Jonah Lisa Land

Green Holiday Series :: Gift Wrapping

I've been annoyed by wrapping paper for years.  I just resent the idea that I'm supposed to have 10 rolls of wrapping paper and a box of bows laying around so I can wrap gifts according to each occasion.  I just don't do it.  I started as just not wanting to dedicate a corner of my house to wrapping paper.  For years I just bought ONE huge roll of brown craft paper--you can even get recycled.  I use it for every occasion and I decorate it with pictures cut out from old calendars and magazine or I just draw something on it to fit the person or occasion.  If you have a child their artwork on a wrapped gift is far nicer that any patterned paper you can but in store.

But the gift wrapping issue started to evolve into more of a conservationist thing.  Why use paper at all?  Why knowingly package something in a material you know will be immediately discarded.  You are paying for TRASH!

So, this year I'm ramping up my use of cloth gift bags.  The great thing about cloth gift bags is the more gifts you give in them, the more you're actually reducing other people's use of paper, too.  Lots of people might not take the time to make them, but they will use them for gift giving if they have them on hand.  A gift that keeps on giving.

I stock up on fabric for the next year at the end of the season.   I like a nice satin ribbon or cord for the ties and also use ribbons I've saved from gifts I receive.

For tags (lower right in photo above) I just take my pinking sheers (an old pair) to a brown paper bag.  Punch a hole in the tag and pull one end of the ribbon through it.  You can embellish the tags with magazine cut outs or drawings if you like.  Looking at the picture I think I'll go back and do a small red Christmas tree on each of my tags.  You can also cut tags from last years Christmas cards.  Save them! 

I've also been making little gift boxes from old holiday cards.  I only get around to sending non-business holiday cards every few years but it seems like whenever I do I always have one or two left over and for some reason I hate to use them the next time I do cards because I'm afraid I already sent the same to card to that person.  These are the perfect size for jewelry and gift cards. 

If you want to learn how to make these check out my Gift Box Tutorial.  And if you don't want to miss any additions to my Green Holiday Series...

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The Mayor of Ogden Avenue

It's a sad day in Idaho.

Our long-time friend, Aichan, was put to sleep this morning, the result of massive kidney failure.  He was 14.

He was quite a cat.  He survived being hit by a car, and major reconstructive surgery.  He survived a near drowning.  He survived five years on the mean streets of Jersey City.  He survived the eagles and hawks and owls circling above our house, and lived through five winters here, where the snow walls often loomed well above his little head.  We often joked about fitting him with an avalanche transceiver, so we could locate him in the event of an ill-timed snow slide of the roof.

He lived in five states--Texas, New Jersey, California, Wyoming and Idaho--in apartments, in houses, in hotels, in cars, and for a few months in a yurt.  He crossed large chunks of the United States three times:  from Texas to New Jersey in a Ryder truck; from New Jersey to Los Angeles along Route 66 (even sleeping one night in a wig-wam); from Los Angeles to Jackson Hole; and finally across Teton Pass and into Idaho.

The last five years here in the wilderness were good to him.  Plenty to eat, lots of sunny, warm spots to nest, and his best friends Taxi (the dog we always promised him) and Buckle (our brown tabby WITH a tail) to entertain him.

He was a kind and gentle spirit, a special cat in so many ways, and he will be sorely missed.  A friend to many and prone to visiting and exploring, he was adopted by our neighbors in Dallas, in New Jersey, and even here in Idaho.  Some of them even gave him alternate names, like Stubby, Stumpy and The Mayor of Ogden Avenue.  A little neighbor boy back east once introduced him to us as his cat...Peaches.

Huck had always just called him Kitty, but last night before bed he said Aichan for the first time.  A fitting goodbye.

We buried him on our land between 2 bluebird houses in what will be a field of blue flax come Spring, and in view of the mountains, so he will forever be a part of Teton Valley, as he will forever be a part of our lives.

Goodbye, buddy.

Gnomes!

Looky what I made! 

I first saw these little gnomes on The Rowdy Pea and thought they were pretty cute.

The 2 little wooden "game pieces" as their called cost 99 cents and the felt was just scraps from the play food I've been making.  Seems like you could really use any old scrap material though.  A flannel might be nice too.  They took about 5 minutes each to make.

