Spring of 2012 is hereby deemed the "Season of Suckage". Thank goodness the summer solstice is nearly here, because I'm ready for the wretched awfulness of this past season to come to an end. Spring, normally a time of new life emerging form the wintery darkness, has proven a time of trial and death for my loved ones and me.
The Grim Reaper has visited my family monthly since March, taking with him two of my grandparents, both of my cats, and one of my favorite hens. My gramp died a week ago Tuesday. In his final days he had a constant stream of people visiting him and sharing with him how much they loved him. Would that we should all be so fortunate in the end, to have those we love the most nearby.
I got home from work that Thursday to find Rudy hiding in my closet, succombing to intense pain in his back legs. Gene and I had had many conversations leading up to this point: what we would when the aging cats' health became unmanageable? Because we'd talked about it, our next step was clear, although still difficult. I truly believe it's an important choice to make before you're in the moment. We decided long ago that when they got to the point that they needed expensive treatments to prolong their lives past what seemed fair to all of us, we would bid them farewell in a kind and gentle manner.
It was heartwrenching to say goodbye to my sweet boy kitty last Friday morning. He'd been my steadfast friend for 14 years, adjusted surprisingly well to the arrival of the husband, dog, and baby, and loved nothing more than to sit on my lap. I miss you, little buddy.
(Aside: I need to bitch for a second that the Animal Emergency Clinic charges $50 to administer the euthanasia, PLUS $90 if you want to be in the room with your pet when they do it, PLUS $30 for a cremation. I would have laughed at them if I hadn't been sobbing. The Tacoma Cat Hospital, however, had very gracious staff who got me in quickly, listened to my concerns about Rudy, agreed with me, did the deed quickly with me right there the whole time, and took care of his remains. Their total price was $56, which included as much Kleenex as I needed to make it through the ordeal, kind words from the veterinarian, and even a condolence card in the mail the very next day.)
I'm really hoping that last week was the Grim Reaper's grande finale. If he's got more in store for me, I'm not sure I can take it. So far this has been a good week.
Things are starting to look up again. Yes, my yard is still an utter mess. I've weeded only a few times, not that you can tell! The tomato plants I bought in May are still in their pots, as is the hydrangea I purchased to replace the ugly rhodie in the front yard. It was damaged in last winter's ice storm and I never liked it anyway.
The apple and pear trees I planted last year survived the harsh winter. We got a few apples last year and I'm hoping that our neighbors' asian pear tree is close enough for cross-pollination. My favorite clematis died (dang those chickens) but my new honeysuckle has been attracting the hummingbirds. My hope for the honeysuckle is that it'll grow along the fence and create a wall of green and orange.
I surprised Gene in May with a new patio in the backyard and we're spending more time outside as the weather warms. I sit in the stillness of our miniscule oasis, breathe deeply of the scented flowers all around, and take a few moments to enjoy the simplicity of being.
Kaelen is a robust 6-month-old who's growing at the rate of over an inch a month, sleeping reliably through the night, making the miserable times bearable, and reaching for Rosemary every chance he gets. We adore him with every fiber of our being.
Life, as difficult as it has been of late, moves ever onward.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Life and death with bebe
Life has marched ever forward since my last post.
My yard is such a mess that I want to put an apologetic sign out front that says "Sorry! We've got an infant." If I could get my act together, I could probably sell them on etsy and make some side money.
I have returned to working full-time, cramming my workweek into 4 10s. Gene stays home with Kaelen Mon-Thurs. He leaves for work on Friday morning and stays until Saturday evening. Sunday is our sole day as a family and we do the best we can to catch up with each other, more often than not leaving yard work for another day.
In May I bought some tomato plants, tarragon, and some squash to put into the front veggie beds. They're still in the pots in the back yard.
Last week a teenaged boy stopped by with an offer to mow the lawn for a mere $8. We asked him to return the next day because we had no cash. It poured the next day and our lush, green lawn is embarrassingly tall. (note to your entrepreneurs: have enough cash to break bills)
Oh well. Our time together is more precious than mowed grass and organic squash growing on the parking strip. As the weather worms up - I say that optimistically because we've been hovering 10 degrees below normal - we'll take the baby outside and turn the outdoors honey-do lists into honey-done lists.
