I'm boring!

Adriana tagged me for this meme.

Here are six unspectacular things about me:

1. I drive a Honda Odyssey.
2. I love chocolate.
3. I am a liberal Democrat (I suppose this isn't so unspectacular in the context of my family or church! It's definitely unspectacular in my neighborhood and in the mom crowd at Newton's school.).
4. I think my children are geniuses.
5. I hate sweating or being out of breath.
6. I love to read, and don't do as much of it as I should.

Meme terms & conditions:

Link the person who tagged you.
Mention the rules on your blog.
List 6 unspectacular things about you.
Tag 6 other bloggers by linking them.

I tag the Laundry Queen, Tams, Nat, Krista, Jen, and MWR.

The Magic of Numbers

No, this isn't about Newton and his math fetish. Just my favorite little factoid that appeared in The Oregonian yesterday:

Population of the state of Alaska: 670,053

Population of Multnomah County: 701,986

Our county chair is Ted Wheeler. He wouldn't make a bad VP candidate, either.

Stumptown Bike Culture

So, I've been thinking about biking in Portland since my previous post on the topic and MWR's sort-of response. I've been paying more attention to whether bicyclists I encounter while driving follow all the rules of the road (like they're supposed to). My impression, based on an admittedly limited sample, is that a clear majority of cyclists here obey the rules of the road, including stopping at stop signs and red lights, and signaling turns. While driving the kids to swimming lessons at the same time each weekday morning last month, I frequently had occasion to stop at a light on a street that also has a well-used bike lane. Nine times out of ten, bicyclists stopped for that light and waited until it turned green before proceeding.

And here's another anecdote: yesterday Mavis rode his bike to report for jury duty. Stopped at a light, another cyclist rode up and engaged him in conversation. The other guy had recently moved to Portland from San Francisco and said he was still getting to understand bike culture here. Like, he said, bicyclists obey the rules of the road. He had recently run a red light while on his bike (as he was in the habit of doing in San Francisco), and gotten yelled at by another bicyclist. As Mavis told it, he wasn't upset about having to change his habits, just anxious to follow local custom.

I recently spotted a new license plate option here:


If it had been available when we bought our car last year, we would certainly have chosen it. I told Mavis if he wanted to switch, I certainly wouldn't object. I've seen "Share the Road" bumper stickers elsewhere, but here folks really seem to be driving the drive, so to speak.

To Hell in a Handbasket

Well, not really. But the September 1 issue of The New Yorker had the following, in an article about Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava:

In an effort to keep the cost of the project below two and a half billion dollars, changes to the underground mezzanine were being evaluated, including a dimunition of public space.

Do they not have spell check? Even Blogger knows that one's a turkey.

Birthday Treats

Newton recently had a birthday, for which the celebrations ended up stretching more than a week, with his "friend" party the Saturday before and his family party the weekend after. Here's a shot I recently snapped for his soccer ID card (!):


The day of his birthday party, he had the world's loosest tooth. He wouldn't let me pull it, and wouldn't pull it himself. He would wiggle it with his tongue, but otherwise just moped around the house all morning, not eating. I finally made him sit down and eat dry Peanut Butter Crunch and blueberries (his breakfast he never ate, which had been sitting there waiting for its milk), popping them in individually so as not to bump the tooth. Thankfully, it fell out at the beginning of the party when he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. I shudder to think about the cloud of doom that tooth would have thrown over the party otherwise. Here's the tooth hanging by the tiniest thread, turned around 180 degrees:


At the party the boys (he did invite a couple of girls, but they didn't come) played on the slip n' slide, swapped books, and ate homemade ice cream sandwiches (The Thin with vanilla or chocolate-peanut butter ice cream). I whipped up a platter of crudités (multicolored cherry tomatoes, jicama, blanched green and yellow beans, cucumber, carrots) with garlic herb dip for the grownups.



Newton's actual birthday was a busy one. All the kids had swimming lessons in the morning, and then Newton had his well-child checkup (at 8 years old, 59 lbs = 59th percentile!). After a quick lunch, he had a play date with a friend from school which included soccer in the park and a trip to Ben & Jerry's. In the evening was Newton's back-to-school ice cream social, and then he went to a Portland Beavers game with another school friend. Wow.

