And I’m not talking about weird butts, either. I’m talking about odds and ends—I just abbreviated it.

Odd End Number One: Neck Stretching
The Baby Nickel is trying to elongate his neck … using a bit of brown paper bag. (Mom, you might want to add this to your Uses-For-A-Brown-Bag list.) He thinks it’s sexy.

Actually, I have no idea why he was doing this and I don’t think he did either.

But I did think it was camera-worthy.

Odd End Number Three: The Basket Head
Miss Beccaboo has taken to sporting a basket on her head.

She’s sewn bits of cloth together and loops one end over the upside-down basket and the other end under her chin and then walks around, all lady-like, pretending she’s Eliza Doolittle.

We’ve just finished watching that movie for the second time this winter. The language and fashion have become a part of our daily life. I’ve taken to calling my children “squashed cabbage leaves,” and any one of us might, at any given moment, start trilling about the rain in Spain.

Odd End Number Five: A Lightbulb Moment
Were you, like me, under the impression that Robert Frost wrote only pastoral poems about forked paths and stacked wood and stone fences? Well he didn’t. He wrote a poem about a boy who was cutting wood and sawed his hand off and died. Yep. I read it to the kids, did a double-take, snorted, and then read it again.

The last line in the poem is “And they, since they were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.” We discussed the poem (Yo-Yo views poems as long, complicated riddles and often comes up with some pretty haywire interpretations), and I gave a little speech about how our lives aren’t really that important and that when someone dies life goes on because there isn’t any other option (there’s probably a name for mothers like me). And it was at that moment that Yo-Yo burst into song, “There’ll be crumpets and tea without you! Art and music will thrive without you!”

Eliza Doolittle and Robert Frost, each in their own way, hit upon a universal theme, and my kid made the connection. Bingo.

Odd End Number Seven: J.K. Rowling
Mom emailed me the link for the speech that J.K. Rowling gave at the 2008 Harvard Commencement. I was quite impressed. Not only is Rowling a good writer (can I hear an amen?), she’s a fantastic sermon (or speech—is there a difference?) deliverer. I love the British accent, and the points she makes are right on.

As a side note, did you know that she is the 1062 richest person in the world, as well as the only person to become a billionaire from writing books?

Odd End Number Nine: Orders
My coffee order came in.

Coffee was on the things-that-are-acceptable-to-buy list, if you will remember, and truth be told, that box held orders for more than my household—I just ordered so much that we got to use the box to lug mine home in.

I also just received an order from Mountain Rose Herbs. These items are completely taboo, but I made this order before we went on the spending freeze and the person I was ordering through didn’t get around to placing the order till much later. Honest.

I am so excited about my new food toys. The chipotle powder is hot hot HOT and quite delicious (I just may chuck my box of very stale cayenne that I’ve been using for the last decade), the cocoa nibs are excitement waiting to happen, and the salt is smokey and salty, the perfect compliment to meaty soups like this one.

As for the vanilla beans? They made me happier than happy. If I were Jewish, I would wear the beans as phylacteries, but since I’m not, I won’t. These black, glossy beans are soft and plumb and oh-so-squishable; I want to chew them, but they really don’t taste too good plain. So I did the next best thing, I cut several of them open and stuffed them in jars and topped off the jars with liquor, one jar with rum and the other with vodka. In two months I’ll have my very own extract. I’m so excited! I can hardly stand it! And I still have about ten beans left over—my joy overflows.

Odd End Number Eleven: The Gospel of Luke
For the first time this year, our church planned an evening when people could gather to read the gospel of Luke. When I spied the announcement in the bulletin, I immediately wrote it down on my calendar. It would be the perfect opportunity for Yo-Yo and Miss Beccaboo, I thought. They could sit in the presence of the adults and listen quietly as the stories washed over them. Free Bible education was how I saw it.

So come Thursday evening, we all got showers and ate supper, and the kids grabbed their sleeping bags. I also brought along some Bibles and notepads and pencils, just in case they wanted to doodle while they listened.

At the house (our church owns a house next door—we use it for Sunday school classes and an occasional homeless shelter and numerous other things), the kids fixed themselves some hot chocolate and then curled up in their sleeping bags on the floor. Yo-Yo fell asleep around the time that Jesus healed a centurion’s servant, and Miss Beccaboo drifted off in the middle of some parables. It was nearly ten o’clock by the time we finished reading the whole gospel, and I had to wrestle them awake and out to the car.

