The Complaint Challenge: Christmas Edition

Our holiday season was festive and low-key. We went on a nighttime adventure to Filoli Gardens to check out their lights, which were impressive and beautiful. Wyatt and I went ice skating enough days in a row over the break that my right butt cheek was more tired than my left because of always going clockwise.

And of course there was Christmas. More specifically, Christmas Breakfast. This year, we went with Wyatt’s suggestion: Brownie Sundaes.

They were terrific. We used the Sour Cherry Frozen Yogurt recipe from our ice cream book. We substituted dried sour cherries that we rehydrated in a pan with some water. I have no idea if we used too many cherries or what, but the taste was bold, very cherry, and we liked it. This is the brownie recipe we chose, and we included chopped almonds.

The Complaint Challenge continued through Christmas, which, you’d think would not pose much of a hurdle, right? But the gift Wyatt was most hoping for was a remote-controlled airplaine. And he got it! And we took out out around 11 a.m. Christmas morning, to Crissy Field, with Betty in her new Doggy Parton pink pearls—real family outing style. I took Betty for a walk while Marc and Wyatt got the plane ready to fly, and about 20 minutes later, I looked behind me to see they were chasing after me and trying to get my attention. You see, the first time the plane took off, it really took off. It soared high on the wind, way up into the trees far beyond the buildings along the road to Parts Unknown, never to be seen again.

I’m pretty sure Wyatt was some combination of mad, sad, furious, angry, frustrated, disappointed and pissed-off. But he didn’t complain once! When we got home, Marc ordered the first and last replacement plane, which has not yet been flown because of the rain.

The rain! We have gotten so much rain. Which is great! California really needs rain. But also, the rate at which the rain has been falling is faster than our systems are able to handle. On New Year’s Eve, we had a little flood at ground level. It was a mess that we managed to fully clean up by the end of New Year’s Day thanks to a group effort around finding fans to buy (an hour away), dehumidifiers, towels, and ripping stuff up. The sandbags I filled and put into place that Tuesday, along with the plumber’s confirmation that our drain is good to go, have given me some peace of mind that we will stay dry as the storms continue, and when things calm down, we can get the repairs done.

So, who complained? Not one of us. Not one! This is not to say the experience was at all fun, low-stress, totally collaborative, or that no one snapped at anyone. But there were no complaints.

When we set up this challenge, we did not put in a contingency for a tie. And that’s what we ended up with. Each of us used 2 of our 3 lives, so we were even. As a result, everyone kept their money.

Wyatt proposed that for the coming year, we keep 2 jars. In one jar, every time Marc or I complain, we put in a dollar and Wyatt will get that jar. In the other jar, every time Wyatt complains, he puts in a dollar, and Marc and I get that jar. We asked why not a family jar where we do something fun (like go out for dinner or something) with the money, and Wyatt had strong objections: “That makes no sense. You LIKE going out to dinner. So you’ll just complain more so there’s more money to do that. It’s the same as the 'swear jar’ some people do which has never made sense to me …”

So far, I owe Wyatt a dollar.

Puzzling Situations

I hate doing puzzles.

Wyatt also hates doing them.

Marc, on the other hand, loves doing puzzles. Wyatt and I have tried doing puzzles with Marc, and his puzzle love has not rubbed-off on us. We’ve tried puzzling with Marc individually and together, and at no time was the activity fun. I mean, Marc had fun, but I think that’s because he loves doing puzzles and enjoys spending time with us.

After one of my attempts at working on a puzzle with Marc (it ended in my reading my phone and doing a couple of rounds of knitting), he suggested that maybe I didn’t really like doing puzzles. I admitted to him that I didn’t. I also told him that I knew it was weird, because I’m supposed to like doing puzzles. After all, it’s an easy, fun, low-tech, classic activity where you can visit with people and work on a project together. Despite (because of?) all those charming qualities, I found them kind of annoying. He basically gave me a slightly sad shrug as he fitted in another piece, and I gave myself a pass to stop pretending to do puzzles anymore.

This weekend, though, Wyatt discovered that St. Nicholas had brought him a 100-piece magnetic puzzle of the world. You’d think St. Nick would have known better than to give that kind of gift. “I have NO IDEA why St. Nicholas gave me this annoying present. He should know I HATE DOING PUZZLES,” Wyatt groaned as he flopped onto the sofa. The things I could say in response ran through my head in quick succession. Things along the lines of, “You should be grateful you got anything!” Or, “Maybe St. Nicholas lost track of the date until he was at Whole Foods and did his best under the circumstances!” Or even the totally optimistic lie, “You’ll grow to like puzzles if you keep trying them!” But instead, I said, “You know, I bet he gave you that puzzle because you’re working on continents at school, and when you’re done with the puzzle, you’ll have a MAP!” “He could have just given me a MAP INSTEAD,” Wyatt retorted.

Right. And what was I thinking foisting my wish for puzzle love on a kid who hates them, too? It occurred to me that he would have preferred the ugly cactus Christmas tree ornament on the “Last Minute Gifts!” table instead of a map that required assembly.

I sighed, “Yeah, I totally know what you mean. I hate doing puzzles, too.” Wyatt was still frowning deeply, as he did his best to become one with the sofa. I went on, sort of distracted as I cleaned-up the lunch dishes, “I have an idea. We both hate doing puzzles, right? I wonder what would happen if we did this puzzle together. Do you think two people hating doing puzzles would mean we’d extra hate doing this one? Or would the outcome be different? I have no idea. Should we find out?” He said, “Two people hating puzzles would mean they extra hate it doing it together. That’s OBVIOUS.” “Maybe,” I said, “or maybe not.”

Later in the afternoon, when Wyatt and Marc had returned from getting their hair cut, Wyatt called to me from the kitchen. “Hey, Mom. Do you want to help separate these puzzle pieces into edges and middle pieces?”

How could I decline an invitation from my fellow puzzle hater to start working on a puzzle? “I’ll be right there,” I said.

We did the puzzle without stopping. The whole time, we talked about how IN GENERAL, we HATE doing puzzles. They’re so annoying and boring! But this one? We hated it less. Why? Who knows! Maybe because it stuck to the side of the refrigerator? We pieced together South America, Africa, ocean, and we mused some more. Maybe we didn’t hate doing puzzles with each other? Maybe we LIKED doing puzzles with each other. Maybe it was too early to tell? Wyatt remarked how sorry he was he had said “the mean things” about the puzzle earlier, because they weren’t actually true. I gave him one of those verbal shrugs as we kept working, and then I said, “I think this project is just one of those things that reminds us we always have a chance to change our mind, any day, any time.”

Sometimes it’s best to embrace the fickle. 

Baking with StemChef

As torn as I often feel about social media, such good, real life things can come of it when we use it well. Good things like making a new friend.

My new friend, Dr. Ashwini Bhandiwad, is the CEO of StemChef. Ashie creates kits to teach kids between the ages of 5 and 10 about the science that happens every day in the kitchen. Ashie and I met after she posted in a Facebook group where entrepreneurial women support one another. She asked for volunteers to beta test her first StemChef kit, and of course I volunteered. (Disclosure: In exchange for our time and feedback, StemChef provided us a free kit. Wyatt and I had so much fun with the experiments that I decided to write about StemChef in a blog post.)

Ashie came to our house one Saturday afternoon, kit in hand, and while Wyatt and I worked on the kit, Ashie and I quickly discovered how much we have in common. We share a love for Science & Cooking—both the online class and the concepts in real life. We have kids who are about the same age. We also think part of bringing up end educating children must include leading them to observe and interact with the everyday world in meaningful ways. A great place to engage is in the kitchen. One of my favorite sayings of Ashie’s is, “Where there is food, there is science,” and her recent TEDx talk on that subject is so inspiring.

I didn’t know how we’d contribute in any meaningful way to StemChef’s kit development. To be honest, I was thinking more selfishly when I signed us up: we’d get to do something fun for free. But I have to say, I’m delighted to have actually helped. The scientific principle the first kit explores is pH. One of the experiments involves making cupcakes with the ingredients provided in the kit and then cooking the cupcakes speedily in a microwave. But, we had two issues: (1) we are gluten-free, and  (2) we are microwave-free because after our microwave broke a few years ago, we didn’t replace it. Ashie was undaunted, though. With her guidance, we found work arounds, and she decided to include what we did as part of her instructions.

Here are some of the photos taken while we were testing the kit. We made a volcano, played with pH testing using natural dye, and made cupcakes. It was a super fun way to introduce Wyatt to acids and bases and how they contribute to a more delicious existence.

StemChef is now shipping their kits nationwide! You can learn more about the kits and how to order by visiting the website.

Sweater Weather

This February and March, I knit my most complicated project yet: a Channel Cardigan.

