Cheesy

Have I ever mentioned that I lived in Italy when I was a teenager?  My dad worked for NATO in Naples in the early '80's.  Easily my favorite place I ever lived.  EVER.  I could see the Mediterranean from my bedroom window.  The people of southern Italy were the nicest.  And the food?  Well, that goes without saying - but I'll say it anyway:  AMAZING! 

Surprisingly, my favorite dish wasn't pasta.  It was a salad of all things.  Specifically, Caprese Salad.  You know, that fresh mozzarella and tomato salad that all the fancy Italian places serve these days.  When we got back from Italy in 1986, no one had heard of fresh mozzarella yet, let alone water buffalo mozzarella!  Especially in small town North Dakota, which was our next assignment.  I don't think I got to have a Caprese Salad for 15 years.  That is a long time to crave something!

Nowadays, you can get fresh mozzarella at pretty much any super market if you don't mind coughing up the cash for it.  And mostly I don't.  But we are rapidly approaching basil season here at Casa de Critical Mass, which means that I will putting basil in every dish I can think of  (So basically, pesto, lasagna, and Caprese Salad.)   Between the basil in my garden and the tomatoes in my Bountiful Basket, I feed my girlfriends Caprese almost every week.

I found saw a pin and that got me all excited, but when I read through all the steps, I decided that making cheese was not for me.  Then I stumbled on this pin!

Andrew Wilder from Eating Rules posted an excellent (and simple!) recipe for making home made mozzarella at Simple Bites.  In just 30 minutes and with a minimum of weird ingredients, you get home made cheese!  I had to try it.  You know, just as soon as I ordered the one oddball ingredient off the internet.  (Wester isn't long on cheese making suppliers.)

So when Sister L came for a visit, I had the perfect opportunity to experiment on make it for her!  I am beyond pleased to report that it turned out perfectly!  All I am going to change for next time is adding a little more salt.  Otherwise, it was perfect.  Which is a good thing.  I have enough rennet for 19 more batches! 

That is a lot of cheese.

I Got a Rock

Q just had his fifth birthday (Mah baybee! Sob!).  For weeks ahead of time, he kept asking what he was going to get for his birthday.  Finally, just to give him an answer, I told him he was getting sticks and twigs.  His father joined in with me and added rocks to the list.  Yup, he was getting sticks and twigs and rocks for his birthday. 

A little while later, when it actually was time to open presents, T thought it would be funny if we wrapped up a rock for him to open.  So he grabbed a rock from the yard and I put it in a little gift bag with the rest of his presents.

It is a lot of fun to give gifts to Q.  He gets really excited and makes gratifying exclamations about how cool each gift is.  As it happened, he chose the bag with the rock in it first.  I figured he would laugh a little and move on to the next present.  When he opened it, he looked up at T and said, "Thank you, Daddy!  What a pretty rock!  See how pretty and shiny it is?  I love it!" 

I love that kid.

It's Not a Tumor!

Last October, right before my birthday, I went in for my yearly eye exam.  I got the whole shebang: glaucoma test, dilation, visual field test.  That's the one where you put your head in this kind of space egg thingy and click a buzzer every time you see a little flash of light.  It uses magic and computer programming to map out your vision and show any blind spots. 

Imagine my chagrin when I failed the visual field. At first I just chalked it up to crappy genes and encroaching old age, but my kind doctor informed me that there shouldn't be significant changes in the visual field unless you have glaucoma or an eye injury.  Then she said, "It might be (insert scary medical term that means BRAIN TUMOR here).  You need to come back in three months for a re-check.  If it continues to get worse, you will need to see a neurologist.  But don't worry about it."

Yeah, right.  Happy birthday to me!

I had to have several awkward conversations that went something like, "Guess what!  I might have a brain tumor!"  To which my husband/sisters/friends looked at me blankly and waited for the punch line.  Good times.

Luckily, the crazy holiday season did a pretty good job of keeping my mind off of it.

So today was the day of the big re-exam.  It's not a tumor!  My test came back consistent with all the visual field tests I had taken before last October.  That test was an anomaly.  It could have been that my eyes were dilated, or that I was dehydrated, or hormonal.  Whatever.  All is well now.  Whew!

Trailer Trash

The ranch has been in the family for about ten years now.  So it has been ten years since we set up our base of operations: a mobile home.  A very nice mobile home (Seriously!  It looks just like a house on the inside with drywall and everything!), but a trailer none the less.  Well, the ranch is in west Texas - the land of no trees.  There are wind farms down the road from us.  In a word: windy.  Very windy.

