Remember my review a few weeks back about Batman, the movie made in the early 1960s? The one with the shark?
Note: This scene does not actually appear in the movie.I wrapped up physical therapy on Monday. Look what I've accomplished as well this week:
Should I feel bad that I was really tempted to go for a half-marathon today? After the massage I had last night and the chance to sleep in just a wee bit (on accident) this morning, I just felt damn good and wanted to run. But I stopped myself. Best not obliterate all the healing my right leg's achieved over the past few weeks by being a wee bit anxious to test myself so soon.
But soon I'll be trying another half-marathon. Soon.
A mere twenty-four hours after getting the call, I made a call to put the husband and I officially on our definitive path to adding a specific human child to our wacky family.
With that call and, I seem to recall, the faxing of some signed paperwork, we were finally allowed to see our son's face. Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, we wouldn't have to wait for an overnight packet from FedEx. No, the husband and I got to see our kiddo together for the first time even though we were both still at work several miles away from each other thanks to the convenience of e-mail.
Here's what we saw:
He's got the look of a future misfit about him, doesn't he?
With his foster mom, Mrs. Lee
The boy's first "chair" photoChez Boeckman-Walker has had its deep freezer about a year now, and as I was chucking into it yet another bag of frozen boneless, skinless chicken breasts, I realized how much...clutter has accumulated inside it. I've got bag after bag of frozen chicken breasts (HEB has 'em at a great price right now--and I know I'll use 'em eventually) along with bag after bag of M&Ms and other candy from holidays now passed (again, bought at prices that can't be beat, and I know I'll use 'em eventually).
Along with the chicken and chocolate (what more could a person need in life?), the deep freezer is the home of other items I've either bought at low prices for use later or items I bought in large quantities for recipes that only called for a small portion (such as the giant bag of HEB-brand Rice Krispies that, I swear, is self-perpetuating). However, I'm as guilty as the next person of being seduced by a bargain for items that I don't necessarily need but could use at some point--if I remember I have them.
That's how I ended up with two bags (of 2 cups and 2.5 cups, respectively) of shredded zucchini. Last year, the price and the quality of my beloved zuccs got to be such that I couldn't resist, and I had been on a zucchini binge at the time and believed I'd always have time and opportunity to use zucchini. Fast forward nearly a year later, and I realize I should do something with all that shredded zucchini soon, or else I'll be forced to pitch it into the compost because it's beyond the point of hiding its freezer-burned state in some baked yummy with a lot of other flavors.
So what does a person prone to culinary misadventures do with all that shredded zucchini? Well, Gentle Reader, read on and find out for yourself.
Love Zucchini Bread. Love Chocolate. Love Chocolate Zucchini Bread?
What got me started on the zucchini kick last year was the gift from my dear friend the world's greatest Spin instructor of a hunk of zucchini bread, gifted to her by her neighbor. Of course, the bread was full of flavor--and butter, for it was made from a Paula Dean recipe. But the wonderful flavor had me seeking out a more healthful alternative, and I wound up making some orange zucchini bread--and just defrosted and polished off the last mini-loaf a few weeks back.
I didn't want to make the orange zucc bread again. No, I was keen to make a zucchini cake, much like the one I'd loved when on a yoga teacher training retreat at Barsana Dham in November 2004. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a comparable recipe I could modify, but I did find one for some relatively healthful chocolate chip zucchini bread for which I had all the necessary ingredients on hand. Having all the ingredients on hand and having a particular ingredient I'm anxious to use up is always a great impetus for getting into the kitchen.
Not a pretty sight, is it?
Because the fat-free butter has a fairly high water content and because the Clabber Girl tends to get sticky when wet, I knew the dough would be gooey and not great for drop cookies. Plus I didn't want to spend all that time dropping out the dough and swapping out cookies sheets in the oven. So I took the lazy way out and just made cookie bars. The pan needed 20 minutes of cooking time, and the dough didn't rise a whole lot, but I'm pleased with the final result. The boys didn't object to the obvious green bits, and the bars are sort of hearty enough to work as a breakfast option for the boy.
