Mendolonium

We decided to do something completely different, unconventional, and downright revolutionary this past Thanksgiving and it turned out so well, I think we might make it a tradition.  The crazy thing that we did was to celebrate Thanksgiving by taking the day “off” on Thursday and eating our feast on Friday.  Rather than slaving away in the kitchen all night long and waking early on Thursday morning we prepped food for our feast  and baked pies for the Union Station shelter on Wednesday evening at a relaxed pace.  We slept until the kids woke up on Thursday morning and then I even let Jeff sleep in another two hours.  After dropping off the pies my sister joined us for a morning hike to the waterfall at Eaton Canyon.  Apparently we are not the only unconventional folks and found families, couples, runners, and many dogs on the hike as well.  I particularly enjoyed watching the dogs cavort in and out of the cold stream – they were clearly having the time of their life and I couldn’t help but smile at them.  It was a perfect hike.  The sky was gloriously clean and clear, the stream and the waterfall were running swiftly, and the kids were as comfortable as the dogs in the great outdoors.  Thomas especially impressed me; he navigated most of the dozen stream crossings himself; deftly maneuvering from stone to stone and when he fell a time or two he merely scowled, dusted off his hands, and forged onward insisting on being “the leader”.  Theo, strapped safely against me, murmured happy noises for the hike in and curled up like a puppy into Jeff’s jacket and fell asleep for the hike out. We spent the remainder of the day raking leaves, reading by a roaring fire, prepping more food for Friday, and then making s’mores over said fire; thankful for the respite that the day gave us from our busy lives.

On Friday we had the traditional, albeit turkey-less, feast.  And with plenty of time to prepare the feast was a relaxed affair; I didn’t even fully set the menu beforehand, instead waiting to see what produce was ready in our garden.  In the end, we had butternut squash to use and so I created a vegetarian main dish that pleased nearly everyone at the table.  These little triangles of goodness will make you forget that the turkey is missing.

Thankful Squash Triangles

Ingredients:

• 1 package (2 sheets total) frozen puff pastry (I use the Pepperidge Farm brand)
• 1 small butternut squash, peeled, seeds, removed, and cut into 1 inch chunks (about 3 cups once all is said and done)
• 2 Tablespoons olive oil
• 1 large leek, diced (white and pale green parts only)
• 1/4 cup diced shallots
• 2 cloves garlic, diced
• 8 ounces feta cheese, crumbled into chunks
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 1/2 cup fresh parsley, chopped finely
• salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

Directions:

1. If frozen, de-thaw the puff pastry sheets in the refrigerator the night before using.
2. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
3. Place the squash in a microwave safe container with lid and microwave, covered, for approximately 10 minutes until squash is fork tender.
4. Meanwhile, saute the leeks, shallots, and garlic in the olive oil until translucent and softened.  Remove from heat.
5. Coarsely mash the butternut squash with a potato masher or a fork.
6. Stir the mashed squash, the leek mixture, the cheeses, the parsley, the salt, and the pepper  together.
7. Unroll one puff pastry sheet and cut it into four equally sized squares.
8. Place approximately 1/4 cup of the squash mixture in the center of each pastry square.
9. Fold each pastry square over to make a triangle.
10. Firmly press the edges of each triangle together to seal the pastry.
11. Repeat with the second sheet of pastry and the remaining squash mixture  (Note:  if you have any leftover squash mixture you can use it to toss with pasta.)
12. Place the finished triangles (you should have eight total) on a lightly greased baking sheet.
    Note:  at this step you can cover (With plastic wrap or aluminum foil) the triangles and refrigerate for up to 24 hours before baking.
13. Bake at 375 degrees for approximately 30 minutes – until pastry has “puffed” and is golden brown.

I read a lot of blogs:  blogs focused on living sustainably, blogs relating parenting anecdotes, blogs written by doctors, blogs detailing finance and peak oil, and blogs written by urban homesteaders.  I gain a lot from blogs; from ideas on how to solve small farming dilemmas to the knowledge that my children are normal for not sleeping through the night to encouragement to lower my energy usage.  But I am troubled by something that is common across many of the non-parenting focused blogs that I read:  that those writing the blogs do not have children, in particular young children and/or a traditional work out of the home job.  This state of affairs is, naturally,  predictable; those of us with young children often find it a challenge to find time for a shower, much less to grow our own food and then write about it.  But  I have to admit that sometimes I find it frustrating when a I read a blog entry detailing someone’s 100% local diet and then realize that the author lives in a home without children and doesn’t have “regular” job.  I would probably be eating out of my garden for every meal and making my own soap too if I wasn’t also busy nursing a baby or working so that my family can have health insurance.  Where is the blog for the rest of us I wonder; the blog for those of us who live in the real world?  The majority of the world’s population will have young children at some point.  And whether or not we are parents, all of us will, at some point, almost certainly find ourselves caring for an ailing spouse, an elderly parent, or other friend or relative in need.  Most of us have jobs that take us outside of our home for hours a day on a regular basis.

