>Bye bye, Sweet Bunny.

>He was mischievous, our little Peanut. He was tiny enough to stick his little bunny head into a box of Mike & Ikes or a bag of Chex Mix, sneaky enough to grab a chip from La Petite’s roommate (see her in the picture, not even noticing), and sweet enough that no one could be mad at him when he did.

He lived in a house of Packer backers, and somehow found his little furry way into the heart of the excitement and fandom.


He wasn’t the Easter Bunny; in fact, we had to keep the Easter baskets out of his reach. See reference above to Mike & Ikes? Jelly Beans and lollipops could suffer the same fate.


He did, however, look adorable posing for pictures in an Easter basket — when he wasn’t nibbling on the sides, that is.
Our sweet funny bunny Peanut, so much character in such a little package, died Friday. He’d been sick for a few days, and he passed away in La Petite’s arms as we packed the car to bring them home for Easter weekend.

Bye bye, little Peanut. Join Beast, Tiny Bunny, and the others in that bunny hutch in the clouds. We’ll miss you.

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>A Victory Garden in the Family History

>Husband took a day trip last weekend to a nearby city in order to photograph gravestones for his family history web site. He invited me along; I declined, preferring to start readying my garden. He invited Amigo; Amigo wanted to stay home and start his spring break by relaxing. Husband then called his mom and dad. They initially said yes, and then his dad backed out in favor of a nap or two.

On the road between here and there, Mother-In-Law talked about her childhood in Milwaukee. She meant the big city itself, not a suburb. MIL spent her formative years on Milwaukee’s north side, around 41st Street between Silver Spring and Capitol Drive. They lived in a small house, and her father bought the two lots on either side when the owners were in arrears on their taxes. “He got them cheap!” as she told Husband. Using the extra lots, the family started what she refers to as their Victory Farm in the sity of Milwaukee.

They grew vegetables, they raised chickens (she remembers somewhere in the range of 500!), and near the back of their lot, they grew the grain to feed the chicks. She, as the only daughter, canned the blueberries and raspberries as they ripened. When they had more than they needed, she would work out trades with the neighbors and/or the small grocers in the neighborhood. She remembers trading berries she’d canned for a box (crate? case?) of peaches. She canned the peaches and started the cycle all over again. She threw a few peach pits in the backyard, and lo and behold, two peach trees came up. As they began to bear fruit, the family didn’t need to buy or trade for peaches any more, either. The peach trees were a hardy variety, a Rocky Mountain type, so they held up well in this cold Wisconsin weather.

I’ve read that at one time Victory Gardens produced 40% of the nation’s food supply. That figure sounded awfully high to me, but if a lot of city families did what my MIL’s family did, 40% becomes more believable. MIL told Husband that the family started their Victory Farmette just before World War II. It must have been fairly well established by the time the Victory Garden became the trendy thing to do.

My backyard plot – call it Kitchen Garden, Recession Garden, or just my patch of dirt – won’t come near Victory Garden quantities. I can only hope it’ll grow stories that I can tell my kids when they have kids of their own. Maybe they’ll talk about how their mother liked to play in the dirt all summer long and added home grown spinach to everything they ate!

Happy Love Thursday, everyone, and keep telling the family tales. That’s the kind of growth our country will always need.

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>Pork BBQ in crockpot – or something like that

>I confess. As with many of my stock dishes, there is no recipe for this one. I start with the pork roast and add various ingredients until it seems right. Amounts? I usually build it early in the morning (read: pre-coffee), and I don’t take the time to measure very much. But it works for our family – except for Amigo, who isn’t fond of it – so I thought I’d share.

Crockpot Pork BBQ on a bun.

No, the crockpot doesn’t go on a bun! But I couldn’t think of any other way to phrase it.

Ingredients:
1 pork roast (a 4 lb roast serves me family of four with plenty of leftovers)
2 cups beef broth or 2 cups water + beef bouillon mix
1 stalk celery, diced
1/2 cup onion, diced
These are the main components. Now for the sauce. Enterprising crockpot cooks can make the pork plain and add sauce later according to people’s tastes, add a commercial BBQ sauce, or create their own concoction. I combine the last two options.