You see, I had serious envy over Wyatt's really scrumptious, cabled, purple Arlo cardigan, and the Arlo pattern doesn't come in adult sizes.

The Channel Cardigan was my first ever group knitting project. My friend Maja, who was in search of an excellent cardigan, suggested we choose a pattern and do it together as a knit-a-long (or KAL). I told my friend, Sarah, about it, and she suggested the pattern. We three then connected over group text where we created the perfectly supportive-yet-competitive virtual knitting environment. Imagine the Great British Baking Show, but with yarn, no Brits, and spanning a few months in different locations. We had one American and one Australian in San Francisco, and one American in South Carolina, each of us with varying demands on our time and facing different construction challenges. We shared our progress photos, asked and responded to questions about the pattern, teased each other for getting too far ahead, fell behind, caught-up, took the lead, sought the others' counsel on whether a particular error really mattered enough to go back and correct it, and occasionally, we veered delightfully into non-knitting related life stuff. We even had a modern knitting circle by FaceTime one afternoon in February. This project was truly everything good.

Truthfully, there's no way I would have finished my cardigan by now without this KAL. In classic me fashion,  I decided to substitute yarn. I wanted to use Cestari merino yarn instead of Brooklyn Tweed. And because I am impatient with shipping and starting projects, I bought the entire sweater's worth of yarn at once instead of just buying one skein to see how it would work. Maja, on the other hand, smartly went with the recommended yarn. Sarah already had her yarn (which also ended up being a great choice). My substitution decision cost me dearly in hand strain. To even get close to the size stitches I needed, I had to knit thick-ish puffy yarn on teeny tiny needles (or, for those of you who speak yarn, I was knitting woolen-spun, worsted weight yarn on size 1 and 2 needles) and even then, I had to make adjustments to the pattern as I went (my gauge was still a little too big). Live and learn? I doubt it.

I mean, the cardigan fits perfectly, so I haven't really learned my lesson. The fact that it fits so well kind of feels like a miracle. And when I look at the stitch pattern, I think, "Someone who is a yarn magician must have made this!" Then a vague, achy twinge in my right hand and elbow reminds me that I AM THAT YARN MAGICIAN. But the best part of this project, by far, was working on it with Maja and Sarah. I love how we used technology to bring us together and turn the slow crafting of our individual cardigans into a shared experience of successes (and the occasional screw-up).

Also! We have been cooking pretty much everything out of the cookbook My Darling Lemon Thyme (Maja's pick, and I finally bought my own copy). It's a vegetarian, gluten-free cookbook, and it's spectacular. Here are photos of some of the things we have made:

Little Chicken

"Mom. I showed Jim the yellow chicken I knitted and you know what he said? He said he'd give me five dollars for it. Can you even BELIEVE that? He only offered me five dollars. Why did he do that? I worked on it for SO MANY WEEKS. I wouldn't sell it to him for less than...NINETY dollars."

Ah, the value of craft. It warms my knitter's heart that Wyatt fully grasps that crafts take time and energy, and that makers should be compensated well for their work. We will discuss market forces another time. Meanwhile, our neighbor, Jim, will have to hunt for a bargain chicken elsewhere.

This little yellow chicken was Wyatt's first knitting project at school. I (obviously) wasn't there to document the process, but this knitting project is even easier than the bunny. The steps are: (1) knit a square with yellow yarn, (2) sew the square on two sides to make a triangle., but leave a little space for stuffing, (3) stuff the chicken, (4) close the stuffing hole (5) get brown yarn and make one stitch for each eye, (6) get orange yarn and do three stitches for the beak.

Looking at crafts from a time, materials, and skills perspective with a child who understands how long it takes to make things means we start from the idea that handmade things should actually be expensive and possibly out of our price range. It means that when we see amazing things, like this wooden village with a candle-powered propeller that costs a small fortune, our conversation goes something like, "Wow! This village is amazing. Look at all the careful work that they did and all the details. We can't spend that much money, but it is really beautiful."

Crafts, cost and value reminds me of the trivets from last year. We're not working on anything nearly as complicated or time-consuming this year. I don't actually have a plan for homemade gifts yet, but every week that goes by means whatever we do will be that much more simple. We can always make some more paper lanterns.

Speaking of lanterns, over the weekend, we went to the German International School's Lantern Walk. It was lovely! While we were there, Wyatt made a lantern out of half of a plastic container that had holes punched in the side to attach a mini LED on a pipe cleaner and a beaded pipe cleaner handle. Some Elmer's glue, tissue paper, ribbon, and stickers made a beautiful, sturdy, and portable lantern.

I don't have a new recipe to share this week, but we recently tried two new (to us) products! The first is a gluten-free gochu jang from Sinto Gourmet. I've been looking for a gluten-free gochu jang for over a year, and this one is amazing. I found it in the refrigerated section of Whole Foods.

The second thing we tried was Beyond Meat burgers. Two out of the three of us thought they were amazing. I, however, was not a fan. I thought the burgers smelled weird out of the package, cooking did not improve the smell, and I could only eat half of mine.  Neither Marc nor Wyatt noticed the smell and said they'd eat them all the time. The ingredient list, however, is pretty long and sciencey-processed-sounding, so "sometimes" might be a better call than "all the time."

I prepared the burgers according the the package instructions (down to using a thermometer to confirm they reached at least 165 degrees before I served them). We also really did them up fancy with condiments and toppings.

Fruit Butter, Misunderstandings, and Awkwardness

This week, I'm turning my post format upside-down. Trust me. Fruit butter takes a long time to simmer, so we'll start with it first. 

First, you get the Concord Grape Butter. I got the idea from Food In Jars' Instagram feed. These preserves taste and smell more like grapes than anything I've ever had. They are the grape soda (or gum) of your childhood, only way better.

Basically, we took all the grapes, washed them, cooked them on their stems until the fruit was soft, pulled out the stems (they were hot! and the juice stained my fingers for days! good thing I'm so selfless!), Wyatt put the grapes through the food mill to get rid of seeds and skins, and then I cooked down the puree until it was fruit butter consistency. I added a couple of tablespoons of sugar until it tasted right. We funneled the butter into jars and then processed the jars in the water bath. (The basic formula for fruit butter is here, and I've got plum butter simmering in the slow cooker as I type.)

Now that you know about grape butter (I mean, I had no idea, did you?), I feel like it's fair to share my recent thoughts on showing up in life.

I'm realizing that talking with Wyatt about race, justice, and fairness is, on one hand, completely necessary, and on the other hand, impossible for me to get right all the time. (And who doesn't like to get things right?) For example, last weekend, we were making dinner and Wyatt was, for the first time in his life, in charge of frying fritters. He was focused and attentive, and there was a lot of frying to do, so he was there for awhile. Over the sizzling pans and the whirring exhaust fan, we were discussing fairness and classmates being kind (or not so kind) at school, and I was trying to make the point that we (and he) should always be ready to help others. As I was saying something like, "...so Wyatt, if we see someone being hurt, or treated badly, it's our job to check in with the person so we can help them, stick up for them..." he cut me off and declared with a degree of solemnity I didn't know was possible, "Yes. I know. Stand up for them. And I could get killed for it."

Marc and I looked at each other, not sure how to react. I did a quick mental sift and suddenly realized Wyatt must have been referring to the (totally inspiring) profiles in Rad Women Worldwide where women had (1) stood up for their beliefs and (2) had been killed for it. Doing our best on-the-fly-repair-job, Marc and I went on to talk about how getting killed for your beliefs can be an outcome (I mean, obviously), but it's a very unusual outcome in our community. Most importantly, getting killed for standing up for his beliefs and for others is not a thing Wyatt needs to worry about, at all. I wonder how much of all this he grasped. Marc and I later agreed that we'd pay better attention to and talk with Wyatt about examples we noticed where we, or someone else, supported others in the course of everyday life.

But that wasn't the only misunderstanding that weekend. On Saturday, Wyatt was listening on the kitchen speakers to his beloved cassette where Diana Ross sings "Workin' Overtime." He asked, "Mom. Diana Ross has brown skin, right? Was she enslaved?" I said, "No, slavery was over before her time, but her..." He cut me off, "Her ancestors probably were enslaved?" "Yes," I said, "You've got it. Why do you ask?" He responded, "Well, because she's singing, 'I'm working ALL THE TIME.' So it made me think she was enslaved.'" Of course it did. Everything and everyone is impossibly old when you're six; 1863 was a long, long time ago, but so was 1989. I explained the words were actually "working overtime," and we discussed how that was different from "all the time," and from slavery.

