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| BYU baby |
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| Hangin' out with his elephant (the one his Grandma Johnson bought him at the hospital because it seemed...appropriate). |
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| Cory's doing, of course. Don't worry, we'd never sell him for so little. (We certainly paid much more for him...) |
Friday, December 24, 2010
Pre-Christmas Pictures
Here are a few pictures from before Christmas vacation that just needed to be shared. :)
Thursday, December 16, 2010
While I'm supposed to be writing papers . . .
Here's another quick photo post, documenting yet another little thing Henry can now do on his own: hold his bottle. (And yes, they're the same picture--I just couldn't decide which one I like better.)
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sweet Potatoes
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| Faster, Daddy, faster! Or, Eating Like a Cheetah |
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| Mmmm mmm mmm |
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| Approval! |
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| This one's weird. I thought it was also funny. Therefore I posted it. |
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| And this one shows off his beautiful baby eyes :) |
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Milestone!
Let the ROLLING begin!
Click on either the title of this post or ROLLING in the previous sentence to be whisked off to Youtube, where you'll find a video of the Amazing Adorable Baby Henry in his action/stunt debut. He is performing a feat he has only successfully completed maybe a dozen times in his life. Prepare to be impressed. ...Eventually (it takes about a minute and a half).
Click on either the title of this post or ROLLING in the previous sentence to be whisked off to Youtube, where you'll find a video of the Amazing Adorable Baby Henry in his action/stunt debut. He is performing a feat he has only successfully completed maybe a dozen times in his life. Prepare to be impressed. ...Eventually (it takes about a minute and a half).
Baby Food!
So Henry is a big kid. And he's now about five and a half months old. I'd been feeling like we were slacking in the starting-on-solid-foods department, and while he was finally seeming pretty ready for New Adventures in Putting Things in His Mouth, there were two things standing in my way:
1. I wanted to make my own baby food.
2. I was busy and/or lazy.
While I'm still both busy and lazy, I have finally succeeded in making my own baby food! I did green beans in my shiny new little 2 quart crock pot ($2.97 from WalMart on Black Friday. Booyah.) and pureed them in both the blender and the little KidCo food-masher thing that my lovely sister sent me. The first attempt at green beans failed pretty miserably, that is, the only time he's ever refused to put something in his mouth was when it had green beans on it. Sigh. I persisted, however, and after a few different dinnertime attempts he will now eat a few bites before deciding he's done. Same with bananas. To start with, he was just not a fan. Now, well, he'll tolerate them. Anyway, I froze the green beans in an ice cube tray and then popped them out and stuck them in freezer bags, so now we have all these cute little meal-sized chunks of green bean in the freezer.
And we now have at least twice as many cute little meal-sized chunks of sweet potato. Which is good. Because he loves sweet potatoes. I baked four until they were extremely tender (that is, ahem, until their innards oozed out and burned onto the bottom of our oven, but they mashed like a dream...), peeled them, squished them all up, added some formula to smooth it out, and did the whole ice-cube-tray thing again.
Tonight we popped one in the microwave for him for dinner and he couldn't get enough, diving for the spoon and grinning and yelling if I neglected feeding him long enough to take a bit of my own dinner (chicken enchiladas and spinach salad). It was awesome.
Oh, and he likes applesauce. But even that is no comparison with how completely thrilled he was about the sweet potatoes. Who knew?
So the point of this post was to record that Harry is now eating solids and that I am all awesome and frugal for making our own food for him. I'll stop preening now and leave you to your evening. :)
1. I wanted to make my own baby food.
2. I was busy and/or lazy.
While I'm still both busy and lazy, I have finally succeeded in making my own baby food! I did green beans in my shiny new little 2 quart crock pot ($2.97 from WalMart on Black Friday. Booyah.) and pureed them in both the blender and the little KidCo food-masher thing that my lovely sister sent me. The first attempt at green beans failed pretty miserably, that is, the only time he's ever refused to put something in his mouth was when it had green beans on it. Sigh. I persisted, however, and after a few different dinnertime attempts he will now eat a few bites before deciding he's done. Same with bananas. To start with, he was just not a fan. Now, well, he'll tolerate them. Anyway, I froze the green beans in an ice cube tray and then popped them out and stuck them in freezer bags, so now we have all these cute little meal-sized chunks of green bean in the freezer.
And we now have at least twice as many cute little meal-sized chunks of sweet potato. Which is good. Because he loves sweet potatoes. I baked four until they were extremely tender (that is, ahem, until their innards oozed out and burned onto the bottom of our oven, but they mashed like a dream...), peeled them, squished them all up, added some formula to smooth it out, and did the whole ice-cube-tray thing again.
Tonight we popped one in the microwave for him for dinner and he couldn't get enough, diving for the spoon and grinning and yelling if I neglected feeding him long enough to take a bit of my own dinner (chicken enchiladas and spinach salad). It was awesome.
Oh, and he likes applesauce. But even that is no comparison with how completely thrilled he was about the sweet potatoes. Who knew?
So the point of this post was to record that Harry is now eating solids and that I am all awesome and frugal for making our own food for him. I'll stop preening now and leave you to your evening. :)
Thursday, December 9, 2010
As Promised :)
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| Harry laughing with his friend who comes to play with us every week |
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| Laughing with his friend's lion |
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| Reminding me that life is not always a laughing matter... |
On Being a Professional Reader
It's not what I want to be.
