Boreal Witch

One quilt.

How pathetic.

Granted, I did a lot this year. Third trimester swelling made it impossible to sew or quilt which meant all of the quilts I had intended to finish pre-infant were still in pieces in Ziplock bags. I had my second son and recovered from another birth. Robinson and I planted a garden and enjoyed another beautiful Alaskan summer. Arthur was enrolled in gymnastics and Balin finally got onto a decent sleep schedule. Our one and only car died (ironically on the way home from the quilters) and it took us some time to purchase a new car and track down an engine for our old vehicle. I actually did finish three quilts, but only got one quilted.

So, really, I suppose one completed quilt is really quite good considering the year's excitement.

Quilt #1: Strip Bow Quilt
This quilt was made for my cousin Brian and his partner Byron. I hadn't intended to make them a quilt (at least not so soon), but while we were at my grandmother's funeral, we started talking about the quilts I had made. They said that they loved them and I promised I would make them one. Someday. (I have a lot of "someday" quilts floating around my house.) I found the pattern in a quilt book my grandmother had. I recovered most of the fabric from various tubs and boxes. The quilt itself was very, very easy and it would not be difficult to make another one like it, especially for a doll. I learned that I will never, ever buy large widths of fabric at Jo-Ann's. The fabric is way too thin and, according to the quilter, will pill. Besides, with the amount it cost to buy that cheap fabric, I could have bought some nicer fabric and pieced it. With the right coordinating thread, no one would ever know.

Even though I didn't complete many quilts, I did manage to do some fun quilt-related stuff this year. I saw a longarm quilting machine in action. That was an amazingly fun experience. I'm not sure if I'll ever get to own one (they take up so much space) or if I'll ever be a serious enough quilter to ever need one. Quilting is something I like to have fun with. If I ever started hoarding fabric without using it until one day I was buried beneath and had to tunnel my way out of it to survive...then maybe I would need one. Right now, quilting is a way of relieving stress. I acknowledge I have a collection of projects, but I am trying my hardest to finish the ones I have before I take on any more. That's so hard for me because I love starting new projects. It's much easier for me to get excited about beginning a quilt than it is to see a project to the end. My passion begins to fizzle about half-way.

I really should consider doing more baby quilts because they are small and generally very easy. Plus, now that I have a free motion foot, I can quilt my own smaller quilts!

Which reminds me, I bought a free motion foot for a whopping $1 this year! I can now quilt my own (small) quilts or wall hangings. It is so hard to stipple something and make it look good. My first project was an iPad holder for Arthur's friend Jade. I've quilted a doll blanket for Arthur's doll and our family tree skirt. All three of these projects seemed to take forever and were murder on my back. It was slow going, but the results were quite lovely. My goal for this next year is to get really good at stippling. I guess that means I'll need to practice.

What, more quilting? Oh, darn!

Blessed be.

Come September 1st I get excited for Winter Solstice.

Kind of silly, I know, considering there's a perfectly good Wiccan holiday in between Autumn Equinox and Yule, but Winter Solstice is the one Wiccan holiday that I feel like I'm a good Wiccan. I actually do things that are Pagan-y and meaningful. I make special dinners and decorate the house. I carve a log which gets burned in a bonfire. I thank the Universe for the change in the seasons and the dramatic gain in sunlight we will begin to get. It's this time of year I feel my most devout.

Burning the Yule log was surprisingly pleasant this year. For the first time in our Yule celebrations, it was a balmy 15 degrees outside (notice that number was NOT preceded by a minus sign). We were able to enjoy the bonfire and watch the log burn. We poked at the fire and once we were finished, we went in to enjoy some rhubarb crumble.

Christmas was a quiet affair. No one visited, we didn't visit anyone. It was nice not having to rush through airline security. We opened presents, ate cinnamon rolls, and just spent time together. It was surprising to see the large number of gifts under the tree because we made it a point to have a frugal Christmas this year. Our families are so generous and we were very grateful for that.

2012 will represent many new beginnings for our family. I intend to start a sewing business. In fact, that was my Yule wish this year. I'm hoping to make some fun kid stuff for some of the holiday bazaars around town next year. I've been upcycling some upholstery scraps into baby doll carriers. I also plan on turning some old banners into diaper changing pads. I'm not sure if this will even be remotely successful, but I love to sew and if I can make a living out of it, why not?

Here's to 2012!

Blessed be.

Growing up, my parents always did the same thing with leftovers: we ate them as leftovers. Once a week, my mom or dad would pull out all the leftovers and we'd (begrudgingly) eat them.

Once I moved away and had to cook for myself, I discovered a sneaky way to make leftovers a bit more palatable: make them into something else. This idea didn't have to be saved for Thanksgiving leftovers anymore, it could be done anytime for any meal.

Sometimes Robinson's office will make soups and since we had a ton of potatoes, we always signed up to bring those. One of these meals was scheduled for Wednesday and Robinson received a reminder on Monday saying to bring mushrooms.

"I thought you said you signed me up to bring potatoes," he said.

"I did!" I responded.

He went to the store to get mushrooms, only to discover that the person who'd handed out the slips accidentally put his name with the mushrooms.

So now we had an extra pound of mushrooms.

Oh, darn.

I love mushrooms, so it wasn't a big deal. What was a big deal was that we weren't going to be able to use them in a meal this week since none of our meals had mushrooms in them.

