Holy Whole Wheat, Batman!

Unless you've been living on a remote island with no contact to civilization, you've probably heard that you are supposed to be eating whole grains, as part of a heart-healthy, weight-loss promoting, food guide pyramid-following, upstanding citizen diet.

Ever notice how in pictures of whole grain themed groupings, all you ever see is cereal flakes, bread, and maybe a muffin, or two?

I'm here to say that limiting your whole grain choices to breakfast and the occasional sandwich is--quite frankly--BORING.  The more of that whole-grain goodness you can stuff in at any mealtime, the better, which--I'll admit--can take some creativity on your part.

Luckily, I am here for you.

I'm not some long-haired hippy who sips eucalyptus tea and grinds grain between two stones.  Nor am I a domestic diva who can fry up crepes suzette one-handed, wearing a blindfold, while I knit designer baby-booties with the other hand.  Nope, I'm just a regular mom (no pun intended) with a blog.  It just so happens that I have some experience with adding whole wheat to all kinds of things when I'm cooking for my family.

Oh, and did I mention that I'm trying to earn a Masters of Domestic Bliss degree from U of SAHM?

Here's my thesis:

Whole Wheat: It's Not Just for Breakfast

That's a joke...please don't do an online search for master's programs at U of SAHM.  It only exists in my imagaination.  But seriously, that is the title for the newest on-going feature here on my little blog.  I'm going to be sharing some of the fun ways I've learned to incorporate whole wheat (and possibly other grains) into meals besides breakfast. 

By way of introduction, let me tell you why I'm passionate about whole grains.

a) I grew up in a home where my mother served whole grain foods with admirable frequency.  Whole grain breads, rolls, pancakes, waffles, muffins, granola, and hot cereal were staples at our breakfast table.  To be honest, I hated the hot cereal and still do.  However, I learned to appreciate a good, hearty whole grain bread.  And I wolf down Mom's granola every time I'm visiting at home.  It's what I'm used to.

b) Whole grains make my husband happy.  All I have to do to put a smile on his face is say. "This has whole wheat in it," as I dish something onto his plate.  He's a whole grain fanatic.  (A happy husband equals a happy wife, and a happy wife equals a happy life.  Just a little formula, for ya'.) 

c) Seems like every time I go on a diet, one of the rules is that if you are going to ingest carbohydrates, they must be whole grain carbohydrates.  I go on diets a lot.  Hunger can be quite inspiring.  

d) One of the commitments I've made as an active member of my church is to obey a law of health known as the Word of Wisdom.  Besides avoiding coffee, tea, tobacco, alcohol, and other addictive substances, I choose to follow the suggestions given in the Word of Wisdom for a healthy diet and lifestyle: one of these is that grains are the "staff of life." 

e) I'm on a budget!  Buying prepared whole-grain foods is more expensive than purchasing their enriched white flour counterparts.  By milling my own whole wheat and baking up things myself, I save a bunch of money and promote better health for my whole family.  Not only that, incorporating whole grains into a recipe makes it more filling.  I can cook less and feed more people.

Yes, you read that right: I mill my own wheat.....and it doesn't even require a separate outbuilding.

Purchasing whole wheat from your local grocery store or specialty shop is more expensive than purchasing white flour, and it is more processed and less nutritious than it would be if you milled it yourself.

The truth about whole wheat flour is that it has a shorter shelf life than white flour.  As it sits, unrefrigerated, on a store shelf, it loses vital nutrients.  This is why you rarely find whole wheat flour in bulk, and why when you purchase it at a specialty shop, it is kept in the refrigerated section.

Let's take a look at cost.

5 lbs. of flour yields 20 cups

A 5 lb. bag of Gold Medal's unbleached all-purpose flour can be found online for $2.84.

A 5 lb. bag of Gold Medal's whole grain wheat flour can be found online for $5.99.

Currently, I can buy enough actual wheat (5.8 lbs.) to mill at home into 5 lbs. of flour (or 20 cups) for $2.70!

Purchasing your own grain and milling it yourself not only saves you money, but it really enhances the health benefits of whole grains.  You completely bypass processing plants.  You can select the variety of wheat you want.  You can buy it in bulk for additional savings.  You can store it for an extended period of time before milling it.  (And I mean very extended--did you know they've actually found wheat in Egyptian tombs?)  You can mill the wheat at leisure, and refrigerate the flour properly as soon as you've milled it--optimizing its nutritional value.

You may have a lot of questions about how all this is possible.  Let me try to answer a few.

Where do you buy wheat grain?

You can find wheat at almost any health food store.  It is less expensive if you find a bulk source, such as Whole Foods, Wild Oats Market, or Trader Joe's.  Another source is directly from the farmers.  Do a search online for farm co-ops or grain co-ops, and you may find a means of purchasing it wholesale.  My best tip is this: if you have a Mormon friend who lives near you, ask her where she buys her wheat.  She probably has an excellent source and can help you find a way to store it in bulk on the cheap, too!

What do you use to mill your grain into flour? 

If you are serious about milling your own flour, then you need to get serious about shopping for some kind of grain mill.