And then this weekend? I got the awkward-over-thinker award. We were headed to a baseball game! I realized after we had invited Wyatt's big-kid-buddy from school to join us that we might be at the park in time for the national anthem, and since we'd have someone else's child with us, I had better find out where his family was on the anthem protest issue. So I texted his mom. I felt a super awkward, and in the end, we missed the anthem anyway.

What's my point? My point is that we have to actually show up in life. And part of showing up is feeling awkward (ugh), getting stuff wrong (which sucks), learning to do better (yay), and then showing up again, and again (no, it doesn't end). Humanity needs me, and it needs you. Just these last few weeks have shown this fact over and over again, from devastating hurricanes, to the United States' failure adequately to aid Puerto Rico, to the terrorism in Las Vegas, to the United States' continued preference for the Second Amendment over human lives.

Yes, it's a lot. And this week? I didn't feel like volunteering in the garden like Wyatt and I usually do. But as Wyatt said, "Of course I want to go. Why wouldn't we go?" So we showed up and did our work. As always, it was worth it.

How to Sew a Pillow Sham

Last Tuesday, Wyatt and I headed back to San Francisco after more than a week in Massachusetts. While we were gone, we enjoyed two fireworks shows, a parade, family, friends, the beach, ice cream almost every day, a water balloon fight, and bumper boats. Coming home to Marc was so good, but the transition back to life as usual was jarring.

"What are we going to DO today, Mom?" Wyatt asked me on Wednesday morning. "Go to the grocery store!" I replied with forced enthusiasm that fooled neither of us. Wyatt buried his face in a pillow and whined about how much he didn't want to go. I went on, "I was also thinking, maybe you'd want to learn to use the sewing machine. We could make you new pillow shams." "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously, as he rolled half his face up from the pillow. "Like I can do the sewing? Myself? And how do we make them? Out of what? Mom. Can I sew them?"

I'm sure there are simpler first sewing projects we could have done. But his bed needed new shams to go with his new quilt.  I know I've said this before, but my aunt's quilting is truly amazing. She really outdid herself on this rainbow quilt project, too. So many seams, so many quilting lines, and such impeccable color choices for each block. Wyatt's rainbow quilt turned out to be everything he had dreamed it would be when he chose the pattern. But as you can see, his old shams didn't even come close to matching.

(Summer of Craft to the rescue!)

After going to the grocery store ("First, we have to do the stuff we HAVE to do..." UGGGHH), we stopped at Discount Fabrics. Wyatt perused all the fake fur and flashy spangly sparkles, but ultimately chose emerald green cotton for one sham and dark purple cotton for the other. I almost told him that people usually have shams that match, but I'm so glad I caught myself before I did. I mean, what a dumb thing to say to a kid, never mind to a kid with a new rainbow quilt.

There are so many online tutorials to make pillow shams. If you want a tutorial, check out this one or this one. I was going to follow one of these, but then deciphering the instructions started to suck the joy out of the project for me. As I quickly learned, I can't read a tutorial and manage a six-year old's first sewing project at the same time without feeling grumpy and shouty. I opted to use Wyatt's old shams as a guide.

We bought one yard of green and one of purple, and both fabrics were 60 inches wide. We washed and dried the fabric, and Wyatt ironed it. In addition to learning where to point what I named the iron's "cow pusher" (I just remembered it's actually called a cow catcher on a train, but whatever, the train connection gave ironing new life), he learned what it smells like when you scorch fabric. We decided even though you can sort of see the scorch marks, it's not that bad.

Measuring the squares.

Laying out the two pieces.

Pinning the two pieces.

Sewing! Finally!

Pressing the seam open.

Laying out the sham to determine where the fold should be.

Just before stitching the seam on the top and bottom of the rectangle.

For each standard-sized sham, I cut one rectangle that was 21" tall and as long as the fabric. Then, I cut another smaller rectangle that was 21" tall and about 2/3 as long as the pillow. Wyatt and I pinned the two rectangles together and seamed them with a 1/2" seam allowance. That seam falls at the pillow's end. Wyatt pressed it open. Next, we ironed, pinned, and hemmed the raw edges that would form the opening for the pillow. The next step was pinning the final two seams of the sham. I wish I'd had more overlap at the opening (it seems like about 5" is ideal), but you get what you get when you "measure" using mostly your eyeballs. Once again, Wyatt and I concluded it was fine. Wyatt stitched these seams as well.

If you do this project, you may want to trim the seam allowances (we didn't). Turn the sham right-side-out, paying good attention to the points of the corners, and you're done (unless you feel it needs more ironing). The second sham took us about 90 minutes to make. The first one was closer to 2 hours. Your mileage may vary.

My friend, Pam, who writes a blog called Mathy Moments, came to mind as I was working on this project with Wyatt. After all, this project is FULL OF FUN MATH. (Please visit Pam's blog if you think "fun math" sounds impossible, or if fun and math are already synonymous to you. She's got you covered, either way.) With Wyatt, I kept things conceptual and simple, and I didn't get hung up on precision. Too many details would have derailed our momentum and postponed dinner indefinitely. Still, we talked about shapes, what seams we should do in which order, how we should arrange the seams and hems so they'd all be on the wrong side of the fabric, how the sham we were copying was made, how to measure things, how to get straight lines, and how drawing straight lines on on fabric (instead of paper) makes things trickier. Wyatt also got to experience how you kind of have to counter-steer a sewing machine to find a straight line after you've lost it, and how if you use more fabric for your seams, the pocket for the pillow will be smaller.

I think the big lesson, though, is that using a sewing machine is super fun, and enjoying new pillow shams you made yourself (that also happen to match your new clothes from Primary) is pretty great too.

Ted's scarf by Benjamin.

How to Knit a Bunny

It has been awhile since Wyatt has participated in the craft exchange with Benjamin.

On his last turn, in February, Benjamin sent Wyatt the most incredible felted owl in a nest. And then, for Wyatt's birthday, he sent Wyatt a teddy bear scarf he had knitted, and he also sent him a copy of Testing the Ice: A True Story About Jackie Robinson.

Since about April, Wyatt has been focused on learning to knit. For anyone who has ever tried to learn to knit, you know how slow and frustrating it can be. Even with the rhyme ("In through the front door, running 'round the back, peeping through the window, and off jumps Jack!"), stuff happens that you truly hate. Stitches get too tight, your head starts to hurt, stitches drop, you find that you have wrapped yarn in weird ways that make no sense, and sometimes, you want to scream, "STUPID JACK!!" and then hurl the whole mess across the room.

But, eventually, it gets easier. Soon, you can do two rows without stopping, and some days you can do four. And eventually, after a couple of months, you find that you are so close to having a square, you just keep knitting until your eyes cross and you're there! It's a square! Then you can wander around the house with your knitted square for a bit, hugging it, pulling it by its yarn tail and pretending it's a pet, all the while celebrating that it's a square, free and safely cast-off from the needles.

But then? It's time to make it into a bunny. (I learned how to make a bunny from the parent craft circle.) Here's how we did it.

You'll need: Bunny-colored yarn, white yarn, knitting needles, a blunt tapestry needle, stuffing fluff, a smallish bunny-butt-sized flat stone, and if you want a face, buttons and some pink yarn for a nose.

Knit a Square:

Take your bunny-colored yarn and appropriately sized needles for that yarn to get a nice cushy square. Wyatt has been using some pretty fluffy, low-twist yarn and size 10 needles. Cast on 20 stitches. Knit row after row, maintaining your stitch count of 20, until you have a square. You can check for square-ness by folding a lower corner up to the needle. When you see one triangle with no left-over rectangle, you'll know you have a square. (Or you can use a ruler and measure until the sides are even.) Cast off your square and dance around!

Make the Bunny's Head and Ears:

Take some masking tape and make a triangle like this. Thread a tapestry needle with a length of yarn about 8 inches longer than the perimeter of the triangle. If you can, choose a yarn that constrasts a little bit with the bunny yarn you've used so that you can see your stitches. Using a running stitch (over-under-over-under with your needle), and starting at the left corner, leave a 3- to 4-inch tail and stitch along the outer edge of masking tape from the left corner up to the top, and down the other side of the triangle. Tear off the two pieces of tape where you have just stitched, then stitch across the hypotenuse on the inside of the remaining piece of masking tape.

When your last stitch meets your first stitch, you're done with the triangle. Take hold of both ends of the yarn and gently pull the yarn so that you cinch the triangle together. Work the stitches and fabric gently because you don't want to break the yarn!

The head will appear at the center of the triangle, and the ears will take shape from there. It's so fun when the head appears! Before you cinch it super tight, stuff it with fluff so it's sort of firm. Then take the remaining yarn and stitch the stuffing hole closed.

