Day 68 - The Evil Cabinets of Doom

This morning, while I was getting my coffee, I was seized by an uncontrollable urge to reorganize my cabinets. Right that very minute. Well, Dear Reader, you know what happened next: dry goods ripped from their snug little bags and thrust mercilessly into canisters, cans of creamed corn stacked in awe-inspiring towers on the counter top, spices and packets as far as the eye could see. It was a grand explosion of pantry particulars, and, when the dust settled, and every single item was strewn about the kitchen, … I ran out of steam. Super.

“Curses!” I railed, surveying the carnage before me. I had broken one of Flylady’s Eleven Commandments (never take out more than you can put back in one hour), and now I was going to pay the ultimate price: a kitchen full of CrazyMakingChaos all day. ALL DAY. So, I took a deep breath, gave Sebastian some paper to shred and some frozen peas to shove up his nose, and dove back in – mojo be damned. Here is the result:

Ugly  (but organized!) kitchen cabinet

Dry goods went into canisters from OXO – love love love these canisters. I haven’t done the spices yet – I’m going to pick up some small containers and have at it. Then, I will obsess over how much I HATE my cabinets; my bright green not-quite-retro-enough-to-be-cool cabinets that don’t hang straight. Hate them. I don’t so much need new ones, but is it asking too much that I be able to close them? I don’t think so, people. Honey-Do List! OK – so next, spices and then I’ll probably work up enough courage to tackle a drawer or two. After I’ve had my coffee.

Day 67 - My New Husband

This past week, every spare moment was spent sewing two of these:

Fancy Avatar-Inspired Costume

And when I wasn’t sewing, I was cooking and pureeing in my New Best Friend (almost typed New Breast Friend… that’s a whole other blog, people). All hail the VitaMix! What is the VitaMix you ask? Why, only the Cadillac of blenders. It is quite simply superb in every way, and I love it love it love it. And no, they’re not paying me to say that. It blends (duh), chops, whips, shreds, mixes, shovels snow, you name it. And it is making my life WAY easier.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Amish women don’t use VitaMixes (actually, they might if they can hook it up to a gas-powered engine/generator thingy - depends on how strict their community is. But, I digress). I use my VitaMix to get my fruits and veggies because, for some reason, it’s easier to drink them than it is to eat them. So far so good – I’ve only made one really gross drink which I’ve dubbed “The Pond Scum”. I’m not sure why I thought tomato, onion, broccoli, and avocado would yield something delicious, but it was honestly one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever deliberately put in my mouth… Sebastian liked it, but he likes everything. In any case, the VitaMix has a motor strong enough to power a lawnmower, so it pulverizes ice like it was butter, and the fiber stays in all your juices. As a mom, I can confidently say that more fiber = better poops.

I can also grind grain for bread, coffee beans for The Magic Elixir of Life, whip up foam for my cappuccinos, and make fresh sorbets. Now, if I can just get it to say that I look ten pounds thinner, I may take it on a second husband. So, this has allowed me to chuck my blender, food processor, assorted grinders, milk frother, and juicer (OK, I didn't actually have one of those, but if I DID, I would be able to purge it). Oh look – Sebastian is pawing through the garbage. I should probably put a stop to that.

Day 66 - Daily Bread

So, you may have noticed that I have been immersing myself in the Domestic Art of baking bricks bread. Why, you ask, have I gone all Suzie Homemaker all of a sudden? Why bread? Isn’t it simpler just to go to the store and buy a loaf? Well, yes… and no. While the actual baking of bread is anything but simple at first (and if it was simple for you, I don’t want to hear about it), it is elemental. When you think of the hearth and home and smells wafting from the kitchen, bread is right up there; it’s comfort food, body fuel, and the perfect way to get peanut butter from the jar into my mouth. When Jesus says, “I am the Bread of Life”, we get that. Bread is a staple; it’s essential and foundational, and when it’s gone, there’s a hole where it used to be (do you remember the collective gasp and swoon by the French – who have elevated pain au chocolat to an art form – when the Atkins diet came out?).

As you’ve no doubt deduced, I ain’t talkin’ about Wonder Bread. Imagine rounded rustic boules, mouthwatering ryes, heavenly challah – THIS is the kind of bread the soul sings for. It just isn’t quite the same out of a plastic bag, and it’s more expensive to buy it in the store (but I won’t tell you how much I’ve just spent on baking paraphernalia to save money on bread…).