If you aren't sure if milling your own flour is for you, but you want to try doing so without a major investment, then you might try one of the "As Seen on TV" Magic Bullet Blenders.  I've heard that you can grind wheat into flour in them, but I can't vouch for the quality of the flour.

Baking with a finer flour, you will get better results.  In fact, a very finely ground wheat flour's texture can produce baking results similar to what you will get with white flour--the difference will be a nuttier taste and a tiny bit of texture.   I find that the more finely ground my whole wheat flour is, the less people notice that I've sneaked whole wheat into something.  This picture shows my white flour and my wheat flour, sitting next to each other in a bowl.  Notice that my whole grain wheat is very light, and less lumpy than my white flour.  This is ideal!

If you really want a high-quality wheat flour, then I recommend that you invest in a high-quality grain mill.  For the past 10 years, w'eve owned a K-Tec Kitchen Mill.  (Note: since we purchased our machine, the brandname has changed from K-Tec to BlendTec.)

This mill is compact (about the size of a toaster, when boxed for storage) and has high-speed, micronetic milling.  (The Bionic Man tells me that this is the same micro-chip technology used in the pharmeceutical industry.)  You can adjust the mill to produce different textures of flour.  The texture I prefer is very, very fine--ideal for baking.  In addition to wheat, you can mill flour from other grains in this machine: oats to oatflour, popcorn to cornmeal, etc.  

How much does something like that cost, and where can I get one?
I just did a quick search online, and found a BlendTec mill just like mine on Amazon.com for $179, with free shipping.  You can view it here.  An online search should provide you with multiple options.   


I haven't checked, myself, but I think you could probably find grain mills on Craigslist, Ebay, or even Freecycle (advertise that you are looking for a mill--someone may be ready to part with one they have).


Another option to cut down on the initial purchase price would be to form a grain mill co-op.  Since this is an appliance that you won't need to use every day, split the purchase between a few families and share it.  Is there someone you know who loves homemade bread, but doesn't like to make it themselves?  Offer to bring a loaf of homemade bread to them every week if they'll purchase a grain mill for you.  There are a number of home-based distributors of grain mills--you might offer to trade goods, services, or advertising space in exchange for a discount or freebie.

Is is easy to use?
Would I be writing about it, if it wasn't?  Trust me, if you can run a blender, you can run a grain mill.  It's as simple as flipping a switch, pouring whole grain down a hole, and emptying out a canister of finely ground flour.  Maintenance is incredibly simple--I just rinse out the canister and brush off the flour after each use.


Do you mill flour every time you want to make something with whole wheat flour? 
No, I don't.  I like to enjoy the ease of having whole wheat flour on hand all the time, since I use it so often in my cooking.  I only actually mill my flour about four times a year.  I mill a large quantity of flour each time, and store it in a large, plastic bin with a tight-fitting lid inside my upright freezer.  I keep a smaller container of flour in my kitchen freezer, and refill that as necessary from the big bin. 

How do you store your grain and your flour?
Grain should be stored in a container that will keep out moisture, dust, and vermin (as in creepy-crawlies and rodents).  When stored in a cool, dry location, your wheat grains will keep for years and years.  (Egyptian tombs, remember?)  Once you've ground your wheat into flour, take what you don't use immediately and put it into a storage container with a tight-fitting lid, then place it in your freezer.  It will maintain optimal nutrition, this way.  

If you store your flour in the freezer, does that mean you have to give it time to thaw out before you use it?  
Nope!  I use my flour directly from the freezer.  It maintains the smooth texture you would expect flour to have--as long as moisture doesn't get to it.   It is colder than flour from the pantry, but this shouldn't make a difference in baking.  If you are concerned about temperature, leave your flour out on the counter for a little while and it will soon be room temperature. 

Whew!  I think I've exhausted my limited knowledge on this topic.  Tune in for upcoming features of 

Whole Wheat: It's Not Just for Breakfast

In the future, I'll be showing you how to make things like gourmet pizza, the best chocolate chip cookies ever, homemade tortillas, focaccia, and sourdough bread.

Did you miss the news?  I'm hosting my first-ever GIVEAWAY this week.   It's not too late to enter....Click here for the details. 

 

Sewing Room PREVIEW and a GIVEAWAY!

Remember how I keep saying I'm just about ready to show you pictures of my sewing room redo?


I'm not ready to show you.  It's not quite finished yet.  Sigh. Things have been really crazy around here with all this end-of-school business.  Particularly because the elementary school my children attend is closing it's doors forever, so we are participating in all kinds of sentimental nonsense activities that give us closure.

I can show you one of the projects I worked on for the sewing room.  It is such a simple transformation, I don't even need to provide a tutorial.  Just pictures.

Before:

 During:

 I used Rust-Oleum Painter's Touch Ultra Cover in Satin Aqua.

And after:

 I love how cheery these red geraniums make my sewing room window, even on a dreary, rain-soaked day.  The aqua pot and red geraniums really pop, together!

I also really, really like this color of paint.  It looks fantastic, right from the spray can.

In penance for not actually producing pictures of the finished room, I shall punish myself by revealing the ultimate before photo.  You may want to shield your eyes and take a deep breath.

And we're walking......moving right along, folks......