But I didn't want them to go bad...

...so I made this incredible mushroom gravy.

Browned Pork Chops with Mushroom Gravy
Serves 4

1 tbs. canola oil
4 pork chops
1 tbs. butter
1 lb. mushrooms (any kind)
1/4 tsp. dried thyme
1/4 tsp. garlic powder
1 tbs. brandy or white wine
1/2 cup leftover turkey gravy*
1/4 cup water
1 can cream of mushroom soup
salt and pepper to taste

1. Brown the pork chops in the 1 tbs. oil. Place on the bottom of a casserole dish.

2. Melt the butter in a skillet. Chop mushrooms and add them to the melted butter. Add thyme and garlic powder. When the butter gets absorbed by the mushrooms, add 1 tbs. brandy or white wine.

3. Once the mushrooms are completely sauteed, add the 1/2 cup gravy and stir to incorporate. The gravy should reconstitute into a sauce on its own. Once it does, add the 1/4 cup water and mushroom soup. Stir well and bring to a boil. Pour over the pork chops.

4. Cover and bake at 350 degrees for about 20-30 minutes. Serve hot with rice or noodles.

Blessed be.

* My Thanksgiving turkey makes the best gravy and thus the richest mushroom sauce. You can find the recipe here.

The Universe has decreed that we needed two cars. Granted, one of those cars is broken and probably won't be fixed anytime soon, but we are technically a two car family now. Once we get our gray Matrix fixed, it will be rather nice.

Unfortunately for us, we are not a two-income family. It's going to be a challenge to pay for our new red car.

We're back to our college days of saving all of our precious pennies by having a strict weekly food budget. Robinson's even stopped coming home for lunch to save on gas. Christmas will be very simple this year, which is quite a coincidence because I was planning on a pretty frugal holiday season anyway. The kids are too young to know, so I don't feel bad or guilty in the least.

It's a good thing Christmas is around the corner. My sisters and my mom are always very generous when it comes to getting the kids clothes, so they should be set for the next year. Since I saved all of Arthur's old clothes for Balin, we won't have to get him anything. Plus, it's nice to have a network of other moms who give us their kids' old clothing.

I'm confident we'll make it all work. Somehow it always comes out in the wash. I've offered to get a part-time weekend job to help cover expenses, but Robinson said we don't need to worry about it yet.

Yet.

Now that's a scary word.

Blessed be.

In all my years of driving, I've done a pretty half-assed job taking care of my vehicles. Sure, they got the necessities like oil and air in the tires, but for the most part, preventative care like tune-ups were not done.

Then came the Matrix. I tried really hard to get regular oil changes and do some of that preventative work because it was such a nice little car. We depended on it. Once Balin was born, I didn't get around to it. I just didn't have the time. I had hoped Robinson would think to do it, but if he's not looking the beast in the eye right then and there, he won't tackle it.

Our poor car died yesterday. I was driving back from the quilter's when I started to lose power. Then the car died. Luckily, there were two cars behind me. The first guy didn't stop, but the next guy did. He took me home. I called Robinson and explained the situation. He got one of his co-workers to drive him out there and after pouring in some oil, he determined that the car would have to be towed since the car wouldn't turn over.

After a day's wait, the mechanics called with the verdict: the oil rod had gone through the engine which meant that the engine was shot. It would take $4000 and about 5 months to put our poor Matrix back together again.

So, now we are stuck either buying another car that we can't afford or fixing our car, which we also can't afford. Unfortunately, Fairbanks is not the kind of city where you can't have a car. The public transit isn't very good and we don't live anywhere near a bus route.

The thing is, I'm surprisingly calm about this experience. Sometimes it takes a big "uh-oh" moment to make sure that you never, ever do a stupid thing like not get regular oil changes again.

Our future cars will have it so good.

Blessed be.

Blessed be.

I've been trying to get better about celebrating Pagan holidays. I missed the summer solstice and Lammas this year. I meant to have a bonfire on the Fall Equinox. Some of it I can blame on Balin, as any new mother can tell you it's difficult to get anything completed, much less started. Brushing your teeth in the morning becomes a major accomplishment. Housework gets swept to the side and is only done when the pile of dirty laundry threatens to swallow you whole or when the dishes lean precariously on the counters. Blogs get neglected. Smileboxes aren't sent. I think family members are beginning to wonder if we're still around.

Still, we really made an effort for Halloween. Arthur is old enough to begin to understand that costumes = loads of candy. There were two deaths of close family members within the last year as well. It was imperative that we recognize them, too. As a result, Halloween extended from one evening to a week-long event, which was surprisingly nice.

Last year, I made Arthur a Curious George costume, which he refused to wear. I didn't want that drama this year, so after some battles with Arthur about what he wanted to wear, I finally left the costume up to Robinson. He did a good job convincing Arthur to be a computer programmer, like him. They made cardboard iPads and Robinson even asked one of his co-workers to make Arthur a name tag, exactly like the ones at the school district. Robinson's co-workers thought he was the cutest thing ever. There were so many pictures taken and the end result of cubicle trick-or-treating was a small bag of candy, which is perfect because neither myself nor Robinson needs any more sweets.