Daisy’s add-ins
brown sugar
thyme
honey
molasses
ketchup or tomato paste or nothing tomato at all (I’m unpredicatable in the kitchen, and it’s okay).
Sweet Baby Ray’s BBQ Sauce

Cook on low 8-10 hours or on high 4-6 hours. Baste periodically to keep meat moist. Close to serving time, thicken liquid with your favorite thickener (I like cornstarch and cold water mix, stirred into the hot liquid and then simmered for 30 minutes).

Serve on the best buns or sandwich rolls you can buy or bake. This meat is often heavy and moist and will soak through cheap buns. Go ahead: splurge!

I’ve considered doubling this recipe for a crowd, but I haven’t hosted any crowds lately. Hosts and hostesses could even make two kinds in two crocks: one plain, one BBQ sauce. The possibilities are endless! I’ve heard this works with chicken, too, for those don’t eat pork.

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>R & R; I think I’m getting this technique down.

>I’m getting better at this relaxation concept. Today was much more low-key than yesterday.

Housework: not much. Made cinnamon rolls for breakfast to go with the coffee, made supper (with Husband’s help) – home made pizza. Put away the remainder of the clean clothes.

Schoolwork: none. None!!

Relaxation: afternoon nap. Ooh, that felt good.

Garden: It was mighty cold outside and very windy, so I didn’t spend much time on it. I just dug out another wheelbarrow load of compost and dumped it into the garden, and then I loosened what was left in the compost bin with a pitchfork. The compost is really compacted tightly; tough to get out and spread.

Reading material: Started Carry Me Home by Sandra Kring. She’s one of the authors coming to town for our Book Festival later this month. It’s a good book so far: strong story made unique by the point of view from which it’s told.

More reading material: Amigo has a braille copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard, so I sat with him (and my print copy) and we read together for an hour. I hope he doesn’t outgrow this simple pleasure anytime soon.

Simple fun: watched Country Music Awards with Amigo, chatted online with La Petite, sipped a beer with Husband.

Feels like a break, at long last.

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>Whether the weather…

>It’s shovel ready. The economic benefits may be localized (okay, merely personal), but it fits the times. As soon as the weather cooperates, I’m on it.

You guessed it: Daisy’s small but wonderful backyard garden.

I’ve never formally defined it as a Kitchen Garden or a Recession Garden. It is what it is: a backyard garden of vegetables for the family, both human and rabbit residents of our fair home. The plot has grown a little each year we’ve planted it, and we’ve added simple environmentally-friendly tricks along the way. This year our goal is to use the space efficiently and get a better yield.

Here’s the to-do list.
Move walkway boards out of the dirt. These are re-used from an old fence. When it started to fall, we knocked it down the rest of the way and used the boards as stepping “stones” between the veggies.
Move trellises and tomato cages. I’m still doing the research to find better and taller supports for the tomatoes now that I’ve discovered some of the techniques for nurturing them well.
Spread the compost. It’s still in the bin, and I’m eager to get out the soil-ready batch and start anew.
Till. Husband does this. He now has his family’s old rototiller, so we don’t need to rent one any more.
Hook up rain barrel. It’s ready to use; we need to set it on its blocks and direct the downspout into it. Painting optional: I would like to paint it, though.
Buy the seedlings. I have the seeds; the tomato, pepper, and broccoli plants will come later.
Sketch the new layout. I know what I want; I just need to make sure I’m putting it all in the right place this year.
Plant!!

Ta-dah! list:
(That’s the “finished” or “outbox,” for new readers to Compost Happens.)
Make rain barrel! It filled with water during a rainstorm earlier this week; it’s “shovel-ready,” too!
Buy seeds!
Get excited and motivated! Okay, that’s always a given. I’ll never be a farmer, but I do enjoy my tiny plot in the backyard. Playing, er, working in the dirt feels good. Feels right.

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>Hermithood

>I would make a good hermit, I like to think.
We had a half day of school, and I was invited out to lunch twice by difference coworkers. I begged off and came home instead, using La Petite as an excuse. “She’s home for spring break, and I want to spend time with her.” Did they know La Petite didn’t stand a chance of being awake when I got home?
Instead of a fish fry lunch at a nearby restaurant, I made leftover mac & cheese with a can of Diet Coke with lime. It was perfect.
Next I loaded the crockpot with thin-sliced potatoes, turned it to high, and added a few spices. It’ll be scalloped potatoes or a facsimile tonight.
After that, I gathered all the towels and cloth napkins in the house and started a load of laundry.
Then? I settled down on the couch with La Petite (she was awake by that time) and watched Wednesday’s American Idol, which we’d recorded for Amigo.