Many thanks to Ms. Karen who turned me on to the whole "Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day" thing – I think it’s gonna work! The idea is that, once a week or so, you make up a big batch of dough and bake globs of it as you’re inspired. There’s a whole method to it, but once you get the hang of it, it truly is ridiculously easy (and tasty… munch…munch). I attempted my first 100% whole grain loaf yesterday (they have a new book “Healthy Bread in 5 Minutes a Day” – I love them both) and it turned out pretty well. Whole grains are something of a different animal, but I’m determined to perfect my loaves since white bread isn’t something we eat a lot of. And tomorrow children, I’ll tell you the story of how I ground my own grain in the Vitamix. Tune in, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss that.

My Lovely Loaf!

Day 65 - The Calamitous Kitchen Caper

Oh, Dear Reader (or perhaps it's more like "oh dear, Reader"), I must make a Confession. I have been procrastinating mightily. I swore to myself, up and down, that last week would be The Week I Tackled the Kitchen. But it's amazing how many things just HAVE to get done RIGHT NOW when you're trying to avoid dealing with something (that grout in the shower isn't going to scrub itself, people!).  So, this week, I'm going to take my first pass at the kitchen (first of what I'm sure will be many). First stop? Menu planning.

Whenever I open my refrigerator, I am greeted with the moans and death rattles of vegetables past their prime, the muffled grunts of left-overs blockaded in the rear of the second shelf, and the weeping of condiments singing their swan song as they dry up and separate in their compartments on the door. What goes so wrong? I buy the food with every intention of whipping up meals that would make Nigella Lawson pack up shop and skip town; how do I wind up with shriveled greens, floppy carrots, and meat that must be used right this minute? It seems I have a family (menu) planning issue. So, my mission today:

- set up a white board to write the menus on
- each Thursday when the supermarkets send out the sale fliers, plan at least a few meals around what's on sale
- don't get all ambitious - crock pot meals on nights I teach, roast a chicken each week, etc
- take out those recipes I've been tearing out of magazines for the past 20 years and actually make one or two of them already

OK - that's all I can handle without having a panic attack One step at a time.

Day 64 - I Like to Move It Move It... Or Not

I always laugh when, presumably because of what I do for a living, people actually think I love working out. HILARIOUS. Because I have never particularly enjoyed working out, and now that I am a parent, I enjoy it even less. However, one does what one must to fit into one’s jeans. Today, I tackled simplifying my workouts.

I haven’t belonged to a gym in several years, mainly because the closest one is an overpriced, overcrowded bounce-fest that rhymes with “Sally’s”, and that isn't going to happen for so many reasons. So, this leaves me two options: exercise outside, or exercise at home. Given that it’s about 40 below outside, at home it is! Now, once upon a time, in a pre-baby world, I exercised for an hour each day, plus aerial training. Now, I consider it a success if I take the stairs instead of slumping into a corner of the elevator. Actually, to tell the truth, I still aim for an hour a day, but never make it. My time gets eaten up by this and that, I’m durned tired, or I get interrupted in the way that only mommies get interrupted (your husband’s playing the airplane game a bit too close to the fan, you smell “something”, it’s a little too quiet, etc.) So, what to do?

Half an hour, every day. I set a timer for 30 minutes, and alternate strength moves – which I’ve given catchy little names like “The Ow Ow Ow” and “The I-Could-Totally-Do-This-When-I-Was-20” - and cardio bursts (…no catchy names for these). I figure that, in a few years, there will be seasons of life where I can return to longer and more extensive workouts; but for this season, half an hour will have to do. So go grab your timer, dust off your Jane Fonda, and turn up that Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Come on America -let's get fit while simultaneously embarrassing our children! Woot!

Day 63 - EEK's

Well THAT was anti-climactic. Turns out, I couldn't really toss anything in my closet (fabric stash, fans for summer, extra blankets, yada yada), so I just straightened it up and sulked for a bit. There is such an appallingly wide gulf between where I want to be and where I am, and truth be told, it's making me a little crazy. I suppose I was hoping it would all be more straightforward - that I'd donate some clothes, clean out a closet, and suddenly be done. I didn't expect it to be such a two-steps- forward-one-step-back kind of thing. But, here we are. And here, it seems, we shall stay.

