I want to visit as many of the parks in our county as possible, so after drop off, I will take the four year old and the baby to a playground.

The baby is frighteningly adept at climbing play structures. She loves going down slides. The four year old has gotten used to being asked to catch her at the bottom. He stands there with his arm outstretched as she come wooshing down the slide, colliding with him. He valiantly tries to keep upright while not letting his little sister hit the ground, and usually he succeeds. Watching sibling interaction has been one of the great joys of the pandemic.

My phone finally had to be replaced this week. I’ve had the same iPhone 6 for almost five years and The Husband tells me that it’s time. I’m a little resentful because I feel like things should last longer than five years, but the touch screen stopped working, so I guess he’s right. I tried to get by using voice command for a while, but it was getting a little ridiculous.

The whole process of getting a new phone was somewhat frustrating. I remember it being a lot easier five years ago – but now it seems that you need a lot more additional things just to be able to function. I feel like a curmudgeon about the whole thing.

Anyhow, I have a new phone and everything transferred smoothly, except for my Whatsapp which I didn’t realize had to be backed up separately. Oops. Actually there is something almost disappointing in how seamless my new phone set itself up. The new phone looks almost exactly like my old phone and I find myself missing that sense of “new” that usually comes with upgrading devices. It’s an odd sensation – like the new phone is wearing the same clothes as the old phone.

Some fun weekend adventures:

The husband had to work over the weekend, so I took the kids to the local Botanical Gardens and playground. So many signs of spring! The nine year old spotten some frog eggs in the stream. There was sunshine and fresh air and trees still bare, but starting to bud. The baby went down the slides at the big kids playground. Not the two story high one, but the smaller big one.

And there was this meditation that I found lovely:

On Sunday, we tried to take the kids to watch planes land; there is a playground near the airport where you can almost get your eyebrows shaved by landing planes. Unfortunately the parking lot was full, so we went to a playground around the corner though the view of planes wasn’t as spectacular at that playground. On the way, we got milkshakes and fries. It was probably in truth a touch too cold for milkshakes, but they were still tasty.

Steak ‘n’ Shake! Mid-afternoon indugence.

The baby has started asking to wear a mask when we go out. By “ask” I mean she hands it to us and makes her little insistent seal barking sounds. (She is still not talking, though she will repeat “dada” and “mmmm” (milk), and “baba” (for bao bao, Mandarin for “Pick me up” or “Hug)). I feel a little self conscious about her wearing a mask; is it overkill? – but on the other hand, she will have to start wearing one in six months, so I’m glad that she is okay with it, and it seems safe.

Fun project: Inspired by a conversation with my friend Kristen, who is a preschool teacher – I decided I wanted to try my hand at making butter. Holy cow it actually works! I wasn’t sure it was going to work because it took a lot of shaking and since I used a stainless steel jar I couldn’t see the progress. The kids lost interest after a couple minutes, so I kept going. It was a somewhat act of faith for me to keep shaking. I had made whipped cream from shaking before, so going from liquid cream to the smooth and thick whipped cream was expected. But then I thought – where does it go from here? And I keep shaking and shaking, the jar is soundless as I shake it. And then it becomes this kind of rough, chunky whipped cream. And I think, “That looks gross….” But I close up the jar and keep shaking. And at some point, there is a sloshing sound, and I open up the jar and see:

I’m sure there is some kind of metaphor here for theatre and art – about shaking and shaking and and having faith that the results will be consumable, even if the midway point looks chunky and clunky and messy.

What we ate:

Saturday: Pasta with jarred red sauce.

Sunday: Tofu banh mi Bowls with noodles

Monday:Chickpeas and Kale on Barley from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Fast.

Tuesday: Shrimp, Fennel and White Bean Stew from Mark Bittman’s VB6 cookbook.

Wednesday: Green beans and tofu stir fry w/ brown rice.

Thursday: Pav Bhaji from Meera Sodha’s Made in India. The Husband called this Indian Manwich – basically it’s a vegetable mash of eggplant, cauliflower, and potatoes cooked in cumin, coriander, garam masala, tumeric and amchur (we used chana masala powder instead). The whole things is slathered on buns and eaten topped with red onion and cilantro with a squeeze of lemon. Everyone asked that this be put into our meal rotation!