One of the things getting in the way of finishing my sewing room is all the actual housekeeping I really need to do around here.  I'm waaaaaaay behind.  Saturday night, I ran to the Bullseye Boutique (Target) to find some basic household necessities: dishwasher soap, bleach, toilet paper, and Trident.   For some reason, I got stuck in the cleaning supplies aisle, sniffing things.  

That didn't come out right!  Let me explain, before you call the police.  Someone--I think it was Sarah--had been talking about how wonderful the Method cleaning supplies were.  She said they smelled amazing.  I had also heard that the Method brand tries to take a more natural, less chemical approach.  So, I had to smell the Method cleaning supplies.  I remembered, during this process of sampling cleaning supply scents, that I was out of toilet bowl cleaner and liquid scrub stuff.

In retrospect, I think I need to get out more.  

I decided to take home some Method cleaning supplies.  Possibly use them and review them on my blog.

Oh, now I know that I need to get out more.  Use them and review them for my blog?  Did I really just type that?

I came home with these:

I introduce to you and my cleaning repertoire......Method Le Scrub (natural mild abrasive cleaner, made with finely milled marble and scented with eucalyptus mint) and Method Lil' Bowl Blu (natural toilet bowl cleaner made with lactic acid and eucalyptus mint).

Doesn't that liquid cleanser have a funky shape?  Well, after I brought it home, I read the fine print underneath that u-shape, "sponge goes here."  Huh.  Guess what, folks, it really works!  The cleanser and the sponge holder, that is.  The cleanser whipped my dirty sinks into shape in no time, even getting that nasty rust spot I've been scrubbing at for months.  Interestingly enough, the scrub rinsed away in no time flat, unlike the Soft Scrub with bleach that I normally use.  The toilet cleaner seemed to do it's job, and the scent was.....heavenly.  It was heavenly.  Not overpowering, but just delightful in comparison to the bleachy/chemical fumes I normally smell when I clean the bathrooms.

Oh, someone help me, please!  I'm gushing about liquid cleanser and I'm taking pictures of my cleaning supplies.  Who am I?

Since I'm so excited about my sponge-toting new cleanser and since I'm still feeling repentant about promising pics of the sewing room that have yet to appear.....I'm going to host a giveaway!

Method's products are sold at a variety of locations, including Costco, Lowe's, and Target.  Since the Bullseye Boutique is my all-time favorite shopping destination, I'm giving away a $5 Target gift card for one of my readers to use for some cleaning supplies.  

And because I feel extra, extra repentent, I'm going to throw in a surprise when I mail out that gift card.  A surprise that involves my sewing room.  

By the way.....did I mention that one of the things I need to do this week (in my unfinished sewing room) is finish sewing some aprons?

Here are the updated details of my very first giveaway:

1.  For one entry: Leave a comment.  Tell me if you like to wear an apron while you are cleaning. 

2.  For another entry:  Follow my blog!  Leave a comment telling me if you just joined up, or if you already are a follower.
3.  For yet another entry: mention this giveaway (with a link) on your blog.  Leave a comment here telling me that you did so.

4.  I'll accept entries for a week.  This giveaway begins today (Monday, May 17th) and will end on Monday, May 24th at 6 P.M. EST.  Update:  I've extended the giveaway until Tuesday, May 25th at 9 P.M. EST.

5.  A winner will be chosen using Random.org, and I'll announce the winner on this blog.
6.  The giveaway is open to those living in the continental United States.  Sorry, international followers.  When I have a bigger budget, I'll include you, too!

Have a great Monday!

I'm linking up this post to

I'm still here....I think

This is a quick post to say that I'm alive, and well.

No, nothing has happened.  It's just that end-of-the-school-year-everything-is-happening-at-once kind of craziness.  You know the kind I'm talking about: you can't keep track of where to deliver the cupcakes, and which color of shirt everyone needs to wear for Field Day, and who you are supposed to call about the fifth grade cookout, and when the meeting is about sixth grade orchestra, and how you are supposed to talk four unwilling cub scouts into performing a skit for the Primary talent show--let alone what you are going to fix for dinner, tonight.

I looked around the house last night--it was a DISASTER--and wondered, "Did I do any housework last week?  This place is a pigsty!"  I stood there, and thought about it.  What, exactly, did I do last week?  Memory has escaped me, all I can recall is lots of time in the car, the Kindy 500, and having to make a lot of phone calls.  Oh, and I think I got one family reunion semi-planned.  And prepared a Relief Society lesson.  And taught the cub scouts how to handle basic cub scout emergencies:  how to put out a burning marshmallow, how to put out the fire on your sleeve started by burning marshmallow another cub scout waved, how to tackle your friend and put out the fire on his sleeve that started when you elbowed him with your burning sleeve.....I try to be real with those boys.

So, I downloaded my camera, to see if pictorial evidence would nudge my memory.  Hmm...it appears I did do some painting, too.

I'm still working on that sewing room....keep getting interrupted by children who need to go places. (Did I tell you that I think that Dr. Seuss book, Oh the Places You'll Go, was written for mothers, not children?)

