Art Fair

We found Pinocchio at the Des Moines Art Fair Saturday evening!

Seriously, this sculpture (?) reminds of a limbless Pinocchio puppet.

We've never gone to the Art Fair before, mostly because it's always been beastly hot and I didn't want to be tempted to spend money. Well, this weekend cooled off beautifully, and I've been trying to get out and do more locally, so we piled in the car and headed off.

This man "arted right in front of us.

There was some beautiful artwork, but I'm not what you'd call a connoisseur. So while it was fun to look, temptations were truly minimal.

We tended to gravitate toward the photography, and I was sorely tempted by a wrap-around print on canvas of this photo Melissa's holding. You can't really see it in all its glory... dusty old pop bottles, beautiful yellows and greens, I knew just where I'd hang it... but the $275 price tag was too steep for me.

Michael was having fun taking pictures, until he was informed that it's not polite to photograph works of art without prior permission.

Oops.

I understand completely; no artist wants someone to steal her ideas.

But darn, a few more shots of this and I could have made my own here at home.

Neat mugs. I'm always tempted by neat mugs. Walk away. Just turn and walk away...

The most fun was painting sections of a door for a Habitat for Humanity house being built during the fair. We each chose a pre-drawn block and created our own artwork.


Sarah's...

Mine...

Michael's...


Melissa's...

Fence pickets were also available to paint.

I can't help but wonder, though, how long the new home-owner will resist painting over everything with a nice coat of white...

It's an idea I hope to remember for the future. It would be neat to have my grandchildren paint the bedroom doors in my house... someday... when I have grandchildren.

I'm glad we went, but I don't know that I'll be drawn to attending again next year...

Though maybe that photographer with the pop bottle photo will be back...

One Local Summer - Week 4

This may well have been the best rhubarb pie I have ever made. Not too tart, not too sweet, and drizzled with local cream. I think I could eat this every day...

I found 2 lbs. of asparagus hiding in the fridge. Oops. It was a couple weeks old already, but other than needing to trim off a little extra from the ends, it was in good-enough shape to eat. I was not going to feed 2 lbs. of local asparagus to the chickens! I was worried that age might have toughened it up too much for my regular recipe, so instead I marinated it in a homemade balsamic vinegar dressing for several hours before grilling. I'll definitely be making it this way again next year.

I needed to use up my homemade barbecue sauce, so we thawed one of our local chickens and slow-baked it, using the broiler to finish. The slow-cooking and the sauce kept the meat from drying out, yielding delectably tender and juicy chicken.

I missed all the farmer's markets last week, so decided to check Craigslist to see if anyone local was selling veggies. I found a great source for organic, fresh veggies just a few miles away from home. A Missouri farmer who lives just over the border from Iowa - maybe 2-ish hours away - brings boxes of veggies for sale to his sister's house near Des Moines weekly throughout the season. I only have to commit to a week at a time and each box is brimming with veggies- all for only $20!

This salad used our own lettuces and onions, and tomatoes, cucumbers and zucchini from "the box." I marinated all but the lettuce in a homemade oil and vinegar dressing, tossed them into the salad and added slivers of locally-made gouda cheese.

Finally, I made whole wheat bread accompany the meal. Lately I've mostly been baking the basic white bread from Artisan Bread in 5 minutes. But this meal called for something more substantial and whole grain. Served with a choice of homemade jams, it helped to satisfy the non-meat-eaters in the family.

Snakes Alive

Look who Sarah found in the brush pile on the other side of the driveway. According to her observations, this is Mama snake.

We've found lots of shed snake skins and spotted at least two baby snakes.

I'm totally creeped-out by snakes, even though I value their importance to the ecosystem.

I'm glad they're living in my yard, I just don't want to see one slither past me. Thankfully, though they are "gregarious," they mostly just want to hang out with others of their own kind.

It's nice to know this garter snake family is protecting my yard from rodents, leeches, insects, and other undesirables.

I'm also glad Sarah found them and took these close-ups.

I never would have been able to get this close...

One Local Summer - Week 3

Shortly after we moved into our home almost three years ago, I got word that the local family from whom we'd bought pork was getting out of the hog-raising business. This would be my last chance to order pork from them, so I promptly dashed off an email asking for my usual 1/2 hog.