Apparently, these dolls are a staple of Waldorf play sets.  I don't know much about the whole Anthroposophy and Waldorf thing but the little bit I've read is pretty intriguing.  Most of their dolls and little people like these have blank faces.  The idea being to let the child use their own imagination rather than give them a doll with a static emotion painted on its face.  An interesting idea.  But, hey, you could paint them a face and that would be cool, too.

Huck thought they were the neatest little things ever.  He gave an approving, "Ooooooohhhhh!" and immediately took them upstairs and gave them a tour of the barn.

Just another cheap, non-toxic, homemade toy.  I think I'll do more as stocking stuffers and then they can move out of the barn and have their own little Druidical rites in the houseplants.

Meet the Grandparents

Okay, I'll admit it, I didn't get rid of ALL the plastic crap.  He doesn't have very much of it but the well-loved items that have been checked for safety will get to stay.  And these two toys are very,very special. 

Huck calls them Jazz & Pop--his names for my parents.  And I have to tell you, these 2 Fisher Price Little People look freakishly like my parents.  So much so that it's kind of eerie. 

I mean, okay, my Mom does not wear a straw garden hat and carry a little basket and my Dad is not a Latino Bus Driver, but the glasses, the moustache, the skin tones and hair, and well...just their attitude.  I'm telling you, it's them. 

And how many kids have little dolls of their grandparents to play with?  So despite my moratorium on cheap plastic crap these guys get to stay. 

Of course, I have my issues with them.  I'm a little squeamish about having sex if they're in the room so I like to toss them in the barn with the cows and dinosaurs when Stephen and I are getting funky.  And sometimes during the day I get the distinct impression they're watching and judging me.  Let's face it, especially her.  I keep picturing her looking up at me and saying in her little passive aggressive way, "Is that what you're wearing? You know that color makes your hair look brassy."

Hey there's an idea, maybe I'll be able to use her to get a few things off my chest?  There's nothing weird about telling off a 2 inch plastic doll, right?   

iToot

The latest gee-whiz gadget from Apple?  What does it do?  Who cares?  Don't you wish you had one?   I'm sure it's sleek and hip and flawlessly designed and is the size of a breath mint!  Maybe it's not too late to add it to your Christmas list!  Nah, I'm sure every store is sold out by now.  You'll have to wait until the new has worn off and the second generation iToots show up at Radio Shack and on eBay. 

Sorry to disappoint.  "I toot" is what my 22 month old son has learned to say when he farts and lately he seems to be saying it all the time.  For the longest time he would say "Huck toot."  But he's graduated.

You know, I never set out to be one of those parents who shied away from the word fart.  I was raised that way and I just never got it.  Is fart really a bad word?  I didn't think so.  I wasn't allowed to say butt either.  We said bottom.  Groan.  It was verbal torture.  My mother was clearly dead set on turning me into the uncoolest kid in the world.  She just didn't like the sound of those words.  She would still much rather hear me say the word bitch or even shit than the nasty, horrible, vile word fart.  Feel free to take a shit, if you must, but please, Bitch, don't FART! 

It seems this shunning of the word fart isn't unusual in parenting circles.  It's one of those things that divides moms into opposing camps--like Santa and circumcision (Yes we will & no we didn't).  The farters and the tooters.  Can a tooter play safely at a farter's house or will the tooter be corrupted and start sniffing glue?

I always thought I would be a farter.  I like words.  They're tools.  And some words are just so brilliantly descriptive it seems a sad shame not to use them.  Fart is one of those words.   It's so staccato.  Almost onamonapeac.   And it's not that toot doesn't have its own nice ring, but it's like Fart Lite.  A Disney film version of a sublimely dark tale.  Something your little Southern Baptist grandmother might say if she surprised herself in Sunday School.  "Oh goodness gracious, I think I tooted. Jesus forgive me."

But I guess the conditioning kicked in because the minute I started talking about windy emissions with my baby, I automatically reverted to the word toot.  It's as if the choice had been made for me 30 some odd years ago and I never even had a chance.  It all happened so fast and so deep within my subconscious that I didn't even notice I was doing it.  But the first time Huck said it back to me...

Huck:  <HOOOOOONK>
Me: <mock surprise> What was that?
Huck: Huck toot.

...I was shocked.  I mean, I have to be careful not to drop the F-bomb in front of the little guy on a daily basis, but I had taught my child to use this treacley, innocuous word instead of the robust and far superior word fart?  How did that happen? 