Make the Bunny's Body:

Using an overhand (or whip stitch), close the bunny's spine. Stuff the bunny's body with fluff so it's sort of firm. Drop in the flat, bunny-butt-sized stone. Using a running stitch, go around the edge of the hole, leaving a tail of yarn at the beginning. Cinch the hole closed, pulling gently. Tie it and stitch the hole shut.

Make the Bunny's Tail:

Make a pompom. I hate making pompoms so much. There are a ton of online tutorials for how to make pompoms. Have a look around and see which one you like. (We go with the two cardboard donuts technique. ) Maybe you'll love making pompoms. Let me know if you do, because I am in favor of anyone but me making them. Trim the pompom to the size you like and then stitch the pompom to where the tail should be.

Finishing:

Weave in any loose ends and trim them. If you want, stitch on buttons for eyes and a little triangle for the nose.

Take some pictures of your bunny before you send it to your friend. Finally, cast on a new square to start a bunny for yourself.

Cherry Jam

Happy Fourth of July!

While I don't have anything to share related to white or blue, I do have something red for you. Cherry jam! (Which reminds me. If you ever pit cherries for jam or anything else, definitely wear something really dark or a full coverage apron.)

The thing about our successful marmalade making experience is that now, when we see lots of seasonal fruit, we think "JAM!"

And so it was with the cherries at the market the other week. But because we know our limits with a paring knife, we held off buying the cherries just long enough to acquire a cherry pitter. Once we had that, we were ready to go. We bought five bags of cherries (each bag was just shy of a pound, I think, but I didn't weigh them).

Wyatt was initially super excited to start pitting. "So, what, I'll have to pit like 100 cherries?" he asked. "Something like that," I responded. Pitting five bags of cherries is a big job. Wyatt did about half the cherries, and I helped when his hands got tired. We also played cherry jam factory, taking turns being the person who pulls off the stems for the person working the pitter. Another trick that helped us get it done was that we spread the pitting out over two days. I stored the pitted cherries in a covered container in the refrigerator until we were ready to start cooking them.

As usual, I did not attempt jam making without the assistance of Marisa McClellan (of Food in Jars). I used this recipe, but because I could only find sweet cherries, (where are sour cherries sold in San Francisco?) that's what we used. And while doubling jam recipes can often end in disappointment, I decided to risk it and do 1.5 times the recipe because that's the amount of cherries we had.

The jam turned out beautifully. And Wyatt is now very good at judging just how much jam will fit in the jar.

I'm also continuing to read, learn, and cook from Salt Fat Acid Heat. The instructions for frittata (Limit yourself to six ingredients, including eggs, oil, and salt. Choose something creamy, something sweet, and something green.) led to one of our best frittatas so far. Wyatt charred and peeled some sweet red peppers peppers, I sliced and pre-cooked new potatoes in oil, and I also chopped and sauteed some greens. I guess technically, we used seven ingredients because of the chive flower garnish, but no matter. It was terrific. Somehow I had gotten in the habit of starting every single frittata with an onion, and it was really nice to get out of that rut.

From Dye Workshop to Shawl

Check out this shawl I just finished. Isn't it pretty? Aren't the colors great? The pattern is Hiraeth (with a couple of modifications because I wanted to use as much of my 1000 yards of fingering-weight yarn as possible). And the yarn? Well, I DYED IT MYSELF! Maybe not all by myself, exactly. I also had lots of guidance, thanks to a workshop hosted by Sincere Sheep and Kira K. Designs at Sincere Sheep's studio in Napa.

The workshop was super fun and incredibly instructive. To be clear, I am all for DIY experimentation when it comes to art or craft. But with natural dyes and nice yarn? I want to feel like I might actually get a result I want. Left to my own devices, the threat of disappointment looms large. I love to learn from Brooke (of Sincere Sheep). Her dyeing set-up is terrific, her knowledge of natural dyeing is astonishingly deep, and she infuses her spirit of generosity into every aspect of her teaching. I chose this particular workshop because gradient yarns have always confounded me. I didn't know how they were made, and I didn't know how best to knit with them. Now I know those things, and more.

Here are some photos from the workshop, Natural Dyeing Gradient Yarns.

We started the day by looking at all our color choices, and then we sketched how we thought we wanted our colors to go, from one end of the knitted blank to the other. For gradient yarns, which are yarns whose colors change over the length of the yarn, you can get that drifting color effect by starting with a "blank." A blank is yarn that has been knitted (usually by machine) into a long rectangle. You then dye the rectangle of yarn (which has also been mordanted, so the dye will stick), and when dyeing is complete and the blank is dry, you unravel the blank into a ball from which you can knit. Brooke guided us as to which dyes to use and in which order to achieve our desired effects. I chose to do gradients of green, from light to dark, on one blank (I used fustic and indigo). On the other, I went with greys and purples (I used fustic, logwood, tannin, and iron--I think. I can't find my notes!)

I thought these two skeins would look pretty marvelous together, but I didn't have an exact project in mind.

Once home, I let the thoroughly rinsed yarn dry, and I gleefully unraveled (ripping with abandon!) the blanks and wound them into cakes.

I then began searching for a pattern that I thought would work. I looked for fingering-weight yarn patterns that would use about 1000 yards of yarn. Eventually, I chose Hiraeth, and I modified the pattern as I went along to use more of the green skein and then to not run out of the purple one. I had to rip out some rows after realizing I had miscalculated, but it wasn't that bad.

I finished this project in record time. It is my first shawl. For all the knitting I have done, I have steered clear of shawls mostly because I have no idea how to wear them so that they look good and I don't feel silly. But enough insecurity! 

I think I now understand why so many knitters are shawl-obsessed. Shawls like this one can be really beautiful and easy and meditative to knit. They can also feel interminable, but that's not really something special about shawls. Also, the things that can drive you to distraction when knitting a sweater or a hat, like gauge, size and fit, are not really important in a shawl. As long as you're pretty close to the gauge the pattern requires, you'll have enough yarn and your shawl will drape and fit just fine. Low stress knitting at its finest.

I love a project like this one that teaches me things. In addition to learning to appreciate shawls, I now also know how gradient skeins are made and how to knit something lovely with them.

My New Favorite Cookbook

... is Salt Fat Acid Heat.

I suspected it would become my new favorite after I volunteered to test recipes for it over a year ago. Marc, Wyatt and I agreed that all of the recipes we got were so good, I should save them to reference and use again and again until the book was published. So that's what I did: Tuna confit and sauces galore!

I bought my copy of the book from Omnivore Books a couple of months ago. This weekend, Wyatt and I headed over to Omnivore to meet Samin Nosrat and Wendy MacNaughton, and to get our copy signed by both of them.

We were a little late, and the shop was packed. So we waited outside and met some lovely people and their dogs, including Willy the Terrier (who did circus tricks for us) and Tess the Bulldog (who is so sweet, has one eye, and still manages to do all the important things in life). Our sidewalk status meant we didn't get to hear Samin and Wendy's talk. But never mind! We figured we'd just wait in line for the book signing. But like I said, it was packed in the shop, and after we had been in line for awhile, the line got reconfigured. Suddenly, we found ourselves totally OUT of the line, so I asked a woman who was still IN line if we could merge in front of her (doesn't merge sound better than cut?). She was very generous, we merged, and when I asked her what the talk was about, she gave me an incredibly detailed description of what went on. It was almost as good as being able to hear it myself.

We got our book signed, and we got some really heartfelt gratitude for having been recipe testers.

The book is unlike any cookbook I have ever used. Part extremely friendly textbook and part recipe reference, it reminds me a little bit of the online class I took and loved, Science & Cooking. By reading the book, you learn the "why" and "how" behind the four elements of cooking, but in addition to that, you start to build a deep understanding of how to best combine ingredients, flavors, and textures to make delicious food. There are beautifully illustrated charts, examples, and explanations. It's a book from which you can actually learn to cook and free yourself from being tied to recipes.

I've read the sections Salt, Fat, and Acid. I've just started reading Heat. And despite Samin's written admonition not to, I have skipped ahead and made some of the recipes in the second half of the book already. This weekend, we had the Vietnamese Cucumber Salad (I used toasted pepitas instead of peanuts). I served it with Baked Panko Rockfish (substituting GF flour and GF panko breadcrumbs) and coconut-herbed steamed rice. The salad was my favorite part, and the little bit that was left over was still terrific the next day.

Springtime!

It's April! This week, we're cleaning (so boring and yet so annoyingly necessary), cooking (asparagus! hooray!), and beginning to read 31 children's books featuring people of color.