Balin and I dressed up like Wicket the Ewok and Princess Leia. I reused the material from Arthur's rejected Curious George outfit. I was pretty surprised it worked so well. We made quite a stir at UAF's Halloween Bash. Even a brief truce was declared so that we could pose with members of the Empire's finest.

Arthur even went to eight of the stations and was eligible for one of several door prizes. What a surprise we had when he actually won one of them! It was a Star Wars Lego sticker book, just the kind of thing to make both Robinson and Josh green with envy. Arthur sat on the floor the afternoon he got it, peeling and placing stickers, saying, "Not everyone gets to win a prize. I'm special. This is really special." He even covered pieces of paper with stickers for Robinson and Uncle Johnny.

We also went to our friend Sarah's house to carve pumpkins, but since we had not yet gotten our pumpkins, the boys painted their little ones instead. Well, I painted Balin's because he probably would have eaten the paint. When we finally got our pumpkin, Arthur decided he wanted the letters E, W, P, and H carved in it rather than a face.

Finally, we made rice krispy treat skulls and decorated them with candy. Unfortunately, the marshmallows were so old that the treats hardened within the hour of making them. Still, I hadn't done this activity since I was a junior in college and it was very enjoyable making one with my own child. This might become an annual activity.

We also remembered my grandmother, who passed away last August, and Robinson's mom who passed away this January. It was a little sad when Arthur couldn't (or maybe didn't want to) come up with a memory of his Oldma. I wonder if, when he gets older, if he will have any actual memories of her.

Blessed be.

For two nights, Balin and Arthur both slept until about 7:30. It was wonderful. Robinson and I easily got lulled into a false sense of security, believing that we had finally come to the point where our children would "sleep in."

Little did we realize that our children were evil geniuses who were probably just playing practical jokes on us. For almost the past week these kids have been waking up at 5:30, bright-eyed and ready to start the day.

I'm not sure who is waking up first. If it's Balin there's not much we can do other than not go in until after 6am, and if it is Arthur, we can only hope that he stays quiet until Balin wakes up. Either way, I don't count on either of us getting much sleeping in time in the near future.

I suppose that's the draw back of having two kids in a small house. Someday we won't be able to get them to go to sleep or wake up in time for school. When my sisters and I stayed up half the night giggling we probably drove my parents crazy, too. Life is circular like that.

Blessed be.

It's really started to snow here. Although the snow has yet to reach winter wonderland heights, it's quite a beautiful change to see our surroundings switch from the browns of autumn to the white of winter. Speaking of which, I wonder how our friend Albert is doing?

What do you think Arthur's favorite winter activity is? Sledding? Nope. Making snow angels? Nah. Building snowmen? No. Watching snow plows and graders drive down our street? Well, he does like doing that, but it's not his favorite thing...

He loves shoveling snow. Every time it snows, no matter how little, he wants to go outside and shovel the porch. I hope this lasts well into his teenage years, though, sadly, I doubt it. We bought him a little red shovel last year. It's been well-loved. He even uses it during the summer to scoop up rocks and dirt.

As for Balin, he's content to watch Arthur ride around on his trike and scoop up snow. He's always watching Arthur very intently. It's sweet.

Blessed be.

Arthur refuses to let me take his picture anymore. In fact, if I take out the camera, he'll tell me to take a picture of Balin.

Balin, in contrast, is completely fine with being photographed. He is, after all, a baby, and really could care less about that black clicking machine in his face (other than the occasional snatch and grab). He has such a wonderful smile that whenever he's in a good mood, I bring out the camera. I have to because it would be a crime against the gods of photography not to record this sweet smile.

The past week Balin has been fussier than usual because he's had teeth coming in. His tooth nubs are officially here after what seemed like forever. I was a little terrified that it would never end. He's even back on his schedule, for the most part.

Now he's chewing on everything. His favorite things to chew on are cups, food, and spoons. His open mouth is constantly accompanied by a string of drool. My nephew would be disgusted.

I wonder if the next two teeth will be as bad. I'll find out in another few months when we do this all over again!

Blessed be.

Whew!

It's been such a busy fall - one of the busiest I can recall. I suppose it's to be expected, especially since I had a baby in March. A little bundle of joy would keep anyone up to their eyeballs in dirty diapers and spit up. I happened to glance at my last blog entry and, oh dear, realized that I had only written one entry in September. One? I've been pretty good about keeping everyone up to date, even with Balin around.

What's made my fall so outrageously busy?

1. Picking and canning berries. We made 17 jars of raspberry jam and 2 jars of cranberry syrup. I've still got loads of cranberries in the backyard which I may attempt to pick and can or freeze this weekend. Now that there's been a frost, the berries should have an even better taste.

2. Preserving potatoes. After picking 150 pounds of potatoes, I've been constantly cooking, grating, slicing, freezing, and canning them. I'm down to 30 pounds of potatoes which have temporarily taken residence in the arctic entryway. The best part of all this potato madness has been discovering how to make the perfect hash browns. I love hash browns. I could eat them every morning and sometimes for lunch or dinner. The process is outlined here. It's a bit time consuming, but the results are so worth it. If you don't have a dehydrator, you may want to invest in one. I'm not kidding. That's how amazing they are.

3. Training for the trail. Did I mention? Me and a bunch of other gals are hiking the Chilkoot Trail next summer. My friend Amanda and I have been walking stairs with our babies on our backs at the Big Dipper to train (as well as get in shape). Balin is now 18 pounds. It's a fabulous workout. I feel so much stronger.

