Tomorrow is the Thanksgiving feast at both of the kids' schools. Colin was supposed to help make the mashed potatoes for his school. Anna had this task last year, and we peeled, boiled, and mashed the potatoes. She wasn't very enthusiastic, since she doesn't even like mashed potatoes.
I tried to get Colin interested before we left the house, but he was too busy playing trains. Then we stayed out way to late, shopping and eating. Now there wasn't even time for a bedtime story - just brush the teeth and get into bed.
So after he was asleep, I made instant mashed potatoes.
I feel pretty guilty about this. He didn't participate in the process, and they just don't seem authentic. But, I mixed in real milk, sweet cream butter, kosher salt, and it says its made with real Idaho potatoes.
That's what they call "phoning it in," Antonia!
Monday, November 20, 2006
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Daddy's little helpers
We are starting a large new landscaping project. There are fancy plans drawn by a landscape architect and everything. No one is more excited than Anthony, who even went out last night to dig a hole in the dark. We have this great new oak tree that's dying to get in the ground.
It doesn't look like much with all the leaves gone, but its a Bur Oak, with huge leaves and gargantuan acorns - my favorite oak tree. Anna hugged the tree repeatedly and said it talks to her, telling her how much it likes her.
The kiddos enthusiastically helped their dad digging the last bit of the hole (this was the ruckus going on when you called, Emily). They were even better at filling it in once the tree was installed, taking turns using their little shovels to fill their wee wheelbarrow, and gleefully dumping the dirt in.
I guess there's no way to get them that enthusiastic about picking up their toys...
It doesn't look like much with all the leaves gone, but its a Bur Oak, with huge leaves and gargantuan acorns - my favorite oak tree. Anna hugged the tree repeatedly and said it talks to her, telling her how much it likes her.
The kiddos enthusiastically helped their dad digging the last bit of the hole (this was the ruckus going on when you called, Emily). They were even better at filling it in once the tree was installed, taking turns using their little shovels to fill their wee wheelbarrow, and gleefully dumping the dirt in.
I guess there's no way to get them that enthusiastic about picking up their toys...
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Very very extraordinary
As we were driving to the Farmer's Market today in our Prius (how virtuous!), Colin was spotting other Priuses (Prii?) driving along with us. He's very good at this, but when an Aztec pulled in front of us in his favorite color (yellow), he said, "There's a Prius!"
Definitely not, but it does have a very similar divided rear window. "No, Colin," I said, "The Prius is a very small vehicle and that one is very large."
It must be hard to be 3 and be corrected all the time. To save face Colin said, "No, Mommy, that one is very medium."
Definitely not, but it does have a very similar divided rear window. "No, Colin," I said, "The Prius is a very small vehicle and that one is very large."
It must be hard to be 3 and be corrected all the time. To save face Colin said, "No, Mommy, that one is very medium."
Friday, November 17, 2006
A day without Sunshine
That's what yesterday was. Our clinic is in a strip center. It is amazingly large and well designed, but has no windows. If I don't get out for lunch, I feel completely out of touch with the climate. No idea what the weather is like. Yesterday an emergency cat-trying-to-die-from-heart-failure filled my lunch. I got food at 2pm but no fresh air or UV. This time of year, its dark by the time I stumble out the back door to my car.
We've been very busy with an unseasonal increase in sick patients. Also, we have one doctor out on maternity leave. Then my boss's mom was hospitalized; she sadly passed away yesterday. We normally have 3 doctors a day but have been operating lately on 2.
And surgeries! In October there was plenty of room to schedule stuff, and we had tons of cancellations. The past few weeks the surgery schedule has been all booked up with no room at the inn. So when I see a dog with a painful, broken tooth, it can't wait 2 weeks for an appointment. Ditto the dog with metastatic cancer in a lymph node - wait 2 weeks and it may spread further. So we are shoving them in, anywhere we can.