In the 80s, we called it Cocooning. Stay home, curl up in a blanket, read a book, not go out. Lately we’ve heard about Staycations, but that’s not the same thing. Cocooning is being cozy at home, not leaving the house. It’s kind of a twenty-first century hermithood. Is that a word?

It is now.

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>Family dinner conversation

>

or…Siblings say the darnedest things when they’re old enough

La Petite: I was watching an episode of Bones. It’s all about these great nerdy anthropologists.
Me: I should have been a nerdy anthropologist. That would have been a great career for me.
Amigo: You already have the nerdy part down.
Me: Yes, and I do the nerdy part well, thank you very much.
La Petite: (laughter) Well, they used the word onomatopoeia. I was so happy: a television show that used the word onomatopoeia!
Amigo: I had a weird, nonsensical dream the other night.
La Petite: Nonsensical? Did you just use the word nonsensical in conversation?
Amigo: Yes.
Me: Back to the dream.
Amigo: Petite, I think you’ll like it. Mom might think it’s funny.
Me: Should I leave the room so you two can talk?
Amigo: No, it’s okay. I dreamed that our whole family was in jail, and I don’t know what for, but we were all in jail. And to get out of jail, one of us had to wrestle a giant wild mountain lion and throw it in the toilet and flush it down.
(La Petite mimics muscles, wrestling moves, then nearly collapses with hysterics at the mention of the toilet)
Amigo: So I volunteered to wrestle the mountain lion, and I threw it in the toilet and flushed it, and then we all got out of jail.
(La Petite has to look away and cover her mouth for fear of expelling food due to uncontrollable laughter)
(I try unsuccessfully several times to sip my diet coke, still fearful of squirting refreshing beverage out my nose)
La Petite (eventually, with less snorting): I guess if there’s family court, there can be family jail.
Me: Yes, kiddo, that was nonsensical all right!

Husband doesn’t know what he’s missing when he’s at his train club meetings and doesn’t get to eat supper with us. Wait – maybe he does.

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>Who or what writes these things?

>I think my favorite local Chinese restaurant changed suppliers. Its cookie fortunes make sense less and less often. They are supposed to make some sort of sense or impart a certain wisdom, aren’t they? Last night Husband brought home supper (Dragon and Phoenix: Mmmm) and we had some “What the heck?” reactions to the fortunes.

Husband’s: “You have an unusual understanding of the problems of human relationships.” Really? He’s an engineer, people. He works with technology. Cameras. Television equipment. People, yes, but mostly tech.

But on the other hand…he’s the family spokesperson at IEP meetings. Since we realized that teachers tend to overreact when I, their colleague, bring up difficult points, he’s taken on the Speak Firmly and Carry a Big Folder of Evidence role. He does it well. Maybe there’s an angle to this fortune after all.

Mine: “Smile often, and see what happens.” Huh? This reminds me of the old t-shirt saying: “Smile! People will wonder what you’re up to.” Then there’s “When Irish Eyes are smiling, they’re up to mischief!” I’m not Irish, so that last one doesn’t apply.

But on the other hand…smiling, even when I don’t feel like it, can help raise the mood of my classroom. Kids relax a little, focus better, feel safer. A smile might go a long way during this long, long stretch toward a belated spring break.

La Petite’s: she’s home for a few days to rest and let her body begin recuperating from mononucleosis. We’re helping nurse her back to health by cooking and doing her laundry and taking care of her rabbits – and bringing her Chinese take-out that’s a bit better quality than what she gets near her campus apartment. Her fortune cookie announced: “The secret of success is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.” She looked at it quizzically, read it aloud to us, and shrugged her shoulders. Maybe that philosophy will cure her acid reflux – or not.

But on the other hand…This is a young woman with a very positive body image and no eating disorders. She enjoys her food and doesn’t overeat – well, not often. She’s a pretty decent cook, too, for a university kid. So she’s supposed to let her food duke it out inside her digestive system? What on earth does that mean? This fortune got lost in translation.

Leftovers! Chinese food take-out almost always provides enough for leftovers. I had the Dragon and Phoenix again for lunch today. The cookie with my lunch leftovers proclaimed: “Be patient. Good things come to those who wait.”