4. Teething. About two weeks ago at Balin's 6 month appointment, the doctor informed us that his teeth were coming. We had ample warning, but this time around has been incredibly hard, for him and for us. His temperature was so high yesterday and after administering some pain medication, it's dropped, but one look at him tells you he's not feeling well. He seems to be even more irritable than Arthur was, and I thought he was bad!

5. Sewing. Halloween costumes have taken precedent over quilts, but for a while I was on fire! One quilt is now finished, waiting to be dropped off, one is awaiting boarders, and a third needs to be sashed. I was hoping the these quilts would be done by the end of the month and there's still time, but I'm a little less confident than I was a the beginning of September. You'll notice that I didn't mention anything about Halloween costumes here. That's because it's a surprise...but I guarantee you'll love them.

6. Trying to keep my sanity. Two of Arthur's friends are in preschool this winter. I'm incredibly jealous and sometimes wish that I had taken the opportunity to do more research about enrolling him. I also wish that I had taken the time to get him in gymnastics and swimming at the beginning of fall. I can't really explain why I've been dragging my feet, except to say that I've been so busy just trying to get back into a routine that I probably would have been late to any classes I enrolled him in 75 percent of the time anyway. Since the playgroup doesn't get together as often, Arthur has had very few kids to play with. He's so lonely. He's only got his brother to play with right now and Balin's a bit boring to an active 3 year old. It's a good thing I've finally gotten around to signing him up for an activity. He needs time with other kids and I need time away from him. I see Amanda on a regular basis because we go walking together so I have an opportunity to see one of the other moms, but Arthur doesn't really see any of his friends anymore. It makes me sad.

To be honest, I like keeping busy, but the more busy I am, the more important it is for me to take a break.

Boring January is looking pretty good about now.

Blessed be.

As a child I did not practice experimental eating. It's doubtful I would have eaten anything ethnic, odd-named foods, or anything just plain disgusting. Rutabagas? Forget it. Artichokes? Nah. Pickled pigs' feet? Ew. My parents, being Midwesterners, considered casseroles the penultimate in dinner cuisine, which didn't help matters. So casseroles, the bland and boring meals that they are, were safe. Hamburger? Okay. Peas and carrots? Yup. Cream of something soup? I could get down with that.

When I left home, I became a little more adventurous when I cooked and what I ate. After I got married I rarely made casseroles. I now consider them unappetizing and unappealing.

Enter the turnip.

You probably would never, ever have caught me eating turnips as a child. They ranked right up there with foodstuffs like Brussels sprouts. Turnips sounded just plain weird. Luckily for turnips, they have such a mild flavor and lovely texture that even a kid would love them. Arthur ate two bowls of this delicious soup.

On the Menu: Creamy Turnip Soup
Serves 6-8

3 tablespoons butter
2 leeks, thinly sliced (white and pale green parts only)
1 medium sweet onion, thinly sliced
5 turnips (about 2 1/2 pounds), peeled, cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices
1 medium russet potato, peeled, cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices*
4 cups canned low-salt chicken broth
1 3/4 cups milk
1/4 cup whipping cream
Pinch of ground nutmeg
2 teaspoons dried dill

Melt butter in heavy large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add leeks and onion and sauté until onion is translucent. Add sliced turnips and potato and sauté 2 minutes. Add 4 cups broth. Bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until vegetables are very tender, about 30 minutes.

Puree soup in blender in batches until very smooth. Return to Dutch oven. Add milk and cream. Bring to simmer. Season to taste with nutmeg, salt, pepper, and dill.

* I used about 1/2 cup leftover mashed potato instead of a potato. The results were great!

Blessed be.

Balin has discovered his toes. It's like a passionate love affair. In the mornings when he gets up, the first thing he does is check to see if his toes are still there.

Yup. Still there.

But it's not just toes. Everything has started to go into his mouth, including his thumbs and fingers. Arthur was never really interested in his digits, but he loved his pacifier. If we'd have let him, he would have sucked the nipple off that thing. Balin, in contrast, loves to suck on any part of his body that he can get into his mouth, even his toes.

Here's my little contortionist, sucking away. This is Balin's normal look. Apparently, Robinson did the exact same thing when he was a baby. We have the picture to prove it.

Balin has even expressed interest in pacifiers. He used to spit them out every time we stuck one in his mouth; now if we put it in his hand, he'll stick it in his mouth and even suck on it for a bit. Still, he'll probably be sticking with toes for the time being.

Blessed be.

Arthur and I harvested our carrots today. We grew almost 3 pounds.

After some consideration, we decided to make Moroccan Carrot Dip simply because we didn't have the space in the freezer to put so many sliced carrots. Plus, in addition to being more versatile than regular carrots, the taste is out of this world! All of the dip was packaged in freezer jars and put in the freezer for later.

On the Menu: Moroccan Carrot Dip
Serves 4

For the dip:
1 lb. carrots, peeled and chopped into large pieces
1 clove garlic, peeled and left whole
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. paprika
1/2 tsp. ground ginger
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 pinch cayenne pepper
sea salt, to taste
1 tbs. honey
2 tbs. lemon juice
3 tbs. olive oil

To accompany:
green olives
pita bread, toasted

As a little girl, I loved Arnold Lobel. My absolute favorites were his Frog and Toad stories. I've been known to get a faraway look in my eyes and say, "Frog and Toad are friends" in the most inappropriate times, such as brushing my teeth.