Today I actually got to leave the premises for a 45 minute lunch! And the cat is no longer in failure, sent home on oral meds. Here's the best part: tomorrow is the first Saturday I won't be working in 6 weeks! Yippee!
We've been very busy with an unseasonal increase in sick patients. Also, we have one doctor out on maternity leave. Then my boss's mom was hospitalized; she sadly passed away yesterday. We normally have 3 doctors a day but have been operating lately on 2.
And surgeries! In October there was plenty of room to schedule stuff, and we had tons of cancellations. The past few weeks the surgery schedule has been all booked up with no room at the inn. So when I see a dog with a painful, broken tooth, it can't wait 2 weeks for an appointment. Ditto the dog with metastatic cancer in a lymph node - wait 2 weeks and it may spread further. So we are shoving them in, anywhere we can.
Today I actually got to leave the premises for a 45 minute lunch! And the cat is no longer in failure, sent home on oral meds. Here's the best part: tomorrow is the first Saturday I won't be working in 6 weeks! Yippee!
Thursday, November 16, 2006
The Deal with Celery
I love fruits and vegetables, and will happily eat ANY of them, with one glaring exception.
I HATE celery.
I really really loathe it. Its presence can ruin a meal for me. For example: the night before Anna was born, I ate salmon at a restaurant. The last bite that I put in my mouth was flavored with celery seed. You know, those little things full of concentrated celery flavor? It filled my mouth and sinuses with their icky presence. And it was the last bite, so I didn't have anything else to follow it with. And, I thought about how that celery laden bite was the last thing I got to eat when I was pushing her out (since wisely they won't let you eat until you're done with labor).
I HATE celery.
Its not the crunchiness.
Its not the long, fibrous strings.
Its that awful, overpowering flavor!
OK, here's another birth+hate of celery story: I went into labor with Colin while waiting to eat at a beautiful buffet line at a friend's wedding. I was so sad not to get to eat that food! Many hours later, the nurse scrounges something for me to eat. All she can find is a sad, old tuna fish sandwich. Well, I like tuna, and I'm starved, so I eat it.
Guess what? Full of celery. That's my reward for pushing out this 8+ lb boy in less than 3 hours from leaving the reception: celery. Grrr...
(BTW, awful day at work today. No way I would have posted if it weren't for NaBloPoMo.)
I HATE celery.
I really really loathe it. Its presence can ruin a meal for me. For example: the night before Anna was born, I ate salmon at a restaurant. The last bite that I put in my mouth was flavored with celery seed. You know, those little things full of concentrated celery flavor? It filled my mouth and sinuses with their icky presence. And it was the last bite, so I didn't have anything else to follow it with. And, I thought about how that celery laden bite was the last thing I got to eat when I was pushing her out (since wisely they won't let you eat until you're done with labor).
I HATE celery.
Its not the crunchiness.
Its not the long, fibrous strings.
Its that awful, overpowering flavor!
OK, here's another birth+hate of celery story: I went into labor with Colin while waiting to eat at a beautiful buffet line at a friend's wedding. I was so sad not to get to eat that food! Many hours later, the nurse scrounges something for me to eat. All she can find is a sad, old tuna fish sandwich. Well, I like tuna, and I'm starved, so I eat it.
Guess what? Full of celery. That's my reward for pushing out this 8+ lb boy in less than 3 hours from leaving the reception: celery. Grrr...
(BTW, awful day at work today. No way I would have posted if it weren't for NaBloPoMo.)
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
In Europe they call it Eee-Kay-Ah, not Eye-Key-Ah
After starting the long overdue laundry, then filling out the forms they sent home for Anna to be tested for gifted and talented (this was really hard! Does she have a large vocabulary? Yes! Give examples. Umm, er, ah, she uses big words all the time, can't think of any at the moment... Does she figure out the why of things? Give examples. Oh, geez, yes, but I can't think of anything specific to write down...) anyway, after a couple of hours of that, Anthony and I succumbed to our temptations and went to the IKEA grand opening today.