All that wind has started taking its toll.  We have lost a shingle or two.  The time has come for a little maintenance.  My father-in-law was planning a trip to the home improvement store to pick up some replacement shingles.

Now, my FIL is an eminent physician.  A pioneer is his field.  Before he left for the store, he turned to us and asked without a hint of irony, "Do you think we should put some tires up there to hold the shingles down?"

I just about died laughing and then realized he wasn't joking.

Transition to redneck complete.

Finding Balance

Lest you think this is some high minded new year's resolution post, um, nope.  If that is what you are searching for, move right along and I'll catch you next time. This here post is about MAH BAYBEE!

It was a banner day at Casa Critical Mass yesterday.  It was the day that I took the training wheels off of Z's bike.  As soon as I got them off she just took off down the driveway without a care in the world.

I can't believe my sweet baby girl is big enough to take off on two wheels!  I am so proud!  And also, quit growing up so fast!  You are my little girl!  But with every day she gets a little more independent and I get glimpses of the person she will be some day.  Sob!  (Sunrise, Sunset playing softly in the background.)

Ahem.

About the time she got to the end of the driveway, she went, "Oh, wow!  I don't have training wheels!" and "I don't know how to turn!" and had a mini panic.  The more she thought about it, the more wobbly she got.  All of a sudden, she was pushing herself along with her feet instead of pedaling.  Maybe college isn't so close after all.

I was really proud of her determination to master this new skill.  Since we took the trainers off, she has clocked about 100 miles around the driveway and the bottom of the cul de sac.  Now she is begging to take a longer bike ride around the neighborhood.  That's my girl!

Thinking Small

So.  December happened.  Wow.  Holy over commitment, Batman!  Even though I got all of my shopping done well in advance, we barely managed to get the tree decorated in time.  Never the less, Christmas was great.  Kids had a blast.  Much food was consumed.  Great times with family and friends.  And then it was over.

Now it is that time of year when we feel the need to make resolutions.  Huh.

I don't currently have the mental wherewithal to make plans for an entire year, so maybe I will just make resolutions for this week.  Yeah, that sounds more manageable.

• Get out of bed.  I know this doesn't sound like much, but given the super-bug my kids gave me for Christmas, it is a SUPER big deal.  For the last three days I have been just this side of comatose while the kids were in school.  Staying awake when your body demands rest is more difficult than you would think.  Luckily, we were well stocked with mac and cheese and frozen pizza, because I couldn't manage any real cooking.
• Make a recycling run.  Wester doesn't have curbside recycling (DRAG!), but I still try to do my part.  The post Christmas packaging is taking over my personal garbage dump laundry room.  If I don't take care of it soon, my husband is going to have a planet-bashing hissy fit and throw it all in the dumpster.
• Clean the master bathroom.  It is just not right that I am required to dust my bathroom.  (My mom used to say that dust shouldn't happen to good people.  I couldn't agree more.)  But out here in the windy desert southwest, enough dust to write your name in accumulates over night.  Add some steam and hair products and you get almost instant yuck.
• Write two posts on this here blog.  Hey, already halfway there!  Chica is disgusted with my lack of writing, and I can feel my brain melting from lack of use.

That sounds like a manageable week.  Maybe.

The Day I Became My Mother

My mom was a good mother.  She got all of the big things right.  High expectations?  Check.  Unconditional love?  Check.  Balanced meals? Checkity check. 

Her attention to detail?  Well...  you can't be good at everything.

I may have mentioned that I was the third child.  And Mom was tired.  One of those little details that fell through the cracks?   Socks.  I was always scrambling for socks. Specifically, matching knee socks to wear to Sunday school.  If I found a pair, one was reliably stretched out and sagging around my ankle.  As a result, I swore that my child would never have this problem.

Fast forward to this morning.

Z:  Mom?  The only socks in my drawer have gray on them. 

Me:  Humph?  Zzzzpth.  (I'm not a morning person.)

Z:  The gray is going to show with my Mary Janets!  (aka: Mary Janes.  How cute is that?)

Me:  What happened to all of your socks?  If you would just put them in the hamper... (devolves into incoherent grumbling).

Z:  I don't know.  All I have are the gray ones.

Me:  (hangs head and sighs)  Get some out of the dirty clothes hamper.    

*****

And if fully becoming my mother wasn't enough for one morning?  Five minutes later this conversation happens.

Z:  Mom?  All my panties are pinching me.  Can I just not wear any today?

Me:  (Brain explodes and I die.  The end.)


Post Script:  It was underwear day at the Mother Ship (Target) today.  Socks and underwear for everyone!  LOTS of socks and underwear.