And then there are the parenting blog that I read.  One of the themes I often see from mothers is:  “Parenthood is hard, do what you need to do to survive.”  Commenters chime in that mothers shouldn’t feel guility about hiring a house keeper, “treating” oneself,  or obligated to nurse/use cloth diapers/make all their own baby food, etc.  And they are right, parenting is hard (and often thankless).  Formula/disposable diapers/store-bought baby food aren’t evil.  But children are not without environmental consequences.  The parenting choices we make do matter.  Much the same can be said by those of us who are busy with work.  “It’s ok to get takeout.”  “I deserve those new work clothes.”  “I have to commute.”  But our choices do matter.  We don’t get a free pass simply because we have children or we are busy.

Both camps are clearly well represented in the blogosphere, but I don’t see the challenge of real families working to live a sustainable life in the modern world represented well on the internet or in society.  I would like to document that challenge here.  I would like this blog to be real without being apologetic.  This blog isn’t a “mommy blog”.  It’s not a sustainability blog.  It’s the blog of someone with a real family and a real job working hard to turn a modern life into a sustainable life.  I made the acquaintance of someone recently and it came up that I have a blog.  When she asked what I write about I answered, “my family and our work at leading a sustainable life.”  “So you write about your children?” she responded with an obvious look of disdain.  I may write about my love for my children, but that doesn’t mean I am any less of a serious writer when I speak about issues of urban agriculture or natural resources.  If anything, I would like to think that what we’re doing here in our little house in Pasadena is of the utmost importance because we really aren’t that different from the millions of other families across the developed world that are going to have to reduce our usage of resource.  We can’t all quit our jobs, forgo children and start a farm.  Nor can we all pretend that there aren’t serious problems (global warming, peak oil, financial chaos) ahead and that our actions are not part of those problems.

We, as a society, need to find a way to integrate the normal challenges of life into a life that is sustainable.  So I’ll write about how it is possible to get by in Pasadena without a car.  I will share with you my strategies for gardening with kids.  I hope to hear your ideas as well.  So tell me, what are the challenges that you face in living a sustainable life and what are your ideas for real solutions?

When I was five years old my mom sat my brother and I down at our kitchen table with mugs of Lipton chicken cup-o-soup. She seemed a bit nervous, a bit hesitant as she calmly informed us that she was going to have another baby. Sometime in the coming summer we would have a new little brother or sister. I don’t remember feeling particularly excited nor upset about the news. I already had a two year old brother, Tony, who I had never really felt any jealously towards so the prospect of another baby didn’t seem all that momentous to me. I do remember thinking briefly that it would be nice if the new baby would be a girl…something different given the aforementioned little brother.

One morning in August I woke up to find my parents gone and my Kindergarten teacher from the previous year, the fabulous Mrs. Whittaker, (who lived two houses down from us) in our living room. “Your mom and dad went to the hospital to have the baby!” she told us. We spent the morning making a construction paper banner that said “Welcome Home Mom and Baby” as we didn’t yet know whether it was a boy baby or a girl baby that would be coming home to us. Around noon my dad called and I remember standing in the family room, holding the phone up to my year as he said happily “It’s a girl; her name is Sara Ann!” The next day my dad took us to the hospital to see our mom. She emerged in a waiting room looking tired, but happy to see us. The baby was nowhere in sight and I was somewhat miffed. I missed my mom and it was nice to see her, but I really came to see this new baby sister of mine. Apparently in the small Texas town where we lived; the hospital did not allow children as visitors beyond the waiting room. A nurse kindly agreed to show us the baby and my dad took us around outside the hospital to a spot that I remember looking like a loading dock. There, the nurse held a pink swaddled bundle up to a window so we could take a peek; a very angry, very red faced little bundle with a mass of thick black hair. I was left with a first impression of my little sister as one very pissed off little girl.

I wasn’t really very close to my sister growing up. I hardly noticed her as a baby. When she was a toddler I was jealous of her. We were six years apart in age and seven years apart in school and as such, always at totally different points in our lives. While she still drinking out of sippy cups, I had my first crush. As she was growing up from a girl into a young woman I wasn’t there;  I was away at college 1500 miles away. I often didn’t like her, but I always admired her. How she made friends easily, how she was far more free with her emotions than I was; how clever she was, how beautifully she could dance, how striking she was with thick straight hair and hazel eyes. Her passion in life was drama, acting, theater; a perfect fit for a girl who showed from her first day on Earth the strength of her feelings.

Shortly after Jeff and I were married and Sara was approaching the end of high school I heard about a summer program for high school students with the UCLA theater department. Sara applied and was accepted and for six weeks between her junior and senior year of high school she traded her Kansas home for our guest bedroom in Pasadena – taking a vanpool to UCLA every day for class. Sara really blossomed that summer; she proved that not only could she be a big fish in the small pond of Kansas, but she could swim with the big fish out in Los Angeles. She made friends instantly within a couple of weeks was actually hanging out with the Olsen twins and attending a party at the house of Henry Winkler (the Fonz!). She tells me that that summer changed her life; how grateful she is that I found the summer acting program; that she was able to live with us. I don’t know if she knows it; but that summer changed my life too. At 23 and 17 Sara and I were no longer so different. In fact, I saw how similar we really are. Jeff remarked that we walked alike. He would shake his head as we frequently spoke in unison or in short sentences – already knowing what the other was going to say. I realized that we both had the funny habit of bursting into song at random moments throughout the day – living in our own personal musical. That summer I found something I never even thought of as a possibility; I found my best friend in my sister.