We weren't going to go the first day because we knew it would be crowded. People had been camping out since Monday in order to be some of the first ones in the store! But the lure of everything stylish, cheap, and Swedish overtook us and we headed north.
We had to go through the showrooms hastily, because we knew we had to pick up Colin from preschool by 2:30. We marveled at the sofas, kitchen sets, storage, pottery, wine glasses. Before I fainted from hunger, I steered Anthony to the cafe. "We could've eaten at home before we left..." he groused, until he sank his choppers into an amazing ciabbata sandwich with mozzarella and roasted red peppers. I had to get the classic SWEDISH meatballs, which were a little mass produced but delicious nonetheless. We split a slice of apple pie, so cinnamon-y, and drizzled with custard (not limp and wilted whipped cream). Then we rushed out of there, not buying anything this time, and totally skipping large sections of the store.
I told Anthony it was just an appetizer portion of the store we got today. Although some of the items make me think Ikea is stuck in a 70s European time warp, we loved the efficiency, the eye to form and function, the trash cans divided for recycling. Why can't Target and even WalMart be more like that?
I think we will have to go back this weekend. The cafe opens for breakfast before the store opens....
We weren't going to go the first day because we knew it would be crowded. People had been camping out since Monday in order to be some of the first ones in the store! But the lure of everything stylish, cheap, and Swedish overtook us and we headed north.
We had to go through the showrooms hastily, because we knew we had to pick up Colin from preschool by 2:30. We marveled at the sofas, kitchen sets, storage, pottery, wine glasses. Before I fainted from hunger, I steered Anthony to the cafe. "We could've eaten at home before we left..." he groused, until he sank his choppers into an amazing ciabbata sandwich with mozzarella and roasted red peppers. I had to get the classic SWEDISH meatballs, which were a little mass produced but delicious nonetheless. We split a slice of apple pie, so cinnamon-y, and drizzled with custard (not limp and wilted whipped cream). Then we rushed out of there, not buying anything this time, and totally skipping large sections of the store.
I told Anthony it was just an appetizer portion of the store we got today. Although some of the items make me think Ikea is stuck in a 70s European time warp, we loved the efficiency, the eye to form and function, the trash cans divided for recycling. Why can't Target and even WalMart be more like that?
I think we will have to go back this weekend. The cafe opens for breakfast before the store opens....
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Ah-choo!
At my first vet job, I had to take emergency call, wearing that annoying little pager all weekend long. We could get called in any hour of the day or night, if the owner was willing to pay the emergency fee.
One Sunday afternoon my pager went off. The people on the other end had a dog that was violently sneezing. They were extremely worried. It came on their little dog suddenly and harshly. I had only been out of school one year, and really had no idea what I would do for the dog. They insisted she needed relief, so I agreed to see her.
I was greeted by a little Maltese who truly was sneezing a lot. I did my full exam, but didn't find anything. I decided to look up her nose as much as I could with the otoscope. I looked up the left nostril and saw nothing before she jerked away. Then I looked up the right nostril, and got a got a glimpse of a green blade of grass before she pulled back.
"I know why she's sneezing!" I told the owners. But I knew I couldn't get it out with her awake, and general anesthesia would take a long time. I decided to try to give her a sedative for which I had a reversal, a technique I had not tried before.
It worked like a charm. Once the pup was limp, I extracted the long blade of grass with some hemostats. It had gone up over her soft palate - no wonder she was so irritated! I gave the reversal, and moments later she was walking out the door with her owners.
I felt such relief that I'd found the problem and come up with a good solution. So many times the first year I was a veterinarian I felt like every patient was as bad as a stressful final exam, but this was one day when I started to feel competent and confident.
One Sunday afternoon my pager went off. The people on the other end had a dog that was violently sneezing. They were extremely worried. It came on their little dog suddenly and harshly. I had only been out of school one year, and really had no idea what I would do for the dog. They insisted she needed relief, so I agreed to see her.