I also have pictures of what we did this weekend.  The Bionic Man was hogging the camera, though, so mostly I have pictures of feats of engineering, nature's majesty, and vintage weaponry.  (I may have mentioned this before, but I'll reiterate.  The Bionic Man is an engineer.  People are not the primary focus of his camera lens.  If there are people in his photos, they are very small and standing next to feats of engineering, nature's majesty, or vintage weaponry.  I take shots of people.  And cute baby animals.  And flowers and butterflies and things I sew.)

We went to a nearby living history farm that was hosting Civil War Days.

The battle was very, very interesting to watch.  And loud.  The Bionic Man shot lots of video, so I don't have any pics of the cavalry.  The cavalry was my favorite part.  Those horses were amazing.

 Drilling on the street, hoping to attract recruits.  (For real and for pretend.)  See those two soldiers on the end of the front row?  They are women.

 One of the encampments.  There were several groups of re-enactors who came to participate.  It was fascinating to visit their camps, where they try to be as historically accurate as possible.  You saw kids carrying buckets of water back to camp from the pumphouse, women in hoopskirts trying to cook over a fire or hold a squirming baby.  Wow.  Could I do everything I do all day in a hoopskirt?

Speaking of hoopskirts......I'm trying to talk the Bionic Man into signing on as a re-enactment solider, just so I have a good excuse to wear a hoopskirt.

Oh, look--I had a turn with the camera!

Yes, that is Justone looking as if he fits right in at the living history farm.  (And that's a really mangy donkey behind that fence in the first pic.)  At this particular living history farm, child and adult visitors alike are welcome to dress up in their own historic garb.  Little girls especially like to wear their "Laura Ingalls" dresses.  It's lots of fun.  The Bionic Man got brave this time, and decided he'd dress up.  Superkid decided she wanted to dress up, too.

Endeavor did not want to dress up, and did not want to be seen with anyone who was dressed up.  Even if they were flesh and blood.  Especially if they were flesh and blood.

And interesting phenomenon occurs in our house when Endeavor says she won't do something.  Justone wholeheartedly will do the very thing that Endeaver will not.  (Is that messed up?  Don't tell me if it is.  I'm able to have a sense of humor about it right now.)  So, Justone went all out.  Dressed to the frontier nines.

Well, since everyone but Endeavor was doing it, I couldn't very well go without a period costume, could I?  I'm all about dressing for the occasion.  (Again, I must repeat that since my costume was not a feat of engineering wonder, I have no photographic record of this.)

Endeavor flipped.  Apparently, she really is old enough for middle school.  She flat out refused to go with us.  Her family was completely off their collective rockers, and she was not going to be the object of stares, even if they were directed at her brother's coonskin cap.  To her surprise, we told her that was fine.  She could stay home, take the dog out occasionally, and help our neighbor chase her toddler son around. 

We missed her.  But the rest of us had fun.  Endeavor had fun, too.  And I'm glad she did.  I'm not too old to remember how mortified I was when my mom wore a silly hat she'd made to my third grade classroom.  (It was silly on purpose, for the activity she was leading in the classroom.)  I still cringe just thinking about it.  I was convinced, at that moment, that my life was over.

At least Endeavor made it to the end of fifth grade before she felt mortified by her family.  That right there is an accomplishment.

Minivan Mama

I'm proud to say that I'm a Minivan Mama.  Our minivan is as dear to my heart as the family dog--sometimes dearer.  Actually, if I'm going to be perfectly honest, I should probably admit that I prefer the minivan to the dog.  Only because the minivan doesn't shed, bark, need to be fed twice a day, or constantly need my affection and attention.  The minivan's fuel only costs a little more than the dog's food (he's sensitive....) and it is easier to wash.  I've never seen the minivan chew up any toys or report cards.  And I never, ever, ever have to pick up piles of poop left in the yard by the minivan.

My current minivan is a Sienna named Cindy.  Which is why I fell off my chair laughing when I received an email from one of our cousins, Cami, with this in it:

What made this even funnier was the note from Cami that accompanied this link:

We are Sienna owners, but definitely not the updated one in the video with all the extras.  However, they didn't mention the ability of the minivan to act as a delivery room, which we proved should be added to the list of "perks" or ammenities.  Can you imagine the commercial they'd make with this family/couple if that feature was listed?

Yep, it's true!  Cami had one of her babies in the minivan.  (Not on purpose.)  Thanks for the laughs, Cami, and I hope you had a happy Mother's Day!

I've had a few friends complain to me that they've felt less hip ever since they acquired a minivan....that their cool factor drops by a factor of ten every time they pull their minivan into the gym parking lot.  Huh.  I never felt that way.  Perhaps that is because my cool factor--when it came to vehicles--had no where to go but up.  Way up.

I learned to drive in one of these:

I come from a family that has a long-standing tradition of naming their rides.  This Buick was christened Big Blue by my mother, who always had the last word on car names.  Big Blue's namesake was Paul Bunyan's big, blue ox, Babe.  I kid you not.  It was a name that suited, since Big Blue was indestructible.  Once, in college, I high-centered Big Blue on a curb getting in line for the bank ATM.  On a Friday.  At closing time.  Like I said, no where to go but up!