Obviously it's not that I don't want to read--if I didn't like reading, I would have gotten nowhere near this program, nor would I have been an English major in the first place. But going into the field of "literary criticism," which is what you're doing when you get a PhD in English, is learning to read certain ways. Then you write about that reading in certain ways. And then you go to conferences and talk about that writing about that reading in a certain way. And you expect others to respond to you talking and writing about that reading in certain ways. And then you teach the rising generation how to read certain ways and then write about their reading in certain ways. And yes, the field is replete with arguments over what Reading even Is or Does or Should Be--but nowadays you wouldn't use caps, because Absolute Assertions Are Wrong (ding!)--and theories about different ways of reading. But come on, guys. All the formulations of different readings are formulated the same way, because everyone's thought themselves into a pretty closed system which, if it doesn't Really Speak to You or starts to just make you Tired, you should probably quietly slip out of by the side door. (Or maybe just walk, or maybe even saunter, skip, or bolt, and maybe even go by the front door--the one that used to be flanked by big stone lions that are being replaced by sculptures in a postpostpostmodern style, not a style at all really, but the theory behind them is really cool and says a lot about our generation) because you don't really care who sees you leaving.
This is probably part insecurity; I listen to the students around me in class and how well and easily they engage with ridiculously obtuse material (and can throw out words like "obtuse" without having to wonder if they've chosen the right word--well, ok, maybe "obtuse" isn't a good example, since Harry uses "obtuse," but you see my point), and I'm jealous of their ability to digest long and obscure theoretical-philosophical tracts. It's not something I'm good at. But then maybe I could do it if I worked harder. But then I'd have to put in that time and effort when I really don't care that I can't offhandedly produce and discuss points from all 18 books of ethical theory that we've read this semester.
It's just not my thing.
The field was fun when I was an undergrad, when things were pre-professional. Now, however, I find myself consuming all this literature and criticism only to produce pieces of writing that are utterly uninspired--because that's what I am. I want to create something. I want to write. And I don't want to be stuck with the pressure of reading like a professional. I want to read just because I want to read, and I want to read like a writer. I want to be someone who makes.
No, this is not me announcing that I'm dropping out of the program. This is just me, after yet another class to which I contributed nothing, putting into writing the fact that this is simply not what I'm going to do with the rest of my life.
There are things I can do so much better.
...and I'll post a cute picture of Harry later tonight to make up for all this serious stuff. :)
Obviously it's not that I don't want to read--if I didn't like reading, I would have gotten nowhere near this program, nor would I have been an English major in the first place. But going into the field of "literary criticism," which is what you're doing when you get a PhD in English, is learning to read certain ways. Then you write about that reading in certain ways. And then you go to conferences and talk about that writing about that reading in a certain way. And you expect others to respond to you talking and writing about that reading in certain ways. And then you teach the rising generation how to read certain ways and then write about their reading in certain ways. And yes, the field is replete with arguments over what Reading even Is or Does or Should Be--but nowadays you wouldn't use caps, because Absolute Assertions Are Wrong (ding!)--and theories about different ways of reading. But come on, guys. All the formulations of different readings are formulated the same way, because everyone's thought themselves into a pretty closed system which, if it doesn't Really Speak to You or starts to just make you Tired, you should probably quietly slip out of by the side door. (Or maybe just walk, or maybe even saunter, skip, or bolt, and maybe even go by the front door--the one that used to be flanked by big stone lions that are being replaced by sculptures in a postpostpostmodern style, not a style at all really, but the theory behind them is really cool and says a lot about our generation) because you don't really care who sees you leaving.
This is probably part insecurity; I listen to the students around me in class and how well and easily they engage with ridiculously obtuse material (and can throw out words like "obtuse" without having to wonder if they've chosen the right word--well, ok, maybe "obtuse" isn't a good example, since Harry uses "obtuse," but you see my point), and I'm jealous of their ability to digest long and obscure theoretical-philosophical tracts. It's not something I'm good at. But then maybe I could do it if I worked harder. But then I'd have to put in that time and effort when I really don't care that I can't offhandedly produce and discuss points from all 18 books of ethical theory that we've read this semester.
It's just not my thing.
The field was fun when I was an undergrad, when things were pre-professional. Now, however, I find myself consuming all this literature and criticism only to produce pieces of writing that are utterly uninspired--because that's what I am. I want to create something. I want to write. And I don't want to be stuck with the pressure of reading like a professional. I want to read just because I want to read, and I want to read like a writer. I want to be someone who makes.
No, this is not me announcing that I'm dropping out of the program. This is just me, after yet another class to which I contributed nothing, putting into writing the fact that this is simply not what I'm going to do with the rest of my life.
There are things I can do so much better.
