Are you SURE this is Noble?

That's right, I'm talking about Motherhood.

It's been a crazy weekend. But let me give you some background. Reese likes to take her diaper off. A lot. Mostly when she's supposed to be sleeping, luckily so far the damage has been minimal.

But it finally happened. After a weekend bout with the stomach flu (complete with the sudden crying in the middle of the night and going in to find her an absolute mess after throwing up on herself), yesterday Reese joined the hundreds of kids that, up until yesterday I thought parents were making up in order to get sympathy, ripped off her diaper and decided to paint her Poopy Picasso all over the wall.

Why?


No, seriously-- W H Y ? ! ! !


Dis-gus-TING! There just isn't anything more to say on that except that my sister's two-week-old is looking pretty good right now- sleep deprivation and all! I wonder if she'd be up for a trade? ;) Ryan and I have been flirting with the idea of duct-taping her (Reese- not Lily) into her diaper before all naps. Is that cruel and unusual punishment? :)

Hilarious Breakup

I know I've been talking an awful lot about zucchini lately, but I was just looking through a few fun food blogs, and happened upon this 'breakup letter'. It got me laughing so hard, that I thought surely there were more than a few of you who could relate with my friend 'Cream Puff'. For what to do with your lingering zucchini and other great recipes, check out her blog at:

http://www.creampuffsinvenice.ca/

Dear Zucchini,

I’m sorry to have to do this to you in such a public manner, but you leave me no choice.
I have tried to let you down gently, but you just don’t seem to be getting the message. At first, I thought that if I just ignored you, you’d understand. But you didn’t. I tried leaving you in the refrigerator, but you insisted. I withheld water, but you kept coming. I even left you for three whole weeks, without any contact, and still you were there.

I don’t know any other way to do this but to send you this letter in the hopes that you will finally hear what I’m saying:

It’s over.

Yes, it’s true, things were great in the beginning. You were so fresh and green, the only plant thriving in a garden of that had, up until that point, been bare.
You were sweet, Zucchini. You were. You were always waiting for me when I got home from work and on weekends, you filled me.
I don’t deny it.

But Zucchini, you’re too much. You don’t know when to stop. You put too much pressure on me. You, I could handle. But then your family started arriving, and your extended family, and your friends … what was I supposed to do with all of you?

Look, I thought that going to Italy for three weeks would be the answer. I thought that during that time, left alone to your own devices (and no water), you’d understand that you couldn’t crowd my space.

How was I supposed to know that it would rain for the entire summer? How was I supposed to know that while the rest of the garden slowly began its inevitable decline, you would still be inviting your zucchini relatives over? How was I supposed to know you’d live so long?

Please don’t take this the wrong way. I will always think you’re beautiful and there will always be a part of me that loves you.

But right now, it’s all about the tomatoes. They’re plump and juicy.
You’re not.

Goodbye, Zucchini. It was fun while it lasted. Call me next summer. Maybe we can hook up again.


Yours truly,

Cream Puff

The newest member of the Spaulding Clan!

For those of you who may not have known, Mese and Kyle finally had their baby which means that, besides the fact that there is that much more joy in the world and an adorable little girl named Lily, they get to come HOME! I'm super excited about that, cause, well. . . I love them. :)

Check out their pics at www.millershoutout.blogspot.com

Death of a Cuisinart: A Tragedy in Two Acts

Curse the Zucchini!!!!!!!

If any of you read my post from a few days ago, you will no doubt find humor in the continuing saga. Today I picked a few more zucchini from Melese's garden and brought them home, adding to the pile in the bottom of my fridge. With freshly purchased freezer bags I'd planned to grate a frenzy of squash and, like a good chipmunk, store it away for the winter months when zucchini bread cravings hit hardest.

When it comes to almost everything in the kitchen, I'm a food processor girl. A passionate one who has an absolute infatuation with her machine. The cruel irony is that as I began work on the mountain of cut zucchini I thought to myself that what today needed was a "Tribute to My Food Processor"; it's such a marvellous machine it seemed only right to honor it with a poem for taking minutes to do what once took hours.

Well, here I am, grating away and noticing that either the peel on the zucchini was particularly tough, or there was something wrong with my motor. To be honest, it's been acting a little funny lately, but still it was odd so I decided to give it a rest while I continued cutting and seeding the rest of the pile. Fifteen minutes later, I loaded it up again and again it labored to even grate the first inch or so of the piece. I pushed a little harder to give it something to grip onto and then it happened; I caught a whiff of something burning. When I pulled it all apart, plastic had melted and fused to the bowl in a big white, marshmallow-creamy clump. Thus, the end of my beloved food processor!

I must be flying through the stages grief rapidly because I've already experienced,

Shock & Denial-- "No! This can't be happening! You're fine, you're FINE! . . . Right?"

Pain & Guilt-- "But I NEED you! It's all my fault- I should have let you rest longer and cleaned your motor better! Oh how can I live with myself?!"

Anger & Bartering-- "Stupid Zucchini! You broke my machine with your cursed leathery skin and pulpy interior! I promise I'll never grate again if you'll only come back!"

Depression, Reflection, & Loneliness-- " I miss you. We used to make scones together- that perfect, flaky dough, and now. . . well, those days are all gone."


So far that's where I'm at. But I'm looking forward to the last three stages: Looking Upward, Reconstruction & Working Through, and finally, Acceptance and Hope.


Maybe I'll just skip to the end and start looking online for a bettter, larger capacity, twenty-year warrantied replacement. Maybe shopping will help with grief. Besides, I can't bring myself to go back into the kitchen and clean it all up yet.