I was anticipating the call because I knew it was coming. I knew the family at the top of the list had rejected (I suppose declined would be a nice way to phrase it, but the act was one of rejection) him because of a very common thing in his family medical history.
Suckers. Their loss was our gain.
The call came just after 8 a.m., when the agency's office opens. I'd already been at work about two hours by then--two very jumpy, fidgety hours. When the phone finally rang, I'm sure I sounded like a babbling idiot, but I managed to express that yes, we wanted to review his paperwork. Yes, please fax it over right away.
Of course, as so often happens when something really important is going on, I couldn't get the husband by phone. My dear friend told me to just get in the car and drive over to his office--this was too important for phone tag. So I did just that. The husband met me in the lobby of his office building, I showed him the three or so pages of information, and I told him everything I knew about that possible concern, the "special need," in his family medical history to get him to understand that this specter was absolutely nothing to fret about.
And that's basically the story of how the husband and I were first introduced to the boy on April 28, 2003.
When we finaled the boy's adoption nearly seven months later, we did so on the same day as the family who had rejected him. After meeting them face to face, my belief was absolutely confirmed that the boy so did not belong with them. The universe wanted him with a...unique family, not a Whitey McWhitey, button-down, tighty whitey-wearing family. And for as...crazed as he makes me, I can't imagine the boy not being my kid--or being with that family. That would have been too cruel.
Happy Referral Day!
I'd finish that line with "has fun together," but that would be...well, so happy and positive--and that's just not me.
The Texas Round-Up was this morning, and all the human residents of Chez Boeckman-Walker headed out at 7 a.m. sharp to get to the festivities on time. I signed up for the 10K run, and the boys opted for the family 1 mile since the boy doesn't yet have the stamina for 3.11 miles and the husband, well, he doesn't yet either.
So how did we do? I finished in just over 52 minutes. I'd hoped for a better time--something around 50 minutes, since that's about what I run at the gym--but the course, especially toward the end, was a bitch. If you're ever in Austin, Gentle Reader, run the massive hill that is 7th Street from I-35 to Brazos after running about 5 miles, and you'll understand what I mean when I called the course a bitch. Despite the slightly disappointing time, I had an average pace of 7:55, which is a good 20 seconds faster than my average pace at the gym. Woohoo for me!
As for the boys, they did well enough. They managed to pass the time in Deadsville (er, the runner's village) while I ran. As for their race, the family mile wasn't even that--it was all of 0.37 mile. But luckily we all got to run together, which was fun. We all finished just over 3 minutes after the air horn went off, which isn't too shabby considering the boy walked a good section of it.
Here are some fun photos for you to enjoy, Gentle Reader. Included are photos of the boy with his very first runner's schwag bag. I'm so proud of him!
Ahh, remember the days when Tom Cruise, Jack Nicholson and Demi Moore were.... Well, they had a bit more box office draw than they do now, remember? Cruise and Moore are just...creepy (well, creepier) with their respective marriages to significantly younger partners, and Jack is just an even bigger joke than he was when he made A Few Good Men.
Did you too have to suffer through bad impressions of Nicholson delivering that awful "You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!" line by over-the-top, hammy wannabe high school thespians, Gentle Reader? Or did I just badly date myself?
Anywho, since I was lazy over the past few weeks and didn't post about some new recipes that are pretty easy and really tasty. Coming up with a catchy title for such a makeup post is, at 6 a.m. on a Friday morning after a long week with a long, busy day ahead, not the easiest thing in the world. I beg your indulgence, Gentle Reader.