...and I'll post a cute picture of Harry later tonight to make up for all this serious stuff. :)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Perfect
...is exactly how I think he looks in these pictures, taken a couple weeks ago. Excuse me while I swoon with glowing motherly affection. :)
Cookbook As Novel
Sometimes I feel like a genius. Sometimes I'm working on a paper, leaning back in my chair, staring at the wall with a pen fluttering between my fingers as I try to figure out what to say and suddenly BAM. I feel like I've discovered the quadratic formula. Sheer academic awesomeness. Sometimes it's more along the lines of a grin and an "Oh but I am a clever one" and before I happily proceed to produce something that, if not made of awesome, is at least smart and sharp and entertaining.
And then sometimes I go an entire semester without feeling very clever at all. Welcome, my friends, to Fall 2010. Today I had an approximate deadline of 4 pm (less than an hour ago) to post a review/synthesis question for the research seminar I'm taking entitled "The Novel and the New Ethics." I was completely stumped. No idea what to do. I babysat until 12:30, and then my time was taken up with Harry. 3:00 suddenly appeared and he was getting needy and I was getting tired and was still utterly clueless. The minutes ticked past 4 and I still just wasn't getting it. Cory called to say he was coming home to rescue me; he got home (with chocolate-covered s'more candy things, yum) and took Henry off to collect a package from the post office, and I grabbed my class notebook in an attempt to maybe find SOMETHING I'd written in a margin that might help.
Then I found it.
And then, at 4:41, at the bottom of a list of posts with "ethics" in most of the titles and bodies written in standard, interesting, academic-style prose, there appeared this, which I would put into the clever-grin category because that's exactly what it produced:
Cookbook as Novel
(...because I've been changing diapers all day, my brain is slightly fried, and I think this would be fun.)
On our first day of class (and again since), it was suggested that an interesting discussion would arise from tossing a cookbook on the table, calling it a novel, and asking what everyone thought.
So here's my question: If we use our powers of attempted sympathy to imaginatively slip into the skins of a couple theorists we've read, how would they feel if they were sitting at that table? Would they be ok with calling a cookbook a novel? What ethical issues might arise? Would they have issues, for example, with its overwhelmingly prescriptive nature? With its apparent lack of narrative (or are "cookies" the proper telos to the progress of the text?)? Would they scoff its underdeveloped characters? With its metatexuality? With its hyperawareness of its readers, with what it assumes they do or don't know? and so on.
...yes, I realize this probably isn't interesting to anyone, but hey. I'm proud and vain and wanted to share. :)
And then sometimes I go an entire semester without feeling very clever at all. Welcome, my friends, to Fall 2010. Today I had an approximate deadline of 4 pm (less than an hour ago) to post a review/synthesis question for the research seminar I'm taking entitled "The Novel and the New Ethics." I was completely stumped. No idea what to do. I babysat until 12:30, and then my time was taken up with Harry. 3:00 suddenly appeared and he was getting needy and I was getting tired and was still utterly clueless. The minutes ticked past 4 and I still just wasn't getting it. Cory called to say he was coming home to rescue me; he got home (with chocolate-covered s'more candy things, yum) and took Henry off to collect a package from the post office, and I grabbed my class notebook in an attempt to maybe find SOMETHING I'd written in a margin that might help.
Then I found it.
And then, at 4:41, at the bottom of a list of posts with "ethics" in most of the titles and bodies written in standard, interesting, academic-style prose, there appeared this, which I would put into the clever-grin category because that's exactly what it produced:
Cookbook as Novel
(...because I've been changing diapers all day, my brain is slightly fried, and I think this would be fun.)
On our first day of class (and again since), it was suggested that an interesting discussion would arise from tossing a cookbook on the table, calling it a novel, and asking what everyone thought.
So here's my question: If we use our powers of attempted sympathy to imaginatively slip into the skins of a couple theorists we've read, how would they feel if they were sitting at that table? Would they be ok with calling a cookbook a novel? What ethical issues might arise? Would they have issues, for example, with its overwhelmingly prescriptive nature? With its apparent lack of narrative (or are "cookies" the proper telos to the progress of the text?)? Would they scoff its underdeveloped characters? With its metatexuality? With its hyperawareness of its readers, with what it assumes they do or don't know? and so on.
...yes, I realize this probably isn't interesting to anyone, but hey. I'm proud and vain and wanted to share. :)
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Pictures! For Story, See Cory's Post Below
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| Here's Cory, ready to make the cut! |
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| But first! Here's me, looking oh-so-stylish (tying the blanket there meant I didn't have to carry it...) with Henry, who always looks stylish. You can't really tell here, but he had pants on over his sleeper and they're bunched up above his knees and look incredibly dorky. We are awesome parents. |
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| And here's Cory, having chopped that tree down in remarkably manly fashion, taking in the delicious pine-scented air. |
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| Packing up our boy, the tree tied carefully to the top of the (still shiny!) car |
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| Harry and the tree, pre-decorations, as he chews on the blanket covering his pink Bumbo seat. |
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| Me decorating! Again with the stylishness. Check out those socks! They are festive and warm and fuzzy, especially important to cold feet on cold hard floors. |
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| Decorated! Stockings hung and everything. These are the hand-knitted ones Cory was talking about. :) |
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| A closer look--Cory's was made by his wonderful Grandma Petty; mine and Henry's were knitted just this year by his Aunt Nancy, who is also wonderful. :) |
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| Last but not least. I was shy and dorky and sneaky and took this through the car window; hence the blurry something-or-other along the bottom left. But hey, I like it. It's Santa, after all! |
Hey! I'm Posting Here!