Sara came back after a year to attend college at UCLA. We saw each other a lot. We helped her move more than a few times; eventually living with us a again for about seven months after she graduated. Thomas was little then and from seven months old until Theodore was born Sara was his nanny one or two days a week. And I loved her even more watching how amazing she is with Thomas and how much of her I see in Thomas…and now Theodore. People find out my sister is a theater major, that she’s gay, that she isn’t sure of what she wants to be when she grows up and they look at me and remark at how different we are. Somehow that comment always offends me; I might have majored in astronomy, be married with two children, and have a very stable career, but there is no one more like me (with the possible exception of Thomas), than Sara Ann. I understand her; sometimes I actually still envy her and I think that I actually have something to learn from her; the freedom with which she pursues her own happiness and the way that she presents her true self to the world.

Two weeks ago I had surgery – a laparoscopy to remove an endometrioma. I had to stay overnight in the hospital and my experience with hospitals has taught me a hard and fast rule: never let anyone you love stay alone in a hospital. Jeff waited for me during the surgery and stayed with me in recovery, but I wanted him to be home for the boys during the night. I asked and Sara Ann came straight from class to the hospital to stay the night with me. She helped me to the bathroom; took care of my IV pole, held the lovely pink basin for me when I was unable to keep even the littlest bit of food or drink down; and pestered the nurses for me. I had a hard time sleeping so we stayed up until the wee hours talking and throwing up; essentially having the world’s most pathetic sleepover.  Strangely enough (perhaps aided my copious amounts of morphine) I actually had a good time. I can talk to my sister about anything; I know she’ll always be there for me and my children, and I felt safe and taken care of.

I’ve thought the past few days about how to thank my sister for spending a long, mostly sleepless, sickly night with me and I couldn’t come up for the perfect gift. Somehow I don’t think that Hallmark makes a card emblazoned with “Thank you for holding my emesis basin.”. So instead I decided that I would simply tell her and everyone I know what a wonderful sister she is; how much better the world is because Sara Ann is in it.

I could imagine that the baby I found out about over cup-of-soup would be my sister; I couldn’t have imagined that she would turn out to be my best friend. Thank you for me being the perfect sister Sara Ann. I love you always.

First off, everybody hit “refresh”.  Now you see the work of my fabulous brother-in-law Gregg; he updated the photos on the top of the page to reflect that I have two children now, we put an “about” link at the top of the blog, and the entire blog is now situated in a background of dirt – compost actually.  Rather fitting giving all the talk of digging in the dirt and, on the last post, cleaning up the dirt.

Thank you all for your thoughts on hiring a housekeeper.  I gave a great deal of thought to Karen, Stephanie, and Linda’s comments that touched on the idea that we routinely pay others to perfrom a service for us.  I’ve taken my car to get washed, I ride the metro, I purchase clothes sewn by someone else, and we certainly go out to eat.  Why is hiring a housekeeper any different?  My mother, reminded me that the idea of hiring someone to perform undesirable tasks s not an artifact of our modern life; her grandmother, raising a solidly working/middle class family, sent out all of her laundry in the early 1900s.  As Karen stated, these sorts of relationships have been in place since time immemorial.  Jane brought up the key point that it is important that the relationship between anyone I might hire and myself be fair and equitable; that it would be wrong to hire anyone whom I felt was not in a fair position to negotiate.  She is of course correct; it this is one of the very reasons why I am careful where I purchase my clothes, why I get my produce locally and organically, and why my kids get a lot of homemade Christmas and birthday gifts.

One of the things that really struck me is that Tiffany, Jane, and Stephanie all commented that the lack of a clean house was a hindrance to their enjoyment of their house with friends.  I’ve talked with Jeff about this (and I am surmising from Tiffany’s comment that my brother Tony feels the same way) that this isn’t nearly as much of an issue for men.  The idea that we, as women, feel responsible for the cleanliness of our homes; regardless of whether or not we have children or work outside of the home is certainly worth dissecting.  By while we’re busy attacking the patriarchy I will admit that I feel the same way and that I enjoy my house more and am more likely to socialize when it’s all clean and shiny.

But the most convincing argument in favor of hiring a housekeeper is echoed by Jenna who writes:

It comes down to this for me: I could spend most of my “free” time cleaning (which I would prefer to use for reading/exercising/writing) and then hire someone to watch my girls while I get to read/exercise/write. Which didn’t make much sense to me, since I want to spend time with my girls and don’t really love cleaning.

I am fortunate enough that I have the disposable income to hire a housekeeper.  I have the morals to make sure I do it fairly and equitably.  My children are only going to be children for a few short years.  I love spending time with them and I certainly don’t love cleaning.  So does anybody have the name and number of good housekeeper?