Few people would consider my next step "up", but then again, most people have never high-centered a Buick Century.  I acquired my next set of wheels through marriage.  

Shortly before I began dating the Bionic Man, I had an unfortunate string of boyfriends/dates who were very attached to their cars/trucks.  One in particular kept telling me that he had a big, expensive surprise waiting for me when I returned back to college from my summer job.  He even went so far as to hint to me that it was shiny, and it was obvious he hoped I would really, really like it.  Somehow I got the impression that the surprise was a big, expensive, shiny piece of jewelry.....imagine that......so the relationship fizzled fast when the surprise turned out to be A TRUCK.  To add insult to injury, Bad Surprise Boyfriend told me, when he proudly picked me up in the truck for the first time, that he'd appreciate it if I'd just get in on the driver's side door, because he didn't want to wear out the hinges on the passenger side.  I'm not kidding.  

Shortly after Bad Surprise Boyfriend drove away forever, another date picked me up in a car that he was obviously very proud of.  Couldn't stop talking about it, in fact.  I think our conversation on that first--and only--date went something like this:

Ruth: So, I understand you are getting a MBA.  Tell me what that program is like.

Date: Great, it's really great.  In fact, my marketing class really helped me to decide which car was right for me.  I mean, I really was able to sort through all the advertising with a keen eye, and pick out this little beauty for her actual merit.

Ruth: Um, yeah, that's great.  Sounds like real world learning, there.  So, which class have you--

Date: (interrupting)  Listen to that!  Can you believe the way this baby's engine purrs?  That was a seamless shift from second to third.  That's what I'm talking about.  

Ruth:  (gives fake smile)  That's awesome.  I can tell you really love this car.

Date:  (Sighs wistfully) More than anything.  (Pulls into parking space.)  Now, if you don't mind letting yourself out, I need to attach my security system to the steering wheel.  Can't open the door for you and keep this little beauty of a car out of the hands of thieves, at the same time, can I?

Um, did I mention I went to college in one of the most crime-free cities in the U.S.?  This guy left twice during the course of our date to check on his car.  

I'd like to say that I had only two suitors who showed more chivalry to their car than they did to me, but that spring they seemed to pop up in epidemic proportions.  Okay, maybe "epidemic proportions" is a gross exaggeration of my college social life, but there were more than two who seemed more fond of their cars than they were of their date, and they all asked me out in a span of 4-5 months before the Bionic Man asked me out for the first time.

At some point during one of our first conversations, between asking for directions to my parents' house and telling me what time he'd be picking me up, the Bionic Man said something that made me start to fall in love with him, then and there.  "I have to warn you," he said, somewhat shyly, "that I don't have the nicest car.  I hope it won't bother you.  It's really, really old, but it works."

"Old cars don't bother me at all, " I said honestly.  "I like old cars.  They have character."

The Bionic Man laughed nervously.  "Well, my car has a lot of character.  Probably more character than you're used to."

It was just a few days later that he pulled up in front of my parents' house in this:

 

My father--himself, a fan of cars with character--was rendered almost speechless as he looked out the kitchen window to see what was making the strange racket in his driveway.   He stared, for a moment, before saying with a slow smile, "I like this one."

Joining my father at the window, I looked out at the Bionic Man getting out of his car and smiled in satisfaction.  Clearly, this was a car I could compete with.  I was sure there was no car payment and no security system and maybe even no hinges on the passenger side.  "I like this one, too." I replied.  "I like this one a lot."

Right then and there, I started to fall in love with the Bionic Man's car as much as I was falling in love with him.  A Datsun B-510, she shared a birth year with the Bionic Man.  She had been tossed aside in an empty lot, where she rusted for several years, alone and unloved as the weeds tangled around her fenders.  Then one day, the Bionic Man and his tool-savvy, adventurous roommate Nate saw her for the money-maker she could be.  They offered the owners $25 for the car and the title, pumped her tires up with a bicycle pump, and towed her back to their apartment complex.  After tinkering with her for a couple of hours, they had the little car up and running.

The Bionic Man went and immediately applied for a job as a pizza delivery boy at Dominoes, and was gratified to recoup the $25 cost in less than an hour, thanks to tips.

The little Datsun came into her own once she was under the protective wing of the Bionic Man.  He and his roommates painted her for special occasions.  They purchased old trophies from thrift shops, and used the shiny gold figures as interchangeable hood ornaments.  They named her Gabi, 

 

short for Gabriella Sabatini, the tennis player (I haven't asked).  Gabi the Datsun proved herself over and over again, as she transported the Bionic Man into collegiate financial security as a pizza boy, took the roommates on roadtrips, and managed to be the primary mountain vehicle for paragliding expeditions.  She could go anywhere.

The Bionic Man proposed to me during our last year of college.  My father claims he never questioned the Bionic Man's ability to provide for his daughter, despite his youth.  "I figured if he could keep that car running, he could do anything," my dad has said.