There was only one small problem; I'd actually ordered twice the amount of pork we could eat in a year!

Despite being a family of 6, we've never been big meat-eaters. Recently I heard the term "flexitarian" to describe this kind of eating, and I think we totally fit the bill. We primarily eat vegetarian, only occasionally choosing to eat meat. I try only to buy locally, humanely, and antibiotic-free raised meats. The exceptions are the once-in-a-while McDonald's hamburger for my daughter, a Subway tuna sandwich for me, and eating out, which hardly if ever happens here.

Anyway, I'd already placed the order and was too embarrassed to cancel half of it. No one I knew wanted a quarter hog, so into our freezer it went. Most of the meat was gone long ago, but I had a couple packages of ribs hanging out at the very bottom of the freezer. Every now and then I'd come across them, but it always seemed like too much effort to prepare.

Well, last weekend I finally worked up my gumption, found a recipe for barbecued ribs, and out of the freezer they came.

I made a quick homemade barbecue sauce and marinated the ribs overnight. A slow-cooking on the grill (about two hours) and they were melt-in-your-mouth tender.
Delicious!

I used the last of our garden-grown broccoli to make a salad. I used my favorite homemade mayonnaise recipe, using nearly all local ingredients including our own egg and Iowa-grown soybean oil. I love the garlicky bite of this mayonnaise, but decided the salad needed something sweet to contrast with the chopped spring onions and dressing. I remembered the apple slices I'd dried last fall after a trip to a nearby orchard and rehydrated a handful in boiling water. My husband and I loved how this nearly-completely local salad turned out and I know we'll be having it again often.

My youngest daughter is our pickiest-eater, and the sound of rib-meat being ripped from the bone nearly drives her crazy. She is my child who is most likely to become a complete vegetarian sometime in the future! I made homemade garlic bread - her favorite - to appease her. It worked - she hardly complained about the crunching, tearing noises the rest of us carnivores made. I used homemade bread, but the olive oil, Parmesan, garlic salt and pepper were, of course, not local.

Supper was fantastic, but now that my pork is completely gone, I need to go in search of a 1/4 hog to refill my freezer.

But this time, I'll be sure to cook those ribs a little sooner...

Merciful Dispatch

I had to kill my chicken yesterday.

It wasn't easy, and I had help, but it had to be done.

The girls had noticed for a couple of months now that Dottie, one of our Australorps, wasn't doing well. She always had poop on her hind end, her comb was small and pale, and she weighed significantly less than her two sisters.

A couple of weeks ago, I spoke with our veterinarian who raises chickens of her own. She doesn't treat chickens as part of her practice, and told me she pretty much lets nature take its course with her own flock.

"If one of them dies, I figure, 'Oh, you must have been sick.' "

Now that's a practical outlook on chicken management if I've ever heard one.

Apparently, Dottie was, to put it simply, "not a thrifty chicken." Basically, this means she consumed our resources (food, etc.), but didn't produce anything for us (no eggs).

I was willing to allow her to continue her spendthrift ways, but yesterday she took a turn for the worse. While gathering the eggs Melissa found her semi-lying down in the coop. She didn't get up, didn't follow the other hens out into the yard, she pretty much just lay there.

This is the "not fun" part of animal ownership, yet it's a responsibility nonetheless. I couldn't allow her to suffer, which left only one choice: a quick, painless death.

I never thought I would be able to make such a decision, knowing that I had to put her out of her misery myself. Admittedly, I'm not as attached to the chickens as I am to our cats or dogs, which I'm sure made the task easier. But I had never killed another living creature larger than an insect before.

I knew it would be foolhardy to seek veterinary assistance for her; the expense wasn't warranted and the outcome would likely have been no different, except for a bill.

The girls, of course, were inconsolable, though I know they understood the necessity. They also understood that we couldn't allow her to suffer any longer.

Fortunately, Zachary was home and agreed to help me, as I don't think I could have done it alone. A quick internet search confirmed the best method was a sharp knife and removal of the head.

While I sharpened the knife, Zachary dug a hole for burial.

The girls said goodbye and went in the house, while I carried her to the location we had chosen. She was completely calm in my arms; I held her firmly against a piece of cement while Zachary quickly removed her head. I did keep my eyes closed for that part, though another time I think I'd be able to fully participate.

