>Five Summer Getaways & Experiences

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Social Moms wanted bloggers to name five summer experiences that every kid should have. Think about it. The times that make memories are not those that were scheduled to the hilt, but they are the summer activities that were unique and fun.

Live Music – It’s too easy to think that music originates on iTunes or YouTube. Watch the street musicians (buskers), attend local outdoor concerts, look for free recitals, and enjoy hearing talented people share their performance skills.

Camp – Whether in a tent or cabin, a formal location with counselors or a small tent in the backyard, camping builds appreciation of outdoors. Children who are comfortable exploring the woods are more likely to grow up knowing and caring about their environment.
Road trip – Long or short, across town or across the country, coping and getting along in the limited space of a car or minivan is a life skill. Learning to use the bathroom before leaving the gas station, respecting each other’s personal space, and that the question “Are we there yet?” is not allowed under any circumstances – all of these are skills that will help get along with college roommates, coworkers, and bosses later in life. No matter where the family is going, surviving a road trip is a learning experience.
Alternate forms of travel – Children who’ve ridden on a ferry understand how large waterways can be. They may not be able to rattle off statistics like gallons or surface area, but they can describe feeling the motion of the waves and seeing water, water, in every direction. Traveling by train, if you’re lucky enough to have it available, provides a whole different set of scenery than highways. And don’t forget bicycles; riding a bike to the library beats driving there. Just remember a backpack for the books!
Farmers’ Market – Wisconsinite Aldo Leopold once described two dangers of not owning a farm. “One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other, and the other that heat comes from the furnace.” Seeing the people who grow the food goes a long way toward building an understanding that food doesn’t originate at a grocery store. It grows in the ground, and someone plants, tends, and harvests it.
I didn’t address organized sports or play-dates or summer school. All of these have value, too. The greatest value of a summertime activity is the experience itself and the memory that experience creates.
I wrote this blog post while participating in the SocialMoms and Alamo blogging program, for a gift card worth $25. For more information on how you can participate, click here.

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>Rhubarb, tomatoes, and random thoughts

>Rhubarb! I have rhubarb! In fact, I spent time last night looking through my new go-to books for canning, wondering if I could can some of this bountiful harvest. Since it was too cold to plant tomatoes until recently, I focused on rhubarb.

I did find a recipe that looks a lot like the stewed rhubarb I made for supper tonight. It was like applesauce, but with rhubarb instead of apples. Make sense? I found one and thought Yeah! Canning commences! And then realized I will need eleven pounds of rhubarb to fill seven quart cans. Yes, I said 11 lb. of rhubarb! Well, if I harvest and freeze this week and do the same next week, I’ll have all eleven before I know it. Yum.
The tomato seedlings are in the ground now! I tallied up the tomatoes and put the supports in place as a planning maneuver. All right, I also did it because I wanted to get in the garden and it was too darn cold to plant! Only a few green sprouts dared poke their little heads out from the soil, and they’re all spinach. Yep. I will have a minimum of 13 tomato plants, even if those I started from seed do not make it (darn late blizzard) and at least 5 peppers. The pepper plants are coming up better from seed, and if they survive, I’ll have nine pepper plants. Salsa time!
I’m experimenting with various new dishes, and right now rhubarb is my theme ingredient. Part of the locavore menu involves eating what’s ripe and in season. By the time it’s our of season, we’ll be tired of it and ready to move on to something else. About the time my family rebels and shouts out “No More Rhubarb, Mom!” strawberries will be coming into their prime. Then I can mix strawberry-rhubarb pie, strawberry-rhubarb crisp, strawberry-rhubarb dump cake — bwahahahaha! Just kidding, family. I’ll be more creative than that. Maybe.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we helped another family rescue five bunnies last Monday night. I think that’s a sign that I’m feeling a little more energetic; I went with daughter to help out, even though it was getting late.
I could share a picture of the garden plot, but it would be rather dull. Soil, compost, remains from last year because I’m going no-till this time, and a few red spiral posts standing sentry, all alone, with small tomato plants.
But trust me. I’ll overwhelm you with garden pictures eventually – hopefully sooner rather than later.

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>Mrs. Lerner’s Afterlife – a story worth rereading

>Since the Rapture was (ahem) yesterday, I thought it was a good time to bring out this story once again.