Life in Montana

So lately I've had people ask me "how was Montana?" which is a great question but hard to summarize in a normal conversation so I'm going to essentially spew the last three months of our lives onto all our loyal readers, who may be very few now given that last bit of imagery. This is Ryan by the way, granted I'm not the normal writer of blogs for our little clan but, things change. So...on to the spewing.
This last summer in Montana I:
Took the oath of office for a government employee,
got to wear a uniform and a badge every day (Molly thought I looked hot),
I grew a goatee (still mourning the loss of that),
I learned how to make fire with flint and steel and I'm more proficient with that than a match anymore,
I made 16 feet of 1/4 inch rope out of milkweed,
I caught 10 large crayfish (crawdads depending on where you're from) and about 30 small ones,
I learned how to use a model 1803 Harpers Ferry muzzle-loading, flintlock, black powder rifle,
I watched snakes, eagles, deer, marmots, rabbits, mice, prairie dogs, antelope, and bats at a very close range (too close sometimes with the snakes and bats),

I lost 25 pounds,

I went to a primitive buffalo jump and climbed to the top with my wife and daughter,
saw the movie "UP" (well worth it),
I made four fifteen minute programs, and three "station programs" about the Lewis and Clark Expedition and wowed people from all over the world with them,
I went to Glacier National Park twice and saw the breath-taking views of the Going to the Sun Road,
I went to Yellowstone with my beautiful wife and hiked in the Lamar Valley (life long dream),
I lived in a beautiful home next to the incredible Missouri River,
I learned how to use a sextant (it's a navigational tool),
I ate roasted bison in a Lewis and Clark re-enactment camp,
I learned how to put up a tipi,
I made amazing friends (both with the seasonal staff, regular staff, and the volunteers,
I learned how to tell a good story,
I learned about new cultures,
I went to Fort Benton (the birth place of Montana),
I traveled up the Missouri River through the Gates of the Mountains and by Fields Gulch,
I saw pictographs that are centuries old,
I worked at the best Lewis and Clark Museum in the country,
I met Gary Moulton (The editor of the Lewis and Clark Journals, the L&C guru),
I got the Biddle Edition of the Lewis and Clark Journals,
I followed the Portage Route (if you're still reading and interested ask me),
I dressed like John Colter and Meriwether Lewis,
I literally walked in the footsteps of the Corps of Discovery,
I had the time of my life.
So there you go, that's how Montana was these last three months, if you want any further details, and I can't imagine you would :), let me know I have plenty of good stories.

A Zucchini Story

When I was about 13 years old, my mother threw a bridal shower for my cousin. Anxious to be involved in 'grown-up stuff', I begged to help bake. She put me in charge of a cherry cheesecake- not the real kind, the type made with cream cheese and Dreamwhip and canned pie cherries that, to this day, I still can't get enough of. Colaborating with my best friend and little sister, I measured and mixed and ended up with a beautiful 9x13 pan of ruby-red heaven. At least it was heaven until one of us looked at the recipe and realized that we were supposed to bake the graham cracker crust before layering the other ingredients. Oh, horror.

Today I know it was a trivial detail, but I suppose circumstances and early teen drama being what it was, we were soon convinced our only option was to make a new one and destroy the evidence. The fact that we were dying for a taste of our favorite treat had no effect on the decision, I'm sure (wink). And to top it all off, we discovered that my grandma would be dropping by to visit in a mere 15 minutes. What to do, what to do?!

Well, we ate it. We ate the whole thing in 15 minutes flat. Imagination got the better of us and before we knew it, we were living the tragic lives of poor children who would surely be severely punished for their monumental mistake. Grandma was coming and was sure to lower the axe, so what choice did we have?

The first few frenzied bites were divine, and we smiled in our rush to put fork to mouth. Halfway through the pan, we were feeling slightly queasy, but still prepared to take one for the team. Needless to say, by the last bite none of us wanted to see another cheesecake for a very, very long time. I'm pretty sure my mom was astonished when we turned down her offer for an extra large serving of dessert at the shower for helping.

So what does this all have to do with ZUCCHINI? I promise you the title is not false advertising. Today I stopped by the same sister's house to pick her insanely-thriving zucchini since she's out of town. I decided to swing by on my way home from a morning jog, so I was wearing worn-out long shorts and a (now) sweaty t-shirt, messy hair, etc. I didn't look too pretty. As I struggled with the first monster, I was mildly aware that they, for reasons unknown and clearly not thought out, had planted the zucchini in the middle of several rose bushes.

I carefully planted my feet in the midst of the foliage and started on another. I twisted and pulled and could not get the thing to come off. At the same moment I became suddenly aware of the fact that no one in her apartment building knows me, and, in my present ragamuffin state, might take me for a vegetable thief. And, just as I let my imagination run wild with the cheesecake incident, I somehow did the same thing at this possible mis-perception: I was sure someone was watching me in horror from the window, making off with the goods from some poor soul's garden!

Ridiculous as it is, I panicked and tried to run away (much like a vegetable thief, I must observe), but since my feet were placed weird, I turned and fell RIGHT into the rose bushes with all their wicked thorns. Startled, and slightly wounded, I limped out of the garden carrying several club-sized squash and a fair amount of thorns embedded in each thigh. Luckily no one spotted me, and I nonchallantly plucked the thorns from my shorts, tucked a stray whisp of hair behind my ear, and made my way home with the booty.

An over-active imagination can be a painful thing to have.