Category Archives: family life

>Turkey Noodle Soup Daisy’s Way

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>There are so many different turkey soup recipes out in the blogosphere that it didn’t occur to me to post another one. However, a plurk friend (also butcher and chef) suggested that would be a good post for Thanksgiving week, so I decided to try it.
The hardest thing about posting a soup recipe is that I rarely make a soup the same way twice. Soups usually start with a good stock or broth, add veggies, add meat (maybe), simmer all day, and later add noodles or rice or dumplings. But here goes: the Post-Thanksgiving Turkey Noodle Soup at Daisy’s house.

4-6 cups turkey stock (you did make some with the turkey carcass, didn’t you?!)
1/4 cup peas
1/4 corn
1 large carrot, peeled and diced
1 stalk celery, diced
1/4 cup diced onion
1/4 cup diced green or red pepper
1/2 teaspoon lemon pepper
1 tablespoon fresh herbs: thyme, rosemary, and basil if available
1 tablespoon fresh parsley
1/4 cup spinach (optional: I have some in my freezer from the summer garden)
–any other available leftover vegetables
Oh, and turkey! I almost forgot. 2 cups diced turkey, or more if you like a really meaty soup.

Let all ingredients simmer in crockpot on low for 6-8 hours or on high for 4-5 hours. About an hour before serving, add a generous handful of egg noodles (or other type, but wide egg noodles are my family’s favorite). Turn crockpot to high.

Serve warm with fresh bread and cranberry jello on the side to recreate a bit of the peaceful feeling of Thanksgiving Day.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, everyone.

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>I’ll take Blog Blasts for a thousand, Alex

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>You might be a Jeopardy addict if:

You think the Before and After category on Wheel of Fortune is wimpy (Whistle a Happy Tune-p? Try Notre Dame Fighting Irish Pub).
You phrase average everyday responses in the form of a question.
Your thumbs twitch when you’re watching the show.
Your cell phone’s ring tone is Jeopardy’s “Think Music.”
You talk about Ken Jennings as if you knew him personally (Ken would know this one).
You get upset when a contestant doesn’t know something you think is obvious (It’s Gerald McBoingBoing!).
You know exactly how long the commercial break is between the Final Jeopardy category and Final Jeopardy itself.
You plan suppertime around the evening show.
When the college alumni office calls, you offer to make a donation only if the caller can answer a trivia questions.
Kids tournaments make you wonder how you can get your students on the show.
College tournaments make you want to fix up your daughter with the hot champion who might be almost as smart as she is.
The show “Who wants to be a Millionaire” seems too easy because it offers choices and (gasp) lifelines.

When you pose a question to someone else, you hum the final Jeopardy theme song.

And finally the sign that Merv Griffin counted on you for ratings: You know you’re a Jeopardy addict if —
You actually know the title of the Jeopardy theme song!

This post suggested by Parent Bloggers Network and their partner du jour, Oliebollen.com. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what Oliebollen’s “fun stuff for kids” really means, but they’re offering an Arm Chair Holiday Shopping Sweep that sounds, if not like a Daily Double, pretty darn fun!
Oh, the theme song? Hint: Merv Griffin’s wife. What is……

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>NaBloPoMoPhoBia: Sandwiches.

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>No, not the PBJ kind. This sandwich is generational. We’re caring for our kids, teens and twenty-somethings that they are, and caring for our parents at the same time.

Both sets of parents are moving.

Husband’s parents are moving out of their home of forty-odd years. They are life-long packrats. They’ve been the type to hold onto everything, stock the shelves in the basement, fill the freezer, keep their sons’ toys and never, ever throw anything away. Getting them to purge the place and prepare to move into a condo has been like pulling teeth from a shark; every time we empty a room of “stuff” they seem to grow more.

Husband moved all of his personal possessions out of their home years ago, successfully purging anything without value. The mouse-eaten pup tent joined the trash can. The old broken airplane models did, too. The trains? He still plays with those, and it’s okay. They’re small (HO scale).

His brother ten years younger and just a tad OCD, wasn’t quite as good about leaving home. His toys and games were still in the closet of his childhood bedroom. Husband filled our minivan with them and dropped them off at the brother’s house for our nieces and nephew to enjoy. We hope our sister-in-law still likes us after that stunt.