Last week Kaelen cut a tooth and rolled over on the same day. Tooth #2 is threatening to erupt any day now. He's a content baby who sleeps at night like a champ. We're so blessed with such an easy-tempered little guy.
We've started him on solids - homemade, of course - and he has yet to refuse anything offered him. He's sampled many typical baby foods, such as pureed fruits and veggies, and some atypical things like pad thai. I've read a couple of books about introducing children to healthy foods and hope to have him on the right track. Just this afternoon I whirred some peas in the food processor and gave him a taste from my fingertip. He was so eagerly appreciative that I pulled out one of his brand new baby spoons and fed him what remained in the bowl.
When it comes to Kaelen, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. He's slept through the night since he was 6 weeks old. He's healthy, happy, and spit-shined by the dog on a daily basis.
In other areas of our lives, however, the other shoe has most definitely dropped. I made the difficult decision in May to have my 15-year-old cat, Mira, put down. My favorite hen, Gwen, died unexpectedly during my visit to New England. Sad events, but they come with the territory of animal husbandry.
Every damn shoe in the closet fell about a week ago when my gramp in New England got a devastating diagnosis: metastatic bone cancer in his pelvis and thigh bone. He has very quickly progressed through the final stages of his life. My brother is set to fly out this Tuesday but we're not sure he's going to arrive in time. Not even skype has been an option, Gramp is so sick.
And so here I sit, for the second time in three months, again grieving a beloved grandparent before the fact. My phone, rarely off of the vibrate setting, has its volume turned up as we await the inevitable news of his passing. He's been in so much pain that morphine hasn't even helped. We all hope, for his sake, that his passing happens quickly.
Like when my grandma died in March, I again find myself thankful for the time I had with my gramp in the past year. Gene and I went to New England a year ago so that he could meet my family there. On a whim I whisked Kaelen away for 10 days this last spring. I think we all knew, but didn't acknowledge openly, that it would be the one and only time Kaelen would meet his great-grampy and that Kaelen would be the only great-grandchild Gramp would ever see.
I take solace in and enjoyment from the things I can control Time with Rosemary. Knitting a challenging and interesting shawl for myself. Visiting the farmers market with Gene and Kaelen. Figuring out what makes Kaelen giggle uncontrollably. Cooking for my family. Heading to Seattle for once-in-a-lifetime exhibits.
And life goes on. In time I'll teach Kaelen some of the silly things my grampy said. Better yet, I'll make sure my dad passe along those parts of his father. Grampy was always a man of few words but when he did speak, you had better pay attention because it was usually going to be clever.
He'd laugh if he knew that I'll think of him any time I see bird poop on my car. "Look," he'd exclaim, a bird wants to buy your car!" When given a quizzical look he'd gleefully deliver the punchline: "See? He left you a little deposit". That joke cracked him up every time.
Fly free, Grampy. And on your way, leave as many deposits on cars as you want. I'll tell Kaelen what it's for.
My yard is such a mess that I want to put an apologetic sign out front that says "Sorry! We've got an infant." If I could get my act together, I could probably sell them on etsy and make some side money.
I have returned to working full-time, cramming my workweek into 4 10s. Gene stays home with Kaelen Mon-Thurs. He leaves for work on Friday morning and stays until Saturday evening. Sunday is our sole day as a family and we do the best we can to catch up with each other, more often than not leaving yard work for another day.
In May I bought some tomato plants, tarragon, and some squash to put into the front veggie beds. They're still in the pots in the back yard.
Last week a teenaged boy stopped by with an offer to mow the lawn for a mere $8. We asked him to return the next day because we had no cash. It poured the next day and our lush, green lawn is embarrassingly tall. (note to your entrepreneurs: have enough cash to break bills)
Oh well. Our time together is more precious than mowed grass and organic squash growing on the parking strip. As the weather worms up - I say that optimistically because we've been hovering 10 degrees below normal - we'll take the baby outside and turn the outdoors honey-do lists into honey-done lists.
Last week Kaelen cut a tooth and rolled over on the same day. Tooth #2 is threatening to erupt any day now. He's a content baby who sleeps at night like a champ. We're so blessed with such an easy-tempered little guy.
