Bath trauma

Jack Jack is afraid of the swimming turtle and clicking crocodile wind up bath toys that Jack and Ellen brought home from Target Thursday.

He loves taking a bath. He loves playing with cups and bottles with screw-on lids in the bath. He loves standing up to see what's on the faucet. He loves to try and turn the water on himself. He loves to try and get in the bath with all of his clothes on. He loves to splash and laugh at himself splashing himself. He love to play peek-a-boo behind the clear plastic shower curtain. He loves getting soaped up and laying down to rinse his hair all clean. Jack Jack loves taking a bath.

He does not love the turtle and crocodile, and he tried to get out of the bath tub as quickly as he could. Let's face it. I'd be afraid, too. Just look at those eyes. And the legs click back and forth really, really fast.

The end.

Why I had a can of chipotle peppers in the first place

Short version:
Some good friends of ours had us over for dinner and I got the recipe and made it.

This is a close up of their baby. He's about the same age as Jack Jack.

Well, okay. It's actually a close up of his onesie.

Long version:
I love tortilla soup. When I was working at El Centro College in downtown Dallas, I would park and walk to eat dinner at On the Border in the West End, about two blocks from the college.

There was a McDonald's right across the street from El Centro, but at On the Border, I could order a bowl of tortilla soup, get all the chips and salsa I could eat (usually just one bowl), leave a tip, and still make it out full, in time to teach class, and all for less than the price of a value meal at McD's. Whether or not it was better for me is debatable. Think of all those tortilla chips.

Almost every time we go out to eat at On the Border, I order a bowl of tortilla soup and eat blissfully. No other Mexican or Tex-Mex restaurant I've eaten at has ever had a dish that even came close to being as good.

So when our friends invited us to dinner, we sat down to Tortilla Soup, and it. was. so. good. Not too spicy for the kids. Spicy enough to interest me. All that chicken, cilantro, corn, black beans, tomato, and tortilla chips. Yum. The hook, line, and sinker for me, though, was the lime juice. Wow. I could go on raving, but just typing this is making me drool and want to go make some Tortilla Soup and eat it, even though I just ate dinner.

This is the first time I actually recall eating anything with a chipotle pepper in it, too. The soup takes on a little of that distinctive smoky flavor that I'd always heard about. But the recipe only calls for one. This is also probably the first time I have ever followed a recipe exactly as written. It needs no improvement.

Rivals

Today I had some peas picked straight out of a friend's garden. They were so good. Chelsea and I were looking at the plants and trying to decide what they were: tomatoes, squash, onions, etcetera. We were also taking a break from watching our kids splash in the kiddie pool and eat popsicles for Memorial Day at said friend's house. When we came to the peas, I suddenly remembered the last time I had a close relationship with pea plants.

We lived in Oklahoma and my mom and a friend decided to plant a garden and share the work and the dividends. They also determined to share the work with their kids.

So on a hot day we went over to work in the garden. My mom handed me a hoe and directed me to a row to weed. I was pretty sullen about having to hoe a row in a garden on a hot day, but I quickly discovered that the weeds on this particular row surrendered under my hoe quite easily.

When I triumphantly announced to mom that I was finished with my row, she came to check and immediately exclaimed, "Oh, no! You dug up all the pea plants!"

I wondered why they were all coming out of the ground so nicely. And I was crushed and never wanted to work in the garden again.

Fortunately, I can now tell the difference between a pea plant and a weed, if nothing else. But I also like gardening and vegetable gardening in particular. Last year I grew tomatoes from seeds in pots on my porch, and even that was crowded. But we had cherry tomatoes and herbs all summer and fall.

Then a friend in our stake invited me to go and pick tomatoes at an experiment station last September. She said I could have all the tomatoes I could carry (and anyone else who wanted to).

Ellen, Baby Jack, and I hitched a ride with a girl out to the plot and ended up with these:

And that's only one of the three basketfuls of tomatoes we ended up with. I gave some away, froze some, made salsa with some, and then I decided that I would can some. Vaguely remembering canning with my mom and how easy she always made it seem, I didn't think I would have any problems. Thanks to Freecycle, I came up with jars and loaned canning equipment.

General Conference weekend I spent listening to conference and boiling tomatoes, jars, lids, and over 20 beautiful quarts of Roma tomatoes. Most of them sealed perfectly. Oh, and I read the canning instructions for tomatoes about 100 times.

Ellen was really good at wearing her apron, posing for photo shoots, and staying very far away from everything hot. Which was everything.

Then I gave away some more and put the rest in my cupboard, until a few days ago when I found myself with a can of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce and a recipe that only called for one.

I ended up with a rival to my salsa verde:

Chipotle Salsa (smoky and spicy)
1 quart canned tomatoes, drained
2 chipotle peppers
1/2 onion, chopped
1/2 bunch cilantro leaves
2 teaspoons lime juice
3 pinches kosher salt (or to taste)

Blend everything in a blender or food processor and enjoy with a bowl of tortilla chips, a plate of quesadillas, or a dish of fried potatoes, eggs, and sausage. (I had to break my "no salsa picante before lunch" rule, for that last one, and it was well worth it.)

Next up: Why I had a can of chipotle peppers in the first place.

Reuben

Jack's mom and dad have a chihuahua named Reuben who terrifies Ellen. Jack Jack, however, spent every possible opportunity chasing him around and laughing. And sticking his tongue out and chewing on it. And negotiating obstacles like shoes. And long pant legs.



