On Mother's Day and Fiddlehead Ferns

It was Mother's Day yesterday and I have to say it was definitely up there in my top two Mother's Days of all time. I am happy to celebrate the day for myself and for my mother and all the other mothers in the world who came before me but honestly, I have mixed emotions about this day. That's because, when it takes you longer than your original life plan to become a mother (because I don't know if you know this, but apparently, your mind can't control the future) every time Mother's Day comes around what you actually want to do is give it two giant middle fingers and cry into an entire pint of ice cream.

But then my son was born proving to me that even after all the strife and heartache it was all worth it, blah, blah, blah. That said, last year was pretty cool and incidentally, still involved ice cream but with none of the tears, so win-win.

So last year I was a first-time-mom but this year I bought fiddlehead ferns at the Ferry Building in San Francisco so....there is really know connection here. It was the best segue I could come up with. Anyway, HOW COOL ARE THESE THINGS?!?!





According to their Wikipedia page they are "available in the market for only a few weeks in springtime, and are fairly expensive." Since the basket of this very seasonal item was only five dollars, I thought to myself "I'm willing to risk the possibility of disappointment for a mere five bucks." They also seemed easy enough to prepare: saute in butter, olive oil and garlic for 3 to 4 minutes. So, home they came with me.



My father's reaction when he saw them was "What are those? Worms?"

"Um, no Dad. They are ferns." (Because eating the worlds most popular plant found in silk variety is way more normal.)

"And you are going to eat those?"

"We, Dad. We are going to eat those."

The verdict was they were good. Not great, but good. I found them to be a bit bland and need quite a bit of salt. But I blame my novice approach to cooking them more than the actually quality of the ferns and I would absolutely try them again. But really, ferns or not, it doesn't take much for me to find an excuse to go to the Ferry Building.

NOH8

My best friend Brittaney is a lot of things. She is the mother of twins, a full-time high school science teacher, a member of a competitive rowing team and on the side, she is getting her Ph.D. Yes, that is what I said: P-H-D. Among other things, Brittaney is an awesome cook, can knit a mean scarf and tears up any wedding dance floor if given the opportunity. She inspires me daily and is a constant reminder you can do anything you want in life. And yes, there are times when she makes me feel a tiny bit guilty as I think to myself, "Maybe there is something slightly more productive you could be doings besides watching 'Real Housewives of New Jersey' reruns." Like, for example, write an awesome letter like the one she wrote below. You know, in all her free time.

Dear ProtectMarriage,

Thank you so much for requesting that Judge Vaughn Walker's ruling on Proposition 8 be set aside. You are so right, as a gay man who will surely be affected by the decision of Proposition 8, his ruling cannot be taken seriously. However, I think you stopped short of following your claim to its logical conclusion:

1. Judge Walker cannot be allowed to rule on legislation that will directly effect him as he will not be impartial.

2. On your website you state that, "the benefits to society of traditional marriage are overwhelming." Therefore, it can be deduced that the legalization of gay marriage will negate these "benefits."

3. It follows then, that heterosexual couples also have a stake in this debate and, just as Judge Walker, all heterosexual individuals who are either married, or have a desire to one day become married, should be barred from ruling on Proposition 8 as well.

4. Therefore, only asexual judges with neither positive nor negative views about marriage should be chosen to rule over this issue.

5. Although, that still leaves this sticky situation: Since civil rights issues by definition effect society as a whole, no individual that is a member of our society should be allowed to rule on issues of civil rights. After all, they will be affected by their choice and cannot be considered impartial.

Get ready America--we have a lot of legislative rulings to review. Wouldn't it be so much easier if we just required judges to take an oath to uphold the law, regardless of their personal beliefs? I propose something like this:

"I, ______, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will administer justice without respect to persons, and do equal right to the poor and to the rich, and that I will faithfully and impartially discharge and perform all the duties incumbent upon me as _____ under the Constitution and laws of the United States. So help me God."

We could call it something catchy like "United States Code, Title 28, Part 1, Chapter 21, Section 453."

Sincerely,

Brittaney Meyer



My best friend Brittaney and I on vacation together, likely discussing something too inappropriate to repeat.

Let Them Eat Cake.

I don't like cake. Well, that is not entirely true. I mean it is cake so of course I prefer it to say, licking the floor but it's never my first choice for dessert. I guess it is a textural thing. Plus, I am not really a fan of frosting. In fact, I didn't even have a piece of my own wedding cake (Well, aside from the obligatory bite we fed to one another for the picture.) I also remember one year for my birthday asking not for a birthday cake, but for a birthday pie. It was a French Silk pie from Baker's Square and damn it was a good pie. Baker's Square: may you rest in peace. Or "piece" as the case may be. Aaaaannnd...rimshot! Grant thinks I am insane as do most people and I mean, it's cake so, I get their point.

Fast forward twenty some years and it is Charlie's first birthday party. Now, do you want to know who has the most fun at a one-year-old's birthday party? The guests. Do you want to know who has the least amount of fun? The birthday boy! He was overwhelmed, overstimulated and terribly napped deprived. Turns out, there was one thing that could fix that: cake.





"Well, hello there, you look interesting."



