Mediumless: ...more commonly known as, Art and Craft ADD

My very first paper mache sculpture - based on a children's book. You can see it took some abuse from the preschoolers before this picture was taken.  

I was probably younger than four years old when my mother sculpted a head out of paper mache and baked it in our oven in attempt to dry it.  It turned black and moldy and never hardened the way it should have.  Little did she know she was going about the drying process in the wrong manner.  After her attempt, I begged her on several other occasions to try it again.  "Paper mache doesn't work…" she would tell me, or something like that.  She probably doesn't even remember this, but it made a lasting impression on me.  I thought there was something truly amazing in turning something into something completely different.  

Already, I was addicted to art and crafting.  As a kid I made doll furniture from cardboard milk cartons, coasters out of yarn scrolled in flat disk shapes and held together with tape, looped potholders, hooked rugs, crocheted squares, line drawings, macrame, tissue paper flowers, corn husk dolls, sock puppets…  Some of these items I haven't thought about in years. They were all wonderful and fun, and yet, I didn't stick with any of them for long.

I started sewing in high school; mostly because my mother was of the "why should we pay this much for it when we can MAKE it for this much…?"  school of thought.  She had her own sewing machine, but she never sewed much.  She got me a pattern and some fabric and told me to "look at the pattern directions and figure it out."  After I while I got pretty good at it, although perfectly set zippers still elude me.  I made ruffled shirts, button down shirts, jackets, pants and costumes.  I stuck with sewing for a while and I still love to sew but I can't sew exclusively.  I'm a craft cheater.

When I worked at the preschool I tried other crafts, most notably, paper mache.  Then I drifted to making beaded jewelry at home, but I still managed to take up scrapbooking, painted wood crafts; I tried soap making and I dabbled in herbal and essential oil crafting.  One thing that's disappointing, though.  It's difficult to get spectacularly good at any one thing when you keep losing interest and switching to another craft or medium.  I used to read articles about various types of crafters and artists - telling how "… the moment they picked up…"  this or that item they were mesmerized or hooked or whatever. I still dream of finding my One True Art and Craft Love, or maybe I'm just looking for that perfect combination of paint, sculpture beads, fabric and wire…

In any case,  I am willing to keep looking, and  willing to try them all.  

Chopstick Disability

Tonight I went for sushi with some friends.  It seems that I have a mild chopstick disability.  When the only utensils on the table were chopsticks, I felt a bit of panic rise up in my chest.   I'm no stranger to chopsticks, but still, they mystify me.   I wondered, would this be the night I shoot a California roll 10 feet to hit a fellow diner in the face while I try to grip it with my awkwardly flapping chopsticks?

I had no idea the food in a "roll" was cut to this size to make it easy to eat in one bite.  Apparently this is because even a talented chopstick veteran probably can't cut with a chopstick.  You can make an attempt to stab your food, but said chopstick is not pointy either…  and with no cutting ability whatsoever, my question of the night was, what if I don't like it?  That's a helluva big bite to spit slyly into your napkin.  I want to know, what is the point of chopsticks? I'm not trying to knock chopstick wielding cultures, but as civilization developed, why did they hold onto the notion of eating with two straight sticks as opposed to developing more specialized eating utensils, like forks?  Do they help develop fine motor skills, or do lots of people in chopstick cultures require occupational therapy to get the hang of these things?  Do they pass out rubber bands there to help out as well?  Is fork usage one of the causes of obesity?

I still think cheap plastic utensils rate way higher on the annoyance scale.  Chopsticks are interesting at least, and they are their own unique item, not a thing trying to be something else, like a damn cheap, bendable, plastic spoon.

By the way, the food was awesome, and if I tell you the restaurant's name and location, then I won't be able to get a table there without a reservation, even on a Wednesday.  And they were nice enough to let me cheat a bit by giving me a fork and a knife as well.

Cheap Plastic Spoons

There is a nice Chinese food place within walking distance of where I work, so sometimes on nice days I'll walk there at lunch time (or if I'm lazy, like today, I'll drive) and get myself a pint of soup.  The soup is good, but what is WITH these damn CHEAP plastic utensils??

The first time I bought soup from there, I got wonton.  It was winter time, so I had taken the car.  I drove back to the parking lot and parked, and proceeded to TRY to eat my soup.  I had just a plastic spoon, taken from the tray at the Chinese food place.  I chased a wonton around the container, trying in vain to corner it (difficult in a round container) and then slice it with my spoon.  I captured it and tried cut it but my spoon bent in half repeatedly, it's already wimpy status made wimpier by the heat of the liquid.  Finally, desperate and hungry (and unwilling to spoil the solace of my lunch time by going back into the building) I scooped the wonton out and took a not-to-delicate bite out of it.  Damn! In one fell swoop I burnt my tongue and the roof of my mouth AND slobbered liquid on my lap.  NICE.

The next time I bought soup from the chinese place, I was smart and I took a fork and knife as well.  I figured I'd stab the wonton with the fork, cut it with the knife, and scoop it up with the spoon.  Good plan, except the knife, too, bent in half when I tried to cut, proving itself to be even more ineffectual than the spoon.  The fork was good for stabbing, but only with devoted assistance from the spoon.  My GOODNESS, WHO makes these utensils, and why does anyone buy them?  Does anyone remember those "Got Milk?"  commercials from years ago, the ones that featured the guy in clean white surroundings, with cookies on a table?  He thinks he's in heaven until he realizes there's no milk for his cookies - then he knows he's in hell.  I picture hell to be a banquet of wonderful food with these damn plastic utensils.