So I have been commisioned to post about our Christmas Tree. It is a douglas fir standing at a majestic 5 feet and a handful of inches above ground, magically obtained through seasonal Christmas surprise!
There is quite a difference in how my mum's family celebrated holidays back in the day and how my dad's family celebrated. Basically, My Mom's family was very big on the excitement of the day coming and celebrating and making the day great and present-filled or tradition filled. My dad's family was like "Oh yeah, John, it's your birthday this month, what do you want?" At least that's how I saw the two families growing up.
My own family leaned toward the traditions of my mom's family. We all have matching hand-knitted Christmas stockings ("we all" means everyone from my grandparents down to every single great grand child) I remember all the lengths my parents went through to make sure we had good holidays. I even remember a sleigh ride and seeing real reindeer one year on Christmas eve. I was the typical kid who never slept Christmas eve for the excitement. Then I went on a mission.
Missions are great, don't get me wrong. They are great in all the right ways. But they ended up killing the excitement of holidays pretty well. I remember walking down the street in Uruguay and have my Paraguayan mission companion remind me that it was the fourth of July. I remember my Christmases were hallmarked with and extra few hours of not working and a 20 min phone call home. Birthday packages came weeks or months late and missing items. All other holidays didn't exist for missionaries. Coming home, I eventually found myself saying "hey Mom! its my birthday in a couple months. Can you help me buy this thingywhatsitcalled? and the actual day was nice but had missed the magic (?) of having someone else orchestrate how your day was going to be really special.
Being married, the nonchalant attitude toward special days is dangerous. For example. I remember the day my dad forgot his anniversary*. Somehow the relief society found out (....mom?) and my dad received several kind "reminders" from the sisters the weeks before Oct 30 for years afterwards. I am not totally convinced calling John Stephens in mid-october was not an official RS calling. While I didn't, haven't, hopefully won't repeat that grave a mistake (good one dad...), I have noticed something lacking in my new little family's celebrations.
I saw our Christmas going down the same street this year as it did last year. No decorations, no tree, no lights. But I also know more about Charisse. And how those little sighs and longings for festivity actually mean something! So I decided to try harder this year.
With a little Christmas magic subsidizing our strung budget, I started packing Harry up and told Charisse that we were leaving. She feigned annoyance at me not telling her where I was dragging her, and she feigned even more annoyance when I said it was an hour away and she feigned even more annoyance when I had to turn around to get cash out of out machine. Eventually, though, she caved and guessed that we were going to... CUT DOWN OUR OWN CHRISTMAS TREE!!!
We got there an hour later and drove up to this little festive home in the hills a bit north of Santa Cruz, CA. Harry was all bundled in his bomber jacket and we waited in line to figure out how it all worked. I grabbed a hand saw and we were off! we climbed a hill, crossed a stream ventured into a grove of trees here and there. That tree was too tall for our budget, that one looked like a dog toy, that one Harry called "obtuse" (whatever that means... He wouldn't elaborate...) Eventually we found one. It was perfect. The right size, shape, race, everything! but then we saw a better one so we cut it down and dragged it to the car where latinos tied it to our roof. We drank hot cider, paid the troll under the bridge, and I may as well have shot and killed a trophy deer the smile on my face.
Then we drove an hour back, I almost fell asleep so Charisse drove the rest of the way and did not crash. We got home, put it up, decorated it, called my dad to tell him about it, learned we were probably killing it because we didn't chop off the base before putting it in water, did that, and now we have a Christmas tree! I love it. It is the best tree I have ever had and among my best Christmas surprises.
*correction = birthday
There is quite a difference in how my mum's family celebrated holidays back in the day and how my dad's family celebrated. Basically, My Mom's family was very big on the excitement of the day coming and celebrating and making the day great and present-filled or tradition filled. My dad's family was like "Oh yeah, John, it's your birthday this month, what do you want?" At least that's how I saw the two families growing up.
My own family leaned toward the traditions of my mom's family. We all have matching hand-knitted Christmas stockings ("we all" means everyone from my grandparents down to every single great grand child) I remember all the lengths my parents went through to make sure we had good holidays. I even remember a sleigh ride and seeing real reindeer one year on Christmas eve. I was the typical kid who never slept Christmas eve for the excitement. Then I went on a mission.
Missions are great, don't get me wrong. They are great in all the right ways. But they ended up killing the excitement of holidays pretty well. I remember walking down the street in Uruguay and have my Paraguayan mission companion remind me that it was the fourth of July. I remember my Christmases were hallmarked with and extra few hours of not working and a 20 min phone call home. Birthday packages came weeks or months late and missing items. All other holidays didn't exist for missionaries. Coming home, I eventually found myself saying "hey Mom! its my birthday in a couple months. Can you help me buy this thingywhatsitcalled? and the actual day was nice but had missed the magic (?) of having someone else orchestrate how your day was going to be really special.
Being married, the nonchalant attitude toward special days is dangerous. For example. I remember the day my dad forgot his anniversary*. Somehow the relief society found out (....mom?) and my dad received several kind "reminders" from the sisters the weeks before Oct 30 for years afterwards. I am not totally convinced calling John Stephens in mid-october was not an official RS calling. While I didn't, haven't, hopefully won't repeat that grave a mistake (good one dad...), I have noticed something lacking in my new little family's celebrations.