To make a long and tedious story shorter and more tolerable, Husband’s making a final trip (or two) to the old homestead with my minivan this weekend. Moving the remainder will be the job of the professional movers. I’m just happy that the in-laws actually agreed to hire someone to take care of this, as Father-in-Law is the ultimate DIY Guy. It’s been difficult to convince him that he’s not what he used to be after two back surgeries and double knee replacement. He shuffles across the room and pretends he doesn’t need his cane or walker, all the while saying, “I can handle those boxes. I’ll vacuum the basement.”

Denial aside, they’ve also set aside quite a bit of trash that might be someone’s treasure. We’re lined up to host a rummage sale next spring or summer to sell it off. Maybe by then Father-in-Law will admit that he no longer needs his riding mower and his two behemoth snowblowers, and Mother-in-Law will have decided just how much of her birdhouse collection will fit into condominium living.

Luckily for all of us, my own mom is moving from one apartment to another. She’s already downsized. Professionals will handle the furniture and the piano. We’ll just provide a few boxes.

In the meantime, I’ll keep reclaiming the various rooms in our home, dejunking as much as we can. I don’t want my children to have to clean piles of junk out of our basement many years in the future, so I’d better start cleaning now.

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>Easiest Cranberry Sauce Ever

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>1-2-3 Cranberry Sauce

1 cup water
2 cups sugar
3 cups cranberries

Bring to a boil, then simmer 20 minutes or until all the berries have burst. Add cinnamon to taste. Serve warm.

Now, the backstory. I brought this recipe home from kindergarten on a sheet of construction paper. We made it at home since it was so easy. It became a standard at Thanksgiving dinner, the tradition lasting long after the original paper faded.
A generation later, my kids started helping me make it every year. If we have leftover cranberry sauce, I use it in jello or add it to muffins. This little piece of my “saucy” childhood continues, along with Thanksgiving memories that will never fade.

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>NaBloPoMoPhoBia: writers block

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>Let’s see:

Family.

Kid is a teenager, complete with angst-laden life. Homework, social life or lack of, the latest music on the market, celebrity crush…I can drag a post out of something on this list. If nothing else, there’s always the saga of his months on the stomach ache circuit.

Husband borrowed my minivan on Tuesday and I haven’t driven it since. Is there a post there? Probably. I just hope he refills the gas tank before he gives it back to me.

Daughter has returned to the land of the normal now that the election is over. That is, normal for a college senior with a huge workload and a part time job on campus and an apartment to clean and bunnies to feed and care for….I’m sure there’s a post there somewhere.

Work, a.k.a. school. No child left untested. Full moon. Indoor recess. Poor scheduling, leaving us to scramble, which ended up with math cancelled again.

Holidays!! We’re hosting Thanksgiving again, so there will be stories. Hopefully all will go well and there will be no mishaps to report. And if those Thanksgiving Fairies do their jobs, it will be lovely.

The inevitable Christmas shopping, wrapping, and giving could provide a few posts, too. In fact, I need a bigger crate in the attic now that I’ve started stashing holiday gifts. I have plans to use the Amazon packing material for wrapping paper if I can get it to look decent…but Martha doesn’t live here, so I’ll wait and see.

Not to mention the unpredictable Sunday afternoon entertainment we call the Green Bay Packers….

As Amigo often says, “Mom, you should blog about this.”

Writers’ block? No problem.

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>And so it goes.

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>Once upon a time, a teenage boy got sick. Influenza followed by infection followed by different infection all led to chronic stomach pain that just wouldn’t end. Gastro-intestinal distress continued with no obvious source and no end in sight.

Weight loss. Teen boys are supposed to grow. This one shrunk. He got a little taller, but lost forty pounds over the course of six months.

Medicines changed. Subtracted antibiotics that might irritate, added probiotics that might soothe. Added expensive antacid that insurance willingly covered — after the doctor called them and told them how much more costly the alternative would be.

Diet changed. No milk. No dairy at all. Low fat, bland, and very careful monitoring of anything that increased pain and other symptoms.