Today, I had one of those unenviable days where you run around from room to room doing things but not really accomplishing anything... or so I thought. I'm lying in a crumpled heap on the couch watching "Grey's Anatomy" (hubby's gone to see "Tron" with the Man Squad), and I'm kind of delighted by the poster I hung, the papers I filed, the carpet I vacuumed. Today, I took care of about 100 Evil Energy Kills. Evil Energy Kills (or EEK's, as they are known in imaginary psychological circles) are the hundreds of little things that irk and niggle at you throughout the day; things that you know you should take care of, things that would take five minutes at most, but you just caaaaaaaaaaaaaaan't be bothered most days. So you live with them. But what if you didn't? The poster I hung has been sitting for over a month in my living room driving me nuts. It took me all of 3 minutes to go to the kitchen, get a hammer and nail, and put the stupid thing on the wall. Three minutes. Everything I did today was like that! Now, I still have about 1,000 EEKs to go, but I got a good start. Time for veggie curry. With peas!

Day 62 - The Guest in My Hall Closet

When I was about three years old and potty training, I had quite the love/hate relationship with our downstairs toilet. Hate because I frequently fell in (please imagine a Very Pissed Off three-year-old literally folded in half, arms and legs sticking straight up & not quite able to get out, then please address your letters of concern to my mother's attention); love because of Org. Org was the ogre who lived in our toilet. You see, we lived in a very old building, and air would get caught in the pipes and make a very loud groaning sound whenever we flushed. My mother (you can add this to your letter) told me it was Org the Ogre - how she thought this would help me potty train I will never know, although apparently it worked... eventually. In any case, Org was a prominent figure in my early years, and at the very least made going to the potty interesting.

Fast forward 30 20-something years, and I feel as if Org has come to visit again. Only THIS time, he is living in our steam heating pipes. More specifically, he is living in my hall closet. For some unexplained reason, we have a teeny tiny little radiator in there (for what I will NEVER know - chilly Christmas decorations and empty suitcases?Ooooooookay.), and it is LOUD. So, it would seem that Org and I are together again!

Lately, I noticed that his clanging was a bit subdued, and when I took a good look inside my closet, the reason was clear: he was being suffocated! Ogre abuse! While I cleared out the coat closet in the hall (which, alarmingly, could do with another pass), I've been procrastinating about dealing with this one. And please note that this doubly sinful because closet space is such a luxury in NYC.

So, this week is for you, Org. I will make you a hall closet you'll be proud to call home. Any chance I could convince you to move into our toilet though? Sebastian is due to start potty training next year...

Scary Front Hall Closet

Weird Little Closet Radiator

Day 61 - The *Resolutionary* War

As the year draws to a close, I find that I have survived the holidays subsisting solely on ham and cheese sandwiches and peanut butter cups, and am quite literally “too big for my britches”. I have not been to bed before midnight in a month, my tush has not felt the burn of a single workout, and my patience with Senior Fussybutt Crankypants is at an all –time low. As usual, I have a list of New Year’s Resolutions written up to address all these issues and more, which I will implement with great gusto on New Year’s Day, only to abandon by February.

SO.

 This begs the question: why make resolutions at all? Easy. Because they give us hope, and couldn’t we all use a little of that? Now I know that every “expert” on the face of the planet advises against making a list each year, but this is one time I must staunchly disagree (HA! Take THAT, Women’s Day!). It’s a good thing to set reasonable goals for yourself (hey, I said reasonable – you are NOT going to eat only bean curd marinated in wheatgrass juice for six months. No, you are not. Seriously.). So this year, my Great Concession in the Name of Simplicity will be this: instead of one resolution for each week of the year (did I mention I was an OCD Type A Overachiever?), I will limit myself to five.  Now, don’t ask me to tell you what they are, or they won’t come true. But I can tell you that by this time next year, you will be able to bounce a quarter off my tush, should you be so inclined. I will also be really, really patient.

Happy New Year to you all! May your year be filled with the time to do what you love, the resources you need and the space to store them, and an abundance of love, joy, and fellowship. And chocolate covered espresso beans – I wish those for you too.