The following recipe I nabbed from a copy of Whole Paycheck's The Whole Deal, which comes out monthly, I think. It often has fabulous coupons for the kefir I drink for breakfast, and every now and then I find a recipe I might actually try.
chunks (although the ones I cut for the very first time were a tad overripe). I like chicken a lot, as does the family (that includes the feline members), so imagine our delight upon finding a quick, easy, tasty recipe for sweet and sour chicken.Yes, yes, Gentle Reader, I realize it's been almost two weeks since I've posted. Two whole weeks--that astounds even me! But I have a good excuse: Last week I was very busy around the house doing stuff to make it better whilst Mum was here, and this week has also been fairly busy, but I'll admit that after taking a week off, finding the gumption to post this week has been difficult. For my lack of initiative, I apologize and humbly (well, in truth, lazily) submit a post with, as its title suggests, crams a whole lot into it.
Holiday Misadventures
I noted in my previous post that we're not believers but do partake in certain Easter traditions. The boys love coloring Easter eggs, and this year I sort of indulged the boy (as in the son, not the husband 'o mine) and got him a kit for sponge painting eggs, not just dipping them in water in which a color dye tablet has dissolved.
Unfortunately, the kit was not well designed and fails to give users an option for painting the eggs without holding onto them. Ah well. Dudley's got my two bucks, and he ain't givin' it back!
A boy and his fish--and Baby Crocagator
Beautiful, ain't it!
I whipped up a low-fat, low-sugar pineapple orange cake from the light dessert weekly recipe e-mail I receive from TasteofHome.com. You can follow the link in the previous sentence to see the recipe yourself, Gentle Reader. I'm too lazy to copy and code it up herein. (Just a warning: It's another Poppy Cannon-worthy recipe.) However, I won't deprive you of....
Adorable, ain't he?We're not believers, but it's hard to escape Easter. More importantly, any holiday that heavily involves rabbits, ducks and chocolate is all right with me and mine. And once upon a time, I celebrated--as much as any child can celebrate a religious holiday largely taken over by commercial interests--Easter. I have fond memories of Easter baskets of Cadbury cream eggs, Reese's peanut butter eggs and these individually wrapped, wonderful coconut cream enrobed in pastel green-tinted white chocolate from Russell Stover (for a few years in my adulthood, you could still get them in a multipack of various chocolate eggs with different fillings, but now I have to suit myself with a dark chocolate-enrobed version that's just not as good). I have...memories of the various dresses Mum made to wear for the interminable Easter Mass. (How she ever had time to make three dresses practically every year for at least a decade is beyond me. I recall some of them being itchy.)
Here at Chez Boeckman-Walker, the boys dye some eggs and, weather and the boy's interest and mood permitting, hunt them. We have more than a few Cadbury cream eggs and Reese's peanut butter eggs and other sinful and often delicious candy. This year, I was this close to picking up a package of Hawaiian bread--the round loaf, not the dinner rolls--as I always associate it with Easter, but good grief is that stuff ever unhealthful!
Of course, come Easter Monday, we try to stock up on half-price candy at the local stores. Gotta love half-price candy!
To help you enjoy your Easter, Gentle Reader, I thought I'd share with you some of the boys' Easter art.
When the boy showed this one to me, he explained that the eggs were "coming out of" the momma duck and they were hatching. (Have I mentioned the boy's really keen on momma and baby animal, particularly on keeping them together? Sure, you could shrug off his fascination as some facet of his internalizing his adoption, but I've always noticed his interest grows following a stay at my parents' house, where he has my mother's undivided attention. Therefore, I chalk up his fascination with mother-and-child pairs as a statement that he find my own mothering skills to be sorely lacking, therefore he's going about fixing his lack of good maternal nurturing by pairing up his stuffed animals. Love that boy, yes I do.) I then explained to him that eggs don't hatch immediately after the mother duck produces them; she has to incubate them for a few weeks or so before they hatch. Notice, though, that the eggs in the picture look like they've hatched into poached eggs, not baby ducks.
I guess our conversation hit a nerve because the boy later produced this Easter image:
Yep, screw the whole incubation thing. Let's see some cute little duckies with that proud momma duck!
The boy didn't know how to draw bunnies, so the husband volunteered to teach him. He told me later that after he taught the boy to draw a bunny, the boy then taught Daddy how to draw a basket with a carrot in it. Can't let a bunny starve after all!