As I have mentioned in several previous posts, springtime means clearing out our house. This weekend left me feeling old and dusty. We all cleared out the attic, which is where everything old (other than Marc and me) lives, and I continued on to the bathroom vanity and Wyatt's closet. I still hate the process. Also? ACHOO. But I am pleased with how our acquiring less stuff makes clearing out easier every year. And I love how when I finally get rid of a thing, it stays gone. I can't tell you the number of times I opened a box or door this weekend and thought, "Oh boy. I'm going to have to decide whether to keep [that thing I don't really want but feel bad getting rid of] this year," only to find that it was already gone! What a delightful surprise! And such a contrast to the repetitive nature of day-to-day life and all the things I do every day that get undone, or need to be done again (like cooking, or applying sunscreen), or the things I avoid doing, like repairs on shabby household items.

One of those shabby household items used to be our kitchen cart. It was one of the first things Marc and I bought for our house, and after eleven years of nearly continuous use, the finish on the top was beginning to fade away in the most unattractive dirty grey kind of way. Over a year ago, I bought the stuff to refinish it, and I have been putting off doing the work ever since. This weekend was sunny, not too windy, and we had time. So Wyatt and I washed, sanded, varnished, wet-sanded, and varnished the top some more.

The cart looks great now. In fact, it looks way better than the rest of our kitchen. Sigh.

Springtime also means asparagus. I made this recipe for Absurdly Addictive Asparagus (sans pancetta) and it's fabulous. I advise making it now.

Springtime is about renewal, too. It's a time to think about things in new ways, challenge old patterns, and make new friends. Wyatt and I participated in our first racial justice playdate last weekend. We met lots of new people, learned about each others' families, and did art projects about our ancestors while having a potluck lunch. I've also started following Embrace Race, an organization dedicated to "building an online community to discuss and share best practices for raising and caring for kids, all kids, in the context of race." Their emails are full of excellent resources, including podcasts, articles, and more.

Our family is also about to start reading some terrific books that, in one way or another, champion diversity. The other day, I was chatting with my favorite Cheese Monger/Elementary School Librarian over the cheese counter (of course). She was bursting with excitement because she had just been to Marcus Books ("Offering books by and about black people everywhere, since 1960") in Oakland. For her own reference, she had taken photos of the covers of many of the outstanding children's books she had found, all of which feature people of color. Because I am shameless around cheese and books (and she is infinitely patient), I took a photo of each of the 31 photos of books in her phone. Then, I compiled a list of all those books. That list appears below. Some of the books tackle challenging subjects. For ease of reference, I have included the publisher's recommended age or grade ranges.

I have read very few of these books, and I can't wait to dive in. It will also be fun to find more by the same authors and illustrators. If you have more suggestions for similar books, please leave them in the comments.

Happy spring reading (and cleaning and cooking, too)!

(When I checked, listings for individual books were limited on Marcus Books' website. I've included links to Amazon here. Please remember to support your local library and local booksellers by borrowing or purchasing from them whenever possible.)

• Drum Dream Girl, by Margarita Engle (Author), Rafael López (Illustrator) - Grades 1-4
• My Name is Celia/Me llamo Celia: The life of Celia Cruz/la Vida de Celia Cruz, by Monica Brown (Author), Rafael López (Illustrator) - Grades 2-4
• This Is the Rope: A Story from the Great Migration, by Jacqueline Woodson (Author), James Ransome (Illustrator) - Grades K-3
• A Dance Like Starlight, by Kristy Dempsey (Author), Floyd Cooper (Illustrator) - Grades 1-4
• Kenya's Song, by Linda Trice (Author), Pamela Johnson (Illustrator) - Ages 4-8
• Buffalo Bird Girl: A Hidatsa Story, by S. D. Nelson (Author) - Grades 1-5
• Hiawatha and the Peacemaker, by Robbie Robertson (Author), David Shannon (Illustrator) - Ages 4-8
• Sweet Music in Harlem, by Debbie A. Taylor (Author), Frank Morrison (Illustrator) - Ages 6-9
• I and I Bob Marley, by Tony Medina (Author), Jesse Joshua Watson (Illustrator) - Ages 8-11
• My Night in the Planetarium, by Innosanto Nagara (Author) - Grades 2-5
• Jimi Sounds Like a Rainbow: A Story of the Young Jimi Hendrix, by by Gary Golio (Author), Javaka Steptoe (Illustrator) - Grades 4-8.
• Leontyne Price: Voice of a Century, by Carole Boston Weatherford (Author), Raul Colon (Illustrator) - Grades 2-5
• Dear Primo: A Letter to My Cousin, by Duncan Tonatiuh (Author) - Grades K-3
• The Girl Who Helped Thunder and Other Native American Folktales, by James Bruchac (Adapter), Joseph Bruchac Ph.D. (Adapter), Stefano Vitale (Illustrator) - Grades 3-6
• Esquivel! Space-Age Sound Artist, by Susan Wood (Author), Duncan Tonatiuh (Illustrator) - Grades 2-6
• There is a Flower at the Tip of My Nose Smelling Me, by Alice Walker (Author), Stefano Vitale (Illustrator) - Ages 4-8
• The Princess and the Warrior: A Tale of Two Volcanoes, by Duncan Tonatiuh (Author) - Grades Preschool -2.
• Joelito's Big Decision: La Gran Decisión de Joelito, by Ann Berlak (Author) - Grades 2-4
• Thunder Rose, by Jerdine Nolen (Author), Kadir Nelson (Illustrator) - Grades K-3
• Pancho Rabbit and the Coyote: A Migrant's Tale, by Duncan Tonatiuh (Author) - Ages 6-9
• The Upside Down Boy/El nino de cabeza (Rise and Shine), by National Geographic Learning (Author) - Grades 2-5
• Her Stories: African American Folktales, Fairy Tales, and True Tales, by Virginia Hamilton (Author) - Ages 4-8
• Hip Hop Speaks to Children: A Celebration of Poetry with a Beat, by Nikki Giovanni (Author), Alicia Vergel de Dios (Illustrator), Damian Ward (Illustrator), Kristen Balouch (Illustrator), Jeremy Tugeau (Illustrator), Michele Noiset (Illustrator) - Grades 4-8
• Ruby's Wish, by Shirin Yim Bridges (Author), Sophie Blackall (Illustrator) - Ages 4-8
• When the Slave Esperança Garcia Wrote a Letter, by Sonia Rosa (Author), Luciana Justiniana Hees (Illustrator), Jane Springer (Translator) - Grades 3-6
• Rad Women Worldwide, by Kate Schatz (Author), Miriam Klein Stahl (Illustrator) - Grade 6 and up
• The Story of Ruby Bridges, by Robert Coles (Author), George Ford (Illustrator) - Ages 5-9
• Of Thee I Sing, by by Barack Obama (Author), Loren Long (Illustrator) - Grades 2-5
• Tasi & Matina: The Story of the First Clown Fish, by Alison Taimanglo Cuasay (Author) - No age range listed
• Just the Two of Us, by Will Smith (Author) - Ages 4 and up
• Daniel's Ride, by Michael Perry (Author), Lee Ballard (Illustrator) - Grades 2-4

Talking With Kids About Race

Remember the classic example of the loaded question? It's "When did you stop beating your wife?" If you don't have a wife, or the only thing you've ever beaten in your life is an egg, you'd probably be taken aback by that question.

Another example of a loaded question is one I heard this weekend when I volunteered at and participated in a workshop at the San Francisco Public Library called Talking With Kids About Race. Workshop leader, Dr. Micia Mosely, had just finished providing a few definitions, including one for race.* Without getting too much into the details, the first question a workshop participant asked Dr. Mosely was based on the idea that the eugenics movement was right, true, and founded on science.

Is this a shocking view to hold in the Bay Area in 2017? I thought it was. I wondered under my breath whether the person had been planted at the workshop by some hate group. I even started to wonder if the person would have to be removed. What happened next reminded me how to do better than that useless train of thought.

Dr. Mosely showed me how important it is to listen well and speak truth. She listened to the person intently, without interrupting, and then stated firmly that she would have to disagree. She explained that science has proven again and again that eugenics is baseless. She then went on to find, buried under all that white supremacy talk, something the person mentioned that was worth elevating: the richness of differences among humans. I still don't know exactly how she turned the question around, but I found myself wanting to listen to Dr. Mosely talk about pretty much anything, anytime.

My friend, Margaret, then reminded me how important it is to be bold. At our next workshop "break," Dr. Mosely instructed us to go introduce ourselves to at least five people we didn't know, stating our name, our race, and what had brought us to the workshop. My first introduction was to the person on my right, "Hi! I'm Kelly and I'm white. I'm here because I'm a parent." Margaret, on the other hand, made a beeline across the auditorium to introduce herself to that person who sounded like they thought eugenics was science. When I asked her about it later, she said in her matter-of-fact way, "That's just what I do. And did you see? That person stayed for the WHOLE workshop and appeared to be listening to everything!"

