Easter Monday


Tasty, tasty Easter grapes.
We spent the morning with Izzy and Nick, Holly and Rich. My Mommy is staying with us, after her stay in Pasadena helping her sister and mom, so she came too. Holly and Rich are exceptional hosts. I am having yet another giggle at my own expense... thinking of what a full house they had with neighbors, friends and family over for brunch and an egg hunt. I have to remind myself that we make it a crowd when we arrive with 7 people!


Earlier, the children went in to our backyard to wish Joe, the rabbit, a Happy Easter and that's when they found their baskets. Baskets with Legos and a little chocolate bunny and the traditional pack of underwear. Such a thoughtful E. Bunny. Maria's basket had "Goodnight Gorilla."


For a few years I have been aware of how shy and elusive Nick can be when I come around with my camera, so I was pleased to catch him unaware. He was enjoying a quiet moment during the party.


I heard Rich telling friends about Izzy's passion for chocolate. I think her appetite was well satisfied, and you can see she is still enjoying a last smack of chocolate goodness.


Speaking of goodness, this carrot cake came out pretty good. Max thinks I need to work on my carrot decorations... true, but I thought they were pretty convincing. The best part is that we have food dye that is derived from real life edible plants and not petroleum junk. Thank you Seelect. Many years ago I fell in love with a carrot cake, Janice's carrot cake. Oh, it was so yummy and good. To compensate for not decorating for Easter, for not holding my arms wide open to welcome Spring in to our house, I got it in to my head to bake The Carrot Cake. Janice kindly shared the recipe and we agreed it is slightly rich. (rich = full of fat and sugar) So, I got cocky. (cocky = I can adapt the recipe and make it healthier) Being cocky in the kitchen, with a dish intended to be shared at an Easter brunch, is very risky. No one wants a dry, tasteless cake... a too healthy cake, during a holiday extravaganza, may not be too satisfying.

I only modified 2 parts, and next time I am going to take it a step further and reduce the oil to just 1 cup. The results were very well received, and the real test was that I liked it a lot. I am sure it isn't a recipe that falls under the heading of Health Food, but it is delicious.

Janice and Natalie's Carrot Cake

3 cups grated carrots
2 cups sugar
1.5 1.25 cups of oil
4 eggs

Stir these ingredients together. And I am thinking that next time I my go to 1 cup of oil and maybe add more carrot or even some zucchini.

2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup of walnuts
1/2 cup of oatmeal (I like the old fashioned kind)

Sift the dry ingredients together and then mix in the nuts. The oatmeal was something I added. I love oatmeal. Next time I will probably make it a full cup, especially if I increase the carrots. Start adding the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir 'em up. I did this by hand, since I did not want to over-mix the batter.

Choose a favorite cake pan, and I lightly oiled mine, and bake at 375 degrees Fahrenheit. A cook time would be helpful, I know, but I don't have one. Expect it to take more than half an hour... it will smell good and an inserted knife will come out clean... you'll know when it's done.

Frosting
I am not capable of following directions. Something in me must resist. So even though Janice gave me her perfectly tasty recipe, by the time I was ready to frost the cake, I just made it up.

1 stick of butter
8 oz of cream cheese + a healthy scoop of some leftover whipped cream cheese we had leftover from breakfast
a largish, perhaps 2, teaspoons of vanilla
powdered sugar... more than you want to admit, less than a box... I did not make it very sweet.

I whipped all of this together, and set some aside to turn orange and then frost the cool cake. The carrots looked even less like carrots until I topped them with celery greens!

Well, that was our Easter. Enjoying a beautiful day, laughing with family, making new friends. We came home for a quiet evening and we watched Live From Lincoln Center, "Madama Butterfly." Now it is Easter Monday, a warm day with a blue sky and errands to run and chores to complete. How was your Easter?

Expect to be Surprised


Part wisdom, part affirmation... expect to be surprised.


I thought our invitation to Mitchell and Julie's was for a potluck picnic, or something as casual. I should have brought our tuna salad in a prettier dish. I should not have brought Fritos. What can I say? Sometimes a bag of Fritos are a rite of Spring, like daffodils and new shoes. We arrived to a garden and home in full bloom. Julie had set the table with her beautiful china and silver, and elaborate dishes were coming out of the oven.