They wondered later what the point was, since they fell asleep, and I explained that the Bible stories infiltrated their minds while they were sleeping and so that now they fully comprehend Luke, even though they don’t know it yet.

I believe they rolled their eyes at me.

But seriously, what could be better than being lulled to sleep by the drone of voices recounting the age-old stories? Reading the Bible for two-and-a-half hours sounds so ordinary, so boring and dull, but yet it felt like a precious gift, a gift to both my children and myself.

Odd End Number Thirteen: Snow
I’m sick of it, but as Mr. Handsome so rudely points out to me, there is no point complaining about it. So I won’t.

But I will say this: I miss seeing the ground. A glimpse of brown dirt would be so refreshing. The whitened landscape is making me lose my mind. Proof? Picking potato bugs sounds romantic. Smacking the dirt with a hoe sounds energizing. I told you—I’m losing it.

In the meantime, I bundle up and shovel snow.

While shoveling, I rest a lot.

Help me, honey! I can’t get up!

I can see how people might just lay down in the snow and die. I thought about it.

But then I got back up and carved some out some stairs. Shoveling snow is so boring.

The kids have done a fair bit of sledding.

They come flying down the neighbor’s icy drive and thwack-thwack-thwack into the snowbank on the opposite side of the road.

Once Yo-Yo went up the bank and flipped over the fence into the cow pasture. I wish I’d been there to see it.

The kids have also taken to jumping out of windows and off of things.

This jumping-out-of-windows-into-snow is an actual gene (Gene 296) that gets passed from parent to child. I know this because while in college, Mr. Handsome got a bunch of the guys on his third-floor dorm to jump out their windows into the deep snow. He said his roommate went first and then everyone started leaving the building via the windows. He had to do community service as punishment (though he somehow weaseled out of most of it).

And that ends my odd numbered list. Maybe next time I’ll do an even-numbered list.

About one year ago: Tortilla Pie.

I lied to you yesterday. I said I had gone back through several months of archived pictures, and that wasn’t true. It was more like only a couple; I unintentionally skipped a whole bunch of pics. This could be a long, long process. Brace yourselves.

And now, for part two out of seven-hundred-and-forty-three food-filled parts.

Like I said, brace yourselves.

Basil-Cheese Bread. It’s like a stuffed pizza, with several kinds of cheese (including feta) and whole fresh basil leaves. The top crust is finger-dimpled and then artfully poked with tufts of fresh rosemary, drizzled with olive oil, and sprinkled with coarse salt. Yummy yum yum.

Snap Pea Cabbage Slaw. With fresh dill. Remember our unfortunate pea event? I was looking for some good recipes. This, unfortunately, was not one of them. It was too bland.

Yogurt Fruit Pops. I still haven’t found a recipe I’m head-over-heels for, and I’ve tried quite a few. Maybe my expectations aren’t quite reasonable?

Sun Pickles. A simple dill pickle recipe that cures in the sun for three days. It’s supposed to make a super-crisp pickle. My recipe, however, did not.

Red Raspberry Pavlova. Teeth jarringly sweet and quite delicious, but I found the huge size to be overwhelming. I later made a bunch of mini pavlovas and we all loved those. The crunchy-chewy pavlovas tasted a bit like toasted marshmallows.

Italian Zucchini Soup with Brown Rice and Sausage. I made an obscenely huge batch during the height of zucchini season and then froze it. Come to think of it, that’s what I’ll make for supper tonight. I’m not going to be home (two evening meetings and a pizza supper at one of them) and I don’t really feel like cooking, but I know I need to make something nutritious because my children just ate twelve hot dogs and three carrots for lunch and I’m feeling kind of guilty. Zucchini soup will fix everything.

Dark Chocolate-Red Raspberry Ice Cream. I wasn’t crazy about it.

Swiss Chard Tart with Golden Raisins and Pine Nuts. I think there was some orange zest, too, and it got a light dusting of confectioner’s sugar. It was good, but not good enough. It got a bit moldy before I shipped it out to the chickens. (You know, I’m surprised that I remember so many little details about this food. I could say so much more about each recipe, but I’m not. Aren’t you glad?)