I have pages and pages of notes from the workshop because that's how I approach learning. I never want to miss or forget a single thing, so I write it all down. But my notes do not reflect the experience of the workshop itself, or the little transformations that happened (and are still happening) for me. I cannot recommend more highly a workshop like this, this workshop in particular, or, let's be honest, any of Dr. Mosely's events.**

After the workshop, I began some specific homework Dr. Mosely assigned, and I started doing some research on my own. I'm planning to read this dissertation by Gregory Peters which addresses in depth how to work through issues around race. As I understand it so far, the steps are: (1) Work Alone (journal, read, watch, learn who you are); (2) Work in Affinity (talk with people who are like you to work through issues); and (3) Work Across Difference (when and only when you have done steps 1 and 2, you can begin to bridge differences between groups). Even just knowing what to call these specific steps is helping me to plan my own work.

I also enjoyed watching "How I Stopped Worrying and Learned To Love Discussing Race" by Jay Smooth, and reading this piece, addressing how perfectionism is an aspect of white supremacist culture.

I took away a lot from Dr. Mosely's workshop, including: The sooner you can get right with yourself and figure out who you are with respect to race, the sooner you can start bringing race into everyday, developmentally appropriate conversations with even very young children.

I'm ready for the work. I hope to see you there.

*In the workshop, we used the following definition of race: "[a] historically shifting, socially constructed human classification system to establish power by grouping people primarily by physical appearance/markers. Race is not a category that biological science can establish. It is therefore both an illusion--a social construction--and a reality: a lived experience with real-life consequences."

**As a white person, I've found SURJ to be an incredible resource for learning.

How To Make A Paper Lantern

It's Thanksgiving week! In addition to pressing civic matters,* there are feasts to cook, family and friends to see, and centerpieces to make. If, like me, you're more of a just-in-time holiday decorator, these paper lanterns are perfect because there's still plenty of time to finish one, or even some, before Thursday.

And before you offer some excuse about not being "crafty enough," or being "too busy," let me assure you that this is a straightforward craft that requires very little time or particular skill, and yet it still provides a huge visual impact, especially after dusk. It would brighten your Thanksgiving hosts' table or your own.

I learned how to make these lanterns at the Parent Craft Circle at Wyatt's school last Wednesday. By Thursday, Wyatt and I had already made two more lanterns.  I love learning new things from inspiring people. Yoriko, the handwork teacher at Wyatt's school who facilitates the Craft Circle, is not only inspiring, she's infinitely knowledgeable, patient, clear, and she's one of those incredible listeners who hears not only the words you say, but also the words you choose not to say, and she responds with a rare depth of sensitivity and clarity. As you might imagine, Craft Circle with Yoriko is pretty terrific.

When I told Yoriko I was planning to write this how-to blog post for lanterns, she was enthusiastic about my spreading the lantern love, and she even sent me additional photos. Here is a photo of her own glowing lanterns (at least one of the lanterns is several years old, and when it is not lantern season, she unfolds it and stores it in her bookcase—how great is that?), as well as some of our paintings from the Craft Circle.

How To Make A Paper Lantern

Gather Your Supplies:

• Watercolor paper that's at least 15" on its shortest side (a 15" square yields a lantern that is approx. 6" from point to point; a 19" square yields a lantern that is approx. 8" from point to point).
• Watercolors
• Brushes
• Jar (or cup) with water for rinsing brushes
• Scissors
• Neutral cooking oil
• LED votive candle (a real votive is a real fire hazard in a paper lantern).

Make Your Painting:

Cut your watercolor paper into a square. (If you have a long rectangle left, like we did, you can paint the rectangle, too. Once dry, you can cut it into pieces to use as gift cards.)

Create a wet-in-wet watercolor painting. An easy way to paint wet-in-wet is to put your square of paper in a basin if you have one large enough, or in the bathtub or shower if you don't. As you paint with watercolors on the wet paper, the pigments will spread, bloom, and blend fluidly. The center of the painting will be the center of the lantern; don't bother trying to paint figures or anything in particular. Abstract clouds of color work well for this project.

Even very small children can participate in this part of the project—just choose colors that when they blend, you get a beautiful result (try red and yellow, or red and blue).

Let the painting dry.

Oil Your Painting:

Take a neutral cooking oil (like canola or some other vegetable oil) and with a paper towel or a rag, apply a thin layer of oil to the painted or unpainted side of the paper. The oil helps the paper to become translucent, and it also makes the paper easier to fold. We applied the oil twice, and after the second coat, the paper was translucent.

Wait to begin folding until the oil has soaked in and the paper feels dry.

Fold Your Lantern:

Most of the following steps are to create an octagon with guide-folds. The lantern itself takes shape in the last three steps. Yoriko explained that the folding of the lantern is a project that is best for about seventh grade level or above. I let Wyatt participate in the folding by having him crease the folds I made.

While your painting dries, you may want to practice folding the lantern by using a regular old 8.5" x 11" piece of paper that you turn into a 8.5" x 8.5" square. You'll have your technique perfected by the time your painting is ready to go.

Make the Octagon:

Fold the square along the diagonal:

Fold the triangle in half, point-to-point:

Unfold the paper—you will have four triangles.

Fold the square in half to make a rectangle:

Fold the rectangle in half to make a square:

Unfold the paper—you will have 8 triangular sections radiating from the center of the paper.

You need 16 triangular sections, so fold your square along one of the guide-folds to make a rectangle. Notice the triangles. Take the outside edge of a triangle, line it up with the next fold, and make a crease. Fold that bisected triangle towards the back. Repeat from the edge with the next triangle.

Open the paper—you will have 16 triangular sections radiating from the center of the paper:

Fold the paper along one of the guide-folds so that the four corners of the square stick out like this:

Take your scissors and cut-off the triangles that are sticking-out. You may want to fold the triangles first so you have a guide-fold to cut.

You now have an octagon.

Fold the octagon into a square:

Open up the folds, turn the paper 45 degrees, and fold another square like the one you just did. Open the flaps.

Fold the Lantern:

Look at the painted side of your paper, and find a "kite-shape." Fold the paper along the guide-folds you created so that you're tucking-in the edges around each of the kite shapes:

You'll end up with stack of 8 "kites":

Is this step hard to follow? You can check out a no-frills video of it here. Fold the top triangle of each of the 8 "kites" down:

Gently begin to open up your lantern. Smush the bottom so that it flattens out and the lantern can sit level. Add light and you're done!

There are lots of different ways to make this type of lantern, including according to this tutorial. Check it out and see which way makes the most sense to you.

* This week, I am calling my representatives to remind them, once again, how unacceptable I find the President Elect's appointment of racists and bigots; I am participating in Senator Paul Ryan's telephone survey to register my support for the imperfect-yet-necessary Affordable Care Act (Call (202) 225-0600, press 2 to weigh-in on the issue, listen to a couple of paragraphs of partisan commentary about the ACA, press 1 in support of the ACA, and leave a voicemail if you want); and I am gathering with some friends to plan how we will get more involved in our communities.

Stepping Up (and Snacks)

The election this week left me sad, angry, frustrated, and broken-hearted. Our president-elect is someone who has shown us through his words and actions that he is someone who believes people who are immigrants, minorities, disabled, Muslim, LGBTQ, female, or otherwise different, are not equal to him, should not be treated with respect, and should not be afforded the protections of our laws. He also thinks global warming isn't real. More than ever, those of us who value equality, tolerance, civil rights, the environment, and frankly, personal decency, need to act and lead by example from wherever we are.

I was inspired this past week by a post that author Catherine Newman wrote: "Service is the road to happiness...we can support the most vulnerable people in our communities, either in established ways—volunteering with organizations that serve youth and queers and the poor and the elderly and other people in need who need our time; involving ourselves in local politics and issues; donating money to local causes we believe in—or in creative ones." She went on to explain how her friend, Kate Schatz, delivered flowers to the Islamic Center of Alameda. I read Catherine's post while I waited for Wyatt to finish chasing the pigeons at the Ferry Building on Friday. I thought to myself, we could do that.

Before heading back to the muni station, I Googled Islamic organizations and mosques, and I found a mosque in the Tenderloin. Wyatt and I stopped to buy some flowers from a woman outside the Embarcadero subway entrance on Market Street. I didn't ask, but Helena, the florist, shared with us that she is from Poland and has lived and worked in this country for many years. (I suspect she might have been having a terrible election week, too.) She carefully boxed the arrangement we had chosen so it would survive the trip on the train, and I wrote a little card.