The boy helpfully labeled the picture as belong to him. Note the correct use of the apostrophe, Gentle Reader. I'm so proud!
Of course, he had to label his picture so you'd know it wasn't Daddy's picture:
Being the junior anal retentive that he is (much to my pride and dismay), the boy had to, of course, label his father's art as well.
Hope those pictures made your Easter all the more special! If not, go suck out the cream filling from a dozen or so Cadbury eggs. That will make your Easter very special.
And bilateral hip abductor tendinopathy. Don't forget the bilateral hip abductor tendinopathy--although it's the bilateral greater trochanteric bursitis that's probably causing me more pain, although not so much this past week.
Yeah, Gentle Reader, that's what I'm babbling about. Despite my leg issues and orders to stop running for a while, I still managed to hit another running milestone. Truth be told, I took only one day off--a two-mile Tuesday, the day I had the MRI and the doctor's appointment that started all this--but did cut back the rest of the time.
Given the experience thus far, I doubt I'll be doing any weekly Monday Half-Marathons again. Maybe once a month. I'm hoping I'll be able to do 10 or 11 miles each running day once again, but first I'll have to regain some speed. I'm hoping that'll happen with rehab.
"An eight-year study of 218 couples found 90 percent experienced a decrease in marital satisfaction once the first child was born."
We needed scientists to tell us this?
But to me, here's an important statement in the report: "Scientists speculate that the problem is partly a modern one, because parents don't get as much help at home as they did in previous generations."
Amen to that one! For the human residents of Chez Boeckman-Walker, we'll be relying on all the grandparents quite a bit this summer to manage the boy (and maintain my sanity). And don't even get me started on how...awkward it is to fill out various emergency contact forms for him. Yeah sure, perhaps if the husband and I were more social, we'd be able to put down neighbors or nearby friends as permitted emergency contacts for the boy, but...that just isn't the case. So we deal with it the best way we can.
Of course, for as much as I dog on how much hassle being a parent is, I have to say that I can't imagine what the husband and I would have done with ourselves over the past six years (well, we're almost to six years). I figure I'd still be working full time, probably teaching too. Indeed, the husband would probably be spending more time at the gym; me, I'd be there probably the same amount of time as I am now. We probably wouldn't be as stressed, although the FSM knows that my ability to find new sources of stress is legendary.
But it's not like we'd be traveling the world, going to concerts or other events, taking annual vacations or doing other such free-wheeling stuff. We didn't do that stuff before the boy arrived, and we're just not the type to do that anyway. The husband and I enjoy our quiet time, and we still get that--just in smaller amounts. And I guess I'm a bit of a masochist when I say that to some degree I enjoy the random craziness the boy brings to life. Y'know, what doesn't kill you and all that....
By the way, if you want to read the rest of the article about these scientists' amazing findings, check it out here.
The boy is a budding artist, and I'm totally cool with that. Since his love of drawing has emerged when he was about 2 1/2 years old, I've always wondered if his artist talent is a nature thing--perhaps someone or someones in his birth family are painters or drawers or sculptors or something--or a nurture thing since the husband is quite talented in the area of graphic arts. I'll probably never know that answer, but it's fun to contemplate it from time to time.
But I digress. This morning I called my email from the ISP's server onto my local system and saw a notice that another one of the boy's art projects has been added to Artsonia. Seeing his work online is kind of a kick, so I hastily clicked the link to see the new piece.
This one's a self-portrait. Allegedly.
I realize that public schools--particularly their art programs--don't get a lot of funding. I realize too that there's only so much a young, budding artist can do with crayons and construction paper. But couldn't the boy at least have been given a mirror to reference his own face while creating this work? You'll have to trust me on this, Gentle Reader, when I say that my son doesn't look like Tony Shaloub.
Man, I knew letting him watch Monk while we ate supper would somehow come back to bite me in the ass....
I guess this is turning into Nostalgia Week here at NotAFoodie.com. I didn't intend it, Gentle Reader, but the universe is just aligning to bring things into my life that remind me of times past.