No pizza. No ice cream. An entire summer without Dairy Queen. The start of football season without calling for pizza. Carefully perusing the hot lunch menu each day to make educated decisions about what might be ‘safe’ for the hungry boy’s tender tummy.

He didn’t touch his Easter basket for fear the chocolate would worsen the stomach ache. He who used to down four frozen waffles in a sitting had trouble finishing one. He cut out his favorite refreshing beverages, afraid that carbonation and/or caffeine would activate the pain all over again.

The kid who loved school, zipped through the hallways with energy and excitement, had trouble getting out of bed in the morning. He needed more and more sleep but had less and less energy.

Tests galore. He had blood drawn, peed in a cup, pooped in a box. All looked normal. Eventually he submitted to general anesthesia, took a scope down his throat and into his colon, and waited for results.

Waited. Waited. Waited. And waited, and waited, and waited.

After the promised seven to ten days and a long week of phone tag that did no good for said teen’s father’s blood pressure, specialist finally called.

IBS. Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Essentially, it’s what they call it when all else is ruled out.

So on we go. No celiac disease, no milk allergy. It’s time to readjust the meds, gradually weaning him from the strongest and then the weakest of the cocktails until he’s on his own, in a manner of speaking.

We could celebrate. It’s not celiac disease, not a milk allergy, not diabetes. Stress adds to the pain, although it doesn’t cause it. The worst possibilities have been ruled out.

But somehow, this doesn’t seem like cause for celebration. It’s more of an ongoing puzzle: what will hurt? What won’t? How far can he go before it all starts again?

There are no answers. From now on, he’ll question what he eats and how much he eats. Maybe eventually he’ll stop worrying about food, and that will lessen the stress, which will lessen the additional pain.

And so it goes.

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>Green up your Act!

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>

I’d like to convince Husband that we need to invest in some additional greening for our house. I don’t mean landscaping, although that would be fun; I mean a few simple additions to our yard and home that will save energy, water, or otherwise help us Green up our Acts.

  • Already in place:
    programmable thermostat
    small kitchen, concentrates heat in one place
    old chest freezer replaced with smaller, energy efficient unit
  • Could have an impact:
    thermal drapes on the french doors: would keep the sun out in the summer, heat in through the winter
    solar panels on roof
    water barrel in or near garden
    additional compost bin

What?! Another compost bin? Why? Isn’t the one you have doing the job?
Well, (as I told my nearest and dearest) yes and no. Yes, it’s doing the job. We create significantly less garbage when we’re composting. The fully decomposed matter makes the garden soil more fertile and easier to till. If we had two…well, if we had a second bin, I’d let one settle for a full year before spreading it in the garden. In the meantime, I’d fill the other with all the grass clippings and kitchen garbage and leaves and other organic materials that we generate in a spring-summer-fall season. We do look for places to toss the grass clippings in July and the garden waste in October because the bin is full to the top. A second bin would be useful, no doubt about it.

The water barrel? Our water bills are predicted to go up dramatically due to expensive repairs on our community’s out-of-warranty treatment plant. A rain barrel (or two or three) could save us money as well as use water more efficiently. Thinking back to recent history, there were weeks in June when there were floods all over the state. A week later, the weather was so hot the lawn and garden dried out. The sprinkler got a workout. That water could have come from the previous week’s rainstorms if we’d been ready.

I could go on and on. Husband is willing to go Green — to a point. I’d like to convince him to try the simple pieces and move from there. If the rain barrel works well, we could get a second one. If we generate too much compost (if there is such a thing!), we could build the berm we’ve been considering for the back of the yard.

For now, I think I’d better put the hoses and sprinkler away for the winter. And rake leaves. they won’t all fit into the compost bin, so I’ll spread them on the garden. But if we had a second bin…

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>The Fabled Fairies of Thanksgiving

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>Thanksgiving Dinner? No problem! I’ll call in the fairies. They’ll do everything.

