The Egg Zoo

It's been a busy week.  A hectic, crazy week.  The kind of week that requires some fun and relaxing recreation for the weekend.  And with that purpose in mind I loaded my girls up this morning and we headed for the egg shop.  There is nothing inherently fun in an egg, I know, but the egg shop here is a very unique place.  It's a mini zoo; a bakery with the most delicious puff pastries to ever tingle my tongue, and of course it has loads and loads of fresh, fertile eggs.  They are so fresh and fertile in fact, that in a mental lapse I spent at least a half hour researching how to hatch eggs.  Youtube appealed to my every maternal instinct with videos of sweet little fuzzy chicks kicking and squirming their way out of their shells.  Awwwww.  Thank goodness I regained my sanity.  What on earth would I do with a chicken?!  A few days later I was relating my delirium to the librarian, who informed me that he had a chicken, but it was luring snakes to his yard with it's siren clucking. For the safety of his family he tried to give it away.  No one wanted it.  So he drove up a mountain and dropped it off.  I think that is the only time in the course of my life I have ever felt bad for a chicken.

My daughters had a great time looking at all the animals.

They particularly liked the bunnies.  Good thing too because I recently added them to our list of must-have farm animals.  I had pet bunnies when I was a little girl and really liked them...until one decided to bite the tip of my middle finger off when I was trying to give him a carrot.  It's eerily reminiscent of my run-in with my best friend's horse.  I think I shall leave the feeding of our animals to the Jarhead. 

Despite my bad experience and flat middle finger, I would love to keep some angora rabbits for their wool.  I recently met a fellow military spouse here who spins her own yarn, and being completely fascinated by this, I've signed up for a spinning class.  I just know I am going to fall madly in love with it, and have closets full of afghans I've made from the backs of my bunnies.  Nex step: learn how to knit. 

Then we came to the semi-large animals, and the shaking and crying and clinging commenced.  Yes, we want a farm.

After a tour of the zoo, I used up just about all of my local currency on creme puffs.  Fresh Eggs can wait for another day.  And those puffs....totally worth all the happy shrieking from my two sugar-high toddlers on the way home. 

Dictocrats and Potty-training

The Jarhead was away this past week for an exercise and per the usual, I decided to take on something challenging while he was gone.  It's usually something like rearranging all the furniture, painting, super duper spring cleaning..something like that.  I've even stretched myself a time or two and gotten a rockin' new hairdo while he's been away.  Now that's work right there.

This time I decided I would tackle the thus unsuccessful potty training.  I thought it might be a bit tough with my whiney little teether wanting every second of my time, but these are the challenges we military wives are told to adapt to and overcome, OoRah! 

I flunked. 

And as I was cleaning the third puddle of pee off the floor, I had this rising suspicion that my girl was doing this just to spite me.  Not really.  But sort of.

Fortunately the mail came and rescued me and my disgruntled attitude.  We got five packages in one day.  Three turned out to be car parts for the gear-head Jarhead, and two were from the gear-head Jarhead's mom.  Gotta say, I love my in-laws.  Upon reading my blogpost on popcorn and how I wasn't able to find any organic popcorn here, they mailed us four bags, totaling SEVEN pounds of the stuff!  Oh, ho, ho...does it get any better than that? 

 I suddenly remembered the chick flicks my Mom had mailed me that I hadn't had a chance to watch yet.  Oh, ho, ho, yes...

After I planned my evening, I took a look at the other package from my mom-in-law; this book,

Nourishing Traditions: The Cookbook that Challenges Politically Correct Nutrition and the Diet Dictocrats.

