Lemonade in the Winter

Another 6-10” of snow is currently weaving yet one more intricate blanket over central Wisconsin. Its pristine beauty is turning our world into a winter wonderland but it’s heaviness is suffocating. I read an article recently about embracing the winter months as a time to create a comfortable cocoon and hibernate, but we’re not bugs and bears for Pete’s sake. We’re people!

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Poor Mike is snow blowing for the second time this morning.

I feel stuck without anything really new to say. I’m quite frankly sick of myself and sick of social media…trying to paint the best picture, be positive, make myself look better than I really am, trying to get people to like me. Blah, blah, blah!

Honestly life still feels full of a crap-ton of lemons:

  • Work hasn’t picked up. No matter how many pep talks I give or receive, I doubt my decision to return to hair.
  • The second job I hoped for, was meant for someone else.
  • We still don’t have health insurance. (The affordable care act isn’t really affordable unless you don’t want to afford anything else.) Consequently, I worry about every ache, pain, and sniffle Mike gets.
  • I’m bored, lonely, and adrift.

Wait! … Here’s some Late Breaking News!

Literally, in the midst of this rant, my always encouraging, positive friend Barb has messaged me out of the blue asking when my next post was coming. Thank you, thank you Barb! Your message is just the refreshment I need in this exact moment. Thank you God for the gentle cuff across the head.

Here’s the reality. Despite focusing on the lemons (and the avalanche of snow-fall), I been drinking some pretty sweet lemonade. In the last several weeks:

  • I’ve seen new places
    • I recently visited two restaurants I’ve always wanted to try. Both have been in business for over 40 years. One was a hit and one was a miss, but I was so excited and glad to have experienced both.
  • I’ve made new friends
    • I spent five days in Arizona with my BFF and her parents. I didn’t know her parents well before this trip and now feel like I have two new friends.
    • Through the salon, I’ve connected with some of Mike’s friends and co-workers. I’m not just thankful for their business, but the opportunity to better get to know the wonderful people Mike works and hangs out with.
  • I’ve developed new hobbies
    • My at-home yoga practice is flourishing. I’ve completed Yoga with Adriene’s 30 day challenge, am working through her February calendar, and have been trying new vinyasas from the Yoga Journal.
    • I joined a corn-hole / bag toss league with Mike. It’s given us the opportunity to spend time together, a reason to get out of the house, and encourages this introvert to socialize with Mike and his friends.
  • I’ve completed some stuff 
    • Two books
    • A baby quilt top
    • A set of cloth napkins
  • I’ve started a new tradition
    • I’ve just sent out a stack of Valentines (the old-fashioned way) to my whole family. Going forward instead of bludgeoning everyone with a little more joy at Christmas, I’ll spread the love while the winter blues are at their peak.

So I’m canceling the pity party and apologize for wallowing. It’s crazy how easy it is to forget all the good when faced with a little bad. I have a warm house, plenty of food, a loving family, good friends, and a God who loves and has always cared for me.

If you’re drowning in lemons, I pray that there is peace and comfort waiting for you right around the corner. Remember God is good, he is faithful, and you are loved.

If life is currently treating you well, please share the goodness. We all need the reminder that snow melts, spring comes, and lemons can always be made into lemonade.

Happy Valentines Day!

 

Yiayia’s Avgolemono

Mike and I just returned from a long weekend in Ohio celebrating his cousin’s wedding. It was a great trip and a wonderful opportunity to reconnect with the Greek side of Grumpa’s family.

If you are an Xeno like me, it’s important to note that the caricatures of Greek pride depicted in My Big Fat Greek Wedding are not far from the truth. Mike is only part Greek, but his Grandfather Minos was a full-blooded, feisty little man who’s big Greek attitude more than made up for his small stature. Rose Antonucci, his sassy little Italian bride, was known to say “I thought I married a Greek god, but I actually married a “g-d” Greek!”

That Greek pride does rub off on you though, even if you are an Xeno. Rose became my kids’ Yiayia not their Nonna and she was the one who introduced me to my first taste of lamb and many of Papouli’s favorite Greek dishes.

A family favorite was Yiayia’s Greek Soup or Avgolemono. It was her cure for everything that ailed you and a big way this sassy little lady showed her love.