I saw our Christmas going down the same street this year as it did last year. No decorations, no tree, no lights. But I also know more about Charisse. And how those little sighs and longings for festivity actually mean something! So I decided to try harder this year.
With a little Christmas magic subsidizing our strung budget, I started packing Harry up and told Charisse that we were leaving. She feigned annoyance at me not telling her where I was dragging her, and she feigned even more annoyance when I said it was an hour away and she feigned even more annoyance when I had to turn around to get cash out of out machine. Eventually, though, she caved and guessed that we were going to... CUT DOWN OUR OWN CHRISTMAS TREE!!!
We got there an hour later and drove up to this little festive home in the hills a bit north of Santa Cruz, CA. Harry was all bundled in his bomber jacket and we waited in line to figure out how it all worked. I grabbed a hand saw and we were off! we climbed a hill, crossed a stream ventured into a grove of trees here and there. That tree was too tall for our budget, that one looked like a dog toy, that one Harry called "obtuse" (whatever that means... He wouldn't elaborate...) Eventually we found one. It was perfect. The right size, shape, race, everything! but then we saw a better one so we cut it down and dragged it to the car where latinos tied it to our roof. We drank hot cider, paid the troll under the bridge, and I may as well have shot and killed a trophy deer the smile on my face.
Then we drove an hour back, I almost fell asleep so Charisse drove the rest of the way and did not crash. We got home, put it up, decorated it, called my dad to tell him about it, learned we were probably killing it because we didn't chop off the base before putting it in water, did that, and now we have a Christmas tree! I love it. It is the best tree I have ever had and among my best Christmas surprises.
*correction = birthday
Two Completely Unrelated Things
First, this photo. Look familiar? My fabulous former roommate, known internet-wise as Ci, decided to give baby Henry some lovely blue eyes. Thanks, Ci! They're almost as lovely as the real thing. :)
Second, dinner. I tried a new recipe tonight. It was simple and tasty and warm and is going to be added to the list of Things We Eat (which I keep for those days when I can't think of what to make and need to be reminded of options). I give you:
Cabbage Patch Soup
1/2 lb ground beef
1 1/2 c. chopped onion
1/2 c. sliced celery
2 c. water
1 can (16 oz) kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (14.5 oz) stewed tomatoes
1 c. shredded cabbage
1 t. chili powder
1/2 t. salt
In a saucepan over medium heat, brown beef; drain. Add onion and celery; cook until tender. Add water, beans, tomatoes, cabbage, chili powder and salt; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 20-30 minutes or until cabbage is tender.
Then it says to top each bowl with mashed potatoes, if desired. We didn't, mostly because I forgot, but I probably wouldn't have anyway, because I wouldn't have wanted to make them and the ones we have in the fridge were garlic, which might have been weird.
Anyway. That's all. There will be a post about our Christmas tree soon, from Cory. There will, of course, be pictures. :)
Second, dinner. I tried a new recipe tonight. It was simple and tasty and warm and is going to be added to the list of Things We Eat (which I keep for those days when I can't think of what to make and need to be reminded of options). I give you:
Cabbage Patch Soup
1/2 lb ground beef
1 1/2 c. chopped onion
1/2 c. sliced celery
2 c. water
1 can (16 oz) kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (14.5 oz) stewed tomatoes
1 c. shredded cabbage
1 t. chili powder
1/2 t. salt
In a saucepan over medium heat, brown beef; drain. Add onion and celery; cook until tender. Add water, beans, tomatoes, cabbage, chili powder and salt; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 20-30 minutes or until cabbage is tender.
Then it says to top each bowl with mashed potatoes, if desired. We didn't, mostly because I forgot, but I probably wouldn't have anyway, because I wouldn't have wanted to make them and the ones we have in the fridge were garlic, which might have been weird.
Anyway. That's all. There will be a post about our Christmas tree soon, from Cory. There will, of course, be pictures. :)
Friday, December 3, 2010
The Jacket
I found this bomber jacket at a thrift store back when I was pregnant and simply had to have it. Since Harry is finally big enough to start wearing it, we felt that some documentation of the event was in order.
(Someday I will have the skills and/or camera and/or editing software to make it look like his eyes are actually, beautifully blue. Alas, it is not this day.)
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Holding On For Dear Life
I know, I know, I'm posting kind of obsessively, but the blog is still all shiny and novel for me. We'll see how long it lasts. Then again, the sort of reflected vanity I have in my son makes me want to take lots of pictures of him and share them with the world, so I may very well continue (very often) making little photo posts like this one, because I just can't help myself.
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| Henry's first ride in a shopping cart...sans car seat :) |
Raspberry Truffle Brownies
I'd been wanting to make these forever. I bought seedless raspberry jam on sale like two months ago specifically so I could use it in this recipe. (Note: seedless raspberry jam is weird in PB&J. Especially if you bought reduced fat peanut butter that tasted gritty. You should learn from my mistakes; I shan't be making either mistake again.) The reason I didn't make them immediately the moment I had all the ingredients was that I did not want Cory and myself to have to eat them all on our own--which is why I jumped at the chance to make something for game night. Hooray for excuses to make good food!