 Being the educated woman that I am, I had no idea what a "dictocrat" was.  It sounded kind of like a democratic dictator, but then that seemed so oxy-moronic; like sweet little knick knacks that say "simplify" on them.  Thankfully the in-laws also provided us with a dictionary when we got married; something about the Jarhead declaring as a child that he would never have a dictionary in his house when he was grown up.  Hardy, har, har.  He didn't know that his one true love was a self-declared wordy, and already possessed a couple of dictionaries with broken bindings from constant use.  Webster was my steady companion through many assigned books in school...Shakespeare and Scott had much higher vocabularies than me.  I grabbed our beautiful wedding gift dictionary, and searched for the meaning of "dictocrat."  Turns out it's only a word in the mind of Sally Fallon.  Since I had chick-flicks to watch and popcorn to eat...*cough*...I haven't had an opportunity to read it yet.  I gave it a quick flip-through and it seems very interesting.  More importantly she defines what she means by diet dictocrats: "Doctors, researchers and spokesmen for various government and quasi-government agencies, such as the FDA," etc.

I am looking forward to perusing it soon, and will no doubt be writing a review so stay tuned. 

 And say a little prayer for me and my daughter; potty training shall be conquered!

Sunning Diapers

The girls' diapers were showing stains and getting a little funky, so I sun-bleached them.  By my front door.  I'm sure the neighbors were in awe.

Now I leave you with a conundrum to ponder; we sun ourselves to make us darker and sun our diapers to make them whiter. 

The Three R's and Disinfecting

When I was 14 years old, my family moved to a new town where we didn't recycle.  We had up to that point, so I am sure it had something to do with the town, or Waste Management there. 

Suffice it to say, for many years I was not in the habit of it.  When I married the Jarhead, our 3rd home was on Quantico Marine Base where the housing is beautiful, and feels like your own.  They provided us with some pretty blue bins, and feeling like a snazzy, grown-up homeowner, I decided I would be responsible and recycle.  I will openly confess though, I was pretty lazy about it.  When it came time to clean out the fridge, I wasn't about to even open the 6 month old sour cream; let alone scoop it out and wash the container.  And the Jarhead had this nasty habit of leaving plastic lunch containers in his pack...for a week...and then bringing them home and placing them lovingly in the sink for me to take care of.  Do you have any notion what a used protein shaker cup smells like after being sealed for that long?  My nose was far too delicate for that kind of work, and into the trash it went.  GNC loved us; we bought alot of shaker cups. 

Fast forward to 2009 when we moved overseas and were presented with a stack of papers on the rules and SOFAS of our new home.  A few pages were dedicated to...recycling.  Turns out, it's mandatory here, which AFN commercials remind us of daily.  I'm talking strict rules and guidelines.  Everything must be placed in clear plastic bags and there must be a bag for shredded paper, a bag for colored paper, a bag for magazines and glossy paper.  Cans, glass, plastic, cardboard boxes, which must be collapsed, lined up and taped together in a criss-cross pattern.  The list went on and on.  I was in shock and thought I wouldn't ever be able to do anything fun here, just expend my life in the cause of recycling, sorting trash into separate bins.  Forever.  *sniff*

Turns out it's not that big of a deal.

And now when it comes time to clean out the fridge and I find the green sour cream, I dump the contents and wash the container.  My nose has adjusted.  And my sweet tender conscience wins out against my lazy, snobby side in an all-out shoulder duel when I come across something kind of gross and am tempted to just chuck it all into the can.  It's a close call as my devil shoulder exclaims that God never said to recycle!  But then my sweet tender angel comes back with something along the lines of submitting to the governing authority and it's all up; I must do it, grumbling though I might be. 

When there is something completely disgusting...like the Jarhead leaves a porkchop in a container in his pack for 9 days and then remembers it....old habits die hard...I, well, I let him take care of it and turn a blind eye.  Pretty sure the plastic container goes straight into the trash, but I can neither confirm nor deny.

All this recycling has been a good influence on us, and we have tried to cut back on our waste.  Which brings me to today, when I snazzily repurposed an old familar friend.   

This is my towel. 

I've had two towels in my life since I was 5 years old; the one before this one was white with mutli-colored pastel stripes and it was a sad day when, at long last, it had to be replaced.  That is where this, my beloved pink towel came in.  It served me well for many, many years, when yesterday I thanked it for it's service by cutting it up into little rectangles, and sewing a zig-zag stitch around each one.  Some things you just can't bare to chuck in the trash, you know.  Thankfully in the name of recycling I don't have to address my psychotic attachment issues with bath towels; I'm just saving the planet, man.  And getting some wash rags for free.  Score.  Serve me well, pink rags. 