And so we married, and drove away to wedded bliss in Gabi.  Actually--that's not quite true.  Gabi wasn't invited on our honeymoon.  Perhaps that was the reason that Gabi never actually warmed up to me the way I warmed up to her.  I'm convinced it was jealousy.  Despite the Bionic Man's best efforts to teach me to drive Gabi, I never could keep her going.  Then, there was the matter of him accepting a job 2500 miles across the country....we knew, as much as she wanted to, Gabi just wouldn't make it on the cutthroat streets of the Northeast.  (If you've ever driven in Boston, you know what I mean by cutthroat.)

We made our first big purchase as a married couple, before we moved, a two-door Nissan Sentra.  As eager as we were to begin a family, I have no idea why we picked a two-door car.  Of all the two-door cars out there, I have no idea why we picked that one.  The Nissan wasn't notable enough to be named.  It had the distinction of carrying us from West coast to East coast in the course of one summer.

On our college graduation roadtrip to the Pacific Northwest.

 

But there was something seedy about that Nissan.  She kept getting involved in strange goings-on.  The two strangest were the transmission repair by the Polish-American mafia, and the way we were almost swindled out of a cool $500 when we sold her to three quiet "students" from Boston shortly before 9-11-01.  (They paid in cash....piles of $10 bills.....and didn't want to wait for the Bionic Man to count all the bills.  He made them wait.....they were $500 short.  Funny, they had 50 more $10 bills on hand.....)  All I'm saying is that we had a bad feeling when those students drove away in the Nissan that was not longer ours.  I'm convinced that Nissan was abandoned at an airport somewhere in the wee morning hours of 9-11-01, or possibly seized during a Homeland Security raid.  I'm pretty sure the poor car came to a bad end, somewhere.

The Nissan of questionable character was replaced with our very first minivan, a Doge Caravan.  The boxy, original version.  After putting carseats and toddlers in and out of that two-door Nissan for almost three years, getting a minivan was like nirvana.  We loved that van.

Our first minivan allowed us to become a family who did things.  Who went places.  Who saw things.  Not that we hadn't been before, but there is something about the hauling capacity of a minivan that just opens up doors to a young family, isn't there?

Despite a rocky start early on with a bad transmission (this one was NOT repaired by the Polish-American mafia), the Caravan proved itself to be a car of character.  It was the climbing of Mt. Washington that really cemented the Caravan's place in our family.  She brought us all the way up here

and earned this bumper sticker

"This car climbed Mt. Washington"

 

even though there were naysayers who said it couldn't be done.  Namely, all the drivers of the vehicles behind ours on the way up Mt. Washington.

It was after we made it safely down Mt. Washington (with smoking brakes) that we officially named our Caravan "Fran."  An East Coaster through and through, Fran's namesake was Fran Drescher,

 

the actress with the nasally New Jersey twang that we'd become so familiar with during our years on the East Coast.  (Um, the nasally twang, that is, not the actress.)

When we moved to the Midwest, we took Fran along.  I think she missed her East Coast home, because she never really thrived in the Midwest.  It became necessary to replace Fran.  We replaced her with a new-to-us Toyota Sienna.  I tell you, we felt like we'd arrived when we drove home that Sienna.  We purchased the Sienna from a woman who was so lovely, so kind, and who obviously loved that Sienna so much that we felt the Sienna had enough character by virtue of past history alone to be named immediately.  The Bionic Man and I call her Cindy, in honor of her former owner, who kept copious maintenance records.  The children call her Sidney, because--well, they just never could get that the name was CIN-dy. 

But it took us a while to say farewell to Fran.  The truth was, Fran was functioning as a truck.  If you don't believe that a minivan can haul anything a truck can, you need to take a look at these pictures of Fran:

 

Yes, that is a 20' telephone pole in the back of Fran, thank you for asking!

Fran eventually moved on to a new life with a family who was just as excited to drive away in her as we were on our first day as minivan owners.  

The Swagger Wagon.  Hah!

Motherhood and Mayhem, a List

1.  Did anyone else just realize that it is Mother's Day this weekend?  I am so out of it.  Current events clearly are not my thing.  Superkid had asked me just this week how long until Mother's Day, and my reply was, "Sometime in May, sweetie.  On a Sunday."  Guess it's May, huh?

2.  It was the gifts that came home from school this week that alerted me to the fact that it was Mother's Day.  Actually, I did teach the Cub Scouts to sew this week, in preparation for Mother's Day.   Somehow I thought we were being ultra savvy and getting things done in advance.....who lives like that, besides me?

3.  Justone couldn't save his Mother's Day gift until Sunday.  He was so excited.  It was a pink flower-topped pen, in a flower pot filled with beans.  I was honestly thrilled.  I see those pens all the time at doctor's offices--you know, where you sign in--and call me a geek, but I think they are cool!  I love that Justone made it himself. 

It was accompanied by a large card, also made by Justone, that opened to reveal an original poem.  Justone assured me that he had written it himself, without any help whatsoever.  It is written in purple crayon.

I love you.  I love you.
Yes I do.
You're the best.  You're the best
People treat you like a guest.
Your beauliful face could stop a clock
And keep it in a lock.


I am choosing to take my clock-stopping face as a compliment, the way it was obviously intended.  Apparently, Justone considers my beauty to be timeless.  Also, I'm guessing the fact that it must be kept under lock and key would indicate that I'm not just beautiful, I'm dangerously beautiful.  Or beauliful, which I'm guessing is French for dangerous, timeless, beauty. 