We've started him on solids - homemade, of course - and he has yet to refuse anything offered him. He's sampled many typical baby foods, such as pureed fruits and veggies, and some atypical things like pad thai. I've read a couple of books about introducing children to healthy foods and hope to have him on the right track. Just this afternoon I whirred some peas in the food processor and gave him a taste from my fingertip. He was so eagerly appreciative that I pulled out one of his brand new baby spoons and fed him what remained in the bowl.
When it comes to Kaelen, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. He's slept through the night since he was 6 weeks old. He's healthy, happy, and spit-shined by the dog on a daily basis.
In other areas of our lives, however, the other shoe has most definitely dropped. I made the difficult decision in May to have my 15-year-old cat, Mira, put down. My favorite hen, Gwen, died unexpectedly during my visit to New England. Sad events, but they come with the territory of animal husbandry.
Every damn shoe in the closet fell about a week ago when my gramp in New England got a devastating diagnosis: metastatic bone cancer in his pelvis and thigh bone. He has very quickly progressed through the final stages of his life. My brother is set to fly out this Tuesday but we're not sure he's going to arrive in time. Not even skype has been an option, Gramp is so sick.
And so here I sit, for the second time in three months, again grieving a beloved grandparent before the fact. My phone, rarely off of the vibrate setting, has its volume turned up as we await the inevitable news of his passing. He's been in so much pain that morphine hasn't even helped. We all hope, for his sake, that his passing happens quickly.
Like when my grandma died in March, I again find myself thankful for the time I had with my gramp in the past year. Gene and I went to New England a year ago so that he could meet my family there. On a whim I whisked Kaelen away for 10 days this last spring. I think we all knew, but didn't acknowledge openly, that it would be the one and only time Kaelen would meet his great-grampy and that Kaelen would be the only great-grandchild Gramp would ever see.
I take solace in and enjoyment from the things I can control Time with Rosemary. Knitting a challenging and interesting shawl for myself. Visiting the farmers market with Gene and Kaelen. Figuring out what makes Kaelen giggle uncontrollably. Cooking for my family. Heading to Seattle for once-in-a-lifetime exhibits.
And life goes on. In time I'll teach Kaelen some of the silly things my grampy said. Better yet, I'll make sure my dad passe along those parts of his father. Grampy was always a man of few words but when he did speak, you had better pay attention because it was usually going to be clever.
He'd laugh if he knew that I'll think of him any time I see bird poop on my car. "Look," he'd exclaim, a bird wants to buy your car!" When given a quizzical look he'd gleefully deliver the punchline: "See? He left you a little deposit". That joke cracked him up every time.
Fly free, Grampy. And on your way, leave as many deposits on cars as you want. I'll tell Kaelen what it's for.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Flying with the boy
Earlier this month I took Kaelen, who had just hit 3 months old, from Seattle to Boston by myself. With a plane change each direction ranging from 45-60 mins. And with cloth diapers. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision based on the fact that my grandparents are in their 80s, Kaelen is their first great-grandson, flights were quite cheap, and I was still on maternity leave. Gene's and my trip last summer brought my New England family and me much, much closer together and it was an honor to share our little boy with them.
The stars were aligned, and so I blindly jumped at the chance to spend 12 hours alone each way for door-to-door travel with a little baby.
(screeching tire sounds) Say what now? Am I a crazy glutton for punishment? Travel with an infant, cross-country, alone, with a flight change, and using cloth diapers.
Full disclosure: we did have some problems but they were relatively minor. Kaelen fussed a little as we descended into Boston. I could see his eyes open wide and feel his little body go rigid as we landed, and I knew it was because his ears were popping. Mine were, too.
After we finally got to my aunt and uncle's house, Kaelen freaked the eff out. And I do mean wake-the-entire-household-up screaming fit that lasted 30 minutes. I felt awful because it was 1:30 a.m. and my cousin is a baker who has to leave the house by 3 a.m. to get to her job at an amazing bakery in Cambridge. Not to mention my aunt and uncle who also get up at the buttcrack of dawn to start their jobs. Hush, hush, baby!