Thank you, Reuben, for entertaining our child and providing him with a compelling reason to walk and (dare I say it?) run.

¿Dónde está Reuben?

¡Aquí está!

Mother's Day = Picture Day

Since we started growing our family, Mother's Day has become a good day to take a family picture. Here are a few reasons why:

(1) It's a Sunday, so we're all dressed up for church at some point. That makes for a respectable looking photo.

(2) It's Mother's Day, and thus more likely that I, the mother, will be humored in my documentation efforts.

(3) It's a day when I'm thinking about how nice it is to be a mother and how my kids are growing up so fast and won't always be living in the same house as me, so I'd better take a picture so I can remember when they were small and cute. Or something like that.

Jack's parents' verdant front yard provides a picturesque setting.

The camera and the rest of the family approach.

We're looking to see if they're really approaching.


Ellen is alarmed at earthworms we have disturbed who are wriggling their way to the surface to check out the situation and refuses to sit back down. I was wearing flip-flops for the picture and a little hesitant to sit back down myself.


Let's don't all look at the camera at once, ever.






Jack, look at the camera. Jack, where's Papa Starks?


Jack: Do you think Mom's going to make us do this every year?
Ellen: Yeah, probably. We should just humor her.
Jack: I wanted to play with the earthworms over there.
Ellen: Look how funny Mom looks jumping up and down.
Jack: Be glad you don't have to wear a tie.

Ellen is my GUITAR HERO!!!

Ellen rocking out with the guitar.


Over the head playing on Chorus 3 -- she's a-ma-zing!


And she'll relinquish her hero status long enough to let mom have a try.


That glazed-over look is actually intense concentration. Finally, a video game I can actually excel at. Is that something to be proud of?

Ellen's first date

While Jack's brother was getting dressed for his Senior Prom, Nana fixed Ellen's hair and talked all about how Ellen could be his date and take beautiful pictures with him.



They didn't take any beautiful pictures on our camera, so this is what we have. Note the beautiful pink rose bobby pin and the hairspray locking every strand into place. (Also note the lush green grass. Toto, I know we're not in Lubbock anymore.)



Then his date showed up. They started taking pictures. Ellen's thinking "What the heck? I thought I was his date." Or maybe,

“¿Qué pasa aquí?”

She firmly refused to take any pictures with her date and the interloper. Maybe it was just that she thought three different shades of pink was a little much.

But she and Jack Jack were fascinated with the whole picture taking process, first, because we got to go outside, and second, because we got to go outside.



We just love taking pictures.



Pictures, pictures, pictures.



What the . . . ? Looks like Jack Jack isn't much interested in Prom pictures quite yet. Thank goodness. I've only got one child ready to leap into teenage-ness-dom after all. What a relief.

(And yes, that is Jack's dad in the background holding a firearm. To discourage any shenanigans around here. And to protect Ellen from the chihuahua.)

Since we met last, dear readers

I have learned that scheduled posts do indeed work, and I have gotten out of the habit of posting. Sorry.

We had a perfectly wonderful family road trip shaped like a triangle. One leg was nine hours long, the second leg was three hours long, and the third and final leg was six hours long.

Of the first leg of the journey there is not much to report as it happened almost without noteworthy incident, excepting that after nine hours of driving, we arrived.

(Three of those hours we spent listening to an audio book by Lois Lowry, The Willoughbys. If you like orphans, old-fashioned stories, old-fashioned children, adventures about orphans, adventure stories about old-fashioned orphans, allusions to adventure stories about old-fashioned orphans, or parodies of old-fashioned adventure stories about old-fashioned orphan children, you may find this book amusing, and you may even laugh out loud while driving while listening. Don't try to drive and read, though.)

Salt Lake City, Utah

May 2007

Dallas, Texas

August 2006

Dallas, Texas

May 2006

Happy Mother's Day!

Hooray for Mothers
-an original poem


Hooray for mothers near


and far.


Hooray for mothers wherever you are.


Hooray for mothers




and grandmothers, too.

Today's your day, and we love you!

*This post can in no way (including photographically, verbally, digitally, rhythmically, electronically, etc.) represent all of the mothers, future mothers, grandmothers, and great grandmothers that I know and love. You are amazing! Thank you.

San Antonio, Texas

July 2005

Dallas, Texas

July 2004

And we're off.

Today we celebrate Jack's last final of his second year of law school! Immediately following completion of his final this morning, we are packing the car and heading for East Texas to visit family.

We'll be back in a week so Jack can begin summer classes and his new job. (Hooray!)

In the mean time, enjoy!

Lest the weather become more violent

It's May. Sarah can tell you about Lubbock weather in May. Today's weather is so similar to the atmospheric conditions presented last year that I give you the following:

Here we are sequestered in the Law School because it started to hail on our way to pick up Jack, and there was a tornado warning. Sarah is entertaining Ellen, because people were giving us dirty looks for having noisy children in the Law School during sacred, quiet law school time.


After the tornado warning expired and the hail calmed down, we drove home. That's hail on the side of the road.


And Lubbock is very, very flat. So the roads flood very, very easily if there's no where else for the water to run.


Phew! We made it. And we even got a little sleep.


Happy Spring!

Cinco de mayo! That's, like, Mexican independence day, right?

Nope.


Peace, suckah!