>Spring Fever

>It’s not really warm enough, but I pulled on a pair of capri pants today instead of my weekend jeans. Oh, the glaring white skin of winter! It’s blinding.

It’s not really warm enough, but I went outside (in galoshes to protect from the mud) and looked over the new garden plot designated for tomatoes. I determined it needs a layer of mulch and a layer of topsoil.

It’s not really warm enough, but I took my Brewers baseball attire out of storage and thought about Major League Baseball.

It’s not really warm enough, but I brought out the lightweight jackets. I haven’t put away the winter coats; it’s highly likely that we’ll need them again before the garden is planted.

It’s not really warm enough yet, but…. fill in the blank and leave a comment!

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>The Bar Crowd; does it include your kids?

>I read a featured blog titled “Babies in Bars” on Work It Mom. The blogger talked about bringing her baby to bars to hear her husband’s country band perform. She talked about putting ear protection on the baby to muffle the din, nursing a young baby in a discreet corner, bringing an older baby’s own tippy cup for juice or other beverages, and in general, taking care to make the trip safe and appropriate for baby and for other customers.

It’s Lent, season of the Wisconsin Friday Night Fish Fry. Fish fry events can be in supper clubs, family restaurants, church halls, and yes, taverns or bars. I’m sure there are little ones following their parents into the pubs and the taverns or waiting in the bar areas for the fish fry to be ready.

Is there a deep meaning to all this babble? Maybe, maybe not. If I go to a downtown bar for lunch with Amigo (now age 18), we’re not drinking. He’s too young, and I’m probably driving, so alcohol with our fish fry or cheese curds doesn’t make sense. Would we mind seeing a baby at the table next to ours? Not a bit.

It’s all about responsibility, really. If the parent at the next table is exercising moderation and good judgement, is taking good care of the child, and both parent and child are behaving well, it’s not a problem – at least in my neighborhood.

And isn’t the main responsibility of anyone present in a drinking establishment just that: responsibility?

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>Advocacy in the Blogging World

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It’s a great world, the Blogosphere. People of all walks of life, conservative or liberal, rich or poor, can blog their concerns.

And the Powers That Be? They’d better listen.

Illinois legislators, listen up — if you can. Deaf Mom tells you why hearing aids should be covered and why they’re more important than (are you ready for this?) Viagra. I’ll second her motion; without my hearing aids, I wouldn’t be teaching. Thanks to my hearing aids, I’m earning a living, paying taxes, stimulating the economy, and staying politically active.

New York Times, you have officially alienated women who blog. Punditmom has one of the best responses to the article “Honey, don’t bother Mommy; I’m too busy building my brand.” I might have thought the article neutral had the author left out the condescending remarks. Describing a blog network presenter as having the “good-natured sass of a sorority social chairwoman” and suggesting that “… you, too, might get 28,549 views of your tutu-making tutorial!” Get real, NYT. I don’t post tutu-making tutorials. Rain barrels, maybe. So – what’s your point?

MOMocrats (Raising the next generation of blue) always have something valuable and current posted: Here’s a post discussing the status of women and the way that status affects a country’s peace, security, and prosperity.

Meanwhile, my inbox includes communication from Organizing for America (OFA) reminding me that it’s time to make phone calls and send emails to remind our representatives to get rolling on health insurance reform. My OFA neighbor asks:

“Could you also let your readers know that they need to pick up the phone and call their member of congress to vote “yes” for reform? There are members of Congress whose votes are movable if they hear from enough of us. If callers leave a message, they need to leave their name and address, so the member of Congress can verify that the caller is a constituent. There could be a vote in the House of Representatives before the week is out.”

Stick together, women and men of the blogging world. The mainstream media may disrespect us, but they’ll come around. They’ll have to.

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>Variations on Banana Bread

>I’m heading into a stress-loaded week. Parent-teacher conferences, daughter leaves for a spring break half-way across the country, son is caught up in March Madness at his high school, and Chuck hopes to survive the combination of stressors and the presence of two extra bunnies in our home while La Petite travels.