(Note: If you're one of my siblings, you should already have this recipe--I found it in the Taste of Home cookbook Mom gave everybody for Christmas a couple years ago.)
Raspberry Truffle Brownies
BROWNIES:
1 1/4 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/2 c. butter
3/4 c. brown sugar
2 lg. eggs
1 tsp. instant coffee crystals (opt.--I had dark hot chocolate mix on hand, so I used that. Regular baking cocoa probably wouldn't hurt either...)
1/2 c. butter
3/4 c. brown sugar
2 lg. eggs
1 tsp. instant coffee crystals (opt.--I had dark hot chocolate mix on hand, so I used that. Regular baking cocoa probably wouldn't hurt either...)
2 tbsp. water
1/2 tsp. baking powder
3/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. baking powder
3/4 c. all-purpose flour
TRUFFLE FILLING:
1 c. semi-sweet real chocolate morsels
8 oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened
1/4 c. powdered sugar
1/3 c. seedless red raspberry preserves
8 oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened
1/4 c. powdered sugar
1/3 c. seedless red raspberry preserves
GLAZE:
1/4 c. semi-sweet real chocolate morsels
1 tsp. vegetable shortening
1 tsp. vegetable shortening
BROWNIES: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9 x 9 inch baking pan (I used an 11x7, which is the closest I have to a 9x9). In heavy saucepan, over low heat, melt chocolate morsels with butter. Cool slightly. In a large mixing bowl, beat sugar and eggs together. Add chocolate mixture and coffee crystals dissolved in water, mixing well. Add flour and baking powder, mixing again. Spread evenly into prepared baking pan. Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool on wire rack.
TRUFFLE FILLING: Melt chocolate morsels in heavy saucepan over low heat. Set aside. In small mixing bowl, beat cream cheese with powdered sugar until fluffy. Beat in raspberry preserves. Add melted chocolate, mixing until well blended. Spread over top of brownies.
GLAZE: (I skipped the glaze, because I was out of chocolate.) In small heavy saucepan, over low heat, melt chocolate morsels with shortening. Drizzle over top of truffle mixture.
Chill before cutting.
When I made them they didn't really have time to chill; they were in the freezer for maybe half an hour before we cut them, and it worked fine. But the next day, straight out of the fridge, they were fudgy and even more delicious than before.
In summary, you should make these, because they're amazing.
TRUFFLE FILLING: Melt chocolate morsels in heavy saucepan over low heat. Set aside. In small mixing bowl, beat cream cheese with powdered sugar until fluffy. Beat in raspberry preserves. Add melted chocolate, mixing until well blended. Spread over top of brownies.
GLAZE: (I skipped the glaze, because I was out of chocolate.) In small heavy saucepan, over low heat, melt chocolate morsels with shortening. Drizzle over top of truffle mixture.
Chill before cutting.
When I made them they didn't really have time to chill; they were in the freezer for maybe half an hour before we cut them, and it worked fine. But the next day, straight out of the fridge, they were fudgy and even more delicious than before.
In summary, you should make these, because they're amazing.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Of Dreams and Television
I dream of Henry growing up to be cultured and intelligent and, you know, treading that fine line of good taste which is probably really just snobbery that knows how to be likeable. (Actually, my nighttime dreams involving Henry are usually nightmares where I forget him in the car or something, but, you know. My daydreams are good.)
And to that end--of being a Good Parent who will turn out a nice, respectable, relatively calm and well-behaved child (as much as that is ever possible)--I decided we were going to follow the AAP guideline and not let him watch tv until he's 2. So far we're succeeding pretty well, because I decided that there would be SOMETHING I was going to stick to absolutely, and I'm not giving up on it. Yes, there have been studies that indicate tv viewing doesn't actually do any harm to young kids, but I made the decision and I'm sticking to it. (Though lately it's becoming more difficult physically as he becomes more able and eager to contort himself in all kinds of new directions.)
The catch is this: Cory and I watch a lot of tv. We stream Netflix, we have a list of shows we follow on Hulu, we occasionally watch the Shaytards on Youtube, and, now that we got our shiny new tv for Christmas and Cory was genius enough to make an antenna, we can surf through regular channels and waste time on things like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The tv is our standard background noise. But instead of ruminating on the fact that we should probably watch less television ourselves if we really want to instill tv-free habits in our son, I'm going to show a picture of the kind of cute thing that happens when trying to keep Henry from watching when we do (though in this case, it was Cory watching something on his laptop instead of the tv).
Fun times. :)
And to that end--of being a Good Parent who will turn out a nice, respectable, relatively calm and well-behaved child (as much as that is ever possible)--I decided we were going to follow the AAP guideline and not let him watch tv until he's 2. So far we're succeeding pretty well, because I decided that there would be SOMETHING I was going to stick to absolutely, and I'm not giving up on it. Yes, there have been studies that indicate tv viewing doesn't actually do any harm to young kids, but I made the decision and I'm sticking to it. (Though lately it's becoming more difficult physically as he becomes more able and eager to contort himself in all kinds of new directions.)