Consider my recent yen for making cookies. I'd intended to whip some up for the husband, and while I was looking forward to making something, I wasn't terribly keen on putting in a lot of effort. Thus I was delighted to open up my copy of the King Arthur Flour Cookie Companion and discover a butterscotch-oatmeal no-bake cookie recipe that was simple, quick and didn't require any unusual ingredients since I wasn't in the mood to make a run to HEB or Wally World.
1 C (8 ounces) brown sugar
1 5-ounce can evaporated milk
1/2 t NaCl
1 t vanilla extract
1 C (1 ounce) crisp cereal of your choice
1 C (6 ounces) butterscotch chips
1/2 C (2 ounces) chopped walnuts (optional)
The look and mouth feel (not the taste, mind you) of the finished product reminded me far too much of the wonderful no-bake cookies Mum made when I was a kid. The combination of melted Blue Bonnet, C&H sugar, Peter Pan peanut butter and Nestle Tollhouse cocoa powder--not to mention the coconut flake (the brand, I recall, changed over the years and often depended on what was available and affordable at whichever store Mum shopped)--will be forever imprinted on my brain and on my taste buds. And that fffttt! sound the used wax paper made when we pulled it up off the counter! That was music to my ears!
three-fourths of a cup of peanut butter chips. The combination of the chocolate chips and the cocoa powder almost completely overpowers the peanut butter, and I recall that Mum's no-bake cookies maintained distinct chocolate and peanut butter flavors. Hell, I might even try it without chocolate chips--just PB chips and some cocoa powder.
Remember Choose Your Own Adventure books, Gentle Reader? Boy, do I ever!
Since I'm feeling a bit nostalgic this week--and a bit twisted--here's something I found ::shudder:: through BuzzFeed. Yeah, I know. BuzzFeed. Viralness. Eww.
And I suppose a double Eww! is in order since this unique homage to Choose Your Own Adventure is on Cracked.com, the online home of the long-defunct Cracked, that perpetual runner-up to Mad.
Must go shower now.
I might have mentioned a time or two before, Gentle Reader, that I've been a fan of the Bat since I was two or three. No, really--that long. I have photographic proof. See for yourself:
Yes, It Really Is That Campy
Admittedly, the eyebrows might throw him....
Cinematic Pay-off
loved it--once, of course, Mommy and Daddy explained why those words were appearing on the TV.Gentle Reader, are you having a frickin' faboo Friday? Well, I'm overjoyed to report that the human residents--hell, even the feline residents--of Chez Boeckman-Walker are all having a frickin' faboo Friday.
Lunch? Why Not!
After a great run at the gym and a nice shower, I was just sitting down to work on this story I've been wanting to wrap up all week when I made the mistake of checking my e-mail. Arriving in my inbox was a message from the husband asking if I wanted to join him for lunch. Hey, I though, why the hell not? Spontaneity is nice! A phone call to discuss options, a few minutes to dry my hair and slap on some makeup (yes, I actually put on some makeup, but just the usual Brow Zing and some eyeshadow to hopefully detract from the pitiful state of my skin) and a quick road trip later, the husband and I were at a new-to-us Indian lunch buffet.
I'd learned about Bombay Bistro while wasting a good chunk of time recently on Chowhound.com, and the comments and reviews were enough to make me want to check the place out for myself. It's location is convenient for me at home and the husband at work. While the exterior isn't much to write home about--it's in a tan brick strip mall a few shops down from an HEB, so, uh, woop-de-woo--the smells coming out each time someone entered and exited while I waited for the husband to arrive were quite enticing.
The interior is all right, but let's face it: Who goes to lunch buffet places for their interior design? The wall decor wasn't appalling, but the tables and chairs had seen better days; in fact, of the four chairs at our table, both the husband and I chose seats that wobble. And the chairs seems too short for the table, but maybe that's just me. I like my eating setup to be at least ergonomically correct, but again, that's just me.