Arthur also loves the Frog and Toad stories by Arnold Lobel. One of his favorites is "Cookies" in which Toad makes cookies for Frog and they can't stop devouring them. Finally, after a break in their willpower, Frog gives all the cookies to birds.

This afternoon, I asked Arthur what kind of cookies he'd like to make and he said, "Frog Cookies." After a good 15-minute online search, I found numerous iced frog-shaped cookies (which would not do because Toad's cookies were more like chocolate chip) as well as a philosophical discussion about the story itself, a suitable recipe turned up here.

I was a bit skeptical, but the crush-up cereal added a nice crunch. Next time, I'd use less cereal - three cups instead of four. I also added a cup of raisins since I didn't have any chocolate chips. Here's my modified recipe.

On the Menu: Frog Cookies
Yield: 4 dozen cookies

Ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/4 cups butter
1 cup granulated sugar
2/3 cups brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup coconut
1 cup raisins
1 cup rolled oats
3 cups crushed-up cereal* (I used granola and Cheerios)

Cream together the butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla, mix well. Add flour, baking soda, salt, oats, raisins, and coconut. Once well-mixed, add the cereal a little at a time until incorporated. Let rest for 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Roll dough into balls and squash gently. Bake for 10-14 minutes, depending on whether you want a chewy or crunchy cookie.

Blessed be.

* For extra fun, put the cereal into a large ziploc and let your children jump on it (like a frog!) to crush it.

When family members visit, I can expect certain things. When my mom comes to visit, she wants to visit the Santa Clause House and go shopping. When my sister Blythe comes to visit, she wants to go biking. When Becky comes to visit, she wants to go to Once Upon a Child.

I can now anticipate with some certainty that any future visits from my father and nephew Josh will be accompanied by toilet issues.

To be fair, Arthur played a role in this, too. He acted as instigator, administrator, and supreme deviant, so I'll have to be on guard in the future.

To sum it up, Josh had run out of toilet paper in the bathroom. I told Arthur to take some upstairs for him and heard hysterical laughing a few moments later. Arthur finally came downstairs, still laughing, and when I asked him what happened, he told me he had unraveled an entire roll of toilet paper into the toilet. When I tried to explain how unfunny his actions were and demanded that he remove all of the excess paper from the toilet, he flushed it.

Needless to say, we were out of a toilet for several hours. On the bright side, it was fixed without the aid of a plumber.

I'm always looking for fun, easy games that I think Josh would like so that we can play them when he comes to visit. He doesn't really have the attention span for long, complex games and some of our games can take an hour to finish playing. At one of my frequent trips to Once Upon a Child, I found a copy of the game Loot and bought it. I had done some research on this particular game a while back and was curious about it, but didn't want to pay for the game in addition to shipping and handling in case we didn't like it.

I shouldn't have worried because Josh (and my dad) loved the game. In fact, they quickly became obsessed. For two nights in a row, they played well into the night. It seems Doodle Dice has met its match.

Overall, it was a good trip. It's always fun to have my dad and Josh come to visit.

Blessed be.

It's fair time!

We chose to visit the fair during the first Saturday for multiple reasons: 1) Kid's Day at the fair (kids were free, but Arthur, being only 3, was already free), 2) beautiful weather (unusual as it rains during the fair; it's frequently called "Fair Weather"), and 3) the Backhoe Rodeo (I'll have to wait until next year to find out what it is exactly because it was canceled)...

...in addition to the lure of Frickers, Navajo Tacos, and the Quilt Exhibit.

Interestingly, when we arrived at noon expecting the fair to be packed with families, the fairground was strangely deserted. No lines for food, rides, or shops. Even the hourly quilt show was pretty empty. It wasn't until about 4pm that the grounds became more crowded and by then we were more than ready to go.

Arthur discovered the joys of hill-rolling while we wolfed down dessert. He'd roll down the hill, run under the bridge, run back, then begin the process anew. He was more excited about the hill than dessert. Really.

I won fifth prize for a picture I entered in the Candid category. It's the one of Balin sticking his tongue out. Next year when I enter something I hope it will be a quilt. The last two years I've been so disappointed by the quilts that have been entered. So many of them have been, well, boring - the designs, the fabric, everything. Uninteresting. Yawn. Robinson constantly pesters me about making a quilt to enter and I intend to...once I finish all these gift quilts I've fallen behind on!

Arthur also got to play a couple games. He was immediately drawn to a fishing game - the same one we have at home, but on a much larger scale. He caught two fish and won a stuffed dolphin and a pixie stick as big as he is. He chose not to go on any of the rides, but as fair entertainment goes, he was still pretty happy. He's a bit afraid of (but intrigued by) the rides. Maybe in another year he'll be ready. It will be a blast to go on rides with Arthur.

Blessed be.

At about 5 months, Robinson and I felt it was time for Arthur to begin the arduous process of self-soothing. He already accepted and loved his pacifier, which helped greatly, but we did the research, started a bedtime routine (that surprisingly hasn't changed much to this day), and then left him in his crib.

I remember crying because my baby was crying. Robinson became the "Almighty Soother" and went in at various intervals to calm Arthur. After a few days, he got it and we haven't had much of a problem keeping him asleep. Sometimes getting him to bed is another matter...