We placed her in a plastic bag, buried her deeply, and placed several pieces of broken concrete on top of her grave as I surely didn't want anything to dig her up.

I felt strangely calm, knowing we did the right thing. I also felt an odd sense of pride in my ability to properly care for my animals, even when that care was exceedingly difficult.

Dottie had a short, but good life.

She had a quick and painless death.

And she taught all of us an important lesson in responsibility.

She was a good chicken.

Blue Blazes

As in, "hotter than."
We're dripping here in Iowa, with temperatures hitting 90 or so and humidity so high you can shower without water.
Eww.
Sorry about that.
We have our ceiling fans running, put fans in the windows last night, and are drinking buckets of water.
What we aren't doing is turning on the air conditioner.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not suffering for the ideals of environmental martyrdom.
No, we're suffering because the air conditioners aren't yet in the windows to turn on.
You see, our 1904 house doesn't have central air and it would cost upwards of $15,000 to have it installed. We have a boiler heating system so all ductwork would need to be added, the basement ceiling would likely need to be replaced in the process, and... well, we don't plan to make that kind of investment in this house. Especially since we need a new roof, the garage door opener doesn't work, the basement's a little leaky, we need to repair the window screens... you get the idea.
So we use window air conditioners; one large one downstairs, two smaller ones upstairs. They don't exactly make the house cool, per se, but they definitely do a number on the humidity.
It seems this happens every year; the hot, humid weather first strikes while the window air conditioner installer, aka dh Michael, is gone for the week.
When we lived in Delaware about 19 years ago, the heat and humidity were unbearable. Stephen was 2 and Zachary just a few months old. We'd managed to barter for a window air conditioner, though I no longer remember what we traded, but it wasn't installed yet.
It was so humid in the house that you could skate across the floors in your bare feet. Zachary and I were so sweaty, he practically slipped out of my arms. It was about the time that I'd given Zach his third bath, Stephen was beet red, and I was beyond rational that I caved in and called Michael at work.
Please come home and put the air conditioner in.
Please.
He didn't think he could "just leave," but fortunately his boss's secretary admonished him to get out of there and save his wife and kids.
We've been in similar situations many times throughout the years, though most often Michael's been on business trips.
As always, we'll survive; a little worse for wear perhaps, but eagerly awaiting Michael's return.
And yes, we have an ulterior motive.
We need relief.
As soon as possible.

Won't Power

I've never been accused of having a rosy outlook on life.

I have a hefty helping of the curmudgeon gene, a trait that runs strongly throughout my family. Through the years, I've learned to harness this natural cynicism somewhat, using my force for good more often than evil.

It wasn't always so.

I wonder if a cynical outlook is a linked trait with depression, or if one naturally leads to the other. Perhaps they coexist only in correlational relationship.

I pondered this a bit yesterday while home alone. The girls were at an art class, the dog in her kennel, and I was wasting time working hard on the computer. I had already eaten lunch, but the knowledge that the candy bars I bought on sale a couple of weeks ago were sitting all alone in the kitchen cupboard began to haunt me.

I don't usually deny myself a candy bar when I want one, but I'm sort of in recovery mode right now.

You see, a little more than a year ago I found out I have hypothyroidism. Over the previous 5 years, my life had slowly ground to a halt, my depression deepened, sleep was non-restorative - basically, I was nearly nonfunctional.

The thought of going to the doctor had occurred to me, but I'd had issues with fatigue in the past and just didn't believe anything would be medically wrong with me. I did my typical pre-therapy soft shoe, believing that "it" was just me, a personal flaw, laziness.

I finally made it to the doctor, got on meds, and quickly, amazingly, began to feel better.

Last summer I worked hard to start to lose some of the 30 pounds I had gained, walking two miles a day, taking better care of myself.

By September, I was feeling good again, had lost 10 lbs., and was kicking myself for not seeking help sooner.

Well, along comes winter and I moved my walking indoors to the treadmill. In February, I broke my foot - a stress fracture - and it decided not to heal until early May. Meanwhile, no exercise, lots of stress, a dash of depression, and weight gain.

Again.

Last month I found out I had regained all the weight I had lost, was limited to walking only 15 minutes at a time, and was dealing with a fair amount of discomfort in my foot simply from daily living.