Friday: pizza and That Darn Cat! I’ve been borrowing from the library some of the Disney movies that I watched growing up. The four year old thought this movie was hilarious.

Books read in February 2020

A good month for reading – lots of audio books!

Dear Mrs. Bird by AJ Pearce, read by Anna Popplewell – Light hearted novel set in London during WWII, about a young lady who aspires to be a journalist, but ends up writing for a women’s magazine and secretly answering letters from readers. It was a light story, in that stiff upperlip British way where tragedy comes and goes but everyone manages to keep going with their lives.

Welcome to the Goddamn Ice Cube by Blair Braverman – 6h 39mins. Braverman is a dogsledder and journalist and in this memoir, she recounts her personal journey as a young adult as she moves from cold environment to cold environments. There was something really immediate about reading this book as we went through a cold, snowy snap – I kept thinking, “Well at least it’s not so cold here that the dog food freezes before you can get it from the boiling pot to the dog bowl.” I envy her bold sense of adventure and her fearless impulses, but at the same time, there were moments when I seriously questioned her judgement and some of her recollections it made me nervous for young women trying to assert themselves in a world that still wants to make them victims in so many ways.

Fleishman is in Trouble by Taffy Brodesser-Anker – (hard copy). I enjoyed this book more than an other I’ve read in a long time. One day Toby Fleishman’s ex-wife just drops their two kids off with him and then goes AWOL. The novel follows Toby as he tries to juggle family, work, and love life while trying to figure out what happened to his ex-wife. I first hear about it on the Everything is Fine podcast, on an episode when they talked about how wonderful it was to read a book where middle aged women were seen as having an advantage over younger women. Books about midlife crises and suburban moms sometimes really grate on me; I often find them full of privilege and self indulgence. But for some reason this one really resonated with me. I felt so understood from the moment in the first chapter that the main character says:
“I was now what was a called a stay-at-home mother, a temporary occupation with no prospect of promotion that worked so hard to differentiate itself from job-working that it confined me to semantic house arrest, though certainly I was allowed to carpool and go to the store.”
I think this book perfectly captures the ridiculous yet heartfelt angst of trying to get through life as an adult, the confusion of waking up one day in a life that you don’t quite understand, even though you feel like you did all the right things. This book was one of those “neglect your children for an afternoon so you can finish it” experiences for me.

A Rule Against Murder by Louise Penny – 7h 49m Book four of the Inspector Gamache series. I wasn’t entirely convinced about how the mystery itself played out, but I really enjoyed the way Penny gradually reveals characters and their backstories. I’ve been working my way through this mystery series. There is a certain laconic pacing that makes for slow reading, but that is part of the reason I find these books such a comfort read.

The Good Neighbor:The Life and Work of Fred Rogers by Maxwell King read by Levar Burton – I really enjoyed listening to this audiobook. Growing up, we didn’t have a television until I was seven years old, but I do remember watching some of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. I remember actually being quite unnerved by the puppets. Hearing about how Fred Rogers came to create his famous television program and the philosophies behind his work, made me think about the choices I myself make with my children, particularly this pandemic year where we are re-thinking what we want as an educational experience for our children. Rogers’ insistence that a child’s emotional well being should be prioritized above learning numbers and letters, helped me tamp down any anxiety I might have over a “missing year” with the schools being closed.

Utopia for Realists by Rutger Bregman, read by Peter Noble – I tend to be left leaning, no surprise there, so a lot of the ideas presented in this book by the Dutch historian and writer are kind of my catnip. Universal basic income, open borders, fifteen hour work week, etc. I mean this book is pretty much preaching to the choir here, though I do appreciate knowing that Bregman presents research to show that such things are actually beneficial and not just pipe dreams. He also attributes the left’s inability to bring about change to their lack of radicalism, pointing out that Trump found a lot of support in the far right wing because his rhetoric was so outlandish. Bregman urges the left to be just as outlandish and crazy as the right – the anemic, polite posturing will not shift any needles. Food for thought.

Weekly recap + what we ate – getting out of town

Sunrise on the C&O Canal tow path and the lockhouse where we stayed.

The nine year old had a surprise non-instructional day at the beginning of the week, followed by two days of asynchronous learning. In layman’s terms that meant she didn’t have to go to school for three days. So we left town.