Fast forward three years. I wanted to wait until Balin was 5 months old to start sleep training, but at 4 months, it's now time for Balin to learn how to self-soothe. He's slept with Robinson and I since birth and neither one of us can sleep with him thrashing in between us. The transition from our bed to his bassinet hasn't gone well. Every time we put him inside it he wakes up immediately or wakes up an hour later. (The fact that he's been waking up every two hours to nurse himself to sleep hasn't helped either. I'm not a human pacifier, kid!)

We talked about it and decided it was time for him to just cry it out.

I am an advocate for crying it out when it is done properly. I have never let either of my children cry and cry and never check on them until they vomit. To be honest, that turns my stomach. It's hard enough to hear my kid cry for comfort (although I usually spend some time outside and make Robinson soothe the baby while we're going through this process), but to let them just cry without soothing them seems so wrong.

The first night was simply awful. It took Balin about an hour and a half to fall asleep and then he woke up every couple of hours screaming. It finally ended at 6am when I heard him up. I was terrified about tonight because Robinson had a school board meeting and I didn't know if I could handle hearing his cries.

The boys took baths. I got Balin into his pajamas, read him a story, nursed him, sung him some songs, kissed him goodnight, then left, just waiting for the screaming to begin.

To my bewilderment, there was a five minute period of fussing and then...nothing. Balin had fallen asleep on his own, without help.

Of course, he woke up screaming an hour and a half later, but put himself back to sleep within 5 minutes of waking. So, so far, so good.

This could be the beginning of something beautiful. A decent night's sleep.

Blessed be.

Mom has a poem on her living room wall with all of our handprints on it. This picture captured the memory of making it and then seeing it hanging there, year after year. It's not really of a handprint, but I love it just the same.

The poem goes like this:

My Handprints
Sometimes I might upset you
Because I am so small
And always leave my fingerprints
On furniture and walls.

But everyday I grow a bit
And soon I'll be so tall
That all those little fingerprints
Will be so hard to recall.

So here's a special handprint
Just so that you can say
This is how my fingers looked
When I placed them here today.

Blessed be.

Balin has taken his first steps into a wider world.

He is now an avid roller.

He rolled once Friday, which I believed to be a fluke because he was on uneven ground. When he did it again Saturday, I realized he knew exactly what he was doing. By Sunday, Balin rolled from his tummy to his back without pausing at all...multiple times!

I marvel at how strong he's become. Last week, he'd lift his head up for a short period of time before putting it down again. Now, he keeps his head up for a while before rolling over. It's truly incredible how quickly these kids master their bodies and are able to manipulate the world around them. Soon he'll be crawling and then walking and talking. Then he'll start school. Then he'll be driving.

My, how it's bittersweet.

Blessed be.

My friend Seneca had her baby girl about a week ago. We made plans for Balin and I to come visit Saturday while the boys and Oldpa saw the new Winnie the Pooh movie. They dropped me off at Seneca's house.

But no one was there.

It wasn't surprising because she sent me an email saying that they were going on an outing, but hopefully would be back no later than 2pm. I sat on a folding chair, nursed Balin, and soaked in the silence.

It was glorious.

A younger me would have probably avoided the silence by breaking it. Now that I rarely get a moment to myself, I found the silence to be enlightening. I sat just feeling the flow of energy and life around me. The sun warmed my hair. The flowers' sweet perfume filled me with happy satisfaction. The light tinkle of the wind chimes gave me a smile.

Someday I will meditate frequently and soak up the silence. I am fully committed to making that happen.

Blessed be.

Oldpa came to visit us for a week. Arthur, who is always looking for more attention these days, loved having him here. We visited the museum and Chena Hot Springs, but we also hiked to Angel Rock which is something that Robinson and I, in our many years of Fairbanks living, haven't done.

The day was cool and we were bombarded by mosquitoes, but as we progressed up the trail, the winds picked up and they weren't such a bother. At the middle of the trail, we found a special surprise - blueberries - and stopped to pick some. We had been hearing rumors of ripe blueberries; apparently they were true. We picked a handful and gave them to Arthur. He gladly accepted.

The best part of the hike was the view of the valley from the rocks. Even with the overcast skies, it was a breathtaking sight. Oldpa and Robinson explored the area by climbing all over the rocks (an activity I have little doubt Balin and Arthur will be doing someday while I suffer through heart palpatations). Arthur ate applesauce and played in the sand. He wished that he had brought one of his trucks with him.

On the way up, I noticed a pentagram carved into a tree. I love finding these shapes in nature, but it's interesting to see where people leave their own marks. This graffiti may not have been intended to be spiritual, but I wondered if there were others like me who passed it on the way up and thought, "What a lovely affirmation of my faith." I breathed a little deeper and smiled to myself.

The rest of the week passed quickly. We made triple ginger ice cream and grilled pork ribs. Arthur and Oldpa played with trains. Oldpa played his harmonica for the kids and when he stopped Arthur asked, "Oldpa, will you turn your harmonica back on?"

It's been so lovely to have so many people visit us this summer. My family is planning on coming back a couple more times before fall. I hope my dad makes it while there's kohlrabi to be had!

Blessed be.