Of course, I head for comfort food.

While the chicken stock simmered (nothing precise, just water with chicken bones and skin, stray onion pieces, and the end of the celery stalks), I browsed the cookie recipes on my laptop. Then I realized I had many boxes of Girl Scout cookies in the house, and I did not need any more cookies.

But beside the cookies in the snack basket sat were two rapidly ripening bananas.

Banana Bread! Today’s variation: a hint of chocolate.

2/3 cup sugar
1/4 cup butter or margarine
3 eggs or 3/4 cup egg substitute
1 cup mashed ripe bananas (2 medium to large bananas)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 2/3 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon wheat germ
2 Tablespoons cocoa powder (the good kind for baking, not hot cocoa mix)
1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. spray an 8- or 9- inch loaf pan with vegetable oil cooking spray or use your favorite alternative.
Beat the sugar and butter in a medium bowl with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, bananas, and vanilla. Beat on low speed until well blended.
Mix together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and wheat germ. Add the cocoa and chocolate chips. Mix well.
Stir dry ingredients into banana mixture just until moistened. Pour and scrape into the loaf pan.
Bake at 350: 8 inch pan for 60 minutes, 9-inch pan for 45-50 minutes. Muffin tins? You’re on your own. I don’t know how long that will take.

Cool 5 minutes. Remove from pan. Serve warm or cool; it’s delicious either way.

And maybe I won’t eat so many Girl Scout cookies if I have this banana bread around the house!

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>Working on Sunday: desk before and after

>Contrary to popular belief, teachers do work weekends. On a recent Sunday, I spent two hours at my desk with a to-do list. On the top of the list: Clean Desk.

Here’s the before picture. Book box, papers, near-empty hand sanitizer bottle, file folders – you name it, it was there. I knew when I left on Friday that I had to come back; there was no chance of facing this kind of disaster on Monday morning and starting the week feeling, well, sane.

I waded through the piles on the desk, made the copies I needed, planned math lessons for the week, printed keyboarding scores, and more. I pulled out the cleaning wipes and dusted the top of the file cabinet (yuck), wiped down the desk (not so bad, really), and even dragged a wipe across the computer keyboard.

Ah. Deep sigh of relief. Now I can face Monday with a more positive attitude. The bad news, though: it won’t take long to pile up the desk again. It’s just the nature of the job.

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>Put insurance reform on your to-do list; it’s on mine.

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To-do list for the weekend:

Visit La Petite, pick up bunnies for break while she travels: her March Madness.
Take Amigo to high school basketball game; his March Madness.
Prepare for parent-teacher conferences: my March Madness.
Support my local chapter of OFA (Organizing for America) in the fight for health care and insurance reform.
Scale the mountain we call Family Laundry.
Handle the weekly load of student papers and gradebook updates.

That’s a long list. Why the inserts? Well, someone needs to take care of the bunnies while La Petite is gone. They need daily feeding. Amigo doesn’t drive, so he needs to ride the fan bus or get a ride to the play-off game.

Oh. You meant the OFA insert. Well, dear blog readers, there is strength in numbers. I can accomplish more and make a bigger difference by joining with a group of people with like philosophies. Together, we can have an impact on our elected officials, and in turn make an impact on the laws that govern our land.

On that note, here are a few notes that the Tea Partiers tend to ignore.

-> 8 — that’s the number of people every minute who are denied coverage, charged a higher rate or otherwise discriminated against because of a pre-existing condition.
-> 8 is also the number of lobbyists hired by special interests to influence health reform for every member of Congress in 2009.
-> The status quo isn’t working, and special interests are doing everything in their power to maintain that status quo.

For more information, go to Health Care by the Numbers, where they’ll feature a new number and fact set each day.