After he relaxed a little I tried to put him down only to get his epic pouty mouth and signature lip quiver that happens microseconds prior to an ear-splitting eruption. I was certain I was going to be forced to sleep in my travel clothes with him in my arms because I couldn't open a suitcase one-handed while holding a scared baby in the other. He eventually allowed me to put him down long enough to change. I let him sleep with me that night as reassurance that he was OK as long as I was there.
All in all, I had planned really carefully and the flights each way did go smoothly. Hey, I'm a Virgo. We'reanal-retentive avid planners.
Did I mention I used cloth diapers the entire trip, including the flights? I felt like such a mommy rock star for having managed it successfully.
The flights weren't comfortable but they were manageable. I had enough space to rock and comfort Kaelen when he needed it, to read when he slept, to relax when I needed it, and to eat a healthy snack when I got hungry.
Having grown up on separate coasts, I'd never seen my family - grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins - with babies. On the way to the airport I looked into the backseat and saw something I'd never seen before. It's a sight that is forever carved into my memory.
It was my gramp, aged 89, holding hands with my son, aged 3 months.
 |
| Kaelen's first airplane |
The stars were aligned, and so I blindly jumped at the chance to spend 12 hours alone each way for door-to-door travel with a little baby.
Full disclosure: we did have some problems but they were relatively minor. Kaelen fussed a little as we descended into Boston. I could see his eyes open wide and feel his little body go rigid as we landed, and I knew it was because his ears were popping. Mine were, too.
After we finally got to my aunt and uncle's house, Kaelen freaked the eff out. And I do mean wake-the-entire-household-up screaming fit that lasted 30 minutes. I felt awful because it was 1:30 a.m. and my cousin is a baker who has to leave the house by 3 a.m. to get to her job at an amazing bakery in Cambridge. Not to mention my aunt and uncle who also get up at the buttcrack of dawn to start their jobs. Hush, hush, baby!
After he relaxed a little I tried to put him down only to get his epic pouty mouth and signature lip quiver that happens microseconds prior to an ear-splitting eruption. I was certain I was going to be forced to sleep in my travel clothes with him in my arms because I couldn't open a suitcase one-handed while holding a scared baby in the other. He eventually allowed me to put him down long enough to change. I let him sleep with me that night as reassurance that he was OK as long as I was there.
 |
| The start of our 6-hour snuggle fest |
All in all, I had planned really carefully and the flights each way did go smoothly. Hey, I'm a Virgo. We're
Here are my tips for taking an infant on a flight:
- Preload bottles with formula but not water (unless BFing, which is awesome but since my boobs went on strike so it's formula for us). Take way more than you think you'll need because if you're delayed you won't be able to buy more easily.
- Slip-on shoes and pull-on pants for you are a must.
- Use a front-carrier for baby, & a backpack (forget a diaper bag) for baby's stuff. You'll feel like a pack mule but your hands will be free.
- Take easy-to-eat, non-messy food for yourself on the plane: crackers, cold cuts, cheese, pre-cut apples, nuts, grapes, yogurt-covered pretzels, etc.
- Be sure to have something for baby to suck on during take-off & landing: bottle, finger, pacifier, toy, anything. Keep encouraging them to suck, even if they're sleepy. Don't chew gum & only clear your own ears when you see baby sucking so that you can gauge what's going on with theirs.
- As you board, ask flight attendants which lavatory has a changing table and let them know if you need water for bottles. Based on my experience, they won't offer any info or aid unless you ask. In fact, the post-flight survey Delta sent me got a diatribe about the lack of any courtesy shown to a mom who was clearly travelling alone with an infant.
- If you can, keep baby in the carrier for the entire flight, including take-off & landing. My air crews never challenged me on this but it *is* against airline policy. You'll be sweaty by the time you reach your destination but you won't have to jostle your little one around.
- I bought a kindle on craigslist for the trip. It was lightweight and gave me something to read that I could quickly put down & pick up one-handed when my baby didn't need my attention.
- Don't be afraid to seek out the family bathrooms in the airports. They're roomy & quite clean.
Did I mention I used cloth diapers the entire trip, including the flights? I felt like such a mommy rock star for having managed it successfully.
 |
| Waiting to board at Logan Int'l |
The flights weren't comfortable but they were manageable. I had enough space to rock and comfort Kaelen when he needed it, to read when he slept, to relax when I needed it, and to eat a healthy snack when I got hungry.
