Yesterday I made what may be the easiest crock pot recipe I've come across since my favorite Turkey Sausage and Tortellini Stew (have I posted this? Let me know if you want it--EXTREMELY simple). I got it from my sister M and BIL C's wedding cookbook. You're welcome.
- 2-3 frozen chicken breasts
- 1 can tomato sauce
- 1 can diced tomatoes
- peppers of your choice
- 3 different cans of beans
- 1 diced onion
- 1 packet chili seasoning mix
- I also threw in a can of Mexi-corn; I'm sure you could use fresh or frozen
Put the breasts, frozen, in the crock pot. Take a large bowl and mix the other ingredients together, then pour it all over the chicken. Put on LOW for the day (I did about seven hours). The chicken will separate like pulled pork (which you could also use) with just a bit of prodding.
THAT'S IT. It turned out quite delicious.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Update
I think my last post may have had a tone I didn't mean to elicit, so now I'm wondering if I did it unintentionally. I meant for it to sound matter-of-fact, me trying to make myself realize that things are actually pretty good right now even though money's tight. But as a result, I received various e-mails and comments and phone calls of support, so thank you to my lovely friends and family for your endless support. Plus today, for some reason, I feel I made some potentially good inroads to getting a job. I have no specific evidence as to why I feel this way, aside from using LinkedIn to make a connection and looking at another university job. Who knows if either will pan out, but simply making those moves buoyed me immensely. My mother would be so proud of me: both she and DH rock when it comes to making a Plan (you must capitalize The Plan). They're both detail-oriented when it comes to getting things done, so I get it from both sides. This helps because I do not always get those details that seem screamingly obvious to them, like immediately seeing who we know when I apply for a job so I can possibly get my resume noticed above the other hundreds like me, clamoring for work, or making a List of What I Have to Do and What to Do to Make Things Happen.
But I digress. On this crazy Friday night I have successfully managed to cook a great dinner and finish Mockingjay, PLUS get a haircut and have nice-looking salon hair, so the fact that it's 8:40 and I may well go to bed in 20 minutes does not faze me. Did I ever think I'd have this life? Me on one couch, T on the other, excited about the fact that we just got new space heaters for the bedrooms, both with one ear listening for noise on the baby monitor? Hardly. Yet I love the life I have. It would take too long to explain; I just know I'm happy and plan to work very hard at staying that way.
On a side note, the other night I made an amazing Brazilian fish stew (Moqueca) that T pronounced "restaurant-grade quality". Got the recipe from my dad over a year ago and finally got around to it. It's really not hard to make at all, although we have to save it for an "every-so-often meal" in terms of splurging on the fish. If the idea of a slightly spicy, hearty white fish stew revvs your engine, make this dish immediately. It calls for serving with rice, but we didn't bother. Doesn't need it, I think.
Ah, yes, I know I promised Little Man pictures. Forthcoming. And wait until you see J in his Halloween costume (thanks to Toddler Tamer!)....
But I digress. On this crazy Friday night I have successfully managed to cook a great dinner and finish Mockingjay, PLUS get a haircut and have nice-looking salon hair, so the fact that it's 8:40 and I may well go to bed in 20 minutes does not faze me. Did I ever think I'd have this life? Me on one couch, T on the other, excited about the fact that we just got new space heaters for the bedrooms, both with one ear listening for noise on the baby monitor? Hardly. Yet I love the life I have. It would take too long to explain; I just know I'm happy and plan to work very hard at staying that way.
On a side note, the other night I made an amazing Brazilian fish stew (Moqueca) that T pronounced "restaurant-grade quality". Got the recipe from my dad over a year ago and finally got around to it. It's really not hard to make at all, although we have to save it for an "every-so-often meal" in terms of splurging on the fish. If the idea of a slightly spicy, hearty white fish stew revvs your engine, make this dish immediately. It calls for serving with rice, but we didn't bother. Doesn't need it, I think.