I definitely have to scan this card for posterity.  

4.  Speaking of compliments, Superkid paid me a nice one this week.  She and Endeavor were helping me with my sewing room re-do.  (Yep, it's really happening!  I hope I'll have some pictures up by the beginning of next week.)  Anyway, as we were making the bed with new, cute, marked-down-on-clearance-at-Target bedding, Superkid looked around the far-from-finished room and with a happy sigh said, "I hope when I'm a mommy someday I will be just like you and turn a room in my house into one just like this!  You are soooo good at makeovers, Mommy!"  

Then she asked me if we could go to Panda Express for dinner.  Coincidence?  Uh....probably not.  But you have to admit the child knows how to butter me up.

5.  Yesterday, I shared a Momementous Occaision with Endeavor.  It was our first experience together at her future middle school.  Gulp.  You read that correctly.  Endeavor will be going to middle school sometime in the very near future.  This fall, to be exact.  I know, I know, she can't possibly be old enough.  But she is--at least, technically, according to the school system's calculations.  According to mine, she is not.  I mean--hello!--I just barely got her potty trained, like, nine years ago.  

Anywho, our school district takes music education very, very seriously.  I'm so glad!  All sixth graders are required to select a music class:  band, orchestra, or choir.  In fact, we had to sign up for a time slot during which Endeavor would be "fitted" for a musical instrument by the middle school music department.  I'm not joking about the seriousness of the situation.  They took us into a big room full of instruments, chatted with Endeavor about her interests, and then gave her brief instruction on how to hold and produce sound from several of those instruments.  Then, the music instructors filled out an evaluation sheet for each instrument that Endeavor tried.  It was a fascinating process.  Now, being a former choir geek myself, I was a little surprised when Endeavor informed me ahead of time that the instruments she wanted to be "fitted" for were the flute and the cello.

I simply had to ask why.  "Because I love them," she said matter-of-factly.  "I love the sounds they make.  I want to play them.  Especially," she added with a dramatic pause, "the cello."  As if that wasn't reason enough, she went on to explain that, "Besides, I didn't get Bradford singing genes.  I sound more like Dad than you.  I think, when they hear me sing, they'll want me to be in band or orchestra.  I got Harding singing genes."  

Side note: Right now, the Bradfords reading this are laughing in their sleeves and the Hardings reading this are offended.  Bradfords are not known for their singing, so it was a surprise to everyone when they discovered I could hear pitch and belt out a tune or two.  Hardings, on the other hand, can all carry a tune and carry it right on to stage, if they wish.  Somehow Endeavor has it mixed up. 

Thank goodness for the aptly named middle school music fittings.  Endeavor had not realized that the cello was bigger than she was.  She had also not realized that you have to have lots of lip coordination to play the flute, and playing the flute with braces could be painful.  The kindly orchestra teacher that was working with us complimented Endeavor on the lovely tones she was producing from the cello that was threatening to crush her beneath it's awkward weight, and asked her if she wouldn't mind trying a violin, just for fun.  He placed the violin in her arms and I had to catch my breath.  Even I, who doesn't know a thing about stringed instruments, could tell that Endeavor was meant to play the violin.  (My dear friend Erica tried to point this out to me years ago--why didn't I listen?)  Not only did it look right, but when she drew the bow across the strings, there was no raspy squeaking.  Just rich, full sound.  Amazing.

Next, we went across the hall to the choir room.  The choir director led Endeavor away from me, into a little practice room.  I waited.  The choir director came out with Endeavor, beaming.  "I'd love to have Endeavor in our choir!"  she gushed.  "She has such range, such a nice tone quality, and I've only had one or two students with such an astounding pitch memory!"  

I tried to be nonchalant.  "Well, she does sing with our church choir," I said modestly.  ("Now that I know this, I am going to make you sing LOUDLY," I threatened Endeavor on our way home.)

"I'm so glad to hear it!" the choir director replied.  "I can see that she's musically gifted and--" she glanced down at the orchestra evaluation sheet--"you have a difficult decision to make.  I can tell from his evaluation that the orchestra director is as eager to work with Endeavor as I am." Then the choir director informed us that if Endeavor did choose orchestra for her sixth grade year music class, she would be willing to make special arrangements for Endeavor to participate in both choir and orchestra during seventh and eighth grades.  

Endeavor and I next met with the middle school music department head, who asked for her first, second, and third instrument choices.  (Like I said, they take this seriously.)  He explained that while they couldn't guarantee her first choice, he was confident--based on her evaluation--that she would get it.  Violin it is!  


As we left the music wing of the middle school, Endeavor asked, "Why are you smiling so much?  You are embarrassing me."  

I was just so pleased to be the mother of a musical genius, I couldn't help it.  And I'm recording this experience for posterity, so that when reality hits and I have to hear the squeaky violin version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" for the umpteenth time, I will remember why I whole-heartedly signed up my firstborn for middle school orchestra.  


Do you think they make every parent feel like their child is a musical genius at our middle school?  Or just the particularly gullible-looking ones?  Ahem, I mean, the particularly dangerously beauliful-looking ones?  