Having grown up on separate coasts, I'd never seen my family - grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins - with babies. On the way to the airport I looked into the backseat and saw something I'd never seen before. It's a sight that is forever carved into my memory.
It was my gramp, aged 89, holding hands with my son, aged 3 months.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Whooping cough, aka pertussis
Washington State is the first in the nation on a rather dubious list: 5% of children in the public education system have not been vaccinated against deadly and preventable illnesses. That's the highest in the nation.
Well guess what: Washington is experiencing an epidemic of whooping cough. It's made national news.
Vaccines are not a government conspiracy. They were developed to save lives. They don't cause autism. Do you know who has the highest vaccination compliance rates in the country? Immigrants. Immigrants from countries where these diseases have not been eradicated and who have seen firsthand the deadly results.
As the mother of an infant who has not yet had his first vaccination against whooping cough, the fact that a preventable disease is running rampant scares the shit out of me. Whooping cough kills babies.
Whooping cough has hit uncomfortably close to home for me: my 36-year-old, healthy-as-a-horse brother recently recovered from a 2-month bout with whooping cough.
We're not sure when Jason contracted whooping cough, but we know that he got it at work. His employer doesn't offer health insurance or sick leave (ahhh... the joys of the American health care "system"). Many of his coworkers who do have access to health care were diagnosed and treated with a round of antibiotics. Jason wasn't so lucky. He eventually bought some black market antibiotics and treated himself. The whooping cough cleared up and he was finally able to feel better.
The disease earns its name. At times Jason coughed so hard and so uncontrollably that he saw stars. This disease doesn't easily clear up; my brother is one of the healthiest people I know.
While he was sick, our 94-year-old grandmother passed away. We had lots of notice that she was dying and we all got to say our good-byes... except for my brother. Because of the compromised health of so many people at the nursing home, he could not visit her. She held on for 6 days after stopping eating and drinking, perhaps in the hope of seeing him one last time. But he never came.
I gave birth to a healthy baby boy in December. Everyone in my family is vaccinated against pertussis... except my brother. Everyone has been able to spend time and bond with my son... except my brother.
Jason missed two months of my son's life. Far worse, he didn't get to have a final goodbye with our grandmother (and let's be honest, he was always her favorite). All because he wasn't vaccinated.
Right before his symptoms started he visited our grandmother in the hospital and held my son, who was just 6 weeks old at the time. Our story could have had a tragic end instead of just a sad one.
Many adults allow their vaccinations to lapse because they aren't aware that some vaccinations, such as whooping cough (pertussis), diphtheria, and tetanus wear off with time. You need to re-up these vaccinations every 8-10 years and they're bundled in a single shot. I got a tetanus shot about 3 years ago when I sliced my finger open on a food processor blade. Frankly, the shot hurt worse than the cut (until it got infected), but it was worthwhile.
There are some diseases for which you probably can rely on herd immunity in the USA, such as polio. I don't care what your beliefs about vaccinations are: when it comes to the public health good, you cannot rely on herd immunity with whooping cough. It's out there and it kills.
There is no reason you should not get vaccinated. Just do it.
--------------
UPDATED: A friend posted this on her fb page. It's a must-read for new parents and parents-to-be, with suggestions on how to protect your newborn from pertussis.
Well guess what: Washington is experiencing an epidemic of whooping cough. It's made national news.
Vaccines are not a government conspiracy. They were developed to save lives. They don't cause autism. Do you know who has the highest vaccination compliance rates in the country? Immigrants. Immigrants from countries where these diseases have not been eradicated and who have seen firsthand the deadly results.
As the mother of an infant who has not yet had his first vaccination against whooping cough, the fact that a preventable disease is running rampant scares the shit out of me. Whooping cough kills babies.
Whooping cough has hit uncomfortably close to home for me: my 36-year-old, healthy-as-a-horse brother recently recovered from a 2-month bout with whooping cough.