 Today I made up a disinfecting cleaner recipe and it's wondrous.  It's 2 cups water, 1/4 teaspoon lavender essential oil, and 1/4 teaspoon tea tree essential oil. 

 And then I tried to get a picture of it's germ fighting power in action.  Fail. 

One of the seventeen photos I took I was trying to get a picture of the spray coming at the camera.  My camera...and my arms and face, are completely disinfected now.  And I didn't even get a good picture. 

*sigh*

Avoiding Fast Food

You know those days when you end up being out of the house much longer than you anticipated?  Wrong turns (my specialty), errands that take longer than you ever thought they possibly could, and the old paunch starts saying things like, "grrrrrr, feed me."  Or if it's having a bad day, "food now, or I eat your lung."  Yes, my stomach is just like that...evil.  And I had "one of those days" yesterday.

I got the girls ready, and myself all dolled up, then eagerly left the house early to go watch the Jarhead, who had a prominent role in a change of command ceremony.  It was in an area I don't normally go to and I got lost.  Hopelessly.  Being directionally challenged, it was far from a new experience for me.  I've weaved my way through countless unfamiliar steets, half-panic stricken, sure that if I stop my car for a second I will be pounced upon and murdered.  I've learned over the years to enjoy the ride; or as my Dad-in-law would say, "you can miss an exit, but never miss a meal."  

Yesterday though, I was not in the mood.  I got out of the house late...excessive nose powdering...and was already pressed for time.  After driving around in apparent circles for a good bit, I set my eyes on a taxi and decided I would follow it wherever it went.  I informed God of my decision and asked that the taxi man would happen to be heading in the direction I needed to go in.  No sooner had I made my request than a sign came into view showing me just where I needed to go, and we finally arrived, 30 minutes late.

Thankfully, the ceremony was still going.  Bless you, long-winded Generals.  And the Jarhead was rockin' his combat uniform. *swoon*

After the ceremony we  had some other errands to run, and inevitably ended up being out until lunchtime.  I contemplated whipping through a drivethru...just this once...for about 38 seconds when my daughter echoed the whine of my belly with a, "Mama, I'm hungry!"  The greasy thought was enough to turn me off of it; and enlarge my nose pores.

I've been looking for ways to make "grab and go" snacks for just such occasions.  I bought a food dehydrator prompted by visions of eating delicious homemade trail mix while wearing hiking boots and doing something outdoorsy.  The first things I dehydrated were banana slices.  I cut up ripe bananas and layed the slices out on the tray.  Some hours later, they had shrivelled up into almost unrecognizable blobs.  Still you can't judge a book by it's cover, so I took some off the tray and brought them to the Jarhead to try.  He said something along the lines of, "ewww, yuck!  No, not happening."  Perhaps I should've waited for them to cool before giving them to him....maybe.  Still, I thought it had to be possible to make banana chips that actually looked like, well, banana slices.  I read somewhere that green bananas hold their shape much better through dehydration, so when I found a large bunch of green bananas for cheap at the farmer's market, I snagged them.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to peel a green banana?  I ended up doing three of them; enough to fill one tray.

I knew something was amiss when they dried in just a couple of hours.  They were nasty.  Don't ask me why I thought they would magically taste sweet and wonderful after dehydration, when they tasted like chalk before dehydration.  My brain is way ahead of reality.

I made a recipe I found for flaxseed crackers too.  The taste was wonderful but the consistency was like...whole flaxseeds smashed together.  It wasn't rockin' my socks.  I made fruit roll-ups with applesauce; they didn't do much for me.  I cut up a honeydew and dehydrated it...it wasn't terrible....  *sigh*

Anyone in the market for a dehydrator?

So, how do you avoid fast food when out and about?  Any recommendations for snazzy snacky stuffs for grab and go convenience? 