Ah, yes, I know I promised Little Man pictures. Forthcoming. And wait until you see J in his Halloween costume (thanks to Toddler Tamer!)....
Monday, October 17, 2011
What I know
Wow, time flies. I didn't realize it had been so long since I last posted; I'll try to do better. However, right now most of my days consist of playing with J, learning the ins and outs of his dietary and digestive habits, and looking for jobs. I love the J part, although the job search gets a bit frustrating.
To that end, here is what I know: I cannot control
...the job market
...why people choose to hire or not hire the way they do
...the weather
...whether people call me back or not
...how long J naps
...the quality of T's day at work
...the health of my loved ones
...the fact that we simply have to spend money on certain things
...certain changes my body has gone through, post-baby
I can control
...how much I pursue a job and the avenues I choose to take to get one
...how I present myself as a candidate
...dressing for warmth, wind, and rain
...making attempts to get together with friends and meet new people
...the general pattern of J's days and what I do within my days
...how I respond to T when he's had a hard day to make it a better one
...positive thoughts and vibes, calling the doctor when J feels bad, trusting my instincts
...my spending on frivolous items, staying within our budget
...working out in tiny increments when I can, eating healthily, accepting the fact that my body's changes have resulted in the most fabulous life change I've ever had the privilege of going through
So I'll do my best to live the Serenity Prayer, really. Not a bad way to go about things, is it?
(Upcoming: lots of pictures of J)
To that end, here is what I know: I cannot control
...the job market
...why people choose to hire or not hire the way they do
...the weather
...whether people call me back or not
...how long J naps
...the quality of T's day at work
...the health of my loved ones
...the fact that we simply have to spend money on certain things
...certain changes my body has gone through, post-baby
I can control
...how much I pursue a job and the avenues I choose to take to get one
...how I present myself as a candidate
...dressing for warmth, wind, and rain
...making attempts to get together with friends and meet new people
...the general pattern of J's days and what I do within my days
...how I respond to T when he's had a hard day to make it a better one
...positive thoughts and vibes, calling the doctor when J feels bad, trusting my instincts
...my spending on frivolous items, staying within our budget
...working out in tiny increments when I can, eating healthily, accepting the fact that my body's changes have resulted in the most fabulous life change I've ever had the privilege of going through
So I'll do my best to live the Serenity Prayer, really. Not a bad way to go about things, is it?
(Upcoming: lots of pictures of J)
Thursday, September 15, 2011
A Quick List of Things I Have Learned to Do One-Handed
This should imply I have the baby occupying the other hand.
I'll post pictures soon...I think J may be going through another growth spurt, so I'm on call a lot lately. He's also rolling over and then becoming royally ticked because he can't roll back or hold up his head well yet, so I do a lot of rescuing. He's like a reverse little bug, except he's stuck on his tummy instead of his back, poor little guy. But he can already use his legs to thrust himself forward. We may be in trouble....
Anyway, here goes (and yes, I'm doing this LEFTY)
P.S. Twelve weeks today! And happy birthday, dear sister M!
I'll post pictures soon...I think J may be going through another growth spurt, so I'm on call a lot lately. He's also rolling over and then becoming royally ticked because he can't roll back or hold up his head well yet, so I do a lot of rescuing. He's like a reverse little bug, except he's stuck on his tummy instead of his back, poor little guy. But he can already use his legs to thrust himself forward. We may be in trouble....
Anyway, here goes (and yes, I'm doing this LEFTY)
- type (obviously)
- eat
- take out and fold laundry
- put a bottle together
- dress J (while holding him in place with the other)
- Push a stroller with the dog on her leash using the other hand (work in progress)
- text
P.S. Twelve weeks today! And happy birthday, dear sister M!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Ten Years Later
I feel a need to write about September 11, 2001. If you don't want to read it, that's fine.
I'd just begun my third year of teaching in a very small town in Virginia. Strangely enough, not two days before that in a class discussion, I had informed my rather sheltered female students that they should count themselves lucky that war had never truly touched their lives. They'd agreed. [I bet they're remembering me saying that, too.] Little did we all know.