I was greeted by a little Maltese who truly was sneezing a lot. I did my full exam, but didn't find anything. I decided to look up her nose as much as I could with the otoscope. I looked up the left nostril and saw nothing before she jerked away. Then I looked up the right nostril, and got a got a glimpse of a green blade of grass before she pulled back.
"I know why she's sneezing!" I told the owners. But I knew I couldn't get it out with her awake, and general anesthesia would take a long time. I decided to try to give her a sedative for which I had a reversal, a technique I had not tried before.
It worked like a charm. Once the pup was limp, I extracted the long blade of grass with some hemostats. It had gone up over her soft palate - no wonder she was so irritated! I gave the reversal, and moments later she was walking out the door with her owners.
I felt such relief that I'd found the problem and come up with a good solution. So many times the first year I was a veterinarian I felt like every patient was as bad as a stressful final exam, but this was one day when I started to feel competent and confident.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Sweet Potatoes (for Auntie Norma)
My MIL told me growing up in Germany they would never eat Sweet Potatoes. They disdainfully considered them animal feed, and only ate white potatoes. But now she loves them as much as me.
They are far more nutritious than white potatoes, with beta carotene and fiber. Anna ate so many of them, pureed, as a baby, that she developed a beautiful golden glow. "Is that baby jaundiced?" an ER pediatrician asked us. When we told her why she was so orangey, she said, "You need to stop feeding her so many sweet potatoes!" Why? To make it easier for you to tell if she's jaundiced or not? Forgettaboutit.
Sweet Potato Fries
Cut sweet potatoes into 1/2 inch thick spears. It is not necessary to peel them, but you may want to cut the skinny edges off. Coat with a thin layer of olive oil. Spread in a single layer on a pan and bake at 450 degrees F. Turn after 10 minutes, and bake 10-15 minutes more until done. Sprinkle with salt or seasoned salt mix. They will be a little soggy, but you can still dip them in ketchup!
Roasted Sweet Potatoes
Dice potatoes, toss in olive oil and chopped rosemary, roast in oven stirring occasionally until done. Season with salt and pepper. Sometimes I mix in white potatoes, pearl onions, and/or whole garlic cloves.
Grilled Sweet Potatoes
Fire up the barby! Slice sweet potatoes on the bias into 1/3 inch thick circles. Coat w/ olive oil, S & P. Grill on high, turning after about 5 minutes, when nice grill marks appear. When done will be soft to the touch.
Auntie Norma, you can also roast them then mash them, mix in a touch of nutmeg and the slightest bit of maple syrup or honey, or grate them with white potatoes to make nice potato pancakes.
Just don't make that horrible American creation, Sweet Potato Casserole, with gooey sickly sweet marshmallows on top!
Aahhhh!
Gross!
They are far more nutritious than white potatoes, with beta carotene and fiber. Anna ate so many of them, pureed, as a baby, that she developed a beautiful golden glow. "Is that baby jaundiced?" an ER pediatrician asked us. When we told her why she was so orangey, she said, "You need to stop feeding her so many sweet potatoes!" Why? To make it easier for you to tell if she's jaundiced or not? Forgettaboutit.
Sweet Potato Fries
Cut sweet potatoes into 1/2 inch thick spears. It is not necessary to peel them, but you may want to cut the skinny edges off. Coat with a thin layer of olive oil. Spread in a single layer on a pan and bake at 450 degrees F. Turn after 10 minutes, and bake 10-15 minutes more until done. Sprinkle with salt or seasoned salt mix. They will be a little soggy, but you can still dip them in ketchup!
Roasted Sweet Potatoes
Dice potatoes, toss in olive oil and chopped rosemary, roast in oven stirring occasionally until done. Season with salt and pepper. Sometimes I mix in white potatoes, pearl onions, and/or whole garlic cloves.