Buy Local, Buy Fresh

There is nothing like a day full of errands to get the juices flowing in the morning; that and a big cup of delicious coffee.  I haven't been able to indulge in the latter in quite some time because the transformation caffeine renders on me is akin to the Hulk.  I don't turn green and gain mass amounts of sinewy muscle, but I do most definately turn "super."  My productivity level spikes dramatically as I shake my way through the day.  I'm talkin' the shakes like a shy person singing at the Superbowl.  Many well-intentioned friends have suggested decaf.  Decaf coffee?!  It's like fat free butter!  Sugar free ice cream!  What has happened to the world??  In a fit of pure geniusness, I created a coffee shop in my mind called "Half-Caff" and thought I would make millions of dollars selling coffee to the masses with half the amount of caffeine as regular coffee.  I excitedly related my plan to a friend, who said, "yeah...they've already got that at the store." 

Curses; foiled again.

With the immense amount of errands I had to do, I got my non-caffeinated self and the two sweeties ready to go and set off.  The first place we hit was the local farmer's market. 

Like discovering color in a world of black and white, the fragrance and taste are beautifully overwhelming with locally, organically grown produce.  It takes me back to playing outside during long Summer days, and heading to my Mother's garden whenever I needed a snack.  Cherry tomatoes, green beans, chives...they seldom made it inside with my grazing. 

How have we grown accustomed to such flavorless produce shopping at the supermarket?  The convenience of a one-stop wonder is not worth it.  For flavor, for health, for freedom!  Charge on over to http://www.localharvest.org/ to find locally grown, organic produce in your area (USA).

I know it is not always possible to buy organic everything.  Many factors, including finances and location can greatly hinder doing so.  The Environmental Working Group recently put together a new shopper's guide on buying produce:

 These "dirty dozen" are the things you should buy organically, or at least try to avoid when shopping in a supermarket due to the high pesticide residue found on them.

1. Apples

2. Celery

3. Strawberries

4. Peaches

5. Spinach

6. Nectarines - imported

7. Grapes - imported

8. Sweet Bell Peppers

9. Potatoes

10. Blueberries - domestic

11. Lettuce

12. Kale/Collard Greens

  The produce with the least amounts of pesticide residue, or "the clean 15" are:

  

1. Onions

2. Sweet Corn

3. Pineapples

4. Avocado

5. Asparagus

6. Sweet peas

7. Mangoes

8. Eggplant

9. Cantaloupe - domestic

10. Kiwi

11. Cabbage

12. Watermelon

13. Sweet potatoes

14. Grapefruit

15. Mushrooms

Ewww, mushrooms.  Make that the clean 14 for me...pesticides or not, mushrooms are just plain dirty and disgusting.  Except for when they are stuffed with bacon and cheese...I'm proud to be an American.  Pass the ketchup.   

Randomology

The past few days have found me soaking up every second I could get with my Jarhead, who took some much needed leave.  We did some fun family stuff, and burned up way too much gas trying to find a waterfall that doesn't seem to exist.  I've made popcorn.  Lots and lots of popcorn.  We've always been fans of the stuff, and used to buy the healthy microwave kind, before realizing that "microwave" and "healthy" really shouldn't be together; they don't get along so well.  Both of our mothers knew this, and popped it on the stove throughout our upbringings.  We decided it was high time to get back to our roots, so I bought some popping corn, and asked my Mom for her "desert storm" recipe.  Desert storm happens to be the best popcorn on the face of the earth...popped in olive oil, with a sprinkling of salt.  Butter is a capital crime.  You can go ahead and call me plain jane.  The recipe was 3 Tbsp olive oil, and 1/2 cup of popcorn.  Cook covered over medium heat until it starts to pop, then cock the lid slightly to let air out.  Pop until it starts to slow down a bit, then remove from the heat.  I thought, knowing my Mom, that 1/2 cup of popcorn would in no way be enough for us, so I doubled it and used a big pot.  I watched in awe as the corn popped, and then "ooohed" and "ahhhed" my way through the grand finale; it was impressive.  And it lifted the lid right off my pot.  And lifted it higher.  I put back the huge metal bowl I had intended to serve the popcorn in, and got out the gigantic one.  I think 1/2 cup would have been enough.  This picture doesn't do the mass quantity justice because Jarhead has huge hands....ahhh, those hands. *swoon*