We're not sure when Jason contracted whooping cough, but we know that he got it at work. His employer doesn't offer health insurance or sick leave (ahhh... the joys of the American health care "system"). Many of his coworkers who do have access to health care were diagnosed and treated with a round of antibiotics. Jason wasn't so lucky. He eventually bought some black market antibiotics and treated himself. The whooping cough cleared up and he was finally able to feel better.
The disease earns its name. At times Jason coughed so hard and so uncontrollably that he saw stars. This disease doesn't easily clear up; my brother is one of the healthiest people I know.
While he was sick, our 94-year-old grandmother passed away. We had lots of notice that she was dying and we all got to say our good-byes... except for my brother. Because of the compromised health of so many people at the nursing home, he could not visit her. She held on for 6 days after stopping eating and drinking, perhaps in the hope of seeing him one last time. But he never came.
I gave birth to a healthy baby boy in December. Everyone in my family is vaccinated against pertussis... except my brother. Everyone has been able to spend time and bond with my son... except my brother.
Jason missed two months of my son's life. Far worse, he didn't get to have a final goodbye with our grandmother (and let's be honest, he was always her favorite). All because he wasn't vaccinated.
Right before his symptoms started he visited our grandmother in the hospital and held my son, who was just 6 weeks old at the time. Our story could have had a tragic end instead of just a sad one.
Many adults allow their vaccinations to lapse because they aren't aware that some vaccinations, such as whooping cough (pertussis), diphtheria, and tetanus wear off with time. You need to re-up these vaccinations every 8-10 years and they're bundled in a single shot. I got a tetanus shot about 3 years ago when I sliced my finger open on a food processor blade. Frankly, the shot hurt worse than the cut (until it got infected), but it was worthwhile.
There are some diseases for which you probably can rely on herd immunity in the USA, such as polio. I don't care what your beliefs about vaccinations are: when it comes to the public health good, you cannot rely on herd immunity with whooping cough. It's out there and it kills.
There is no reason you should not get vaccinated. Just do it.
--------------
UPDATED: A friend posted this on her fb page. It's a must-read for new parents and parents-to-be, with suggestions on how to protect your newborn from pertussis.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
How long do chickens live
Gwen, our sex-link hen, died last week.
Gene found her in the coop on the floor one night. There were no injuries or outward signs of trauma. I was out of town when it happened but he told he she'd been running around the yard that day with the other girls and exhibited no signs of illness, such as a droopy head and tail.
Unlike our previous hens' deaths, one due to parasites and another due to a mysterious wound, we don't know why Gwen died.
Gwen broke a toe a couple of years ago and subsequently developed an infection. We caught and treated the infection successfully, but she never laid eggs reliably again.
Gwen was one of my favorites. She was friendly, curious, and always at my feet. Whenever I was gardening she was right there with me, looking for earthworms, cutworms, millipedes, and anything else I might unearth. She'd come running any time she saw the shovel and was a frequent visitor to the house. She was no dummy and knew that people = food.
One thing people often ask me is how long chickens live. We got our first batch of girls in May 2008, starting with Gwen, Dumpling (Barred Plymouth Rock), and Nugget (Rhode Island Red). Dumpling died the first year. Nugget is not only healthy as a horse, she's still laying several large eggs each week.
I've heard that chickens can live into their teens. I used to know a woman whose teen-aged hen laid about an egg per month. I suspect that chickens have about the same life expectancy as guinea pigs: perhaps 5-10 years. We've had chickens for 4 years now and this is our first death by natural causes (to the best of our knowledge).
Gwen had a good 4 years with us. We loved her and she us (in her own chicken way). I'm glad we kept her, despite her lack of productivity, because she had such a good personality. She was always gentle, attentive, and interested in our activities.
Rest in peace, girl.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Classes on poultry and canning
I've been invited to teach two classes, one on urban poultry and another on canning. I'd love your input on the curriculum.
Each session is to be an hour. Classes will have 20-30 people who are new to urban gardening. Ages range from 20-somethings to octogenarians. My goal is to point people to resources and to encourage them that these are things real people can do.
At the end of each class I want the participants to:
URBAN CHICKENS: The Gateway Poultry
What do you wish you'd known about having urban chickens or canning before you started?