I had sent a girl down to the book room to get a class set of a novel we were supposed to begin that day. She came back after a while and told me that nobody was in there; a plane had hit one of the World Trade Centers and all the adults had gone to watch the coverage on TV. In typical student fashion, the girls immediately begged me to go watch as well. In typical teacher fashion, I told them we'd finish our grammar lesson, but then I'd let them go watch because I wanted them to be informed about what was going on in the world. Two minutes later, a voice came on over the intercom and asked us to go to the chapel. We knew then something had happened.
The headmistress informed us all that two planes had hit each of the Twin Towers in New York. Not only that, a third plane had hit the Pentagon. At this one of my teacher friends uttered a scream and ran from the room to call her mother, who worked there. We were in northern VA; a few other girls had family members in that same building. Thankfully, nobody lost anyone in that tragedy. I remember feeling overwhelmed, wanting to know if my sister and friends who lived in NYC were all right, wanting to rush to the phone myself. At that same moment I knew I had to put on a brave face for my students, just teenagers who quite suddenly had war thrust upon their formerly quiet lives. The head of school sent the girls to their dorms or the cafeteria (I don't recall) and asked the teachers to stay.
We made the decision to go on with classes as best we could for some sense of stability, even if we couldn't really teach lessons. We'd resume after the next period technically began. [G and N, am I getting this right? Do you remember?] As we filed out of the chapel, I remember looking at my fellow teacher, Leigh, and not having any words; neither of us did. We simply reached out to each other and hugged tightly for a few long minutes, young twenty-somethings who'd realized how much our world had changed in such a short time. I went to class and for the rest of the day the girls and I began the period talking about what had happened for part of the period, then attempting a lesson to achieve some sense of normalcy. At lunch I rushed home and called my parents, desperate for news of my sister, A. She'd managed to call my dad before the lines flooded and became unusable to tell him she was OK. I remember turning on the TV and watching the coverage by myself, holding my dog Boo close and wondering why this had all happened, how were my other friends, would I know anyone who had died. My friend T called to tell me our other dear friend L was safe, and I thought with a shock that L hadn't crossed my mind in the wake of worrying about my sister. I felt terrible.
Strangely, my sister, abroad in Italy, had called my mother to find out what the hell happened before my mother had even turned on the TV or radio. Her professor told her and her fellow students not to travel in large groups and to say to anyone who asked that they were Canadian. The memorial e-mails began to fly the next day. I remember sitting in my classroom alone the next afternoon after having looked at one particularly poignant group of pictures: stills from the tragedy combined with vigils that had sprung up around the world. I put my head down on the keyboard and finally let myself weep for those who had died so needlessly and for the bizarre act of terrorism fueled by hate and religious zealotry. A student came in to ask for something and I waved her off, unable to even look at her. A day after that, the beep for the intercom came on in the middle of class again and we all froze, only to hear that some teacher had a phone call. We all let out breaths of relief at the mundane announcement, recognizing at the same time how things had changed....never before had we felt fear at that innocuous little noise.
After the dust had literally and figuratively settled, I discovered I knew two girls who had perished: Lindsay Morehouse, a year behind me in high school, and Cat Macrae, a girl I'd known a bit from summers in Southampton. I don't bring up their names to be macabre or just to make a connection; I do it in remembrance of lives cut short. We've all been touched by September 11 in some way. Complacency of living in America--who would dare attack us?--has gone, replaced not by fear, at least in my mind, but realization that we cannot afford complacency of any kind. I don't take things for granted as I used to. I realize how fleeting life can be and how fortunate I am to have people in my life who love me as they do.
So today I'll probably watch some of the coverage, hold my baby tightly, and kiss my husband a bit more than usual. I'll look back on these ten years and what it's brought. And I'll try to be grateful.
I'd just begun my third year of teaching in a very small town in Virginia. Strangely enough, not two days before that in a class discussion, I had informed my rather sheltered female students that they should count themselves lucky that war had never truly touched their lives. They'd agreed. [I bet they're remembering me saying that, too.] Little did we all know.
