avocado

Sometimes nothing will do except to have an avocado with a meal.

I used to despise avocado. Growing up, I can't really remember having them in the house. It seems avocados are much more readily available than they used to be. I had no idea what one looked like for a really long time, and I was embarrassingly old the first time I heard about guacamole, and even more embarrassingly old the first time I tried it. I was over 25 the first time I made my own.

Avocados have caused a lot of environmental problems, though, because as they have gained in popularity, the question of "What to do with those Annoying Pits?" (or are they seeds?) has become a rather large North American ecological issue, as said annoying pits take forever to de-compose in the compost and are basically an ecological menace, kind of like the Greek yogurt second-strain leavings...but that's another post for another time.

I hadn't even thought about the ginormous pit piles that must be growing outside of places like processing plants for Wholly Guacamole.  I read an interesting article here.

It really is amazing what people can come up with. I wish I had really good ideas like that and the gumption to make a business and go for it.

By the way, while I was pregnant with my first baby, I discovered that an avocado with some salt mixed with salsa (San Juan Co. is my favorite, but Pace sauce will do in a pinch) and some chips is a very steadying lunch. You should try it sometime.

raspberries and pants-heads

Every morning, my baby and I have playtime after I feed her. It's my favorite time of the day, especially when dear Papa can join us.

I wake her up for second breakfast and stroke her back and tell her "good morning, little mouse" in Chinese. She often leans her head against my shoulder and snuggles into me. I find an inordinate amount of satisfaction in receiving that one action. Sometimes she will even rub my arm in reciprocity. She will even give me soft kisses on the cheek, as well - the only time of day I don't have to ask for such generosity.

I feed her and then she looks up at me and coos. She sits up, the hair in her eyes utterly adorable, and then proceeds to roam all over the bed, confident in her body and its abilities, pulling herself over obstacles (pillows) and mountain ranges (bodies) with ease, as a strong swimmer faces waves.

Her favorite forbidden thing is to play with the "buttons" on our headboard. Her favorite acceptable thing is to pull the hem of my shirt up slightly and proceed to give me raspberries on my tummy. She shrieks with joy when she gets the perfect amount of suction, and I praise her. She screams in delight. It's our little game, and feels like a bit of magic came from heaven and decided to sprinkle itself on my bed. Eventually, she gets bored and casts herself off the side of the bed to search for "toys" (also known as detritus) on the floor. She is very confident and uses her instincts and always goes backwards, feet first, to avoid a big big bonk.

Even though she has two teeth ("Toofins!") she is very careful not to bite, unless she feels threatened...which is mostly when she feels her brothers are a little too rambunctious in their play with her.

She hates hats and hoods and will pull and yank and fuss til they come off...yet she routinely puts pants on her head. She won't wear them on her head with the waistband 'round her crown, but she puts them on as if she is trying to accessorize with a scarf. She will lift the pants over and over again above her head with both hands raised high and place and re-place the pants just so until she is satisfied. Then she turns and looks for approval, appearing inordinately pleased with herself, and laughs her big-girl laugh.

I love it, but it also reminds me that she will be an actual big girl soon. Time goes by so quickly!

Keeping your Salt Together

who we are
where we came from
what we want informs
when and even 
how
we perform life's little (and not-so-little) tasks.

For example: all the women in the family have salt keepers. And our salt keepers are identical.

That's right. We all keep our salt. It's not in a little cardboard cylinder with a metal opener that can cut the tender underbelly of your nail. Nope. Not ours. We dump our various kinds of salt into the aesthetically pleasing yin-and-yang wooden salt keeper for safe-keeping, ease of access, non-clumping, finger-protecting purposes.

There's something else you need to understand: For most of us, not having "things" is a big deal. We sort and chuck our way through life using the methods described in "Unstuff Your Life". Yes, we all have the book, and yes, we all use it, too. Just like we use our salt keepers. So if we're bothered by stuff that isn't useful, and we could have our salt in a little cardboard cylinder, why do we bother to take the extra steps of sorting and keeping the salt in something used for one purpose and one purpose only, when we generally eschew specialty kitchen equipment?!?

It's because we share what is good, and what works. But where we came from - together in one home - influences who we are (not all the same) and what we want (value): tasty food, companionship in the kitchen, and time together.

So when we make food for our families, our drawers are organized similarly, even though our kitchen layouts are vastly different. We are at ease in each others' kitchens. Kitchens are, we have been taught, and have experienced, a place where discipline and love mix and where family felicity blooms.

We all are tactile creatures. I have seen each woman in my family dip her fingers into her salt keeper and feel the texture as we take out a pinch (or five) and toss them into whatever she's making.

It's about the feeling, the grit, the togetherness - not just the keeping of the salt. With our salt keepers, we keep together.