This one is simply unoriginal. But on the other hand…I think I’ll sit down, read a book, blog, drink coffee, and wait for the laundry in the dryer to finish. Maybe I can claim the cookie’s advice told me to slow down and take a break.

Or something like that.

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>Comfort Food: Mac & Cheese Bake

>Daughter is home from college with mono. We’re working through Amigo’s annual IEP. Both Husband and I face increasing challenges in our respective workplaces due to layoffs. We’re secure (for now), but the workload increases and the stress grows along with the workload. What to do? Make comfort food for supper, of course! When I found this recipe, I said, “Cheese? We always have plenty of cheese in the house!” I can reach for these ingredients almost any time; they’re staples in my pantry.

Incredibly Delicious Mac & Cheese Bake

1 can condensed cream of chicken (or celery or mushroom) soup
2 cups milk
1 1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 cup shredded Sargento Mexican Blend cheese
1 cup shredded 4-cheese quesadilla blend cheeses (also a Sargento blend)
1 package (16 ounces) macaroni, any shape. I used elbow mac.

1. Cook pasta in a large pot of boiling water. Drain.
2. In a separate bowl, mix condensed soup, cheeses, and milk. Stir in cooked pasta. Pour into a greased casserole dish. Cover.
3. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.

The cheeses called for were actually Parmesan and Mozzarella. I had the taco and quesadilla cheeses in stock already, so I used them rather than buy more cheese. Don’t laugh; I have too much cheese in the refrigerator right now because we stocked up at the grocery store and then the BoyChoir fundraiser of cheese and sausage arrived. Whoa, baby, there are a lot of good Wisconsin snacks in our kitchen! I imagine you could use your favorite cheeses as long as you kept the portions the same.

I used a two-quart casserole dish, and it was woefully too small. I was afraid of spilling every time I stirred. Next time I’ll use something bigger – maybe a 13 X 9 pan instead.

I found this recipe in a collection of coupons and made my own changes (of course, as usual). According to the little piece of not-so-junky junk mail, you can find more “homemade flavor” at HomeMadeSimple.com with a search for the word “recipes.” I haven’t tried it yet. Look out family, I might become scary good in the kitchen!

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>Wardrobe Function, Laundry, and Life

>I complained heartily when La Petite brought her laundry home at Christmas. Next time, I swore, she would do her own. Then she got sick. Mono, the scourge of college students everywhere, chose her as its next target.
She kept insisting she was doing alright, didn’t need us to visit, she was getting enough rest, her professors were letting her catch up at her own pace, and the works. Then she relented. “I’m feeling exceedingly mono-y now. Can I come home to rest for a few days?” Of course, we said yes.
We wanted her to sleep, rest, and sleep some more, the only real cure for infectious mononucleosis. If she came home, we could handle all the cooking, the house would be quieter than her apartment, and I could (gulp) wash her growing heap of dirty clothes. I’m not a Laundry SuperHero Mom, but I have learned to be efficient and even eco-conscious with large loads of the family clothes.

Not all families are so lucky. I remember when we were young newlyweds and used the laundromat down the road. When La Petite was born, we owned a washer (after saving our pennies and quarters!), but we had no dryer. I hung everything on racks and lines in the basement of our apartment. There are families, though, who don’t even have those options.

That’s where Tide’s Loads of Hope program steps in. The program was born in the wake of Hurricane Katrina to assist families displaced by the storm. Tide Loads of Hope helps in the aftermath of a natural disaster by providing clean clothes and a sense of comfort to families in need. Tide Loads of Hope truck or vans, a free mobile laundry service, travel to disaster affected neighborhoods. Hurricanes, floods, you name it, people need to wash their underwear. Taking on one piece of the recovery puzzle helps lighten the load, er, the weight on the shoulders of disaster victims.

In the current disaster, the failing economy, donating to charities is down. But if you can spare a dime, Tide Loads of Hope t-shirts support this worthwhile program. Think about it; the more t-shirts in the dresser, the less often you’ll have to wash!

This Saturday morning as I’m alternating schoolwork with my strategic attack on the family mountain of dirty clothes, I resolve to feel grateful that I have a washer and dryer in the basement and I can deal with this major chore in the comfort of my own home. That in itself takes a load off my mind.

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