And they even had supplies for decorating eggs, and Alex mixed the potions, so we could get down to business. I realize these pictures may cause a bit of a stir in some parts of the country where snow is still falling... yes, it has been gorgeous in Southern California, and yet, I think I would actually enjoy a few more weeks in Wisconsin.


This little bunny dropped egg after egg in the cups of dye, so the artistic part of the program went fast.


Alex made a newly hatched chick. She's still popping out of her shell.


Here's the hen that laid her.


Most fun things, and even some difficult things, are more fun when shared. Our afternoon together was beautiful, and fun, relaxed. Mitchell's a sweet boy, with an easy laugh.

Carrots and Honey
Last night I ate carrots cooked in honey. It was a suggestion from Maria B. to Janice R., to cook the baby carrots with a bit of honey. I wonder how much exactly. I have carrots and honey. I even have a ham, and Janice R.'s amazing carrot cake recipe, and somewhere in the garage I have a packed box full of Easter decorations and Spring touches. I could go on for a long bit about Easter and how it catches me off-guard and unprepared most every year, fortunately I have labels, including an "Easter" category of past posts, so no need. It's all been said before. I really do try. I try to plan and clean and decorate and I even imagine going to church, but somehow my efforts fall short. Last year, probably around 4th of July, when I packed all of the Easter bunnies, baskets and egg decor, I really believed I was packing for another move. I did not think we would still be here. Not that we had a plan or even much hope, so I guess it's just a habit. It makes me sad how I dread holidays, even my favorites. Gad. I wasn't going to do this. Carrots cooked in honey is really very nice.


Maria and Jordan riding the ottoman, sister cowgirls of the living-range. I found this pair of feathered $1.87 bonnets at a thrift shop in Madison, Wisconsin. I love Willy Street and St. Vincent's. I love discovering an unexpected treasure and seeing it open up a new world for someone. I need to grab my camera again, the next time Maria is brandishing the inflatable sword, and wearing her brother's leather belt and her purple pirate hat. William says she appears in his room, dressed in her piratey garb, and thunders pirate words... Oooh arggh! I'm a pirate!

Get comfortable. Have you had your coffee? Rest your eyes for a moment. We are about to take a journey and you may have to pace yourself to get through this post...

Saturday was mostly spent reveling in the bliss of not having to take anyone to school... for a week! In other words: We didn't get much done, which was nice. Then sometime before dinner and after sunset, William asked, "We are coloring eggs, right?" And I thought 'eggs?' Then I scrambled... er... I mean boiled.


It takes time to boil and cool eggs, clear the dinner table, find clean mugs, locate the remains of the PAAS box that Maria has been carting around the house for 3 weeks and then make the secret dye formula...


...so, by the time we reached the point when we could commence egg coloring it was already 9 p.m. Bedtime lands between 7:30 and 9:00 in Cramalot, so the idea to start any project at 9 p.m. is sheer madness. Madness, I tell you!


Nonetheless, we proceeded. And everyone was happy and eager.


William brought the globe to the dining table and began his earth egg, complete with continents and oceans.


I love the intent look of focus on these boys' faces. They know how to immerse themselves in their work and play.


Did I mention that some children are asleep by 9 p.m.? If some children are not in bed, happily asnooze, then all kinds of suffering, frustration, misery, woe and despair may ensue. Warning: Due to the graphic content of the images proceeding this message, it may be unsuitable for grandmothers and sympathetic, emotional beings. Please scroll down to Alex and his bunny eggs, if you cannot endure a sad, angry, worn out and crying child.


I tried to console her.


I tried to comfort and reason with her.


She was in the depths of egg coloring despair.


Alex colored a bunny egg. The face in front and a tail and big fuzzy bunny feet around the back.


This might have cheered Maria.


And she did eventually recover when her daddy was finally able to leave work and join us. Can't you just hear her post cry sigh?


Max colored 10 9 eggs... I remembered it as 10, but he just explained that he "lost one." Should I be worried?