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>The Girl Scout in Me

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The Brownies at my school were working on their HerStory badge and wanted to interview adults who had been Girl Scouts when they were young. I pulled out my old Junior uniform sash and took a walk down memory lane.

A quick inventory shows a few stars, tarnished from storage in basements and closets. Fly-up wings representing the move from Brownies to Juniors. Troop number, council name, and badges: badges galore.

The badges are a fascinating glimpse into the girl I was in elementary school. Two music: one general, another more advanced. A cooking badge; I earned that with my piano teacher and her daughters. Two that imply outdoor cooking – what was the difference between the campfire and the grill? Was it exactly what it seems? There’s a badge with a slipper, medeival style. Storytelling? Theater? The sewing badge that I earned along with my troop; I squeaked through this one by the skin of my teeth with my mother’s help. The sewing gene skipped a generation; my daughter can sew, but I can’t.

The oval patch above the troop number – I now know it was the troop crest – featured a lily of the valley. I’ve always loved these gentle flowers, and I grow them in my backyard.

With the patches – badges and crests and more – come the memories. I hope today’s Scouts’ memories last into their adulthood. I thank them for inviting me to visit their troop and stirring me to reflect on the way the Girl Scout in my past resembled the woman I am now.

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>He’s a good cook. Here’s the evidence.

>Poor Chuck. He just gets no respect. The minestrone disaster got all the attention, and it’s actually the exception to the rule. When he cooks, it’s usually delicious.

On Valentine’s Day we didn’t go out; we ate in. He made steak, stuffed peppers, a fabulous green salad, and then topped it off with an organic wine. I merely baked brownies (from a mix, to tell the truth), and suggested he top them with raspberries from the freezer. A little whipped cream, and we had dessert.

Points for presentation: top marks. Points for taste: fabulous. Points for being super capable in the kitchen: he’s a keeper.

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>Minestrone Soup Adventure

>”Honey, where’s today’s paper?”
“Recycled. You said you were done with it.”
“I was, but then I decided to make the minestrone soup recipe that was in the paper.”
“I can find it for you online.”
“No, thanks, I’ll fly by the seat of my pants.”
Hug. “That usually works well.”

It’s not what you might think. Chuck was making dinner; I had just come home from a Sunday afternoon at school, clearing my desk and preparing the new seating chart for March 1st. He wanted to make the soup, and the newspapers had already gone outside in the recycling. He’s good at winging it, and he remembered the main spices, so he did.

The soup looked good, smelled good, but… I took one bite and coughed until my face turned red. He’d overestimated the crushed red pepper. I couldn’t eat a second bite. Poor guy; neither could he.

Well, faithful readers, here’s the original. Pay attention to the amounts of spices, and don’t try to fly by the seat of your pants – not with the crushed red pepper, in any case.

Minestrone Soup

2 Tbs. olive oil
1 each: large onion, celery stalk and peeled carrot, cut into small dice
2 tsps. Italian seasoning
1/4 to 1/2 tsp. hot red pepper flakes
2 quarts vegetable broth (We used beef stock)
1 can (14.5 ounces) petite diced tomatoes
2 cans (15 or 16 ounces each) small white beans, undrained
1 cup ditalini or other small, tubular pasta
1 pound seasonal vegetables (see variations below)
Salt and black ground pepper
Optional: Parmesan cheese
Heat oil over medium-high heat in a large pot. Add onions, celery and carrots; saute until tender, about 5 minutes. Add Italian seasoning and red pepper flakes; saute until fragrant, about a minute longer. Add remaining ingredients. Cover and bring to a simmer.

Reduce heat to medium-low; continue to simmer, partially covered and stirring occasionally, until vegetables are soft and pasta is tender, about 15 minutes longer. Adjust seasonings, including salt and pepper, to taste.

Serves 8.

The original recipe is here at USA Weekend. My only advice: add red pepper sparingly. Please. And serve with lots of liquids, just in case.

In other news, you can still vote for my Zesty Orange Cookies at Foodista; just click the link below.

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