Each session is to be an hour. Classes will have 20-30 people who are new to urban gardening. Ages range from 20-somethings to octogenarians. My goal is to point people to resources and to encourage them that these are things real people can do.
At the end of each class I want the participants to:
- be able to evaluate if owning chickens/canning is an activity that they can manage
- have access to reliable resources online for learning more independently after the class
- know what to do with their eggs/canned goods
URBAN CHICKENS: The Gateway Poultry
- City rules & regulations
- All about coops: basic elements of a coop, where to put it in your yard
- Healthy hens: predators, parasites, lifespan, dealing with problems
- Where to get chickens and resources for how to raise chicks
- Eggs: how many to expect, what to do with them, selling
- Potential visit from my hens, Animal and Curry
- Canning versus freezing
- Canning types: boiling water bath versus pressure canning
- Safe canning guidelines and where to find them
- Where to get produce for canning (if not growing your own)
- What to do with your canned goods
What do you wish you'd known about having urban chickens or canning before you started?
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Maple bar doughnuts
Thousands of people have had my grandma's cooking. She was the baker for the University of Puget Sound for maybe 20 years (my mom can chime in if she wants with the actual number). As the university baker, Grandma made all the pastries for the campus. She even talked the president's wife out of her secret oatmeal cookie recipe. I've got a copy of it somewhere. It makes something like 5 dozen cookies, so it's not a recipe I've made many times.
My grandma was the best baker of cookies, cakes, doughnuts, and pies of every type. She usually took at least two pies to any family gathering. Her lemon meringue was my favorite. Her pie crusts were perfect: shatteringly flakey and tender.
Christmas was an especially wonderful time to go see her. Grandma would pull box after box of homemade cookies and candy from a tall stack in her hallway closet: snickerdoodles, decorated sugar cookies with a crunchy royal icing (I've never been able to replicate it), chocolate crinkles, peanut butter cookies with a Hershey's kiss on top, powder-covered tea cakes, spritz cookies, some kind of crescent cookies with a whole clove sticking out the side, haystacks, stained glass, divinity, fudge. Drop cookies, bar cookies, ice box cookies: you name it, she had made it! She'd pile an assortment onto a plate for us and serve it with a variety of beverages. We'd gorge ourselves on the delicious treats, devouring in minutes what had taken her days to make.
Over the past couple of weeks I've found myself strangely drawn to maple-flavored things. I recently bought some maple-flavored shredded wheat at Trader Joe's. I'm an incurable chocolaholic, and yet when a coworker brought in a dozen doughnuts and I passed over the chocolate-iced doughnut in lieu of the maple bar. When I returned to my desk after having picked out said doughnut, I saw that my mom had called. Grandma passed away quietly on March 7 around 8:45 a.m. She was 94 years old.
It hit me then why I'd been seeking out maple. Grandma's favorite sweet, her weakness, was maple bar doughnuts. She adored them. Every time I visited I tried to take her one. As she got into her 90s, both in age and weight, I often took two of them in an effort to prevent her from losing more weight. I don't know if she ate both of them but I do know that she would eat at least one.
The last time she talked to me, she was referring to Kaelen and said, "Oh, he has blue eyes! He's so cute". He'd been to the doctor for his 2-month immunizations that morning and I debated not taking him. That was her final day awake and it's the last thing she said to me. She wasn't talking much by that point, and when she did it was a struggle. Forgive me if I've said it before but I'll forever be grateful that she got to spend time with him. It was fun to tell her that the doc had said Kaelen will be tall, as is her side of the family, and that he's really healthy. She was almost as proud of him as I am.
In her memory, I bring you a recipe for maple bars. Enjoy one with a cup of her typical morning beverage, Folgers instant coffee (or not... gag), and remember a loved one from your own past. Better yet, share them with friends and loved ones now.
MAPLE BARS
6 tablespoons water
Glaze
The doughnuts are slightly chewy and crispy on the outside. The maple flavor of the glaze doesn't run you over as if it were a logging truck and the coffee balances the sweetness of the sugar. Grandma would have loved them.
But maybe not all of them...
My grandma was the best baker of cookies, cakes, doughnuts, and pies of every type. She usually took at least two pies to any family gathering. Her lemon meringue was my favorite. Her pie crusts were perfect: shatteringly flakey and tender.