Today, I REALLY got smart.  I  brought my OWN spoon.

Peanut Butter Banana Smoothie

    Ok, so this picture is nothing special, but let me tell you, this smoothie is GOOD.  I just arrived home after picking up the kids from their respective sports practices and I wanted to make them something fast and somewhat healthy.  I just started making these smoothies and everyone LOVES them. I got the basic recipe from my fabulous sister, Veronica (fellow foodie and more more of a health nut than I am…).  I might have changed it a bit from her original, but I think many variants would still be good.  Here's how to whip one up…

1-1/2 frozen bananas

1 heaping tsp. of peanut butter
1 flat tbsp. protein powder (I used vanilla)
1/2 cup plain, nonfat yogurt
1/2 cup milk
5 ice cubes
2 heaping tsp. Nesquick

I put the ingredients in my blender in that order and pulsed until smooth.  This makes about two 8 oz. glasses.  In the future I may substitute Hershey's cocoa for the Nesquick to cut down on the sugar...

Yum.  I whipped up two batches and they are both completely GONE already.  In fact, the second batch was almost all gone when I took this picture.  Enjoy!

All kinds of bread, and an excuse to eat butter...

I'm not Jewish, but I like Passover because I like matzos, and I like matzos because they are mankind's excuse to eat butter.  Of course, you can always slather butter on a bagel, but a bagel has so many more calories, and why waste them on the bagel when it's really all about the butter? You can't just eat a stick of butter by itself...  unless of course you are a teenage boy trying to impress people with your daring behavior, like the boy in my friend's high school class who, during a bagel breakfast party, asked for and received a dare to "eat this whole stick of butter."  He ate stick of butter alright, and promptly threw up shortly afterward.  Butter is best savored in smaller quantities... 

When I was a very little girl, I lived in an apartment in the upstairs of my grandparents' house.  I used to go downstairs and visit my Polish grandparents often and ask my grandmother to make me "butter bread."  "Butter bread" may sound exotic, but it's really just untoasted Wonder Bread with butter slathered on top.  I'm sure this treat was my grandmother's idea. "Do you want some Butter Bread?" she had probably asked me one day, thinking if she toasted it, it would be too crunchy for my delicate little-kid chewing abilities.  It became a favorite of mine at my grandparents' house, but I only ate it for a short time, due to my mother being grossed out and saying, "Iewww - that's not such a good thing for you to eat!" and worrying about me establishing bad eating habits.  With good cause, no doubt, since my Polish grandmother routinely polished off an cans of salty, oily Planters Peanuts while while watching television in the afternoon. Still, I want to credit her with my love of buttered bread….

So maybe it doesn't have to be regular bread, if you're desperate, you could dip your pretzels in butter, and they'll taste pretty good, but people will think you're nuts, and your daughter might even tell you, "Mom, if you keep putting all that butter on your pretzels, don't complain when you step on the scale tomorrow morning…"  Don't you hate it when they're right?

My Italian grandmother made the best bread in the world.   It's official name was Grandma's Bread, but I think people outside of my family call it pannetone.  For those of you who've never tasted it, it's comfort and love in bread form, a dessert masquerading as mere yellow-toned toast.  It's got currents and bits of this and that in it and my grandmother's would peel apart in a swirl of layers when you bit it - probably due to the way her Kitchenaid mixer kneaded the dough.  It's been over twenty years since I've tasted the official Grandma's Bread, but I can still see it, smell it and taste it in my mind... Here's how you enjoy a slice of Grandma's bread:  After arriving home after Sunday dinner at her house, break open the bag of fresh bread, pop two slices in the toaster oven while you heat water and prep your cup of tea, then, when your Grandma's Bread has been toasted to the perfect light-brown-at-the-edges color, slather it in butter, further yellowing it's already yellow color.  YUM.  Maybe in this one case, the butter was an excuse to eat the bread instead of the other way around. 

Now, sadly, I no longer have my grandmas, but I do have Matzos and my love of butter.  Someone's grandma must have fed them matzos as a child.  I'm sure there are wonderful matzo memories out there…. matzos slathered in butter. Mmmmmm I want to hear about them!  Or other buttery bread stories.  And if your grandma is still around give her a hug, and share some buttered bread with her - be it leavened, or unleavened.  

Table Top Easter Tree

     Last year I made a table-top Easter Tree that was actually strong enough to support the lovely crackled glass eggs I bought years ago.  I finished it too late to use it for Easter, but THIS year, my tree is READY!!

     In the true fashion of how things like this usually work out for me, THIS year, I cannot find those Crackled glass eggs.  If you want to see how I made this tree, click  here:

http://flyingbytheseatofmycreativepants.blogspot.com/2013/03/make-sturdy-easter-tree-part-1.html

To see directions on how to finish it up, click here:

http://flyingbytheseatofmycreativepants.blogspot.com/2013/04/finishing-your-easter-tree-or.html

Hidey-Hole

    Were you one of those kids who made forts out of blankets and furniture when you were a kid? I was. Some of my best childhood days involved forts. 

     Tonight I didn't suspect when I asked, "Where are you?" that I would hear my daughter's muffled voice answer, "I'm in my hidey-hole."  Where is a hidey-hole? I believe it involves a fort of sorts that's located somewhere between childhood and adulthood.