Of course, I assure myself I'll remedy the situation one day.  I'll introduce him to the descriptive beauty and usefulness of words like fart and butthole and craptastic.  Or maybe I won't.  Maybe the conditioning is so deep all I'll be able to do is to offer up a reflexive tisk-tisk.  Kill me now.  Either way, for the moment it seems I'm stuck with toot.

"I toot."  This second generation toot reference is really pretty amazing in and of itself.   He's abandoned "Huck toot" and moved on to "I toot."  I.  Identity.  He's got it.  I'm an I and you're a you.  I am Huck.  And you are not.  I toot, therefore I am. 

It's a rather impressive little milestone and just another one of those things that makes me want to squeeze him so tightly he can't possibly ever grow another inch. 

But, frankly, the way things have been going here lately, if I squeezed him that tightly, he'd just rip one.

With happy ending, please

Stephen and I have been arguing a lot lately.  We're just in one of those cycles where we're a little sick of each other.  We've been in one before and we'll be in one again.  It's no fun, but that's what happens when you live with someone for more than a decade--you get on each others' nerves. 

Even so, it's not like he's in hot water with me or he's trying to make up for anything specific.  Which is why I'm still a little shocked at what went on at our house today.  None of these things are too unusual for him by themselves, but while I spent all day in my pajamas (I try to do this one day a week for the sheer restorative power), this is what my husband did today:

• Made pancakes for breakfast
• Chopped & stacked all the wood
• Talked to my mother for half an hour about our plans to come home for a visit
• Took Huck for a long walk
• While on walk, set up a babysitter for Thursday night
• While on walk, set up a play date with neighbor Friday morning
• Cooked Turkey & Herb Dumpling Soup for dinner (I guess secure men aren't frightened of the Martha Stewart Cookbook)
• Replaced the outside Christmas lights
• Gave Huck his bath
• Put Huck to bed (pending--that's what they're doing right now but I think it's going to work out.)

And he did all of it without acting like it was costing him his time, his sanity or that I would be paying a dear price for it at some later date of his chosing.  Can you say, "What have you got to be annoyed about, Sister?"  Believe me, I'm feelin' it.

I think we all know what I'll be doing tonight.

Bringin' it to the people

Well, I set this thing up and started fiddling with it and writing on it about 2 weeks ago.  I kept it private because I wanted to give myself a window to get bored with the idea and let it fizzle out without effecting anything--except my self-esteem. 

I had to leave open the possibility that it could turn out like the time I decided to go to nursing school.  I researched schools, filled out an application, told my entire family about it, then completely abandoned the plan after volunteering twice at a local hospital.  Bedpans and sad old people.  Yucky. 

Or the time I thought yoga instructor would be the perfect job for me--flexible schedule, cool clothes, calm atmosphere--but realized pretty quickly that you really had to do yoga EVERY DAY.  Not quite my idea of a good time. 

Or the couple of times in my life I've ventured into the realm of community theatre (just to keep my chops up) and understood almost immediately that I had made a terrible, terrible mistake. 

But this seems to have stuck.  I'm enjoying it and it doesn't require me to deal with other people's bodily fluids or to break a sweat.  Two very good points.  So the time feels right to take it out of the rehearsal hall and onto the big stage.

It's really the perfect day to do it, too.  The day after a big national holiday and...my anniversary.  Well, technically speaking my anniversary is November 28th, but the year we got married (in Vegas...I told you, we're show folk) that happened to be the day after Thanksgiving.  So we decided that rather than celebrate the 28th each year, we'd celebrate the day after Thanksgiving instead and that way it would always be a holiday! 

It makes sense to us and that's really all that matters.

What was the point of this?  Oh yes! 

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my blog.  I'll try to write every day.   Every other day at least.  I'll basically just be following my interests, thoughts and what going on in my life. 

I hope you enjoy it.

A really good Western

We just watched 3:10 TO YUMA last night and I had to write about it because it was really good.  I do not want to like Russell Crowe.  I think he's a smug bastard, but he usually transcends my dislike of him with awesome performances, and that I can truly appreciate. 

This movie is a classic western.  I mean it is a remake of a classic western so it should be.  But they didn't mess it up.  Great script and all the actors are terrific.  I especially liked Ben Foster as Russell Crowe's bad guy sidekick, and Christian Bale as the good guy rancher. 