The laundry fairy washes, dries, and presses the table linens, including the cloth napkins. If she’s feeling generous, the sheets and towels might get folded, too.
The turkey fairy will practice her specialty and make sure the bird is cooked and carved just in time for dinner. White meat and dark, it’ll all be moist and savory and leave just enough leftovers for sandwiches and a turkey noodle soup.
The baker fairy will take care of pies, pumpkin and otherwise. He’s an expert on flaky crust, selected spices, and the perfect portion of whipped cream. Don’t let that Simple Simon guy get in the way; the kitchen’s too small for anyone who begs to taste the wares.
The brownie — the cunning little house elf — will clean the home thoroughly, put the leaf in the big table, and get the extra chairs out of the basement.
I wouldn’t dream of neglecting the wine fairy: the sommelier so tiny she only recommends, never lifts, a bottle. Her taste is impeccable. Now if we could stop her before she over-imbibes and falls asleep on top of the piano…
Did I mention the decorator fairy? She’ll fix the fireplace mantel with something tasteful and seasonal before she makes sure the couch and rocker are properly arranged for the annual holiday gladiator contests known as NFL football.
The ambiance fairy keeps the wood fire crackling in the fireplace, the aromas wafting deliciously through the home, and the family discussions neutral.
The kitchen fairies: really, there must be a whole crew of these talented sprites. One to do the shopping early and avoid the crowds, another to make sure the cranberries are perfect (and local, of course), and a magical maestro with the potato masher. Then we’ll need a feisty fairy, one with attitude — yes, you, Tinkerbell, you can make the coffees.

Mom, you can send the fairies over to my house now that we’re hosting the annual family Thanksgiving dinner. Let them know that I’ll have their room ready and their favorite cookies baked. If they arrive on Sunday there should be enough time to get everything done.

Wait. What do you mean…they’re…not….real?

This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Butterball.
On the holiday theme as well is Scribbit’s November Write-Away Contest, brought to you by the letter F.

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>Money makes the world go round…and voting decides who will control the money

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>”How’re you?”
“Overworked! But that’s good. It means I’m working.”

Indeed. While my salary isn’t keeping up with inflation, is anybody’s?

Health insurance costs are skyrocketing. We’re still negotiating a contract, working under one that expired last summer. Site budget costs increase, leaving us to cut back even further or pay out of our own pockets, out of our lagging paychecks. But at least I still have a paycheck.

I’m getting more vigilant about freebies. Whenever I send in a book order, I look for coupons and bonus items. If I can get a few more books into my students’ hands, it’s always good. I’m reusing paper for copies, assigning more textbook pages than worksheets, increasing my use the overhead and my class’ set of white boards. In a small way, we’re going back to the days of kids and slates.

I’m a scavenger. If another teacher retires and lets us pick through her materials, I’m there.

On the family side, I clip coupons and watch the sales. I’ve used online discount codes to buy ahead for holiday gifts so we don’t have major debt in January. I feel grateful that my husband doesn’t have to wear an expensive suit to work, racking up dry cleaning costs. He and Amigo dress casually, very casually. La Petite is a sale shopper like I am; she’s a frugal college student (is there any other kind?).

And yet I feel pressure, both Husband and I feel pressure, to bring in extra if we can. Our incomes are not growing anywhere near the rate of inflation. Despite our efforts to cut our food budget, we can’t control gas costs, electricity, or heating fuel increases.

The only way I can raise my salary is through earning additional graduate credits, which (you guessed it) costs money. I have to pay for 6 credits every five years to renew my license, but beyond those 6 I have to calculate how much it’s worth. Will the tuition costs return in the form of increased salary or not?

Husband’s 401k went way down in value. He set his head in his hands when the last statement came. My retirement account is fluctuating as well. We’re feeling lucky we’re not retiring anytime soon; our retirement funds have time to regroup and recover (crossing fingers and knocking on wood).

This election has a lot riding on it. The morale of the country has a direct impact on the economy, and the economy has a direct impact on morale. If people aren’t confident about spending, holiday shopping goes stagnant. Retail outlets fail, large companies fail, employees lose their jobs. Those employees don’t have money to spend, spending goes down, morale and confidence sink and the problems spiral larger and larger.

Money? It’s not about the cash or the numbers. It’s about security, stability, knowing that the roof above will stay above our heads and our table will be set tomorrow and the next day.

My workload grows as our budgets get tighter. My job gets more difficult as my students move in and out, can’t do homework because they’re hungry, can’t find shoes to wear in the morning.

Overworked? Yes. But at least I’m working. I’m grateful for that.

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