This year Robinson and I agreed that we wanted an amazing garden. Our past gardens have been okay, provided that the moose didn't devour it first. Last year, my friend Seneca had an incredible garden. I was (quite literally) green with envy. It was practically a jungle growing in her backyard. Robinson started doing research about gardening and came up with this little gem of an idea:

Aren't these amazing? They look like real greenhouses...and all it took was a little PVC pipe and plastic! I can't really take credit for these, they were all Robinson's idea.

It's been such a fun experiment. The moose have been kept away and we've gotten kohlrabi much earlier than usual. I'm sure the extra watering has been helping, too.

Here's Arthur in one of the greenhouses. I think he thinks it's a fort or hideout of some kind. He loves being in it but hates getting out of it. He's not the only one - it's a challenge for the most coordinated of adults. Even I have to bend into various yoga positions in order to get out of the greenhouses.

The height of the summer is such a wonderful time, don't you think? I love the sheer laziness of it, thoughts of nothing to do, and having all the time in the world. It's romantic, the calm before the storm of autumn canning, berry picking, and fishing.

I'm really glad that Balin was born in March. He's just a ball of baby to carry around. It's so easy to pick him up and take a hike or play outside with the two boys. I wonder how he'll do when we go berry picking...

Blessed be.

Upon returning to Fairbanks, I finally got around to washing these art shirts that we made for Arthur and Balin. My sister Blythe said they looked like rocker shirts. I agree wholeheartedly.

It's a pretty simple process: 1) spread Elmer's glue on shirt, 2) let dry, 3) water down acrylic paints, 4) paint on shirt in colors of your choosing, 5) let dry, and 6) wash well.

I think we'll be doing it again, but I doubt I'll be able to get pictures of Arthur in his shirt. I had to bribe him with an Otter Pop to get him to wear it this time.

Blessed be.

Fairbanks summers are so beautiful. Eighty degree temperatures, 22 hour days, and sun almost makes up for our chilly winters. Even though my family lives in Anchorage (just a 6 hour drive) it seems a shame to leave Fairbanks to visit a more temperate (albeit more civilized) location.

The kids and I flew down to Anchorage for my dad's birthday and stayed for a week. We got to see friends and family. We took portraits and played at parks. Arthur bossed his cousin Molly around and she didn't seem to mind a bit. Nana held Balin and I nearly finished all the blocks for a wedding quilt I've been working on (now to sew them together - I almost have two of the four quilts I wanted to complete this year finished!). My dad even convinced me to take on a portion of his stamp business. My friend Naomi gave me a fabulous new haircut and her in-laws lent us a few Terry Pratchett books.

Balin even learned a few new tricks, his favorite being finding his feet. This kid now spends almost every waking moment clutching something: his hands, feet, someone else's hands, or a toy. It's amazing how smitten people get with a baby around. He smiles and everyone coos. My father is absolutely convinced he's my grandmother reborn.

It was wonderful to be able to spend so much time with everyone. Next year we'll stay a while longer. Even though next summer is proving to be busier than I anticipate, I'd like to take the kids to Anchorage for a couple weeks, at least. Arthur continuously asks when we're going back to Anchorage. He loved all the attention from Nana and his aunties and loved playing with his cousins. It was nice being able to fly one way because the drive back was brutal with a 3 month old. Unlike his brother who would have loved having a pacifier fused to his mouth, Balin hates it and will spit it out as soon as it goes in. We did learn, however, that Balin will fall asleep in the car when he's dead tired from crying IF AND ONLY IF he is sung to. I wonder if someday he will be very musical like his Oldma and Daddy.

Guess what was awaited us when we got home? They were quickly peeled and devoured.

Blessed be.

Balin laughed today - all on his own, without me tickling him. His laughter made Arthur laugh, which made me laugh. He's got a magical laugh, very contagious.

Poor Robinson missed it. I encouraged Balin to laugh for him, but...nothing. Soon this kid will be able to tell jokes. My, how time flies.

Blessed be.

My parents have always had a lot of stuff. I'm not sure if this is because my parents both grew up on farms with their parents (Depression survivors) or because of our time in Barrow. Maybe it's a bit of both. Whatever the reason, stuff just seems to gravitate to my parents, which they happily pile in their house. Their house is so full of stuff that no one can enter the garage without carrying a satellite phone, a week's supply of food, and the jaws of life. That also applies for most of the other rooms in the house. My sisters still have stuff there. I might, in fact, still have some of my stuff there, but if I do, it's been swallowed by all the other stuff and will never be found. Since my marriage to Robinson, I've done a decent job of getting my stuff out of there.

Whenever I stay with my parents I can't help but look through some of Their Stuff. It's like a bad automobile accident. I feel compelled to gawk at Their Stuff.

Any attempt to remove Their Stuff is met with resistance. A typical conversation about Their Stuff usually goes like this:

Me: "Why, Mom? Why do you have all these stuffed animals?"

Mom: "Because you girls used to play with them. Incidentally, I found some of your old school work from Barrow. Do you want it?"

Me: "No, I don't want it. Chuck it. There's two old computer monitors here, do you really need two of them?"

Mom: "Don't touch those, those are your dad's. He might need them if his other monitor breaks."

Me: "Are you planning on his current monitor breaking?"

Mom: "Well, no, but we might need them someday. Are you sure you don't want that school work?"