Last Halloween Geoff brought out his dremmel tool and 'carved' an elaborate tiki head pumpkin. We were sound asleep, as he sat in the dark, late night yard, chiseling away. And what do you think he started around 11 p.m. Easter eve?


Answer: The Egg Lathe (patent pending.)
He melted wax to the end of the egg and attached it to his cordless power tool, then gave it a spin. As the egg turned he applied crayon, pens and markers and the egg finished with beautiful and expertly applied stripes. I love Geoff.


Easter morning. Maria made a complete recovery, and found in her Easter basket a baby all her own to love and console. Holly and Rich are the best ever Easter hosts and we made it to their home just in time for the egg hunt and omelet buffet.


When was the last time we saw this little girl... it's been too long. Izzy looks almost ready to walk. Now that she is one year old she is adopting lots more sweet skills, like saying "hi" and clapping her hands. Love it.


The boys got new shirts to wear for Easter and my stylish son added his navy coat to complete his ensemble. Handsome boy. I think this may be the same coat he wore to James and Deanne's wedding. It was completely oversized at the time and the only one we could procure. Or is the one William wore...? I think so. It fits now.


Did I mention Holly and Rich are the best? They always have everything organized, they are generous and creative and they provide right down to the last detail.


In to the bucket; Maria figured it out.


William is funny. He looks serious most of the time, but he's got an intelligent humor and we bust each other up. Here is his "I'm too old for this, but I will oblige you with a determined egg hunter's grin," look.


There were lots of hidden eggs.


There were lots of children. When Holly told me the head count, including some neighbors and friends, I gasped, "Wow, that's a lot of people."
She laughed knowingly, then clued me in, "Your family alone is 6 people!"
Oh, ya. We tend to fill a party out.


Ahh... Easter cousins in their pretty dresses, sharing treats.


Max wore this shirt, because it's an Easter rule. He will follow rules... he might protest that button down, blue shirts are ugly, but he will follow rules. And do you see the boy behind him? That is the elusive cousin, Nick. He moves fast.

Here are our beautiful hostesses, Holly and Izzy


Holly's friend brought a coconut bunny cake. We ate, and ate, and ate, and played all day.

Happy Easter...

...and good-night!

School is out for Easter break, and I have all my children at home, with me! I am thrilled. No plans for tomorrow. Maybe we'll have a pajama party all day. Bliss.

Geoff really should consider rising to a management position, or producing. He likes programming and no doubt he's good, but sometimes I am convinced he's not taking full advantage of his natural managerial skills, like list making. I should have let him make me another list yesterday, so that I would not have come home from the store without laundry detergent. The domestic queen is foiled again. So after loathing and resenting my TODO list, I am meekly, apologetically acknowledging the wisdom of making lists.

I need a grocery list and a random household necessities list. I need a list of things I must accomplish, and even a list of things I would simply enjoy accomplishing. I need a calendar that cross references all the lists and a huge bulletin board with flow charts, maps and diagrams illustrating the execution and scheduling of all activities listed. I feel all tingly just thinking of it.

Cristina asked about my camera lens: It is a "12x Optical Zoom... Meg O.I.S." Does that make any sense? It's all built in. I used the macro feature when shooting the pickle weed, but it's not been real consistent. I'm still learning. When it works, wow! I want to fall in to this flower... can you guess what it is?



Maria is in love with these bunny folk, that stand in welcome at her brothers' school. She has spent a week tentatively pointing at them, then she shyly touched a paw.

This morning she could no longer contain her affection. "Bumbies!"


Maria loves bunnies. I do too. It occurs to me that if this weren't Chickenblog, it could very well be Bunnyblog.

A package arrived yesterday, and Maria did not need a single hint or suggestion; she immediately declared that the small and heavy box must contain, "Bumbies." Alex and Max hadn't even begun tearing off the packing tape and she was chanting, "Bumbies, bumbies." And she was right! All the way from Hawaii came an Easteriffic bunny variety, including bunny bookends and Tutu's speciality: Chocolate Marshmallow.