My family has a tradition of letting the birthday person pick the menu on his or her day. Since Newton's day was so full, we postponed the meal picking to the weekend. For Sunday's dinner with just our family, we had spaghetti carbonara, and then homemade Peanut Butter Fudge ice cream for dessert.

Peanut Butter Fudge Ice Cream
adapted from the Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream Book
makes about 1 quart

2 eggs
3/4 C sugar
1/4 t salt
2 C heavy cream
1 C milk
1/3 C creamy peanut butter
chopped peanuts (optional--I didn't use them because Newton doesn't like nuts)
chocolate fudge or ganache (I used the ganache from the cupcakes recipe below)

Whisk eggs in standing mixer until foaming, then gradually add sugar and salt. Keep whisking at medium speed until light yellow and fluffy, then gradually whisk in cream and milk. Transfer mixture to medium saucepan and cook over medium heat until the mixture reaches 160 degrees on an instant-read thermometer (you can skip this step if you don't mind eating raw eggs or are in a big hurry). Remove from heat, then add a little of the cream base at a time to the peanut butter in a small bowl, whisking to blend. When thoroughly mixed, let cool almost to room temperature and then chill in fridge overnight (or less time if you didn't cook it).

The next day, freeze in an ice cream maker according to machine's instructions, adding pieces of fudge or ganache late in the process (so they don't break down or sink to the bottom). If you're using an ice cream maker that doesn't let you add ingredients in the middle of the process, layer in the fudge/ganache pieces when you transfer the ice cream to another container. Let cure in freezer for at least several hours and preferably overnight (yes, two overnights--good ice cream means planning ahead!).

Monday was the family dinner, and we just had simple grilled fare in the back yard: buffalo burgers on whole wheat buns, tomatoes and lettuce from J&J's garden, Walla Walla sweets their friends had brought them, corn on the cob, French potato salad with blanched green and yellow beans, corn, and more of those garden tomatoes, watermelon, peaches, and potato chips with ranch dip. For dessert, the famous cupcakes made a reappearance. Inexplicably, Newton wanted some without ganache filling (!), so I made one dozen (minis) without, and two dozen with. Again, frosted with cream cheese frosting. I've figured out the secret to perfect cream cheese frosting! Here is how I made it this time, and it turned out PERFECT.

Fluffy Cream Cheese Frosting

8 oz cream cheese
1/2 C unsalted butter
1/4 t salt
1/2 t vanilla
1-1 1/2 C powdered sugar

The cream cheese and butter should be softened to cool room temperature, just under 70 degrees. Beat them in stand mixer with whisk attachment until well blended, smooth and creamy, scraping down bowl periodically and adding salt and vanilla mid-way. Then add powdered sugar and keep beating and scraping until it's light and fluffy.

RESIST the impulse to add more sugar! It will just make it sweeter and hide the cream cheese flavor. I know because I made cream cheese frosting for the Wizard's birthday cupcakes, and it was too sweet and not cheesy enough.

You know what's crazy? Newton's birthday food is not yet done. Another tradition in my family is to have waffles with fruit and ice cream for birthday breakfasts. Newton wants peaches. So, this coming weekend we'll have sourdough waffles with buttermilk syrup, peaches, and vanilla ice cream. Mmmmmmmmm.

The Potluck That Wasn't

Last night was the opening activity of Newton's school year--the back-to-school ice cream social. Last year's similar event was a potluck dinner, and with a starting time of six, it didn't occur to me that this year's wouldn't be. Silly me. So we left our salad in the car, had dessert first (blecchy little single-serving ice cream cups, you know the kind I'm talking about), and then ate what we could of the salad (I was making for a potluck, not for my little family, several members of which are dubious about salads anyway!).

I made a salad I've been craving lately: BBQ Chicken Chop. I first had it at California Pizza Kitchen several years ago, and was so delighted that I wrote down all the ingredients on the paper tape that had secured my napkin around my flatware. This time I made it with homemade ranch dressing. No, for once I wasn't trying to be an overachiever. I had come across the recipe while looking for one for dip to go with crudités. Then I discovered that the bottle of ranch dressing in my fridge was about 3 years past date and suspiciously beige. And then I realized that I had all the ingredients for the recipe. Since I'm not a frequent ranch dressing consumer, I'll probably end up making it for those occasions where nothing else will do.