I love Christian Bale in almost anything.  I have a crush on his teeth.  I know, that's a little freaky to admit.  But his teeth actually have character!  He didn't hit Hollywood and head to some Beverly Hill's dentist for the homogenous set of veneers everyone else has. 

Anyway, a good movie.  Cool teeth.  Worth your time.

Comfort Food :: Pot Pie

Now I'm not a big cook and I seriously doubt this blog will end up being home to very many recipes.  There are really only a handful of things I do well in the kitchen.  However, I have a recipe I've become well-known for in certain circles and I just have to share it because now is the best time of year for it.

I can't take full credit for it even.  I just pulled it from Martha's Everyday Food magazine.  But I've tweaked it a bit and, in this particular instance, I substitute turkey for chicken, though it's great both ways.

So...without further ado...

"Fake it, Don't Make it" Turkey Pot Pie

This makes one 9" pie and takes about 10 minutes to prepare if you already have cooked meat. If you really went overboard and have a ton of turkey left, you can double this recipe and freeze a little taste of Thanksgiving for later this winter--they freeze great.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups shredded, cooked turkey
• 1/2 cup milk 
• 1 can Cream of Chicken Soup (I like the Healthy Request line best)  
• 1 bag mixed frozen vegetables (I like Cascadian Farms or Woodstock Farms Organic Garden Blend: peas, carrots, corn and greens beans) 
• 1/2 tsp garlic salt 
• 1/2 tsp black pepper 
• sage, to taste (optional) 
• 1 box roll out pie crust

Directions:
Preheat oven to 375F.  In a mixing bowl whisk together the cream of chicken soup and the milk.  Add in the chicken, veggies and spices. 

Grease a 9" pie plate.  Roll out bottom crust, form to pie plate and pour filling in.  Roll out top crust, put it on and crimp the edges.  Cut vents and cook for 35-45 minutes or until crust is a yummy color.

Tips:

• Put it in a nice pie plate and people are oddly impressed with this super easy dish. It looks homemade.
• No store brand pie crust I've tried browns or flakes as well as Pillsbury.  Certainly make your own if you have the time and energy. I do not and the great thing about this recipe is it takes about 10 minutes to throw together when you don't have time for "real" cooking.
• Use a paring knife to cut vents in the top crust so it looks like a turkey walked across the top of the pie (1 long slash for the foot and three toe slits fanning off the top of the foot).  Kids love this. 
• Substitute chicken when you don't have turkey.  1 rotisserie chicken yields about 4 cups of shredded meat so you can double this recipe and make 2 pies.  Eat one, freeze one.
• If you use chicken...make the feet smaller.

Good enough for company.

He colors!

I am thrilled to say that Huck finally likes to color.  I've been waiting for this day with great anticipation.  I've tried it a few times and he just hasn't been that into it.  Over the last few weeks though, he's been learning his colors and can identify and say about 10 of them now.  I think this new knowledge has made the prospect of coloring a little more interesting to him.  Like maybe he can understand a purpose behind it now.  Ohhhhh!  I get it!

Lately, he wants to color every day so I spent the weekend trying to make a nice space for him and, maybe more importantly, a set up that makes it easy for me to let him color without a big production or moving a bunch of stuff around. 

Our playroom is upstairs but the entire floor up there is carpeted, in beige.  What were we thinking?  I'll tell you what we were thinking--we were childless and naive and we thought it was pretty.  Ha!  It's not so pretty now that we've discovered the staining potential of toddler vomit. 

So I've set everything up in the living room.  I traded out an ugly glass top end table that I've always hated for a cute little painted chest of drawers that's been in a corner upstairs not doing much.  I think it looks great there and I feel like a big dope for not getting rid of that damned bad feng shui earlier.

I filled it with all the arts and crafts supplies a toddler could possibly want. I took all the crayons out of their box and dumped them in tub for easy access.  It also allows him to put them back himself, which he's been a doing a great job of.  Colored pencils and markers are in old coffee & food cans. 

I took the bumper off the coffee table, too, so we've got a quick easy place to draw or color or fold paper or play with Play-Doh.   I can easily lay out newspaper or an oilcloth cover on the table or rug if we do something a little messier. 

Next up...watercoloring!