Inch by Inch, Row by Row

Yesterday, while Colin and Phoebe napped, I got the rare chance to spend my afternoon among the plants. No, I didn't run off to cultivate my budding inner naturalist with some kind of rugged solo hike, lumberjacking, or catching a fish with my bare hands (because suddenly I'm the most interesting woman in the world), I just browsed around garden centers and spent some time planting in the back yard. It might sound mundane, but what can I say? I dig dirt. Garden centers are my happy place. I've sometimes convinced Colin to take me to particularly nice ones in the dead of winter just to help me beat the February blues. They are like an oasis in a desert of snow. On the first step inside, when the balmy air touches my skin and the smell of chlorophyll hits my nose, I'm instantly home.

Happy Turkey Day!

I have a long standing love of turkeys. It all started back in high school with a strange inside joke about a man who made uncontrollable turkey noises whenever he was cold (think shivering gobble). Ever since, it has become a bit of an unofficial family tradition, that on the grandest day of the turkey (Thanksgiving), one must dress like the main dish. You can see in these pictures from Thanksgiving ‘09 just how far discovering our inner turkey had gone.

You can only imagine my delight when I came across this flyer posted by some anonymous kindred spirit in our rec center:

How could I possibly pass up the opportunity to meet the people who would most certainly become my new best friends? Colin and I donned our finest brown sweats and prepared to trot. Luckily for me, I have a mother who is just as enthusiastic about seasonal baby decorating as I am. With a half zillion balls of yarn, a smattering of glitter, and sheer determination, grandma Tena became Phoebe’s official Fairy God Turkey. I wondered if perhaps we had over done it, but as I rounded the corner into the park and spied a plush version of a fully cooked turkey atop my neighbors head, I knew I was in the right place. Several of our fellow trotters were dressed for the occasion (not the least of which was the real live human turkey pictured above), and some were even sweet enough to invite us to diner. Apparently this has been a tradition here for over five years. We cant wait to come back on year six.

My Dad: The Ace of Cakes

My dad and I have a long standing tradition where he makes me a birthday cake every year. I think this started the year I turned 13, also known as the year of the decoy cake. That year Dad made a funfetti cake that was four layers tall. It was covered in candy with a fountain made out of twizzlers on top and a mini muffin in the middle. Somewhere in the process, one of the layers he made crumbled. Instead of throwing said layer away, he and Robert decided to make it the ugliest possible catastrophe and tell me that it was their best effort. When they brought the cake out, I (being a NICE kid, Robert)  tried to console my dad, telling him I LOVED the cake, and that it was so great just because he made it himself. He pretended to get all upset saying, “You hate the cake don’t you? I can just tell. Robert, bring out the other cake!”

The Decoy Cake (I was 13, Don’t Judge!)

Every year since the cakes have had a theme to go with whatever happened to me that year.When I turned 16 I had a double decker bunt cake with 16 long stem roses coming out of the middle. The year I got a cat, the cake was a cat. The year I got a car—car cake. You get the idea.

My First Year in Art School

The year I went to Italy (leaning tower)

This is when I turned 21 and my sisters thought it would be funny to send me a princess party, Piñata and all.

Even my roommates in college got in on the action

I’m sure somewhere there are pictures from every year. One day I’ll have to hunt down copies. Of course this year was no exception. Here it is, the year my first child was born:





Yep, that is a white chocolate baby on a red-velvet rose. We won’t mention what happened to the other babies or the many unrepeatable baby-eating jokes. This was another classic one for the books. Thanks Dad! My love for you, like my love of sugar, will never fail.

Thanksgiving Photos

Just a few photos from Thanksgiving in Washington.

My new favorite vegetable

The Parsnip.

Also known as “The Albino Carrot”.  Well, that’s what I call it.  It’s my new favorite vegetable. 

Tasty foods you can make with parsnips:

• Parsnip chips—fried parsnips slices, like potato chips but (slightly) healthier
• Roasted vegetables—chop up a bunch of root veggies, toss with olive oil, salt & pepper, and cook at 400 until sufficiently crispy (about 20 minutes)

So I’ve basically only made these two things with parsnips, but both were incredibly delicious!  Looking forward to finding new parsnip recipes.