Grilled Sweet Potatoes
Fire up the barby! Slice sweet potatoes on the bias into 1/3 inch thick circles. Coat w/ olive oil, S & P. Grill on high, turning after about 5 minutes, when nice grill marks appear. When done will be soft to the touch.
Auntie Norma, you can also roast them then mash them, mix in a touch of nutmeg and the slightest bit of maple syrup or honey, or grate them with white potatoes to make nice potato pancakes.
Just don't make that horrible American creation, Sweet Potato Casserole, with gooey sickly sweet marshmallows on top!
Aahhhh!
Gross!
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Party pooped
I'm pretty tired tonight because we had a nice little "Sip and See" party for a coworker who had a baby. We couldn't have a shower before he was born because she was on bedrest. This way was nicer anyway, because we all got to meet the new little guy.
Anna really liked him!
And to all of you blog readers who were invited but didn't come? The food was delicious and the mimosas were divine...
Anna really liked him!
And to all of you blog readers who were invited but didn't come? The food was delicious and the mimosas were divine...
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Close Call with the Chicken Angel of Death
When Anthony came home from picking up Colin from school on Friday, this is what he saw:
A huge red-tailed hawk sitting on our back fence. Looking at our chickens, with visions of KFC in his head.
To give you some idea how big he was, the boards on the compost bins in front of him are 6 inches across. He was at least 14 inches likely 16 inches tall.
Anthony took these pictures and a short video of him flying away, then checked on our little flock.
We have 5 hens. He saw 2 huddled against the fence. The other 3 seemed gone. Anthony looked around awhile, then finally found 2 huddled inside their nesting box.
Still one hen missing, the "blonde" one.
Under our bamboo bush, Anthony spied a lot of feathers. Then he saw the bird, huddled, still, under the bush. Like Lazarus she got up when he went towards her, and hurried home. In the chicken yard with her mates, she ate and made contented chicken noises. Anthony checked her out, and saw that one of her wings was hurt, but she seemed more stressed being handled than anything, so he left her alone. We figure the hawk must have tried to fly off with her, but she was a little too big and too fiesty, and she slipped his talon grasp.
By the time I got home, it was dark. The chickens go to bed as soon as the sun sets. They act comatose at night, just like in that movie "Chicken Run." So I let her sleep and didn't check her until this morning. She was active and eating, and her lacerations practically unnoticable. I gave her a shot of antibiotics into her breast (biggest muscle mass on a bird, like our gluteus maximus) and told her, "Have a nice day! Watch out for raptors!"
A huge red-tailed hawk sitting on our back fence. Looking at our chickens, with visions of KFC in his head.
To give you some idea how big he was, the boards on the compost bins in front of him are 6 inches across. He was at least 14 inches likely 16 inches tall.
Anthony took these pictures and a short video of him flying away, then checked on our little flock.
We have 5 hens. He saw 2 huddled against the fence. The other 3 seemed gone. Anthony looked around awhile, then finally found 2 huddled inside their nesting box.
Still one hen missing, the "blonde" one.
Under our bamboo bush, Anthony spied a lot of feathers. Then he saw the bird, huddled, still, under the bush. Like Lazarus she got up when he went towards her, and hurried home. In the chicken yard with her mates, she ate and made contented chicken noises. Anthony checked her out, and saw that one of her wings was hurt, but she seemed more stressed being handled than anything, so he left her alone. We figure the hawk must have tried to fly off with her, but she was a little too big and too fiesty, and she slipped his talon grasp.
By the time I got home, it was dark. The chickens go to bed as soon as the sun sets. They act comatose at night, just like in that movie "Chicken Run." So I let her sleep and didn't check her until this morning. She was active and eating, and her lacerations practically unnoticable. I gave her a shot of antibiotics into her breast (biggest muscle mass on a bird, like our gluteus maximus) and told her, "Have a nice day! Watch out for raptors!"
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