The catch is this: Cory and I watch a lot of tv. We stream Netflix, we have a list of shows we follow on Hulu, we occasionally watch the Shaytards on Youtube, and, now that we got our shiny new tv for Christmas and Cory was genius enough to make an antenna, we can surf through regular channels and waste time on things like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The tv is our standard background noise. But instead of ruminating on the fact that we should probably watch less television ourselves if we really want to instill tv-free habits in our son, I'm going to show a picture of the kind of cute thing that happens when trying to keep Henry from watching when we do (though in this case, it was Cory watching something on his laptop instead of the tv).
Fun times. :)
Monday, November 29, 2010
New Hat and Mittens; Baby in Pot
Just for fun, and because showing off pictures of the cutest boy on the planet was one of the main reasons for starting this blog in the first place :)
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| Because his tongue is pretty much his favorite sensory organ. |
 | |||||
| Bundled up to go see the lighting at temple hill (which was fun, but cold and anti-climactic). |
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| ...it was Cory's idea. I just documented the cuteness. |
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| Ok so I might have encouraged him a little. But I feigned incredulity. |
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| But then the lid was my idea. |
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| And he was such a good sport about it all :) |
And There Was Much . . . Sugar
It just so happens that Fairfield, California, is home to the factory that makes some of the greatest flavored sugary stuff on Earth: the Jelly Belly jelly beans. And it just so happens that we live not terribly far from Fairfield, and that Cory had the whole week off for Thanksgiving, and that we decided, the day before Thanksgiving, that we needed a family outing. We found one. And it was delicious.
Welcome to the Jelly Belly factory, a wonderful place made even better for being all decked out for Christmas. The tour is fun and free and ends with free samples. We weren't allowed to take pictures, but they basically take you along a catwalk all the way around the factory, so you get to peer down at towers and crates and big metal spinning bins (that probably have a name) filled with jelly beans in different stages of production. And you get to hear how much Reagan loved Jelly Bellys. And how people suggest ridiculous flavors like pork chop and macaroni and cheese (I agree they would be gross, but I've been craving mac and cheese ever since. I wish there were a Panera nearby, because theirs is awesome).
If you want the gist of the tour, there is, of course, a youtube video.
And then of course we bought a bag of Belly Flops--the factory rejects they sell for half off--with every intention of dividing them up and adding them to Christmas gifts. But then we ate about half of them. Not the tutti fruttis, though. They're mostly sitting on the kitchen counter, because they're gross.
Oh, and they gave everyone these dorky hats because some kind of head covering is required while on the tour. Hence the dorky hats we're wearing in the pictures. (We're not THAT dorky. At least...not in public? all the time? maybe?) And as always, there was much fawning over how adorable and well-behaved our boy is. :)
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Invited to game night!
Hello everyone!
So Charisse and I have been in the Oakland 9th ward for about 2 months. Pretty quick after arriving, we were called to be teachers in the primary (ctr 5). That, however, has made it very difficult to meet people and make friends. But today we sermon the bishops office being set apart and a fellow from the elders quorum invited Charisse and I to his house for a game night with two other couples! We said yes and Charisse made raspberry truffle brownies to take. I will have her post the recipe for those interested.
We got there and chatted with everyone for about an hour. There wer two podiatry students, a Photographer, a Pixar animator, a mom who probably does something else as well but I don't know and us. We eventually began our game. It was divided up into boys vs girls and Each person wrote down 4 things On slips of paper. All these were place ldninto a bowl and dran one by one in 30 second turns alternating between boys and girls. The first round we had to describe the word to our team to try to get them to guess it. Once we went through the Whole bowl. We went through again using only 2 words to describe each slip. Then a third time acting out the words. The most exciting one was when a guy pushed his lips out to be big and pointed to the tv to act out "Oprah."
It is not important who won...
the POINT is that we had a very fun evening and felt very grateful to have been invited. Now we are going to bed.
So Charisse and I have been in the Oakland 9th ward for about 2 months. Pretty quick after arriving, we were called to be teachers in the primary (ctr 5). That, however, has made it very difficult to meet people and make friends. But today we sermon the bishops office being set apart and a fellow from the elders quorum invited Charisse and I to his house for a game night with two other couples! We said yes and Charisse made raspberry truffle brownies to take. I will have her post the recipe for those interested.
We got there and chatted with everyone for about an hour. There wer two podiatry students, a Photographer, a Pixar animator, a mom who probably does something else as well but I don't know and us. We eventually began our game. It was divided up into boys vs girls and Each person wrote down 4 things On slips of paper. All these were place ldninto a bowl and dran one by one in 30 second turns alternating between boys and girls. The first round we had to describe the word to our team to try to get them to guess it. Once we went through the Whole bowl. We went through again using only 2 words to describe each slip. Then a third time acting out the words. The most exciting one was when a guy pushed his lips out to be big and pointed to the tv to act out "Oprah."
It is not important who won...
the POINT is that we had a very fun evening and felt very grateful to have been invited. Now we are going to bed.
Thanksgiving!
Cory's been on my case about not posting anything yet, so here we go!