I booked us to stay a night at a lockhouse. These are historic houses along the C&O canal that were built to house the lock keepers and their families. Seven of them have been restored and furnished with period appropriate furniture by the C&O Canal Trust, and can be booked for a stay. I had read about these a while ago and something about the historic and rustic nature of them really appealed to the romantic in me. So when I was looking for a place to take the kids for an overnight, a lockhouse struck me as the perfect pandemic get away since they are remote and only one party stays in at a time. So after dithering for a couple days, I booked one about an hour away and packed the kids up for an adventure.

We first went hiking at Catoctin National Park. I chose a hike that was less than a mile so that the baby would be able to walk the whole way. The hike was colder than I had anticipated – I had forgotten how quickly a change in altitude and make temperatures plummet. There was still a good amount of snow cover on the ground. In the end, though, we didn’t get too far. We came across a pile of boulders and the two older kids just wanted to spend their time climbing and scrambling. Seeing them figure out how to scale to heights was actually pretty awesome.

We got to the lockhouse mid afternoon. It was spare and rustic, and oh so quiet. The house had electricity, but no indoor plumbing. I knew about this going in, but I don’t think I fully realized the simple luxury of indoor plumbing until I had to spend a day without it. I had anticipated having to use a portable toilet, but then there were things like washing dishes and hands, draining pasta, and brushing your teeth, that are definitely easier when the water has a place to drain away.

We spent our daylight hours strolling along the Potomac and walking along and in the abandoned locks. The locks have been abandoned for almost 100 years an in that time forests and meadows have grown in them. Looking at them, I was really struck by how little time it takes for a forest to grow if people let nature do its thing.

In the evening we made a fire – I hadn’t brought marshmallows because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make a fire. The kids really wanted one, though, so I did make one after dinner. And then another one the next morning. I did have some sliced apples, so I wrapped them in foil, brushed them with honey and bacon grease (the only kind of fat/oil I had on hand) and cooked them over the campfire. They were really tasty. Though, I suspect most things are tasty when eaten outdoors and by a roaring fire.

We didn’t sleep much that night. The kids weren’t used to being somewhere so dark and quiet and it was a little unsettling for them. We ended up sleeping with the lights on. I felt for sure that the trip was a failure, but in the morning, they were all smiles and excited to explore and run around outside.

It was by no means a fancy get away. But it was quiet and screen free (though, I did read my book on my phone after the kids went to bed). We hadn’t gone away since before the pandemic had hit, and I was getting a little stir crazy, to be honest. It was just nice to be surrounded by a different four walls for a little while and to imagine what life was like in this little community of Four Locks.

On the way home we stopped at Antietam Battlefield. I was never much of a Civil War buff, but being at Antietam, and seeing how vast an expanse it was, and thinking of the number of lives that were lost in this one battle… it made me realize how crazy difficult and horrible the Civil War must have been. I mean any war, really. But thinking about how lacking in technology they were and how difficult military strategy must have been given that lack…

Burnside Bridge and the sycamore tree that saw the Civil War.

And it’s not a road trip without a stop for ice cream. Two cones and a milkshake for less than seven dollars. We were definitely not in the city.

This week’s drawing assignment: We got to work in colour finally! We used pencil crayon (which, I think are called colored pencils in America; pencil crayons is what I called them growing up in Canada). Working in colour is definitely harder than one would think. Like learning to draw, I’m learning that working in colour is about breaking down what we see into parts rather than thinking of them as a whole. So, for example from below, shadows are not just darker versions of the table, but their own colour. Something being darker or lighter is not a matter of black and white, but of blue, purple, yellow, red… it is about the colour, not the light. Just as with drawing I had to learn to draw the lines of the object, not the object itself, I think the same applies to using colour – you draw what is there, not what you think is there.

The rest of the week seemed pretty heavy on life admin stuff as we get ready for the nine year old to go back to school. It fills me with excitement, worry, doubt and hope. As we round the corner of one year of staying at home, I’ve felt like the past twelve months have felt impossibly long but also it’s gone in a blink of an eye. I feel like I’m in much the same place I was, but the baby has gone from being immobile to scaling table tops and the middle child is (mostly) potty trained. Things move forward, even when I can’t.

More signs of the onward trudge of time – this tree that I took a picture of last month is no longer quite so bare:

What We Ate:

Saturday: Can’t remember. Maybe takeout?