Because Wyatt prefers to use all forms of public transit whenever possible, he insisted we take BART to Civic Center. Once at Civic Center, he complained bitterly about the ride being too short, but the busker crooning Carole King's "It's Too Late" took his mind off it. We began to make our way up Market Street. Along the way, we watched a police officer fall off the the back of his mountain bike as he tried to perfect a wheelie ("Someday I'll get it!" he said cheerfully) while his partner shook his head and rode on, we saw some homeless people sleeping, some asking for money, and a variety of "activity" as we walked up Jones Street.

Once we had arrived at the address, I realized I didn't know how to deliver flowers to a mosque. It was time for prayer, and there were men hurrying in, removing their shoes, and washing their hands. Wyatt and I were definitely out of place. I said to the man closest to me at the entrance, "We have these flowers to give to the community." He looked at me and said, "But I don't know any of these people." Me neither. So I said, "Well, I don't want to interrupt...would it be okay if I left them here by the sink?" And he replied, "Yes. I think that would be fine." So that's what we did.

On our way out, Wyatt noticed some mothers wearing headscarves sitting on the sidewalk with children in their laps. They were holding signs asking for money. "Are those KIDS homeless?" he asked me once we were down the block. "Maybe," I said, and I could feel Wyatt's little hand tighten in mine it as the weight of their reality hit him. Does empathy start when we notice an aspect of ourselves in someone who is suffering? I can't know for sure, but we have been discussing homelessness off and on ever since.

There is a lot of work ahead of us. And as Wyatt's and my Friday flower delivery showed, sometimes we won't know what we're doing and we'll feel awkward, but we will do our best, and we will learn. I realize that dropping off flowers isn't the only answer, but it felt good to offer a small kindness directly to people who, as I told Wyatt, "are probably even more upset about the election than we are." Marc and I are also looking at how we can better impact our community and country in terms of volunteering our time and donating money to established organizations. We will also be vigilant in contacting our representatives in an effort to hold them accountable.

Meanwhile, I've been a terrible cook this week. Awful news affects me on pretty much every level, and this week I lost interest in eating anything other than pretzels, which is bad news for the people I live with. But we have been muddling through thanks in part to some homemade Lara-esque bars Wyatt and I made last on Sunday while the cookies for the Hillary volunteers were baking. It seems like a lifetime ago. Here's the recipe in case you want to make the bars, too.

Ingredients:

• 12 ounces of dried apricots
• 16 ounces of cashews
• 1/2 teaspoon of sea salt
• 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla
• 2 oz raw hemp seeds

Directions:

Put all of the ingredients into a food processor and let it run for several minutes, until everything is in tiny pieces and has come together. Line a rimmed baking pan with waxed paper (or parchment) and press the mixture down evenly into the pan. These are yours to make whatever shape you want, so however thick you want them, go for it. Cut them in whatever shapes you like. Refrigerate the pan, and eat up once they're firm. You do need to keep the bars refrigerated, or they get smushy.

Halloween Countdown

Look what I found in the garden!

Last year for Halloween, Wyatt was an elephant. This year, he wanted to be a panda. I offered to knit him a panda hat and sew him a panda costume. He vehemently objected. "NO MOM. I want you to knit one JUST LIKE last year, only black and white, and we can paint rainbow buttons." Little known fact: Pandas are creatures of habit.

There was no way I was knitting another Union Suit, especially considering the first one still fits. Also, one of my rationalizations for knitting an entire Halloween costume is that I get to learn something new, so repeating a pattern wouldn't work. It took me several weeks, but I finally convinced Wyatt that the way to go this year was a pair of Hammer-style knitted play pants and a cardigan with a simple, panda-esque yoke. I sold him on the practicality of having a two-piece garment when he needed to go to the bathroom, promised he could paint buttons for the panda hat, and told him I'd put as many buttons as I could on the cardigan. It was May when we reached an agreement, in case you're curious about the timeline on a project like this. Then it was time to shop for yarn.

In addition learning something new, this knitting exercise requires my using sustainably and ethically made materials. While the yarns suggested for both of the patterns sounded lovely, I opted to use Quince & Co. yarns. Quince uses 100% American wool, and the wool is processed, spun, and dyed responsibly in the United States. I also used the leftover cotton fabric and thread from last year, and got buttons, once again, from Honey Be Good.

Substituting yarns in a pattern can be tricky, and the sweater and play pants patterns were no exception. I opted for Lark, which is a worsted weight yarn, even though both patterns were written for lighter weight yarns. I did a lot of swatching, modifying, measuring, and cursing as I went along. In the end, I made it all work.

I started with the hat (in Puffin), went on to the play pants (they photograph terribly, so there's no image of them alone), and then I did the cardigan. Why this order? As I told Marc, if were hit by a bus before finishing the cardigan, he could go get a 3/4-length sleeve black and white baseball shirt, and Halloween would be just fine. The big thing I learned from this costume is how to steek a cardigan. After getting past the terror, there's something truly empowering about slicing up the middle a sweater you just finished knitting, especially when it works as beautifully as it did here.

Last, Wyatt and I built a belly for the panda. We sewed three sides of a belly-sized rectangle of pink cotton interlock fabric to an old t-shirt of Wyatt's, stuffed it medium-full with stuffing I had stashed in a closet, and then we sewed the fourth side. Instant panda! Ha.

The one thing we forgot to do was grow bamboo. Does "fast growing" mean we can have stalks in a week? We'll see.

Make Every Bite a Delight

I love knowing people who are experts at their craft. In an age when it's all about who has the loudest voice or best story propelling their marketing, my favorite master crafts people and professionals are the ones who consistently and confidently do great work, have little need for fanfare, and are happy to share about their process and projects when I ask. These are the people I love to have as my teachers.

My favorite master of woodcraft (and a favorite person in general) is Al Henry. Al has described himself to me as a cabinetmaker. Doesn't that sound infinitely practical? I can attest to the fact that Al designs and builds beautiful, functional, and as far as I can tell, perfect cabinets. But cabinets are just the beginning of what he can make, and has made. Work tables, desks, toys, unique bookshelves, and stunning large-scale inlaid and woven artwork. I'm pretty sure that if something can be made out of wood, Al can make it, and make it beautifully.

A month or so ago, I was on the hunt for a step-stool for Wyatt (who has outgrown his Learning Tower). I went to all the usual places one might find a step-stool, but none were the right height. I then checked Etsy, and I found someone who'd make me a custom-height stool. Just as I was about to place an order, though, I wondered if Al would consider doing a step-stool project with Wyatt and me. It seemed like it might be too small a job, or maybe too much to ask of him to have our "help."  But I ultimately concluded that I should let him decide for himself whether he wanted to do it.

Lucky for us, Al said he would be happy to help. And within the span of a few text messages, he had vastly improved on the step-stool design I had imagined.

Wyatt and I went by Al's shop after school one afternoon to build the stool.

Before we arrived, Al had pre-cut the pieces and drilled pilot holes in all the right places. Wyatt and he assembled everything. As you might imagine, this is no ordinary step-stool. The pieces fit perfectly, reflecting the precision of an expert cabinetmaker. Al also placed tape on the front piece so that Wyatt could write his name. Al then carved Wyatt's "signature" with his dremel tool. Wyatt sanded the edges of the stool when we got home, and has been taking impeccable care of the stool ever since. As he says, "There aren't many kids who have a step-stool as nice as mine that Al built with them!" He went on to create and send Al's thank you card with unmatched exuberence.

This step-stool has changed our kitchen life. Wyatt can now wash dishes and cook with ease. When we saw Chef Kellie, culinary expert of Chicks & Love Pizza Patio, last week, she asked Wyatt if he would like to know what she always taught her culinary students. "YES!" he said, and then he stood listening with all his being. "Make every bite a delight," she said. He nodded solemnly. She went on to explain that when she makes anything, she looks carefully at what she's creating and her goal is to make every single bite delicious.

Wyatt has taken this motto to heart. With this guiding principle and his step-stool, he has become a force in the kitchen. Our latest creation was Delicata Squash Nachos. And before you make a weird face, just try them. Remember, I am not the biggest fan of squash. In fact, I bought delicata squash with deep skepticism tempered only by a willingness to give them a try, just this once, after hearing people sing its praises. Boy am I glad I did, because delicata squash is show-stoppingly good when sliced into little crescents (unpeeled!) and roasted. Those slices were so good out of the oven that Wyatt and I had to summon a lot of willpower not to just eat them all off the baking sheet. And before I forget, be sure to save those seeds! Rinse them clean of squash goo, let them dry, then toss in a bit of olive oil. Roast for 20 minutes or so, at 325-ish stirring occasionally, until they are golden. Sprinkle with salt while they are hot. They're better than pumpkin seeds.