Max shivered in anticipation of this holiday tradition, and I think I still have him convinced that chocolate and marshmallow only grow together in Hawaii, where his grandma has special Santa choco-marsh and bunny choco-marsh connections. Big mahalo and aloha to Tutu and Poppa Corn Man.

Something numerical... this is the 797th post to Chickenblog. The idea of closing in on my 800th post has been very intriguing to me. Is 800 a magic number? Geoff thinks it is significant that I am nearly at 1,000, but I am fascinated by 800. I really am seriously considering a Chickenblog contest and prize giveaway, or confetti and horns extravaganza. Maybe I will meet myself for coffee, wear big sunglasses and grin knowingly.

It may be time to step in to my alternate universe.
Yesterday I was open to the possibility of healing and balance, to magic and a turn of the tide. I didn't stay in bed waiting for the UPS truck to drop off a package of "All Better." I cleaned house and fed children. I unpacked the big box that was labeled 100% Easter, so that for once my children could hope to live in an appropriately and festively decorated house for Easter. I did affirmative things, and made daring steps toward my future, and I wrote letters, made phone calls, I hung some art on the bare walls, and bought groceries...


I continued to monitor the children,

to be sure they were keeping

healthy habits.

While I cleaned and organized I made the mistake of letting Maria explore in the Easter box and now it looks like spring and bunnies vomited all over the family room. I remained calm and philosophical, reasoning that the activity kept her happy and distracted. Maria woke from her nap with an eye sealed in gunk. She woke from her nap with the same congested cough Max has, Alex has, Geoff has. She woke from her nap sad and tender. Max threw-up, again. Alex sleeps or coughs, or coughs in his sleep. All the phone calls and letters, the daring steps? So far, I've got 'no reply,' and 'no comment.' The two boys are falling behind at school, and they'll be missing the school field trip tomorrow. I've been missing out too, like Yanina's surprise lunch and birthday walk, and seeing Anne's new yard and plants. And remember the "Easy Knitting" book by Klutz? I pretty much suck.


This is all very tired, random and pathetic and I'm not even disclosing all of our lows and burdens, but it serves to illustrate just why I am ready to visit my alternate universe. I am not going to bother describing it in any detail. I am going to close my eyes and think of all the ways things could be better, cleaner, nicer. After 20 minutes or so, I will open my eyes and start all over again; washing hands, cleaning, folding, unpacking, making calls, hoping, praying, mothering.

I got one email today, from "A Year in Bread. I want to play along and be a baker too. Later, after baking, I want to print this alphabet and hang it in our own school room. I love my alternate universe.

Easter Sunday at the Treehouse was a success. We had good company, good food, and good and happy children. Tamsyn brought her mom and dad, aunt and uncle. Nicholas and Isabella came with their mom and dad. There were plenty of eggs to find. Late Easter Sunday night Max assured me that it was the best Easter ever; he did a lot to relieve my insecuritiy and fatigue.


I've noticed that wherever uncle Rich goes the Easter bunny is especially generous. None of these children was disappointed.


Have you met Isabella? She is the new cousin and Nicholas's baby sister.


Maria found eggs with raisins and one egg with cookies.


Every time Maria learns a new trick that involves house damage, or life endangerment, either Geoff or myself says "Eviction notice!" This not a childproofed house. Time is running out on our time here. Maria dropped her Elmo radio in the toilet. It is time for our eviction. June is looming. We are searching...
Here is Maria climbing Max's slide. She gets to the top, then slides down on her belly, which is moderately dangerous, but when she gets to the middle she sometimes stands and waves or she presents us with this pose... which really makes me queasy. But I have to admit she has style and skill... Olympics?


Wanted:
Single family home. 4 bedroom, 2.5 bath, fireplace, whine cellar, sewing room, gas stove, light and bright, pets allowed, RV parking, 2 car gagrage, gardener incl., swimming pool, ocean view, walking neighborhood, near schools, restaurants, National Park, Legoland, Zoo and convenient freeway access... landlord in Florida will sell to exceptional tenants with loving hearts and delightful children...