Sunday: Roast Cod and Vegetables.

Monday: Tortellini and Ravioli. Carrot Sticks and snacks. Dinner at the lockhouse.

Tuesday: Breakfast Sandwiches. The Husband made dinner.

Wednesday: Penne with Broccolini and Goat cheese from Milk Street Tuesday Nights.

Thursday: Cauliflower Curry Soup from ATK Vegan for Everyone.

Friday: Pizza (homemade. I put anchovies on it, but I had forgotten which side and got it mixed up…. that was not popular) and Loony Tunes.

Haikus from February

Tree branches frozen,
Encased in a crystal sleeve
Like the Snow Queen’s wand.

The afternoon moon
still among cumulous drifts,
mottled white cloud-like.

She sings wordless songs
of adventure and nature
things only she knows

The last stubborn snow
Persists in fifty degrees
Unmeltingly solid.

Persistent snow drift
Every day a little less
melting into March

Sycamore limbs stretch
Spreading to full potential
given space and time

Quiet and busy
toilet paper on the floor
A roll strewn with joy.

Urban park mural
So bright on a winter’s day
punchy, popping hues

Weary yet hopeful
Welcome to the human race
Solidarity

Weekly recap + what we ate – Spring peeks in

In a final attempt to get a hike in for February, we took the kids to a local woodland sanctuary. Though when we got there, half of it was closed for restoration. Nonetheless, we did enjoy some lovely signs of spring and had a nice amble/romp through the part that was open. We also saw some interesting rough shelters. More and more we are letting the baby walk. She is usually good for about 45 minutes of walking, admittedly at her own pace, so we don’t necessarily get too far.

Last weekend I introduced the kids to the ten hour BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. I had forgotten how much of the movie is Colin Firth staring broodingly, and how very little he actually speaks. And how swoonworthy I find that. Though I’m sure in real life such behaviour would actually frustrate me greatly. But I guess that what’s literature (and excellent adaptation of literature) is for.

sleeping baby, cuddling nine year old, and Colin Firth. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Last week, I had an opportunity to be a guest for an opera company’s Zoom workshop for children. I was asked to talk about stage management. Dusting off my stage manager’s brain after almost a year felt like revisiting an old friend. I pulled out my work tote bags and my SM kit to see what was there for potential show and tell. I seem to have misplaced my stopwatch and my drawing template. I also had to create some marked up score pages. I had, in a fit of cleaning last fall, thrown out a whole box of old scores that I had been keeping for who knows what reason. Those scores were almost twenty years old and I decided they were no longer serving me. Welp…. I’m still on the fence as to whether or not I regret tossing them – the inner wanna be purger felt quite liberated to have the space back. But then something like this comes along and the inner “keep it just in case”-er feels vindicated.

So I mourned a little and then got to work making a fake score page. There is something so soothing about placing calls in a score – the orderly calm of it, the rhythm of writing, and sticking…. I’m sure I used to take for granted the great satisfaction I get from putting post-its in the right place.

Initially I was a little nervous about the class because I feel like a lot of what we do as stage managers is more internal than demonstrative. It’s not the glamorous storytelling work of singers or dancers or designers. Do we tell stories? We certainly help create and communicate stories. In the end, we taught the kids about stage directions and taking blocking. And also how to say “Thank you, five!” I feel like though these are not creative skills, they are probably good life skills.

Art homework this week was bout the technique of frottage – basically making rubbings, very like what one did in elementary school with leaves and what not. I had hoped to get some outdoor samples for my rubbings – like leaves, or bark, or rocks or sidewalk – but the weather was quite wet all week. Instead I had to look for indoor objects of texture- which is not as obvious as one would think. It seems our current domestic life is one of smoothness and lack of texture. I became quite obsessed with finding items with words that made good rubbing projects. I went around the house touching all the words or lettering I found, to see if it would make a good frottage project. All the letter hunting inspired me to this drawing which I call “Alphabet Soup.” I think, if I were to do it again, I would add a spoon or some more objects of context.

I am trying to mentally prepare to send the nine year old back to school. There is a lot of information out there, but also so much is unknown.