Delicious.  So much so that we had it for dinner the next night; and the night after.  That's the epitome of health right there; nothing like a well balanced diet.  Of course this was before my discovery that everything corn you can buy that isn't organic is a GM food, *gasp*  I've searched high and low on the commissary shelves and can't find organic popping corn. *sigh*

On top of the popcorn, I made ice cream for a special treat.  My fantabulous, ice-cream lovin' mother-in-law made us a gift of my Kitchen Aid, along with an ice cream maker attachment and the Ben and Jerrys Cookbook.  I'm from New England...Ben and Jerrys ice cream is my love language.

 

There is something wonderful about indulging in a special treat when you know exactly what's in it; it kind of takes some of the guilt away.  Fully deserving of my plain Jane christening, my favorite ice cream in the world is...vanilla.  To quote my good friends Ben and Jerry, "a good vanilla ice cream is the measure of all ice creams."  True that. 

Ben and Jerry's Vanilla Ice Cream

2 large eggs

3/4 cup sugar

2 cups heavy cream (conveniently, 1 pint)

1 cup milk

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Do a float test on your eggs to make sure they are still good (if you don't shop at an overseas military commissary, you may be able to forgo this important step).  Whisk the eggs in a mixing bowl until light and fluffy, 1 to 2 minutes.  Whisk in the sugar, a little at a time, then continue whisking until completely blended, about 1 minute more.  Pour in the cream, milk, and vanilla and whisk to blend.  

Transfer mixture to an ice cream maker and freeze following the manufacturer's instructions.

Makes 1 quart.

Now that floats my boat. 

I made pancakes again too, this time reaching deep down inside and gathering my courage to attempt a mickey mouse face for my daughter.  I am now part of the club; the mickey mouse club. 

M-I-C-K-E-Y  M-O-U-S-E!

You may be wondering what happened to his ear.  I fancy he fell on hard times after retirement due to a series of bad investments, and, while hungrily scrounging around for food one night, found a solitary piece of cheese in the middle of a wood and metal contraption.  Part of his ear didn't make it out.  My daughter didn't seem to notice, so I didn't have to relate my gruesome tale.  She was however quite upset when I chopped Poor Mick into bite-sized pieces for her.  Woops.  Her imagination, every bit as vivid as mine set to work, and she began putting in requests.  "Make Donald Duck Mom!  And Daisy, and Goofy, and Special Agent Oso, and Handy Manny, and....."  !!!!!  I think I'll stick with circles from here on out.

I received another book I ordered in the mail the other day, and am captivated.  I searched for hours online looking for a book that would give me what I wanted in the way of herbal medicine.  I ended up with A Modern Herbal.  It was just what I was looking for.  I believe whole-heartedly that God has provided what we need for our health in nature; we just need to learn how to apply it.  One of my favorite quotes from the introduction of the book is, "Surely it makes a garden more romantic and wonderful to know that Wallflowers, Irises, Lupins, Delphiniums, Columbines, Dahlias and Chrsyanthemums, every flower in the garden from the first Snowdrop to the Christmas Rose, are not only there for man's pleasure but have their compassionate use in his pain." 

 I couldn't have said it better. 

My girls are excellent mess-makers.  My oldest dropped a jar of applesauce on one carpet in the house, and spilled a bit of blueberry yogurt on another.  I decided to test the "all-surfaceness" of my all-surface cleaner, and sprayed it on both.  Incredibley, they both lifted immediately out of the carpet with minimal blotting.  I had a few other stains on the carpets that had stubbornly remained after bouts with Resolve, and two steam cleanings.  I sprayed them too, not expecting too much.  They lifted right out as well!  I was near giddy, and looking for every little thing I could smite with my cleaner.  I spotted some marker on the couch...my daughter is a very talented artist.  Again, it lifted right out.  This is the same all-surface cleaner that costs 5 cents to make 32 ounces.  I need it in my life.