BBQ Chicken Chop Salad

chopped lettuce (I used romaine and green leaf, about 1 1/2 heads--you need something crisp and sturdy)
5 oz grated Monterey Jack cheese
3 small scallions, minced (I used a bit more than this and came to regret it)
1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 C frozen petite corn kernels
1 C small-diced jicama
1 C diced tomato (I used red and orange--very pretty with the yellow corn and black beans)
ranch dressing (bottled or homemade)
broken tortilla chips
barbecued chicken, shredded in sauce (I use Lloyd's, that comes in a tub)

Toss everything but the chicken together, then top with the chicken. (If you're taking it to a potluck, take the cheese, chips, ranch and chicken separately and assemble the salad after you get there.)

To make the ranch dressing, I started with a recipe in The New Best Recipe, from the Cook's Illustrated people. I doubled it, which made a bit more than I needed for the above amount (but I think a single recipe wouldn't have been enough). I also made it in the Cuisinart instead of mincing everything by hand, and after it was put together I added more sour cream, about doubling what they originally called for. It's plenty allium-y (especially if serving with the scallion-y salad above!), so err on the side of less with the garlic, scallion and shallot. Here's how I made it:

Ranch Dressing

1 small-medium clove garlic, pressed through garlic press
2 small-medium scallions, white and green parts, chopped
1 medium shallot, chopped (a couple of tablespoons)
1 T minced fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 T minced fresh cilantro
2 T chopped red bell pepper
1 t freshly-squeezed lemon juice
1/2 t salt
freshly ground black pepper
1/2 C buttermilk
1/2 C mayonnaise
1/2 C sour cream

Process in food processor in order given, scraping down sides of work bowl repeatedly to eliminate large chunks. Refrigerate and use within a few days.

Lulled into Complacency

So, this afternoon we were all upstairs. I was catching up on e-mail, Newton was watching TV, and Cindy Lou and the Wizard were playing. The Wizard wanted a drink, so Newton opened the gate for him to go downstairs. He knows how to get himself a drink either in the bathroom (using his toothbrushing cup) or the kitchen (using the fridge water dispenser), so I wasn't worried. After a few minutes, though, the sounds from the bathroom seemed a little, well, WET. Newton and I both shouted downstairs for him to turn off the water, and he came upstairs shortly after, saying, "I'm all wet." Great.

It was time to feed Cindy Lou anyway, so we headed downstairs to find a LAKE in the bathroom. I handed off Cindy Lou to Newton and mopped it up with some towels. Besides the lake on the floor, water had splashed up on the walls and toilet. Apparently, coming downstairs and finding a sink full of swimming suits and water, the Wizard had decided it would be fun to use the toothbrushing cup as a ladle to scoop water onto the floor. Eeeeeeee!

So, with the bathroom floor dried and the towels hanging over the tub (and the Wizard's wet clothing removed), Cindy Lou and I headed downstairs for some food, only to discover a LAKE in the kitchen. Apparently the water on the bathroom floor had seeped under the baseboard and was coming out around the kitchen light fixture. Fortunately it was not coming out through the plaster! Besides the four-foot-diameter puddle in the middle of the kitchen floor, there was about 3 inches of water pooled in the shade on the light fixture. I popped Cindy Lou in her high chair and ran back upstairs, cursing all the way, to grab some old towels. I spread them on the kitchen floor, then ran down to the basement. Yes, there was a lake there, too, albeit a smaller one. Ugh ugh ugh.


Not my favorite thing to have happen on a lazy summer afternoon, to say the least. Hopefully I won't have scary mold growing inside my walls where I couldn't mop up the water. But I guess that's one problem with having generally-well-behaved children--you get used to not having to worry about where they are and what they're doing Every. Single. Second., so when they do decide to get, um, creative, you're blindsided. Silver lining? We cleaned the shade of the kitchen light fixture, which was quite grimy, and replaced a burnt-out bulb.

Addendum: Last night after I had calmed down enough not to want to strangle him, the Wizard and I had a big talk about the lake incident. When I told him that his bathroom lake had created a kitchen lake which had created a basement lake, he laughed and said, "That's funny." No, I said, that's bad. "Actually, Mommy, it's bad and funny." Clearly my son and I have very different understandings of what makes something funny.