By far, my sister Blythe has the most stuff at my parent's house, but any attempt to get rid of her stuff is also met with resistance. Surprisingly, not from Blythe. Part of the problem lies in that it's also Josh's stuff - mostly toys that he used to play with when he was two - and Mom can't seem to let go of any childhood object.

Their Stuff had gotten so wide spread that during my trip to Anchorage I spent a good part of the day rearranging half of the downstairs family room. Since my one-year-old niece Ella kept playing with some very fragile glass and ceramic objects, I was terrified she'd break something and a) get hurt, b) suffer the wrath of Mom, or c) get squished by the wobbling plastic shelving that these artifacts were housed on. I moved them with the help of my youngest sister Becky. I also moved the TV and put all the cords behind it, again because of safety.

This way not in the least bit okay with Mom who nearly had a fit when she came downstairs. I can't blame her because I wouldn't want someone to come to my house and rearrange all of my stuff either, but I felt pretty justified. The room looked so much better.

In fact, my anti-clutter brigade is slowly growing. Dad, Blythe, and Josh have all been trying to get rid of some of their excess junk out of my parent's house. Blythe's hoping that the next time we come down to visit, she'll have most of her stuff out of there. Becky's hopping aboard, too. She cleaned out Molly and Ella's closet.

I'm far from perfect and my home is far from clutter-free. Still, I pride myself in being able to keep the clutter at bay or at least hide one pile from another.

Because, you know, clutter is like bunnies.

Blessed be.

When spring came, Robinson and I chose several tasks to complete this summer. One of them was the same on both lists: build a better garden.

We've had our garden boxes ever since we moved into the house. They've slowly expanded from one to three to five, with two smaller ones behind the rhubarb which have yet to take shape. We've always had mixed results. In some years we've had a pretty decent garden (as long as the moose didn't eat everything) and other years our vegetables were pretty sparse.

This year, our garden is lush. LUSH. We've already harvested some radishes and we'll be eating some of our kohlrabi in a few weeks. Our squash has flower buds and the carrots and turnips are looking excellent. Even the rhubarb (which we never, ever do anything to) is beautiful.

The secret? Simple greenhouses made of pvc pipe and plastic, fertilizer, and lots of water. Lots of water. More water than we originally thought. Happily, some of the junk the previous owners left behind has proven extremely useful - in the form of a 300 gallon water tank. A couple years ago, Robinson set up a water collection system on the garage that rivaled his attempts of mudroom draft patrol. Since then, he's added gutters and a 30 gallon barrel to the water system.

Next year I hope to start my seeds even earlier. I also hope to grow some peppers and tomatoes. And flowers. Lots of flowers. Maybe I'll even get around to making that mini greenhouse on the porch I keep dreaming about. Something that can easily be moved into the mudroom during the winter months.

Blessed be and happy gardening!

Every year I say that I'll have a big celebration for Summer Solstice and I never do. A part of me says, "Hell, I'm busy raising 2 kids!" and another part of me says, "What a horrible Wiccan you are."

Happy Solstice, everyone.

Blessed be.

Rosy cheeked
Warm faced
Summer's zenith
Fading slowly
Into Autumn's horizon

Balin, my darling baby boy, will be 3 months old next week. I almost feel I must make some banana cupcakes or ladyfingers to celebrate.

We made a damn adorable baby. He's quite observant of Arthur and watches him play. Someday he'll make a great tag-a-long. He smiles when I sing to him even though I'm tone deaf and pitch deficient. He loves finger games. He's in no happier place than a lap watching the action. He's taken to grabbing his penis when he's being changed. (When I asked Arthur if he taught Balin to do that, a mischievous smile appeared on his face and he said, "yes.")

It's a wonderful feeling knowing that Balin is thriving because the last couple of weeks have been particularly stressful. I'm tired, so very tired of not getting a good night's sleep. I crave a full 6 hours straight - even 4 hours would be heaven! - and my bed back to the original trinity: myself, Robinson, and the cat, with Balin nestled peacefully in his own bed.

As I bounced Balin for the umpteenth time today, I found myself muttering, "Patience, patience, patience..."

Oh Goddess are babies exhausting. I don't know how some people have such large families. I struggle with my two youngsters daily. Of course, both are under 5.

I need a nanny. Or a grandma who lives closer.

Blessed be.

A few weeks ago, our family went to GVEA to get one of their free red chokecherries, figuring we could use it for the placenta burial and tree planting ceremony. We put it in a bucket of water next to the front porch. There it sat for about two weeks. Poor thing. Good thing we remembered to give it water. Once it started budding, it was time to plant it and since my family was in town this weekend, it seemed like a good time.

Robinson took the placenta out of the freezer last night. My dad spotted it on the counter this morning and thought it was liver. I'm glad he didn't fry it up with some onions. (Of course, it wouldn't have been possible anyway - we were out of onions.)

The ceremony was small: just my family and a friend and her two kids. Balin woke up from a nap right before we began and drooled through the whole thing. He seemed to know something special was going on. Even the rain let up for 10 minutes so that we could complete the ceremony and get the tree planted.

Arthur helped with the burial by throwing some dirt and water into the hole containing the tree. After his small part he and his friend Jade ran off to play.

Once the tree was planted, it started to rain again. We ate a late dinner and talked while the kids played. It's beautiful, having traditions such as these.

Blessed be.