Let’s call her Mrs. Lerner, the teacher in this story. Mrs. Lerner passed away, and continued on her peaceful way toward the pearly gates. St. Peter met her with, “Welcome, Mrs. Lerner. Here in Heaven, we all make contributions. What would you like to do?” Mrs. Lerner responded, “I’m a teacher, so I’ll teach.”

Peter called over St. John-Baptiste de la Salle, the patron saint of teachers, and had him escort Mrs. Lerner to her new classroom. When she got there, she was was shocked to see the conditions. 40 desks. 35 textbooks, all outdated. Pencils, pens, and paper were sufficient to supply the class for perhaps one day, no computers existed, and a cracked chalkboard hung on the front wall.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, “this is horrible!”
Boom! Suddenly, Mrs. Lerner was in an entirely different locale, escorted by a devilishly handsome young man. With a fiendish smile, he brought her to a very different classroom. 15 desks well-equipped with supplies, books of all reading levels and interests, an interactive whiteboard, and behind each student, supportive parents. On her desk lay a contract offering the opportunity to bargain for decent working conditions as long as she continued to teach.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Why the advantages here, of all places?”
The devilishly handsome escort slyly reminded the dedicated educator, “Mrs. Lerner, when you asked the governor for this, where did he tell you to go?”

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The Great Bunny Rescue

When La Petite’s phone rang, it was the mother of a friend. She and her youngest two children had come across five domestic bunnies that had been abandoned at a construction site near a local bike trail. They went back with lettuce and a large box, lured the furry ones, brought them home, and called The Bunny Whisperer, a.k.a. La Petite.
We knew what to do, so Chuck and I joined her. We gathered two cages with litter, hay, and pellets for each cage. La Petite knew where we were going, so she drove. When we pulled into the driveway, Friend’s Mom and two kids in pajamas led us into the garage where she’d set the box.
Five full grown domestic rabbits were in the b
ox. Two were harassing the others, so Chuck picked up those two first and looked them over closely. “Yep. Boy bunnies. Let’s separate these from the others.” We put the two males in one cage and the three females in the other, and they calmed down significantly. All five started to nibble on the hay and pellets, and they even found the corner with litter and used it appropriately.
Four looked like they may have been related or from the same litter; the other was a lop-eared character who didn’t resemble any of the others. He was either a major case of recessive genes or was unrelated. Cute, though. They were all cute, even though they were incredibly dirty from their adventure and trauma.
We left them settled for the night, and La Petite made arrangements to help Friend’s Mom take all five to the Humane Society the next day. When they delivered the bunnies, La Petite reported to me that all five looked cleaner and they were eating well and (are you sitting down?) at least two of the three females were pregnant. We were further appalled.
We’ll never know why the owners dumped the bunnies. Maybe realizing the males were mature was too much to handle. Getting them neutered could have been too expensive. Maybe the owners realized that not only were the males mature, but the females were expecting. If five bunnies are too many, five plus two litters of babies would be overwhelming.
The girls, getting a little attention
I still don’t fully understand, though. La Petite and Friend’s Mom brought the rabbits to the shelter. The previous owners could have done that instead of dumping them. Pet rabbits are not equipped to survive in the wild. They don’t know what to eat, and they’ll be eaten soon because of their lack of camouflage. With their domestic coloring, they’d be hawk bait before long. The little albino in particular would be easy prey for eagle-eyed predators – and I do mean eagles.
La Petite was pleased with the people and the set-up at the shelter. Rabbits and other small animals were kept a significant distance away from dogs and cats and in a separate room. She said they looked clean and well cared for. We wished we could have done more. When cash flow is a little easier, maybe we’ll make a donation. We’re grateful to have a Humane Society in town. We’re also grateful to know people like Friend’s Mom who thought it was important to rescue these animals when they were homeless and in danger.
The Boy Bunnies

We’re grateful we’re able to make a good home for our pet rabbits: Sadie, Buttercup, and Krumpet. We love them dearly.

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>Picnic Time at Recipe Lion’s Blog Hop

>Recipe Lion’s monthly Blog Hop for May features picnic recipes. It’s in the 50s today, drizzling, and we even gave in and turned on the heat again, so it’s hard to think of outdoor picnics right now. A few days ago the weather was so hot and muggy stores turned on their air conditioning! Well, that’s Wisconsin weather: if you don’t like it, wait a day.