Have you ever wondered about the: Easter Dating Method? No, not how to find a sweetie to take to the egg hunt, but an explanation for why Easter always comes up on a different March or April Sunday. I have been trying to emphasize to the boys that they should search and research for the answers to all their questions, and I guess I should remember to do the same. Now I know it's about the moon, the Paschal full moon, and I now know that this year Easter comes on April 16th.

Holly may have a more precise count for how many years she and Rich have hosted Easter; they have had us in their home and garden for many Easters. They always have their home tastefully and sweetly decorated for the rite of Spring, and they always have a bounty of favors hidden in their yard. And in recent years Holly has cast-off her 'I can't cook cloak' and prepared an omelette buffet. Scrumptious. Fun for all. Why mess with perfection?

Well, for the past four years Max has struggled and suffered over Easter Sunday. Indeed, Max struggles with many things, particularly anything that involves change, leaving home, traditions, and social situations. He insists that we must celebrate Easter at home. He has begged, pleaded and insisted on this for four years, and every year we have resisted his demands. He has fun at aunt Holly and uncle Rich's. He has come to appreciate their celebration, the attention to bunny decor and Spring ambience. He likes Holly's pancakes and finding his basket in the backyard, but he still wants an at home Easter. How can I emphasize enough the genuine anguish and anxiety Max suffers over these situations? It's not like a bad mood or selfishness. It's Asperger's Syndrome. It's an imperative need to be in the most familiar space possible, to minimize variables, to understand every minutia, which takes step by step literal translating and repeated explaining. He isn't going to be dissuaded, or distracted. He can't be reasoned in to submission.

Last year Max spent several weeks, literally, agonizing over the issue of Easter. We insisted that the plans were made, and would not be changed. He cried. He had to be told many times, over many days where we were going, at what hour, for how long, who we would see, what we would do and in what order. He had to be assured that he would not have to eat certain things, wear anything other than his red shirt and blue shorts, and that it was not possible to simply change the plans. He has remarkable reasoning skills. In fact he is so rational that in a practical sense he is irrational. It takes extraordinary energy to hold my ground and assure him too, to diffuse his anger and frustration, and dispel his fears, which is why I gave in last year and promised him that this year we would host Easter.

Max reminded me, six weeks ago, about my promise: "Remember, you said we can have Easter at our house this time." He asks every few days whether it's time to get ready for Easter. And something else: He clings to tradition and patterns, and he is aware that he actually has more familiarity and comfort with Easter at his aunt's house and what transpires there, so he is in turmoil over whether we should go there or stay here, and if we stay here "can we do everything the same as at Holly's?"

The latest decision is to have Easter here, he feels certain. I am far less certain. "Where are our Easter decorations? Who's coming? What will we eat? When are we decorating for Easter?" These are the questions that Max poses with more and more frequency, urgency, concern. Relentless child. There are no Easter decorations, we had some, once, but they are lost in the moves, the garage. We can decorate for Easter after we've finished more packing, cleaned the clutter, put away the last of the Halloween decorations, clean again. Of course we'll need to buy some bunny bowls, tulip cups and an Easter tree first. And I can't help but feel a little remiss about the Omission: The meaning of Easter, the whole holy day, spiritual aspect. At this point in my life I am feeling far removed from resurrection, from Spring and rebirth, renewal. This must be another one of those maturity moments, an opportunity to model for my children the virtues of hope and optimism, to show them how to graciously prepare for a celebration, welcome friends and family, welcome a renewal and move forward in the great circle of life...

I am far, far removed. I think I will start with slow, regulated breathing. Thank God Easter isn't March 23rd like it will be in 2008.

Blechh!
Mac goes back. All the weeks at intensive care did not bring a full recovery. I am feeling strong symptoms of withdrawal, since I cannot play with iPhoto etc. Also, this machine has very poor internet connection, so I am often cutoff from the world. I am concerned that I will have to wait a very long time before I can play with my dear Mac again.