Fun Sunshiny things:

I bought the nine year old one of those shirts with mermaid sequins – the kind where you can flip them back and forth and they change colours. The other day she was wearing her shirt and:

…. she became a human, late afternoon sun disco ball! This shirt and the nine year old’s discovery of the science of reflection – has brought many impromptu moments of sparkle.

Speaking of late afternoon sun and the nine year old, here is another moment of “resistance”. I feel like either it’s a statement about homework, or idly surfing while doing homework.

I put the baby on the tricycle this week for the first time. She seemed to love it. Both the tricycle and the helmet were from when the nine year old was a toddler, and now all three children have gotten use of them.

The four year old peeled a sweet potato all by himself for the first time. He was so proud of himself. I will say he’s been the most reluctant chore-doer of the kids. Even the baby loves to do chores. I read this article from NPR last week about children and chores, and the article talks about giving children three subtasks per hour – the idea being that these really small yet specific jobs helps to foster a sense of inclusion and responsibility. I think this might be the way to go with the four year old.

Pre-COVID I would sometimes go to the library and sit and read magazines for an hour or two. I love magazines. I love leafing through the glossy pages. I love the bite sized articles. I love the longer, more in depth articles. I love the shiny perfect pictures. I love information consumption. I love, let’s be honest, not having to pay for my own subscriptions and not having the paper clutter in the house. Needless to say leisurely magazine reading hasn’t happened for a while. So when I peeked into the Little Free Library by the park this week and saw a copy of Real Simple, I snatched it up. Never mind that it was four months old and talked about Thanksgiving. My brain kind of reacted as if the magazine was a Twix and I had been on a sugar fast. Immediately I pictured myself sitting in a comfy chair with a hot beverage, idly turning pages while planning meals and life organization tactics. This relaxing magazine reading with my cup of tea experience I’d envisioned has – surprise! – yet to happen. But there is a lot of hope invested in that magazine. If I can manage to keep the kids from hiding it.

One last message that appeared in my life this week, peeking at me from the edge of some fabric I was sewing into masks:

What We Ate:

Saturday- Sausage and grapes – the Husband cooked. This is one of my favorite dishes that I never remember to make.

Sunday- Steamed rice and veggies with Tofu from Milk Street Tuesday Nights

Monday- mushroom noodles from Milk Street Fast and Slow

Tuesday- Coconut cod curry and rice from Made in India

Wednesday- fennel and cannelloni bean soup from Milk Street Tuesday Nights.

Thursday- quinoa nori wraps from Mark Bittman’s Dinner for Everyone

Friday: pizza (with anchovies!) and Annie

Weekly recap + what we ate – winter sunshine

Even with snow on the ground, we explored a new park last weekend. I haven’t quite been able to have a proper woody hike this month, but I did try really hard to make it outside every day for at least twenty minutes. This park came up on the county recs Winter Activity Bingo sheet. The park had been newly renovated with new play structures and some eye popping murals. The murals were such a joyful burst of colour on a drab winter day.

The kids had a particularly fun time on this disc swing. There is something really happy about seeing two kids on the same swing, the older one holding the younger one up. The swing went pretty high and I found myself a little anxious, but then I reminded myself of the laws of physics.

By midweek the temperatures were into the 40s and the snow was almost all melted. I’m trying to develop a personal metric for when I need to wear my winter coat. 40s is definitely too warm for my winter coat. High 30s is puffer vest layered under winter coat. Low 30s is all that + fleece, boots, and silk long underwear. Hats and gloves throughout, though.

But, signs of spring continue to be seen:

Art class assignment this week was to adopt an artist. This was mine:

I chose Magritte. Ultimately this drawing felt a little derivative to me. I feel like I copied his subject matter more than his style. Though the instructor said with surrealists subject and style are intertwined more so than a lot of other genres.

I had two bunches of kale growing limp in the fridge, so I made kale chips. The last time I had kale chips was over a year ago. Some random friends from college all ended up living in this area and we decided – after ten years – that we should actually get together. Who knew it was the last dinner party we’d have in quite some time.

I’ve had mixed success with kale chips, but this batch turned out pretty good. I seasoned them with coconut oil and curry powder and baked at 275 for 30 mins, flipping half way through. I think I had always baked them at too high a heat and they always burnt. The America’s Test Kitchn recipe said bake at 200 for an hour, but I felt like the results weren’t spectacularly better enough to merit the extra half hour in the oven.