Whether having a picnic or dining al fresco on the deck, food safety rules are paramount. Keep the hot foods hot and the cold foods cold so bacteria doesn’t have a chance to grow. If we attend a potluck picnic, I prefer to bring a cold dish for just that reason. Salads are great: fruit salad, lettuce salad, or similar dishes are easy and delicious. Desserts are good, too. My rhubarb is growing like wildfire, so I’m going to bake rhubarb treats soon and often. Here’s a simple rhubarb bread that makes a good picnic food or snack.
Rhubarb bread: makes two loaves
Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar
2/3 cup vegetable oil
1 egg
1 cup buttermilk or sour milk
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 cups raw rhubarb, chopped
1/2 cup pecans or walnuts
1/3 cup white sugar
1 Tablespoon melted butter

Directions


  1. Heat oven to 325F, lightly butter and flour two 8″x4″x3″ loaf pans Combine the brown sugar, veggie oil and the egg.

  2. Combine the buttermilk (sour milk), baking soda, salt& vanilla.

  3. Add the milk mixture to the sugar mixture alternately with the flour, beating well after each addition

  4. Fold in the rhubarb& the nuts.

  5. Turn batter into the two loaf pans.

  6. Sprinkle with the melted butter and sugar.

  7. Bake for 45 minutes or until done.

  8. Let cool. Serve warm or cool, with butter or plain.

My tip for rhubarb; harvest frequently, whenever the rhubarb is red. Use a food processor to chop into tiny pieces. Freeze in a single layer on wax paper on a cookie sheet. When frozen, pour into a container. This method allows cooks to pull out exactly the amount needed without thawing the entire container. Mm; rhubarb bread in January. Savor the thought.
blog hop button Fabulous Food Friday: May Blog Hop

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The best Mug Shot ever

When we travel, my favorite souvenir is a coffee mug. I drink from my Amtrak mug and remember the trip on the Empire Builder. I sip from my lobster mug and remember Nova Scotia. Whenever I finish a major project, I like to pull out my “ducks in a row” mug to show that I do, indeed, have all my ducks in a row.
Now I found another mug, a historic mug, that I must have.
Last year, President Obama said, “I can’t go around with my birth certificate plastered on my forehead.” When he released the long version because his short version wasn’t good enough for the conspiracy theorists, he told reporters that he didn’t have time for this silliness. He had more important things to do. A few days later, he announced that Osama bin Laden had been found and killed. Ahem.
To thumb my nose at those who still don’t understand that Hawaii is one of the United States, the Democrats have come up with the perfect mug.
Go ahead; go to this link and make a donation of $15 or more and get the Born in the USA mug. Stay active and stay caffeinated and get yourself a piece of history at the same time. I plan on it.
Disclaimer: I am active in progressive politics, including Organizing for America, but I was not paid or sponsored in any way for this post. This mug was too good to pass up.

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>Rhubarb Muffins – a classic

>The first spring in our home, many long years ago, we discovered all kinds of fun things growing. We’d moved in late enough in the fall that everything except the grass was brown, and nothing was blooming. We enjoyed the show as daffodils, tulips, daylilies, and even a beautiful bleeding heart bush made their appearances on the stage. Tucked into the backyard next to the garage we found rhubarb.

Since that spring, I’ve developed and discovered many rhubarb recipes. This one’s tried and true, a regular product of my tiny kitchen. I found it in a newspaper, modified it slightly, and then started making it regularly.

Backyard Rhubarb Muffins

1 cup all-purpose flour
½ cups whole wheat flour
¾ cup brown sugar, packed
¾ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1/4 cup applesauce or 1/3 cup canola or vegetable oil
1 large egg or ¼ cup egg substitute
½ cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup fresh rhubarb, cut in ½ inch dice
Topping:
1/8 cup brown sugar, packed
1/8 cup chopped walnuts
¼ teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Coat 12 muffin cups with non-stick spray. In a mixing bowl, combine the flour, brown sugar, baking soda, and salt.
Make a hole in the center of the dry ingredients and add the oil (applesauce), egg, buttermilk, and vanilla. Mix just until dry ingredients are moistened. Fold in the rhubarb. Scoop batter into the muffin cups.
Topping; Combine the brown sugar, walnuts, and cinnamon. Sprinkle mixture over the tops of the muffins, dividing equally.