Back to the candy bar.

I find that for me, I don't so much need "will power" as I need "won't power." I won't skip my walk today, I won't just let the fur balls take over the house, I won't succumb to the darker side of depressive thoughts, etc.

Today's "won't" was not to eat that candy bar.

The one that now was sitting next to the keyboard.

Staring at me.

Taunting.

Daring.

Somehow I mustered the strength to resist by drawing on my childbirth experiences. "I won't take pain meds for 15 more minutes." And when the time was up, I'd tell myself the same for 15 more minutes.

It worked amazingly well, then and now.

I won't eat the candy bar unless I really want it after I read this article, after I take the dogs out, after I pick up the girls...

And the craving sort of piddled away...

I used my "won't power" again last night, choosing Diet Coke over Merlot. I applied it this morning to bypass an Egg McMuffin and stick to my Raisin Bran.

I won't skip my walk today, eat cookies, or have that milkshake.

What won't you do today?

Sheep and Wool Festival

Just call me "Ringo," circa 1963

We went to the Iowa Sheep and Wool Festival last weekend and had a great time, but dang it was cold!

It's hard to get good pictures of happy people when some of the people aren't especially happy because they're freezing...

There, that's better.

I love this guy. He's so confident. He wears his naturally curly hair... and horns... with a certain dignity and panache.

Not everyone can do that. My hair used to be as straight as that of my two lovely daughters. No longer. Simply mention the word "humidity" and my hair twists and curls every-which-way. There's no cure, either. It's not curly enough for the "curl enhancers" to work, the curling iron makes nary a dent and - oh, my god! - that's not a thinning patch up there on top, is it?

This little lady - the one on the right - was the sweetest sheep at the fair. All she wanted was attention - petting, nuzzling, stroking - she never tired of it. I wanted to take her home with me. Afterall, she is smaller than Ivy.

We enjoyed watching our first sheep dog trials, if you don't count "Babe." We mostly caught the novice class, which was a hoot. Made me feel better about Ivy's training... or lack thereof.

The best part of the whole show was when a bearded collie enthusiastically raced - and I mean at the speed of light - into the ring straight toward the sheep, then prompty turned around and zipped right out of the arena - through the fence - leaving his trainer stranded all alone in the ring. Well, he wasn't really alone - the three sheep stood stoically nearby.

Then we went to the vendors.

Oh, the vendors!

It was a fiber-loving frenzy, let me tell you.

This gorgeous roving will be used by Melissa and myself to make braided rugs. I bought the book that tells how to do it. Supposedly, if you can braid, you can make one of these rugs.

We'll see...

Then I came upon the rug hooking vendor and found this snowman rug pattern marked down to $35. I was imagining a small wall-hanging, perhaps do-able in 10 or 15 years.

Instead, it's a rather large, though for my skill level, "huge" would be more accurate, rug.

The vendor was wonderful, helping me choose wool colors, giving me pointers, and assuring me that it was, indeed, a great pattern for a beginner.

I must admit, I'm a little scared.

These are kits to wet felt roving onto silk scarves. The photo doesn't do them justice - they really are quite beautiful. Melissa and I decided to give this a try... despite the fact that neither of us wears scarves... They were just so beautiful!



Melissa found this wool roving for only 75 cents a bag.

And finally, I bought these gorgeous gauntlets. They are made from the lower arms of a felted wool sweater, with an appropriately placed thumbhole cut out. They were then decorated with needle-felted flowers. My hands get so cold in the winter; I know I'll love these. Plus, I hope to try to make a pair myself someday and figured I would need these as a pattern, of sorts.

Somehow, we were able to resist the yarn, but it wasn't easy.

I now have enough projects to keep me busy until I reach the nursing home.

Hopefully, I'll be able to finish them by then.

A little blue...

That's how we're feeling here today.

Michael's travel season has started and he's off to corn fields near and far for the week. He hasn't been gone since that fateful trip in February - a time we on the home front would all like to forget.

This time will be different; we have greater numbers here to man the fort since Zach is home for the summer, Ivy is older (a little), my foot is much better, and it's been so long since we've had take out food it will be a real treat for a day or two.

But we all will miss him. It just isn't the same at home when he's gone.