Interesting read this week about why we shouldn’t celebrate the death of Rush Limbaugh. This sentence particularly resonated with me:
“I’ve stopped referring to people as “racists,” “misogynists,” or “homophobes,” detailing their words and actions rather than reducing them to labels. After all, when you call me a name — “snowflake,” “social justice warrior” — I stop listening. I don’t think I’m an outlier.”

This also resonated with me, but for different reasons: I’m a short afternoon walk and you are putting too much pressure on me.

The four year old saw this heart in the wild and made me take a picture:

Weird food thing of the week: Dumpling water soup. We ate the last of our frozen dumplings from our favorite dumpling house this week. After we had the dumplings, I ladled some of the water from boiling the dumplings into a mug and sipped the hot liquid. It’s a habit I learned from my parents. On the one hand it’s a very frugal thing to do, but on the other hand it feel really indulgent.

What We Ate:

Saturday: Roasted Shrimp and Broccoli

Sunday: Pad Thai (recipe from ATK Vegan for Everyone) with sauteed green beans on the side.

Monday: Brussel Sprouts Risotto with dried figs. From Bittman’s VB6 Cookbook.

Tuesday: Black Bean, Corn, Quinoa Salad with lime dressing from ATK Vegan for Everyone.

Wednesday: Salmon burgers and roasted carrots.

Thursday: Cilantro Scallion Chickpeas from Milk Street Fast and Slow. The baby loved this. And the chick peas were the perfect texture. I had been struggling with making chick peas in the InstantPot, and this time they came out uniformly tender. I think adding baking soda as recommended in the cookbook really made a difference in texture.

Friday: pizza (take out) and From the Earth to the Moon – documentary about space travel. I hope that we never look on space travel with anything less than awe and amazement.

Slicing Oranges

There is a lot of citrus in the house these days. There are blood oranges, minneolas, clementines, naval oranges – some even sent from my parents in California, tangarines… It’s the season, and in the depths of winter, they make for a sweet-sour juicy treat.

After dinner we usually have fruit. The other day, the nine year old took the oranges into the kitchen, sliced them, and brought them back, all laid out on a plate.

I took one look and clutched my pearls.

She had cut them into half moon wheels. This was not what I was used to.

I can be a little…. inflexible in the kitchen. The Husband tells me I have a lot of food rules.

“You have to cut it into smiles,” I insisted.

The Husband said, “You can’t tell her how to cut an orange.”

“Yes I can. Oranges are cut into wedges. Or else you can’t put them in your mouth and smile orange smiles.”

“Yes, I can!” the nine year old said, and proceeded to put a half wheel between her teeth and pull her lips over the edges. “Theee?” she said. “Orange thmiles!”

I shook my head, “No, no, no! This is not how you cut oranges to eat after dinner.”

The Husband took a patient breath. “How do you cut them? Can you show us?”

So I took another orange and proceeded to cut it in half from the pedical through the core. Then each half, I cut into three wedges for a total of six smiles. Satisfied with having my teachable moment of the day, we finished our fruit and moved on.

But later that week, as I was slicing oranges for lunch, I thought about it. I asked myself, “Why can’t oranges for after dinner be cut into half moons? I mean it certainly is prettier and makes for nice garnish. It surely doesn’t taste differently?”

So I decided to try it. I took an orange and cut it around its equator into slices, the segments radiating from the core like the sun rays. Then I cut those in half. So far so good. As I picked up the half wheel, I realized that cutting ihe orange in half wheels was a whole different eating experience; rather than struggling with stuffing a huge segment of orange in my mouth, I could peel back the rind and pull the orange segments apart, one small triangle at a time. This also proved a much easier way to share the orange slices with the Baby. It wasn’t what I was used to, but it worked rather well for getting food into bite-sized segments. Well then.

Later that day, I went up to my daughter and said, “Honey? I’m sorry. You can slice your orange however you want.”

Weekly Recap + what we ate – still winter

The weekend arrived… plink plink plink. The sound of freezing rain. It covered everything in a sheen of warped glass. The Husband, from the Midwest, is a big believer of scraping ice when you can, not when you have to. (Actually this is his philosophy for many things). So every couple of hours he went and scraped off the cars. Towards the evening I put my earphones on, bundled up and took a turn at ice scraping. It turns out to be a rather soothing and invigorating task. Moreso when I only did it once the whole day. The slow, persistence of ice scraping and the puffer coat cocoon that encased me allowed me to acheive a sense of flow.