The buffet was, I'll admit, a bit lean. Two soups were available, but neither struck me as Indian or nouveau Indian or fusion Indian. For goodness' sake, one of them was a chicken noodle soup! Spinach pakora were available, and I've never seen spinach pakora in nearly perfectly round pieces. Usually they're shaped much like a snowflake as viewed under a microscope--three-dimensional with lots of spears and outthrusts coming from the center. Could the shape indicate they're quick-fry jobbers from a bag? I dunno. The flavor was good and the besan flour coating crisp, so if they are previously frozen, the maker's worked some wonders with preservatives.
The main course options included Dal bukhara (assorted lentils and beans slow-cooked in onions, tomatoes and cream--quite tasty and heart, plus the lentils weren't smashed into mush), aloo baigan (eggplant sauteed with potatoes and a touch of curry sauce--also quite tasty), saug paneer (commonly spelled saag paneer, which I won't touch with the proverbial ten-foot pole because of all the cheese in it) vegetable masala (think chicken tikka masala without the chicken--very tasty and very hearty), a curry-like dish of mushrooms, green peas, onions, cream (or maybe yogurt) and carrots, I think (yummy!) the near-requisite chicken tikka masala (yummy!) and tandoori chicken (which the husband partook of and pronounced it quite good because he particularly enjoyed being able to taste the smoke from the tandoor without the meat having dried up to chewy, stringy ick) and a beef meatball dish (might have been in a masala sauce, but I didn't look too close, although the husband seemed to enjoy it).
A basmati rice pilaf and large pieces of naan completed the main feast. On a second table was a big bowl of torn iceberg lettuce leaves and an array of Kraft bulk salad dressings for those diners wanting a salad (why ever for?), and a big bowl of mango custard--actual custard, not just cheap pudding--was available for dessert. Unfortunately, this table was the only place to score spoons, for the table settings lacked them. Kinda inconvenient, but maybe I'm the only person who likes to scoop up lingering sauce with a piece of naan in one hand and a spoon in the other.
For the price of $8.95, I didn't think Bombay Bistro was too bad. The service wasn't bad, and the a la carte menu seems intriguing enough for a possible night out sans boy sometime. I doubt we could take the boy there because of the limited buffet offerings. Then again, he usually just stuffs himself on rice, chicken tikka masala and naan when we go to a non-vegetarian Indian buffet, so really he'd be fine.
Speaking of the Boy....
After taking my leave of the husband and Bombay Bistro and after a stop at Specs, where I got a great and fast education on tequila and scored the ginger preserves and key lime juice I need for recipes, I hauled arse to HEB for the weekly grocery run before I needed to run home and get myself to the school to retrieve the boy. I didn't have much to pick up for the week, and the store fortunately isn't too busy in the early afternoons on Friday.
Imagine my surprise to hear my cell phone that, miracle of miracles, I actually had on me for once, start jingling its happy little Batman theme (think campy '60s show, not Danny Elfman). Twasn't the husband nor Mum, so I figured the caller might be a YoYo teacher seeking a sub and was gearing up to disappoint her or him that no, I wasn't available.
Lo and behold, the caller was from Harmony School of Austin with frickin' fabulous news: The boy won a place in next year's first-grade class! I damn near shouted for joy right there by the canned fruits I was so thrilled. Since we'd been told some 800 applications had been submitted--and that was a few weeks before the deadline--and that no openings were available for next year's first-grade class, I'd sort of written off any chance of the boy getting in. But, wonder of wonders, the universe once again aligned for us and smiled on us.
Now please don't think, Gentle Reader, that I'm sure that Harmony will solve all of the boy's problems. Switching schools will not get him to suddenly keep his mouth shut. That's just...that's the way he is, for better or worse--for now (hopefully). But I do hope that by putting him in a school that strongly encourages achievement and challenges all its students, the boy might be more engaged in his learning environment and won't be as easily distracted (bored) and thus prone to running off at the mouth. And if Harmony and the boy aren't a good fit, we're not stuck--he's not stuck there for the whole school year. We can always remove him and put him back in the public school down the street from us that he's currently attending.
Optimistic but realistic--that's me right now.
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