I wish I could post Easter pictures, especially from our trip to Pasadena. We had a very nice visit with Becky and Dan, Debbie, Tony, Julie, and Grandma. As I mentioned before, Easter finds me unprepared, and even though Max and I decorated Styrofoam eggs and he painted his pinecones, I did little else to mark the occasion. Thank goodness for my cousin Debbie. She made cute goody bags filled with candies. She hid eggs in the garden. Aunt Becky's home was full of Easter touches, like bunnies and lilies, and she had chocolate bunnies for the boys. I think the boys enjoyed the thrill of the hunt and the pleasure of being with family for a comfortable and warm visit. I certainly appreciated the delicious lunch, playing scrabble and just sitting quietly together.

Our other fun Easter get together was at Holly, Rich and Nicholas' home, with James and Deanne, and Kristin, and Gloria, and several of the neighbors...it was a big time Easter brunch and egg hunt. Holly can't call herself an uncook any more. She is a cook. She prepped, and she took orders and made individual omelets, and a variety of pancakes. Again, my boys had all the pleasures of a really lovely gathering with beautiful decorations and a great variety of food and treats, and I did little or nothing to make this happen. Maybe next year I will set some ceramic bunnies on the dining table. Maybe not.

Okay. It's time to look ahead. It seems like today I have been too caught up in thinking of all that I cannot accomplish, because of the Mac being gone again. Time to re-group, form a new plan. Tomorrow is the first day of a new art class for William and Alex, plus a private Taekwondo lesson for William. We need to pick up drawing supplies from the materials list, and I have to sew on one more uniform patch. Also, must pick up Tamsyn from school. Wednesday there is a parent meeting for the therapy class Max and I are starting, plus tennis, and my gym time...

Yup. When I don't get to sit at the computer organizing photos and deleting spam, suddenly there are more hours in the day to fill with stuff. I sure do miss my Mac.

Mac is back. We are just getting reacquainted. They have new settings and other minor changes that are throwing me completely off balance.

Happy Easter.

Time to hit the Bunny Trail.

Only one piece of mail this morning in my email box. Pottery Barn wants me to "Get ready for Easter Brunch, at Pottery Barn." Do you suppose this is an invitation for Easter Brunch at one of their stores? Maybe not. They say they have everything I need to celebrate and decorate with style. With their help, throwing an Easter party will be simple. Wire bunnies, apparently, are key to success, as are pastel plates. And in their thoughtful email they include a photograph of a stylishly decorated table, complete with an egg tree, lit candles and a link to their website, for my shopping convenience. I'm touched.

The last time I tried to get the jump on this holiday sort of melted in my face. While browsing at Target, I chose the three perfect chocolate Easter bunnies for Max, Alex and William. Not too big. Each bunny an individual, and male or at least nongender specific. Minimal use of artificial colors. I thought, "It's too soon to be doing this." And then I remembered the year before; Easter eve and I was out in the world scrounging for any kind of holiday treats. This year I determined to be prepared.

Our home, at the time, was too, too small to hide any kind of surprises, so I kept the three bunnies tucked away in the back of our car. Safely hidden for the big morning. Three baskets, underwear (it's traditional,) juice boxes and beach toys were collected and on Easter morning we headed to Aunt Holly, Uncle Rich and baby Nicholas's home for an egg*hunt and basket discovery. We arrived at a home beautifully decorated for Easter and Spring and tasteful living. I was happy on two accounts 1. Holly was hosting and I was spared house cleaning and decorating, and 2. At least this year I had managed to get "Good Easter Stuff."

Can you guess what happens to plastic encased chocolate bunnies after four weeks in the back of a car, in sunny California? In my haste to be discreet I never looked at the boxes as I stuffed them with the underwear, and other goodies in to the three baskets. The boys found their baskets in the Spring blooming garden, and then they found the dozens of colored eggs. Alex's confounded, stunned expression was the first indication of the Easter tragedy. His bunny was mostly a hollow, caved in disaster. The two button blue eyes were detached. They were pressed against the plastic and stared out most pathetically. The other bunnies suffered similar fates. Little bow ties were stuck in melted and hardened chocolate folds, and the gaping faces, deformed paws, told of the horror of hot afternoons and cold mornings waiting for Easter morning.

The trauma, thankfully, was short lived, when Alex announced to his anxious brothers, "Hey, it still tastes good!" Easter is about triumph; first suffering and then the glory of rising again.