Of course I would probably feel differently if I were in a public parking lot at eleven pm after a long rehearsal. It does somewhat inspire me to scrape the ice off my car during a dinner break to make that 11am experience not so prolonged. That whole future self thanking past self thing….

Monday was President’s Day. Originally I had wanted to go hiking, but snow and ice made that not a great idea. So we had a cozy day at home, doing I don’t know what. The husband and 4 year old planted scallion bulbs. We played Parcheesi. We did manage a walk mid afternoon.

We had a lovely respite from the freezing weather with two days of sunshine and weather in the mid 30s – 40s. I took full advantage of this and took the kids to the playground. I’ve realized that three weeks of quarantine and then weeks of unending snow, freezing rain, and general wet weather has made me a little less precious about letting the kids play on a wet muddy playground. The mud will wash and things will dry. Of course things will probably irreparably dirty, but… oh well.

The two days of sunshine were followed by more snow. Enough to have a snow day in the city, though our school district continued to have virtual schooling. I miss the idea of a snow day. The things that bothers me somewhat is that the school district closed the Equity Hubs and the schools that were hosting care programs. Understandable given the weather, but then why not declare it a snow day for everyone? It is not much of an equity hub if the students who rely on it are pushed further behind. This school year has been so hard on everyone. There is a glimmer of hope in that in person schooling is set to begin again next month but even that is

I had my first art assignment. We were to make an abstract drawing by enlarging something, zooming in on the detail.. I chose a frozen raindrop on a branch, though it didn’t turn out to be as abstract as I wanted. Also – the drawing is on 24″ x 18″ paper, and during our critique session in class, I felt like it’s hard to really understand a picture without knowing the original size. I’m growing to love the fuzzy, forgiving nature of working in charcoal. Having a project to work on feels really great right now.

Fun food for Valentine’s Day. My mother makes beautiful food creations. She taught me how to make radish roses and bunny rabbit carrots. And one Thanksgiving she made this amazing fruit turkey. In that spirit, I made the kids special Valentine’s Day ramen.

Indoor art activity. I find letting the kids do art projects very stressful… the mess!! But they have fun and it’s a good way to pass the time indoors.

This week in the 4 year old’s preschool cirriculum we are talking about the five senses. Later in the week, his older sister was reading Little Red Riding Hood for class (What big eyes you have! What big ears you have! etc.), and the 4 year old says, “Mommy… The wolf is using his four senses!”

What We Ate:

Sunday: Dumplings (the frozen ones from our favorite dumpling place) and braised bok choy. While not as good as getting them from the restaurant, they were much better than any other frozen dumplings you can get at the supermarket.

Sunday: 1 Hour Vegetable Pot Pie from Minimalist Baker – vegan recipe, but I did use regular milk and butter. I love this recipe because it really does take an hour to make, and always tastes like you slaved for hours making it.

Monday: Vegetable Curry with Lemon Peanut Rice from Fresh India. I might have to buy that cookbook – everything I’ve made from it has been really good. Also I managed to find fresh curry leaves – often one of those “optional” ingredients – and I was excited to use them. They made things taste… I don’t know.. fresher? Hard to describe, but I could definitely tell the difference.

Tuesday: Mushroom Ragout with noodles from Mark Bittman’s Dinner for Everyone. This recipe is in the Mapo section – it’s Bittman’s vegan take on Mapo Tofu. The four year old loves mushrooms and devoured this.

Wednesday: Roasted perch and catfish and roasted veggies. For Ash Wednesday.

Thursday: Vegetable Barley Soup from America’s Test Kitchen’s Vegan for Everyone. I didn’t have turnips, so I subbed radish and it was really tasty. Good food for a cold snowy day.

Friday: Takeout pizza and Brigadoon. Despite being disappointed that so many of my favorite songs were cut (Come to me, My Mother’s Wedding Day, From this Day On… actually I love all the songs in this score), I still really enjoyed this movie. There’s Gene Kelly for one – so elegant and poised. And also – plaid leggings on the men! It was LuLa Roe worthy.