Bake for 20 to 23 minutes or just until a toothpick inserted into a muffin comes out clean and dry. Remove from oven and cool on rack. Makes twelve muffins.
Alternate topping: After cooling, drizzle with a simple powdered sugar icing.

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>To-do list

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The weekend’s to-do list:

Buy plants from arboretum plant sale. Check.

Remove weeds from garden plot.
Set up rain barrels. Check.
Make grid to guide planting.
Plant tomatoes and peppers.
Put in the tomato supports.
The Milwaukee Brewers were playing well Sunday afternoon, though. It was a little distracting. Must enjoy those home runs while they’re happening! Go, True Blue Brew Crew!
The tomatoes can go in tomorrow.

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>Not everyone loves the rising phoenix

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God help you if you are a phoenix
and you dare to rise up from the ash
a thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy
while you are just flying past
–Ani DiFranco, “32 Flavors”

The quote from “32 Flavors” resonates with me, and not necessarily the way DiFranco intended when she wrote the song. Recently I told my family that I am tired of being a trailblazer. I’m hearing impaired. I teach, I write, and no one in the school district seems to know what to do with me. They’re accustomed to shuttling their disabled students off to special classes, but a disabled, capable, professional? They’re stumped.

Maybe the image from DiFranco’s song is what I need. If I can re-imagine my role not as the one out front stepping in front of the crowd, leading the way through the mud and getting slashed with low-hanging branches, if I can envision instead the phoenix rising from the ashes, it might give me the strength to fight my battles and leave a good, clear path for those who follow.

It’s not easy being – well, it’s like Kermit the Frog. It’s not easy being different. I wonder if some perceive my success as somehow easier, rather than harder, than theirs. Do they think I got a break because I don’t hear well? I have a hearing aid compatible phone. I.T. provided me with a longer cord so the computer monitor doesn’t interfere with my telecoil setting. Those reasonable accommodations, however, didn’t make teaching easier than it is for other, non-disabled teachers. These accommodations merely leveled the playing field.

Now I’m moving to a new position, one that I feel will be a better fit for my abilities than attempting to hear and react to a large, noisy classroom. I applied for and got this job through seniority, not through disability. I hope no one thinks I’ve jumped the line by virtue of my hearing loss. Then again, who cares? Anyone who thinks so is wrong. I know what the truth is, and if I rise from the ashes on my own, it’s a gain for all around me.

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>The Bird Sisters by Rebecca Rasmussen

>Imagine two elderly sisters. One sister cares for injured birds, fixing their injuries if she can, wrapping them in an embroidered handkerchief for burial if she can’t. The other sister provides fresh bakery and home made jam with a special listening ear for the person who brought the bird for treatment.

Now go back sixty years. Imagine the same sisters preparing for the fair and looking for methods to raise money. One sister creates a cure-all tonic and sales pitch worthy of the best snake-oil salesman, and the other sister goes a more traditional route by entering a cake-baking contest.
The two sisters are The Bird Sisters in a rural part of southern Wisconsin. Rasmussen’s memory for the area is accurate and detailed, and her descriptions show the roads and yards and homes as they could exist. Many such towns do exists, with homes resembling the house where Milly & Twiss live. The setting is as important a character in the story as the people. – home and barn, long roads and small town, intimate church with steeple and bells – The interactions – person on person, person with place – create a complex and bittersweet story.
Milly and Twiss befriend their unusual cousin Bett, sent to visit by her mother while she straightens out her life. Bett initially provides a welcome distraction from their own parents’ conflicts, but she is also the catalyst in a change that alters the directions of their lives. Milly and Twiss are nothing alike in appearance or personality, but Bett’s summer changes them and brings them closer than they’d ever imagined – or cared to imagine.

The Bird Sisters is Rebecca Rasmussen’s debut novel. Her narrative is smooth and engaging; her characters’ dialogue is authentic and believable. This book was a page turner; I didn’t want to put it down. I look forward to Rebecca’s future works!
Crown Publishers (a division of Random House) provided me with a copy of The Bird Sisters with the agreement that I would participate in the book discussion on Goodreads.com with the author. I thoroughly enjoyed the book and the discussion. My copy will make the rounds of the readers in the family. I hope they enjoy it as much as I did.

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