A Mother-Daughter Trip: Part 2

As I mentioned in Part 1, the Bionic Man gave Endeavor and I airplane tickets for a trip to Connecticut.  We were there this past weekend, and we had the most marvelous time!  It was pure joy to see so many of our dear, dear friends, and to participate in a very happy occasion.  It was also really special to have time with just Endeavor and I together.  I've always enjoyed her--after all, she's my daughter!--but it just seems like the older she gets, the more fun we have together.  Oh boy, did we have some good laughs on this trip!

At the end of Part 1, Endeavor had requested a hairstyle for the big event worthy of Pride and Prejudice.

Once we arrived in Connecticut, we stayed with our "almost relatives", the Younger Bingham Family.  (Practically a Pride and Prejudice name!  No wonder we love them so much!)  Endeavor's best friends and fellow flower girls, Rachel and Erin Bingham, agreed that Pride and Prejudice hair was in order for their duties.

We enjoyed a day of beauty, spending hours on hair and nails.  At least the girls' hair and nails.  Bethany (their mother) and I decided 15 minutes of preparation was sufficient for ourselves.  We didn't want to blind the crowd with our beauty--we're thoughtful, that way.  Oh boy, were those three girls pleased with the results!

Here is Erin:

And Rachel:

And Endeavor:

We didn't want the flower girls to upstage the bride, so we limited them to a maximum of two flowers in the hair.

The first event of a very eventful weekend was a dinner party at our other "almost relatives'" home, the Older Binghams.  There, we met the groom's family (oh, the Becketts were sooooo nice!) and ate Uncle Morris's delicious dutch oven potatoes, chicken, and banana cream pie.  I've missed those potatoes almost as much as I've missed Uncle Morris and Aunt Bonnie and all the other Binghams.

The Pride and Prejudice hair was for the second event, the pre-wedding reception, where Rachel, Erin, and Endeavor were flower girls.

The setting was gorgeous!

Would you believe that is the multi-purpose room of the church building?  There are basketball hoops in there somewhere, but you certainly couldn't see them.  The gorgeous decor was done by LeeAnn Sanville, another friend.  She had lots of help from other friends of the bride's family--they are such good people, there were so many who wanted to be involved!

The whole thing was just beautiful, my pictures just don't do it justice.

The mural on those panels was painted by this darling seventeen year old, another friend of the family.  (Sorry that I can't remember your name!)

I think she's got a "blossoming" career!  Isn't that amazing?

It was so fun to celebrate with the Binghams, the Becketts, and to catch up with other friends who I haven't seen in almost two years.

Here's the beautiful bride-to-be, Loralee, dancing with her father.

Even cleaning up was fun!

This is the first wedding I've ever been to where the wedding reception was held the evening before the wedding ceremony.  I was curious about what that would be like.  Guess what?  It was wonderful.  So wonderful that when Endeavor gets married someday, this is how we are going to do it!  I loved the fact that we could all enjoy the fun reception one day, and then completely focus on the sacredness of two people committing to one another for eternity the next.  It was so wonderful to just enjoy the ceremony without having to hurry off to the reception.

You just couldn't have picked a more beautiful day for a wedding.  

Loralee and D.J. chose to be married for time and eternity in the Boston Temple, of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  It is the closest temple to the Bingham's home in Connecticut.

Temple weddings are very special, and different from the traditional, church weddings that most people attend.  If you would like to learn why temples are so important to Mormons, you can go here.  Or you can watch this video.  (And while I was looking for that video, I found this one, it is hilarious!)

The wedding ceremony was so, so beautiful.  It was attended by family and close friends.  The children waited outside--these little girls loved running around the beautiful gardens in their pretty dresses!

After the ceremony, we all waited outside for the bride and groom to make their big exit.  It was fun to visit while we waited with anticipation.

We all cheered when the bride and groom joined us outside.  

It is such a big deal for a Mormon couple to be married in the temple.  They have to make lots of good choices long before that day, so that they'll be worthy to enjoy the special blessings of eternal marriage.  The requirements for entrance into a temple include a commitment to living the Lord's commandments, being faithful and active members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, abstaining from addictive substances such as coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol, and being chaste before marriage.  So, you can imagine the pride and joy that parents and friends and former youth leaders and teachers feel when two young people choose to marry in a temple.  

This was how the happy couple responded when someone in the cheering crowd yelled, "Speech!"

Could anything be more eloquent?

Loralee and D.J. are such a special couple.  We enjoyed meeting D.J. and his wonderful family, but I still can't believe sweet Loralee is old enough to be someone's wife!  They are going to be so happy together.

Thank you, Loralee, for setting such a good example for Endeavor!  She loved every moment of your wedding and the accompanying celebrations (as did I!).  We were so happy that we could share your special day.  We're so proud of you and D.J.!

Well, as you can see, our Mother-Daughter trip was a success!  Endeavor was thrilled to be a part of the big event, and we both loved spending time with  many people that have been an important part of our lives.  Thank you, everyone!  And thank-you, Bionic Man, for making sure that Endeavor and I received the perfect birthday gifts.