"Nom, nom, nom."



He gets his blond hair and blue eyes from his mama but this, he gets from his father.

Start Giving

It actually is this easy. I invite you all to "see the joy of giving."

Dirty Thirty

A few weeks ago I turned 30. It turned out to not be nearly as heinous as I had imagined it would be in my brain. It was odd to me that I cared all of a sudden about turning a certain age since I could look back on my life and remember how thrilled I was to reach my milestones.

Ten was double digits. Sixteen was driving. Eighteen was voting and I don't really remember twenty-one. But something about thirty scared me. I have no reason to be upset about it; I couldn't be happier with my life the way it is. I own a home, I am married to my best friend and I am the mama to a one-year-old who says please and has been sleeping through the night since he was two months old making it nearly impossible to care (or have any right to bitch) about his daily "pooplosions."

Simply put, I think part of it was that this was the first time in my life I starting feeling like I was getting "old." I think the other part of it was even though I am 100% satisfied with my life, I suppose I thought a lot of what I have today was going to come to me sooner than the year before I turned thirty. But, as Grant so lovingly pointed out, between my pathetic and irrational blubbering about my unavoidable mortality, if things had worked out any differently than we wouldn't have the most important part of our lives at all: our boy.

That helped put a lot of things into perspective for me. Well, that and the awesome party he and my family threw for me. The bracelet from Tiffany's didn't hurt either. Hopefully, it was all symbolic of good things to come as I embark on this new decade of my life.

Still, thirty years. Wow. Guess it's time I start acting like an adult.

Gluten Free

About 10 months ago, we started getting a veggie box from the CSA certified organic farm, Terra Firma. It was our family's small but delicious attempt to do something better for ourselves and better for the planet. In theory, we pay the weekly price of the box and that supplies us for our produce for the week. In other words, maybe we can save a little bit of money. Well, that turns out to not be the case most weeks. What ends up happening is I take a look in the box and plan a meal around it which usually means I am at Whole Foods, filling my cart with 14 other things. This is exactly how gorgeous Trumpet Mushrooms and Salmon, (that was $15.99/lb) ended up in my cart this week.

Our weekly farm box is not the only change our family has made. Recently, Grant has decided to try a gluten free diet. He is currently about a week into a two week trial run in the hopes that he will see some improvement in his overall health. I think it's great...for him. I, on the other hand, can't imagine doing it because that would mean no brownies and I love brownies. But, I love my husband more so I am doing my best to be supportive. And even though I do have days when what I really want to do is duct tape him to a chair, sit across from him eating an entire loaf of white bread, my maniacal laughter drowning out the sound of his tears, I too have made some scarificies. This means cringing when I buy things like "Gluten Free" Bisquick and potato and soy based pastas. I mean, come on, gluten free pasta? The 25% of him that is Italian must be cursing his name.

So I've got my salmon, the mushrooms, and some beautiful baby carrots, a leek and some spinach from my veggie box and I know I have the making of something fabulous. Then I am reminded of quinoa. Quinoa is a gluten-free friendly grain that is delicious and good for you. Even though I am in no rush to give up my brownies, I can definitely work with this.



Beautiful carrots from our Terra Firma veggie box.



Chopped leeks



I was so excited to eat my trumpet mushrooms that I forgot to take a picture of how beautiful they were before I chopped them up.



Saute the veggies in butter and olive oil, along with one small diced onion and 2 cloves of chopped garlic until the veggies are tender. Add the chopped spinach at the end and cook until just wilted.



Mix the veggie hash with the cooked quinoa and place the salmon, perfectly seared to medium rare, on top. Gluten free and delicious.

Skating in Milk

My lovely sister-in-law, Allison, told me a story once of a former acquaintance of hers. Her friend was having a day, probably not unlike many other days when you are juggling work, your kids and everything else in between. Upon coming home from this long day which ended with a trip to the grocery store, her very small son thought he would "help" put the two very heavy gallon jugs of milk on the counter. I'll give you one guess to what happened next.

Splash.

"So we skated in it." She told Allison. Her children and her skated in the spilled milk. Because you know why? Sometimes that is all you can do.

I try to remind myself of this story often, especially on days when it feels like I am waste deep in milk. But I was reminded of it the other day but this time in a more literal sense when I got a phone call from my sister.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Question. Do you know the best way to clean up olive oil from the floor?"

"Oh boy, did you spill?"

"Um, yes. I dropped and broke the brand new bottle I just bought from Trader Joe's."

After a quick Google search, I found her an answer. "Online it says, oatmeal. Pour oatmeal on the spill. Leave for 20 minutes, then sweep it up."

"Ok, great. Also, glad I bought oatmeal as well."

I have to say, I was proud of my little sister for remaining so calm. With everything she has going on in her life, including but not limited to bills, rent, school and a demanding little dog named Joey who is just a monocle and a smoking jacket away from being a grouchy old man, an oil spill was the last thing she needed. And even though now, what she did need was a new bottle of olive oil and tub of oatmeal, the bottom line was there are important things in life than crying over spilled, err, oil. Although, I don't recommend actually skating in it; that is a head injury and a trip to the ER waiting to happen.