We sort of followed this recipe, which is to say we followed the directions for roasting the squash. Then we layered on top of the mountain of squash crescents most of a can of drained black beans, grated cheddar and monterey jack cheese, and homemade green enchilada sauce. We broiled the whole mess until the cheese melted and started to brown. Once out of the oven, we added mild salsa and slices of ripe avocado. We served our "nachos" with sprouted brown rice, but I'm sure there are more exciting accompaniments.

I understand that delicata squash season is short. Go get yours before we eat all of them up.

Roadworks Steamroller Printing Festival

"My favorite part was the STEAMROLLERS!"

Of course it was. How could it have been anything else?

Every year, The San Francisco Center for the Book puts on this terrific, free event. It is part fundraiser (through the sale of the steamroller prints), part education, and part hands-on fun. For some unfathomable reason, this is the first year we have ever attended.

My favorite part was the entire event. There are few things I enjoy more than fonts, hand lettering, or enormous, heavy, mechanical tools that look like they could kill you but, in their highest and best use, make beautiful things. I'm in awe of the people who can use them and of the works they create.

And Wyatt is right. The steamroller printer was pretty amazing. As he remarked as we were walking up, the whole street smelled as if people had been lighting sparklers all morning. So festive! We arrived early, and Wyatt got as close as he possibly could to the steamrollers. One of the drivers let him throw coal into the fire. If you want to see a steamroller making the first print of the day, I posted a video of it here.

Outside on Rhode Island Street, there were printing tables, artists, vendors, and examples of all the steamroller prints you could purchase.

The Rhinoceros Project, a "participatory watermark sewing circle," was also set up outside. As the creators explain on their website, 

We will produce [our watermark of Albrecht Durer’s 1515 woodblock “The Rhinoceros”] through hand sewing on silk. Using embroidery stitches on fabric, we will recreate Durer’s Rhinoceros line-by-line, enlarged to life size. In order to achieve this goal, we are embarking on a series of participatory sewing circles, taking place at San Francisco locations such as Ramon’s Tailor and the San Francisco Center for the Book. When complete, the watermark will be stretched on a frame, and paper pulp will be poured into the frame to create our Rhinoceros watermark in handmade paper.  We aim to make a total of three, referencing the remaining three Northern White rhinoceri.

I participated, naturally. My little line of sewing is the very tidy one. The part I liked best about this project is that some people sat down, watched, and then said, "I want to help, but I don't know how to do it!" and the project creators taught anyone who was interested how to embroider the lines of the enormous rhinoceros.

Inside The Center for the Book, there were volunteers helping people make prints on all kinds of machines, other volunteers explaining what the various machines did, and a book petting zoo.

Marc, Wyatt and I left wanting to learn how to physically make a book using all of the tools we saw. But one of us isn't yet old enough to take a class at The Center for the Book. Fortunately, we learned we can visit more machines at The American Bookbinding Museum downtown. Yet another gem I never knew existed. I love San Francisco.

Crafternoon

"Mom. Do you know what I like about hot glue guns?"

"Ummm...everything?"

"Yes, but I really like that you don't have to wait for the glue to dry."

I've been hearing for the last few years from Wyatt's teachers that children have a seasonal rhythm. In the spring, the children begin to "breathe out." They need more space to move around, group projects become more challenging, and they are less able to focus. The exhale continues through the wildness of summer, and in the fall, the children begin to "breathe in." Their energy shifts, they're ready to begin to work together, and they can maintain more focus. Until last week, this mystical explanation struck me as a post-hoc rationalization for "Why We Have Summer Vacation."

But last week, I began to question my skepticism of the "seasonal childhood rhythm" when, to my surprise, every afternoon, Wyatt requested we do increasingly complicated crafts, and then he actually worked on them for hours. His attention and intensity were astonishing. We started saying we were having "Crafternoons."

Fortunately, we had a focus for our Crafternoons. Before leaving on vacation, Wyatt received a box from his craft pal, Benjamin. Benjamin had made him a money shark (for all his toy sale earnings), a ladybug, and a gnome. Everyone I care to know would have been thrilled to receive such perfectly thoughtful gifts.

Wyatt began planning presents for Benjamin while we were in Massachusetts. He basically got my mother's permission to raid her stash of googly eyes and fancy pipe cleaners, and then he stowed them in my suitcase. He started brainstorming what he could make out of egg cartons.

Our first Crafternoon involved making and photographing sparkly caterpillars. It didn't take long for me to just hand over the (low-temperature) glue gun and figure Wyatt would learn soon enough how to keep his fingers from getting burned. I assisted as needed, but he needed very little help.

Our second Crafternoon involved sewing a gnome, in the style of the gnome he had made at school last year. If you cut a piece of felt in the shape of a simple house, you can make two overcast stitch edges and one running stitch neck. A little stuffing, cinch of the neck, and a trimming of felt to make a face space, and you're there.

Our third Crafternoon involved a ceramics painting playdate at a local studio, more sparkly caterpillars (because he wanted one for himself), and putting Benjamin's presents in the mail.

During the fourth and fifth Crafternoons, Wyatt learned to knit: "In through the front door, running 'round the back, peeping through the window, and off jumps Jack!" Thanks to Maja for that rhyme.

Today, we were out of egg cartons. Even worse, we didn't have much time for Crafternoon. All Wyatt wanted to do was squish into some clay on the counter while I made dinner. But killjoy that I am, preferring my dinner silt-free, I redirected him to the glue gun. He happily busied himself bedazzling some felt...to make another gnome.

It's probably a good thing that school starts Wednesday.

Gone Fishing

It has been nonstop fishing questions around our house since last weekend: "When are we going to buy my fishing rod?"  "When are we going to go fishing?" and all the follow-up questions that come when you're five and don't have a real grasp of the days of the week or the passage of time.

We went to buy the fishing rod on Saturday at the Bass Pro Shops Outdoor World in San Jose.

It was an epic adventure. As you can see, there was a lot to take in, including boats, ATVs, bowling, and fortunately, fishing gear, too.

We had planned our first fishing adventure for Monday. On Sunday afternoon, I realized I had some questions of my own, including how to set up Wyatt's rod. A dozen or so years ago, I was pretty into fishing. But since then, I haven't touched my gear or even thought about fishing, and any specific knowledge I once had has disappeared from my brain without a trace. Google searches confused me more than I could have thought possible. So I called my brother, who talked me through the entire set-up (including specific knots) over speakerphone while he was driving. It's tough to beat that kind of tech support. As Wyatt remarked, "Good thing you called Uncle Greg!"

On Monday morning, we stopped by the hardware store to pick up a pair of needle nose pliers (mine had disappeared along with my fishing knowledge, I guess) and to see if we could find some worms. I remembered that Flowercraft had some garden worms, and when we arrived, I saw that they were half-price. When I said we were planning to fish with them, the woman helping us let us see how big they were (not very, but workable), and then gave us the box for free.

We headed for Lake Merced. Within about ten minutes of our arrival, a fisherman we later learned was named Merlin caught a catfish. Wyatt was SURE he was next to catch a fish. And so we fished all morning. At lunch time, we took a break and drove to a deli for some sandwiches. When we returned to the lake, our fishing spot had been taken by another group. Merlin invited us to join him on the shore, with his three open rainbow umbrellas, several chairs, three fishing rods, blaring sports radio, and an array of homemade fishing gear that was frankly astounding.

Merlin had written his name on every item that could hold it, including on the handle of the black umbrella that hung closed on the railing next to his towels and rags, each of which was attached to a string that was tied in a bow around the railing. The black umbrella, we quickly learned, was for chasing away raccoons. It worked very well. In fact, we have Merlin (and his black umbrella) to thank for saving Wyatt's water bottle from the paws of a persistent, curious, and grabby juvenile raccoon.

After rescuing the water bottle, we fished beside Merlin for awhile. As the afternoon wore on, Merlin offered Wyatt some bobbers, and then he offered to improve his rod set-up with some weights from his own kit and a long leader with a red hook. He looked at the worms we had and chided, "Where did you get these? How much did you pay for them?" I told him the garden store, and that they were free. He shook his head. "These are no good," he said, "Don't get them again. We have to put three on the hook to even get started! Go to Dick's Sporting Goods next time. Worms are in the refrigerator." He proceeded to pile three of the largest worms I could find in the bag onto the hook and then added a dollop of homemade, secret-recipe trout bait to the end. He put Wyatt's rod in an extra stand he had, and then he loaned Wyatt his binoculars.

We fished for another hour or so, and while it's hard to believe that any trout could have resisted Merlin's worm parfait royale, they all did. No fish for us today. But by my last cast, Merlin shouted, "Hey! Good one!" And Wyatt and I both remarked on our walk back to the car that we felt very happy.