Strawberry, Rhubarb, and Sour Cherry Crisp. Sweet and tart and incredibly delicious, but the second time I tried it, it didn’t turn out so hot, so I gave up. I may need to revisit this recipe this summer.

Red Raspberry Juice Preserves. Simmer red raspberries in some water, strain and discard berries, and then thicken and sweeten the reserved juice. I served it alongside this. And it’s good added to smoothies.

Ginger-Coconut Soup. I still want to tell you about this sometime. It’s just a fancied up chicken-broth, but it packs a punch with garlic, fresh ginger, and a splash of fish sauce. Serve it with toast.

Coconut Meringue Bars. Dry and tasteless. If you have extra egg whites, make the pavlova instead.

Zucchini Fritters. With fresh dill, parsley, and feta, and served with sour cream. Delicious.

Red Raspberry Sour Cream Tart. Nope, too sweet and creamy (yes, this is still Jennifer Jo writing). I’m still looking…

Twice-Baked Whole Wheat Crackers. I made this recipe up myself (or rather, severely adapted it from another recipe), and I’m rather fond of it.

And that wraps it up for part two.

Toodle-y-doo!

I make, photograph, and eat a lot of food that I never tell you about, probably more food than you care to know about. But even if you don’t care to know about it, I’m going to show it to you anyway.

I can be pushy that way. Just ask my friends. Or my husband. Or my children. Or my mother. They’d all tell you I’m pushy. But now they don’t have to, seeing as I’ve already told you myself.

Sheesh. I’m glad we got that out of the way.

Some of the following dishes turned out horrible, some were simply so-so, and a few were scrumptious. The reason I haven’t posted them? It’s mostly due to one thing (and I won’t call it a “problem” because that would be downright scandalous): too much good food and too little time.

Ready to see proof of the eats? Okay, then. Here we go.

Small Pasta with Spinach and Parmesan cheese. And pine nuts. And bacon. And balsamic vinegar. It’s incredibly delicious.

Pound cake. Real pound cake with a pound each of flour, sugar, eggs, and butter. I usually serve slices of the cake with a fruit sauce and whipped cream.

Nicaraguan red beans with homemade sour cream. The beans are plain, just with salt. We love them that way.

Cinnamon sugar biscotti. I didn’t like this recipe; I found it dry and flavorless. I’d take a slice of buttered cinnamon-sugar toast over these biscotti any day.

Fried Polenta Cakes. We were reading about the Pilgrims, so I made these for our supper one night. The kids were enthusiastic about trying them, but I was the only one who truly enjoyed them. Maybe I need to start serving polenta on a more regular basis…

French Potato Salad. This is a recipe from Dr. Perfection herself. She served it at our last soiree. I’ve been meaning to post it ever since, and I will, someday. Promise.

Simple Pressed Cheese. A basic rennet-based cheese with lots of salt. It’s briefly smooshed in a cheese press, just till it holds together. It reminds me of fresh Mexican cheese. My kids love it.

Fried Rice. Cristela, my Nicaraguan neighbor, taught me how to make this. I had to squat by the fire on her dirt kitchen floor to stir the kettle of rice. I miss Cristela. I do not miss the scorpions.

A gross yeasted apple coffee cake. Absolutely no flavor whatsoever.

A delicious yeasted apple coffee cake, with a glaze. I really must share this recipe with you. The dough requires an overnight rest in the fridge so it’s super-easy to turn it out, hot and moist, for a yummy breakfast.

Roasted Cauliflower with Raisins and Almonds and Some Other Stuff. Not a hit.

Parmesan Cheese Straws. I love them, but the kids don’t. They have a bit of a bite from some cayenne; I think that’s what the kids react to.

White Pizza. I’m still hoping to perfect this recipe.

Spritz Cookies. I was surprised by how much I liked them. I popped a goodly number of them just as they were, unadorned. But the others I drizzled with a lemon glaze. Yum.

Potato Chips. I gave Mr. Handsome a mandolin slicer for his birthday (and a potato, all wrapped up in colored paper) and now fresh potato chips are ours for the having.

And that’s all the pictures for now. I only worked back through about five months worth of pictures, so I have a lot more to show you.

Later, dudes.

About one year ago: Cleaning up bad attitudes.