Thanksgiving was a nice quiet affair at the Stephens home. No turkey, because it's a hassle and the odds of all two of us polishing off an entire turkey (small as it may be, by turkey standards) are quite slim. Instead, we put a pork roast in the crock pot with sweet potatoes and onion, whipped up some (boxed) stuffing, some (boxed, but hand-seasoned) mashed potatoes, and some (not boxed) glazed carrots. I also made a key lime pie for dessert, which was incredibly easy and is, to this day, incredibly tasty. (Read: we've only eaten half of it.)
Oh--and I, uh, bought a bag of King's Hawaiian sweet rolls, because we like them and because yeast is expensive here (stupid California). And that's not milk in our glasses, it's Cory's homemade egg nog, which was excellent.
The reason Henry doesn't look too happy in the picture isn't because he's sitting in a pink chair or because he didn't get to eat any of our delicious food, but because he's exhausted. Just as we were about to start eating he decided he'd had it and when nothing could console him, we wrapped him up and put him in his bed while we had dinner. Half-way through, to our great astonishment, he did something amazing: he stopped crying.
This was momentous. This was unprecedented. This was the first time EVER that we had put him to bed crying and he had actually fallen asleep on his own; usually we have to feed and/or rock him to sleep. He did the same the next night, though last night I had to go in and hold him for a minute. Hopefully the trend will continue, but who knows--once upon a time he was sleeping clear through the night, too.
And in case you want to know, here's the pie recipe, pretty much Key Lime Pie VII from Allrecipes.com:
Key Lime Pie!
Crust:
16 whole graham crackers, crushed
1/2 c. (1 stick) butter, melted
Mix together and press into a pie pan. (SO much better than store-bought crust.)
Filling:
2 cans (14 oz each) sweetened condensed milk
1/2 c. sour cream
3/4 c. key lime juice
Mix together in a bowl and pour into the crust. Pop it in the oven at 350 for 5-8 minutes (you don't want it to brown.) Cool it, chill it, and serve it with whipped cream (lots, if you're me). Fabulous.
Thanksgiving was a nice quiet affair at the Stephens home. No turkey, because it's a hassle and the odds of all two of us polishing off an entire turkey (small as it may be, by turkey standards) are quite slim. Instead, we put a pork roast in the crock pot with sweet potatoes and onion, whipped up some (boxed) stuffing, some (boxed, but hand-seasoned) mashed potatoes, and some (not boxed) glazed carrots. I also made a key lime pie for dessert, which was incredibly easy and is, to this day, incredibly tasty. (Read: we've only eaten half of it.)
Oh--and I, uh, bought a bag of King's Hawaiian sweet rolls, because we like them and because yeast is expensive here (stupid California). And that's not milk in our glasses, it's Cory's homemade egg nog, which was excellent.
The reason Henry doesn't look too happy in the picture isn't because he's sitting in a pink chair or because he didn't get to eat any of our delicious food, but because he's exhausted. Just as we were about to start eating he decided he'd had it and when nothing could console him, we wrapped him up and put him in his bed while we had dinner. Half-way through, to our great astonishment, he did something amazing: he stopped crying.
This was momentous. This was unprecedented. This was the first time EVER that we had put him to bed crying and he had actually fallen asleep on his own; usually we have to feed and/or rock him to sleep. He did the same the next night, though last night I had to go in and hold him for a minute. Hopefully the trend will continue, but who knows--once upon a time he was sleeping clear through the night, too.
And in case you want to know, here's the pie recipe, pretty much Key Lime Pie VII from Allrecipes.com:
Key Lime Pie!
Crust:
16 whole graham crackers, crushed
1/2 c. (1 stick) butter, melted
Mix together and press into a pie pan. (SO much better than store-bought crust.)
Filling:
2 cans (14 oz each) sweetened condensed milk
1/2 c. sour cream
3/4 c. key lime juice
Mix together in a bowl and pour into the crust. Pop it in the oven at 350 for 5-8 minutes (you don't want it to brown.) Cool it, chill it, and serve it with whipped cream (lots, if you're me). Fabulous.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
First to post!
Hi Everyone!
So I am sitting on my floor with my Macbook. Last week Charisse and I bought a family Christmas present in the form of an awesome 40" Toshiba LCD tele. I have spent the last seven days exploring ways to get HD video content so that we can actually use what we purchased. Unfortunately, we don't have another hundred dollars to spend on top of the cash we put down for the tele itself, so a blu-ray is a no go. BUT! i found out how to stream netflix through the XBox using a month free XBox live Gold membership. That is only temporary, though. I dont feel like spending another $10/month for something not very useful.
So Ut held me over for a few days, but in my guts I knew there had to be another way. Since I got my Macbook, I have used a converter to connect our 32 inch tube tv to the computer, so I knew there had to be a way to do the same thing with HDMI. The standard way is to buy a Mini-DVI to DVI connector and then Buy a DVI to HDMI converter to stick on the end of that, then buy an HDMI cable to connect the contraption to the tele. In total that would have been a ton of money so I decided against it. BUT! i found on amazon a really cheap HDMI cable and a Mini-dvi to HDMI converter all for about $3. I ordered them and they came today.
So I am sitting with my laptop's screen blank and using my new 40 in monitor that looks, I must say, fanfreakintastic. Now to figure out how to get Charisse to let me mount the TV above the record player and stream the audio through the giant cabinet speakers inside...
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