Christmas was an especially wonderful time to go see her. Grandma would pull box after box of homemade cookies and candy from a tall stack in her hallway closet: snickerdoodles, decorated sugar cookies with a crunchy royal icing (I've never been able to replicate it), chocolate crinkles, peanut butter cookies with a Hershey's kiss on top, powder-covered tea cakes, spritz cookies, some kind of crescent cookies with a whole clove sticking out the side, haystacks, stained glass, divinity, fudge. Drop cookies, bar cookies, ice box cookies: you name it, she had made it! She'd pile an assortment onto a plate for us and serve it with a variety of beverages. We'd gorge ourselves on the delicious treats, devouring in minutes what had taken her days to make.
Over the past couple of weeks I've found myself strangely drawn to maple-flavored things. I recently bought some maple-flavored shredded wheat at Trader Joe's. I'm an incurable chocolaholic, and yet when a coworker brought in a dozen doughnuts and I passed over the chocolate-iced doughnut in lieu of the maple bar. When I returned to my desk after having picked out said doughnut, I saw that my mom had called. Grandma passed away quietly on March 7 around 8:45 a.m. She was 94 years old.
It hit me then why I'd been seeking out maple. Grandma's favorite sweet, her weakness, was maple bar doughnuts. She adored them. Every time I visited I tried to take her one. As she got into her 90s, both in age and weight, I often took two of them in an effort to prevent her from losing more weight. I don't know if she ate both of them but I do know that she would eat at least one.
The last time she talked to me, she was referring to Kaelen and said, "Oh, he has blue eyes! He's so cute". He'd been to the doctor for his 2-month immunizations that morning and I debated not taking him. That was her final day awake and it's the last thing she said to me. She wasn't talking much by that point, and when she did it was a struggle. Forgive me if I've said it before but I'll forever be grateful that she got to spend time with him. It was fun to tell her that the doc had said Kaelen will be tall, as is her side of the family, and that he's really healthy. She was almost as proud of him as I am.
In her memory, I bring you a recipe for maple bars. Enjoy one with a cup of her typical morning beverage, Folgers instant coffee (or not... gag), and remember a loved one from your own past. Better yet, share them with friends and loved ones now.
MAPLE BARS
- Dough recipe adapted from Cooking Light (yes, doughnuts can be light...ish)
- See this blog for a step-by-step how-to
6 tablespoons water
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 1/8 teaspoons dry yeast
3 tablespoons sour cream
1 large egg, lightly beaten
6 3/4 ounces all-purpose flour (about 1 1/2 cups), divided
1/8 teaspoon salt
Cooking spray
6 cups peanut oil
Glaze
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 tablespoons maple syrup
2 tablespoons strong coffee
(optional: bacon, chopped)
Preparation
Night before:- Combine first 5 ingredients in a large bowl until a moist dough forms.
- Spray a bowl with cooking oil and transfer dough into it. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and put into fridge overnight.
- Allow dough to come to room temp on the counter, This will take about a half an hour. The dough will have risen overnight in the fridge and should be - but might not be - roughly doubled in size. It'll still be small - this is not a huge batch recipe.
- Place dough on a floured surface and roll out a sheet that's about 9" x 9". Trim the edges with a pizza cutter and then cut into 8 bars. You can roll the trimmed bits into balls. Doughnut "holes"!
- Allow the bars & balls to rise for about a half an hour. They won't rise a ton.
- Clip a candy/fry thermometer onto the side of a Dutch oven; add oil to pan. Heat oil to 375°. Place a couple of pieces of the dough into hot oil; fry 1 minute per side or until golden. Make sure the oil temperature remains at 375°.
- Remove doughnuts from pan; drain and cool slightly.
- Mix the glaze, adjusting the liquid until it's as thick as glue. Dip the "holes" into the glaze and spread the glaze on top of the bars with a spoon. Be generous! Please on a rack so that excess glaze can drop off rather than pool around the doughnut.
The doughnuts are slightly chewy and crispy on the outside. The maple flavor of the glaze doesn't run you over as if it were a logging truck and the coffee balances the sweetness of the sugar. Grandma would have loved them.
But maybe not all of them...
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