I had sent a girl down to the book room to get a class set of a novel we were supposed to begin that day. She came back after a while and told me that nobody was in there; a plane had hit one of the World Trade Centers and all the adults had gone to watch the coverage on TV. In typical student fashion, the girls immediately begged me to go watch as well. In typical teacher fashion, I told them we'd finish our grammar lesson, but then I'd let them go watch because I wanted them to be informed about what was going on in the world. Two minutes later, a voice came on over the intercom and asked us to go to the chapel. We knew then something had happened.
The headmistress informed us all that two planes had hit each of the Twin Towers in New York. Not only that, a third plane had hit the Pentagon. At this one of my teacher friends uttered a scream and ran from the room to call her mother, who worked there. We were in northern VA; a few other girls had family members in that same building. Thankfully, nobody lost anyone in that tragedy. I remember feeling overwhelmed, wanting to know if my sister and friends who lived in NYC were all right, wanting to rush to the phone myself. At that same moment I knew I had to put on a brave face for my students, just teenagers who quite suddenly had war thrust upon their formerly quiet lives. The head of school sent the girls to their dorms or the cafeteria (I don't recall) and asked the teachers to stay.
We made the decision to go on with classes as best we could for some sense of stability, even if we couldn't really teach lessons. We'd resume after the next period technically began. [G and N, am I getting this right? Do you remember?] As we filed out of the chapel, I remember looking at my fellow teacher, Leigh, and not having any words; neither of us did. We simply reached out to each other and hugged tightly for a few long minutes, young twenty-somethings who'd realized how much our world had changed in such a short time. I went to class and for the rest of the day the girls and I began the period talking about what had happened for part of the period, then attempting a lesson to achieve some sense of normalcy. At lunch I rushed home and called my parents, desperate for news of my sister, A. She'd managed to call my dad before the lines flooded and became unusable to tell him she was OK. I remember turning on the TV and watching the coverage by myself, holding my dog Boo close and wondering why this had all happened, how were my other friends, would I know anyone who had died. My friend T called to tell me our other dear friend L was safe, and I thought with a shock that L hadn't crossed my mind in the wake of worrying about my sister. I felt terrible.
Strangely, my sister, abroad in Italy, had called my mother to find out what the hell happened before my mother had even turned on the TV or radio. Her professor told her and her fellow students not to travel in large groups and to say to anyone who asked that they were Canadian. The memorial e-mails began to fly the next day. I remember sitting in my classroom alone the next afternoon after having looked at one particularly poignant group of pictures: stills from the tragedy combined with vigils that had sprung up around the world. I put my head down on the keyboard and finally let myself weep for those who had died so needlessly and for the bizarre act of terrorism fueled by hate and religious zealotry. A student came in to ask for something and I waved her off, unable to even look at her. A day after that, the beep for the intercom came on in the middle of class again and we all froze, only to hear that some teacher had a phone call. We all let out breaths of relief at the mundane announcement, recognizing at the same time how things had changed....never before had we felt fear at that innocuous little noise.
After the dust had literally and figuratively settled, I discovered I knew two girls who had perished: Lindsay Morehouse, a year behind me in high school, and Cat Macrae, a girl I'd known a bit from summers in Southampton. I don't bring up their names to be macabre or just to make a connection; I do it in remembrance of lives cut short. We've all been touched by September 11 in some way. Complacency of living in America--who would dare attack us?--has gone, replaced not by fear, at least in my mind, but realization that we cannot afford complacency of any kind. I don't take things for granted as I used to. I realize how fleeting life can be and how fortunate I am to have people in my life who love me as they do.
So today I'll probably watch some of the coverage, hold my baby tightly, and kiss my husband a bit more than usual. I'll look back on these ten years and what it's brought. And I'll try to be grateful.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
September fare
Although I won't have that first day of school, I plan to continue the tradition of the first day of school meal; keep up tradition. Plus as the nights cool off and the air has that hint of fall to it, my mind turns to hearty soups and stews. I love this time of year, fleeting as it is. This one is super easy!