Life in general is so much easier now than say, 10 or 15 years ago. I look back and marvel that I had the energy for three children under 5, or 4 children under 9. Those days were long and hard, but I look back on them fondly now.

Sort of.

I was so busy I didn't really have a chance to miss Michael for Michael; it was more the absence of a second pair of hands that I missed.

So, it's always much easier now work-wise when he travels, though now I have the time to miss him.

We all do.

So much.

Drive safely, honey.

And watch out for the smut in those corn fields... it's a jungle out there.

Coming soon...

I can't wait...

Coupon-o-rific

I'm not much for couponing.

Most coupons are for prepackaged, processed foods, which I typically don't buy. When I read of a family "cutting their grocery bill in half" using coupons, it's usually, if not always, because that family buys pre-made foods, grocery store meat and eggs, disposable paper products, etc.

For me, the issue is the quality of my food dollar, not simply the dollar itself.

Every now and then, however, a good coupon comes along that I decide to take advantage of. I don't often buy breakfast cereal as we usually have homemade breads, muffins, pancakes, oatmeal, etc., available in the morning. When I do buy cereal, it's usually Raisin Bran, Grape Nuts or Cheerios.

Last week, however, there was a great deal at Hy Vee on General Mills Cereals for $2 a small box. I decided we deserved a treat, so I gathered as many additional coupons for GM cereals online, and headed to the store to stock up.

I bought 9 boxes of GM cereal for $18, but when you add in the extra coupons I had, my total was $14.90

Ever since my kids were little, we've mixed sweetened cereal with a non-sweet cereal, i.e. Cheerios mixed w/Honey Nut Cheerios, Trix mixed with plain Cheerios or Kix, etc. This stretched the usually more expensive sweetened cereal and cut the amount of sugar the kids were eating at the same time.

What really "made" this deal, however, was an additional promotion HyVee ran for "free milk up to $3.59," good on your next "visit," with the purchase of 3 GM cereals. The coupon for the free milk, however, disagreed with the advertised promotion, offering one gallon of free milk up to $4.59. I sought out the manager and pointed out the discrepancy and she immediately offered to honor the original - which allowed for free milk up to $3.59, but wasn't limited to one gallon - but she made the deal even sweeter. She gave us "free milk up to $4.59" for each of our coupons, saving us a total of $13.77. Below you see our free milk:

I think we ended up owing a little over a dollar for the milk.

Now, I much prefer the milk from my local dairy, but don't plan to drive out there until next week to stock up. Not a bad little trip to the grocery store.

One Local Summer - Week 2

Oh, how I love spring! This salad was entirely composed of locally grown veggies, some from our garden (broccoli, lettuce, radish, strawberries and onion), and some from the farmer's market (greenhouse-grown tomatoes, pea pods).

But the real star of the meal was the pizza my dh made. We always make our own whole grain crusts and this week's the topping was mostly local as well. Michael sauteed mustard greens with a little garlic, salt and pepper, spread them on the sauce, then topped the pizza with local goat cheese. It really was fabulous, and I still feel healthy just thinking about it!

Dessert featured more of these beauties from our own patch:

This time I made a strawberry-rhubarb pie.

Unfortunately, I neglected to take a photo!

Bargain of the week

On Sunday Michael and I went looking for hanging baskets for the front porch. We have one of those old-fashioned from porches that just cries out for hanging baskets.

Last year I skipped the hanging baskets, in fact, I skipped annuals all-together.

It made me sad.

So, we checked at one of those big garden centers, but their least expensive basket was $19.99, and while it looked nice, it just wasn't worth it.

I suggested checking out a Hy-Vee garden center, figuring they might have discounted some of their flowers by now. They had a row of raggedy-looking, somewhat beleaguered, hanging baskets marked down to $9.99.

Now, it was good they were marked down, but they were definitely not worth $10 a piece.

I urged Michael to go ahead and ask the manager if he would take any more off the price, afterall, they were pretty ratty.

Without hesitation, he offered to sell them to us for $5 a piece.

Yippee!

I chose the best looking of the bunch and left with 4 hanging baskets for $20. Hopefully the baskets themselves won't break this year so I can replant them next spring for next-to-nothing.

I guess it never hurts to ask...