Crock Pot Turkey Sausage and Tortellini Stew
- 6 oz. turkey sausage, sliced (if you don't have the pre-cooked kind, I'd throw it in a skillet until it's just cooked through)
- 2 cans stewed tomatoes
- 1 can french onion soup
- 1-2 cups frozen green beans (I love extra)
- 3 c. water
- 1-2 c. coleslaw mix
- 1 small package cheese tortellini
- grated Parmesan cheese
Throw everything but the tortellini and cheese into a crock pot and stir to mix. 8 hours on low or 4 hours on high. After the time is up, add the tortellini and cook on high for 15 more minutes. Sprinkle Parmesan cheese on top of each serving. Makes about six hearty servings. NOTE: You may want to add more water to thin it out a bit.
It's that easy!
Crock Pot Turkey Sausage and Tortellini Stew
- 6 oz. turkey sausage, sliced (if you don't have the pre-cooked kind, I'd throw it in a skillet until it's just cooked through)
- 2 cans stewed tomatoes
- 1 can french onion soup
- 1-2 cups frozen green beans (I love extra)
- 3 c. water
- 1-2 c. coleslaw mix
- 1 small package cheese tortellini
- grated Parmesan cheese
Throw everything but the tortellini and cheese into a crock pot and stir to mix. 8 hours on low or 4 hours on high. After the time is up, add the tortellini and cook on high for 15 more minutes. Sprinkle Parmesan cheese on top of each serving. Makes about six hearty servings. NOTE: You may want to add more water to thin it out a bit.
It's that easy!
Monday, September 5, 2011
Trade-offs
So I've had a theme in my posts lately, and this one will follow that theme. I think it's because tomorrow is the first day of school and for the first time in a long while, I won't be part of it. No laying out that "first day of school" outfit the night before, getting my lunch ready, making sure I have my class lists and attendance book all set to go. That thrill of a new year, new possibilities in teaching.
But I'm not sad, not really. Well, I do feel a bit bittersweet. However, I have to say that when I watch the kids walk down the path to school and I get to do so in my pajamas while holding my son, who just rolled over for the first time today, I will feel lucky that I have this time, even if it means we're tightly budgeting and a wee bit scared for the future. Any extra minutes I get to spend with J, I consider a gift, something I wouldn't have if I still had a job. So there's not a thing wrong with that.
Plus job hunting has reminded me of my other interests and skills--I've widened my net for possible work environments, and it's caused me to re-examine other passions I hold. While I may not end up in a classroom setting, I can still find a way to use what I love about teaching--reaching out to others and helping them--in another arena. Who knows what the future may hold in that respect? I try to look at it as exciting rather than daunting, even in this hideous economy. Meantime, watching J smile at me and grow a little each day fills me with love and the desire to do all I can for him and our family.
So I look at September as a month of new possibilities anyway, just differently than I'd expected. And I look forward to each day.
But I'm not sad, not really. Well, I do feel a bit bittersweet. However, I have to say that when I watch the kids walk down the path to school and I get to do so in my pajamas while holding my son, who just rolled over for the first time today, I will feel lucky that I have this time, even if it means we're tightly budgeting and a wee bit scared for the future. Any extra minutes I get to spend with J, I consider a gift, something I wouldn't have if I still had a job. So there's not a thing wrong with that.
Plus job hunting has reminded me of my other interests and skills--I've widened my net for possible work environments, and it's caused me to re-examine other passions I hold. While I may not end up in a classroom setting, I can still find a way to use what I love about teaching--reaching out to others and helping them--in another arena. Who knows what the future may hold in that respect? I try to look at it as exciting rather than daunting, even in this hideous economy. Meantime, watching J smile at me and grow a little each day fills me with love and the desire to do all I can for him and our family.
So I look at September as a month of new possibilities anyway, just differently than I'd expected. And I look forward to each day.
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