I’ve checked out dozens of recipes online and am always tasting would be Avgolemono soups wherever they appear on a menu. I consider NONE of them Greek! Because none of them come close to Yiayia’s.

Thankfully, I had a good teacher. I have a scribbled version of this recipe on the back of an old kindergarten worksheet from my daughter Olivia. (Just where a recipe like this should be written.) It only includes how to make the lemon-egg mixture and how to assemble the soup. The rest is all taste, feel, and love.

I take a few liberties with Yiayia’s recipe because I’m not as experienced as her yet at gauging the ingredient amounts even though I’ve been making this soup for 20+ years. For example, she never added bouillon and she cooked the rice within the soup which slightly thickens it. She never added flour which I find in many versions; adding flour makes the soup heavy and diminishes its lemony freshness which makes it perfect any season of the year.

So here’s Yiayia’s Greek soup. The best I’ve ever eaten. While neither Yiayia nor Papouli are with us anymore, I still think of them with every bowl.

Yiayia’s Greek Soup

  • 1 Whole, skin-on, bone-in chicken, cut into pieces
  • Olive oil
  • 4 Eggs – separated and set aside
  • 2-3 large lemons juiced, strained, and set aside (or 3-4 small)
  • Salt
  • Water
  • Chicken bouillon or soup base (optional)
  • Cheese cloth
  • 6-12 servings cooked rice (use what you think you’ll need and freeze the rest)
  • Freshly ground black pepper for serving

Prepare your soup base

  1. Generously salt chicken pieces and brown in olive oil in a heavy bottomed soup pot.
  2. Once nice and browned, cover chicken with water, salt generously, and simmer chicken until tender.
  3. Remove cooked chicken from broth and set it aside to cool slightly before removing skin and meat.
  4. Strain the broth through the cheese cloth to make sure it’s nice and clear.
  5. Return strained broth to the heat and taste. Add enough water and bouillon to accommodate the amount of soup you want and bring to a simmer.
  6. Remove 1-2 cups of prepared broth to cool slightly for your lemon/egg mixture
  7. Remove skin and bones from the chicken (be careful to remove all fatty bits and reserve the cleanest pieces of meat for your soup.) Return cleaned meat to the broth and discard the rest.
  8. Stir in your desired amount of rice.

Prepare the lemon-egg mixture

  1. Beat your egg whites until nice and fluffy.
  2. Gradually add yolks to the whites one at a time. Beat until your eggs begin to stiffen.
  3. While eggs are beating, slowly pour in lemon juice, and then slowly pour in broth. Your lemon/egg mixture will be a pale and frothy yellow.

Finish off the soup

  1. Gradually stir in a couple ladles of lemon/egg mixture into your soup, then slowly pour in the rest.
  2. Taste and adjust salt as necessary and heat to desired temperature.
  3. Serve with freshly ground black pepper, pita bread, and a simple salad dressed in lemon and oil.

Getting to Know Dad

I’m the youngest (the accident, the oops! the tag-a-long) of seven kids. I have been told that when the pregnancy was announced, my Dad was not only less than thrilled, but actually angry, that Mom had gotten herself pregnant again. 

Stories like this may have been made in jest, but they formed the perceptions I had of my father growing up. I don’t remember him laughing only yelling, never encouraging only berating. I hated him, but I didn’t really know him.

Time and experience have definitely taught me a few things about people and perceptions.

My Dad was definitely high-strung and volatile, but he had seven–SEVEN–spoiled, rowdy kids to keep alive–yes alive. As a parent, I now know that anxiety and worry can manifest themselves in anger and frustration. I can only imagine how he agonized over the care and keeping of us all. Dad’s generation wasn’t known for being in touch with their sensitive sides, thus his anxiety became anger and his worry became frustration. I’m sure it didn’t help that I obviously didn’t appreciated him, never thanked him for anything he did, or even said I loved him.

He also had a strong-willed, demanding wife. My mom was loving and generous to a fault with her kids, her siblings, and others, but she was extremely critical of my Dad and often demeaned him in front of others and undermined his authority with us kids. As a wife, I can only imagine what that would do to my self-esteem and confidence over time.

Despite all this, he remained faithful to God and to his wife. He gave all he had to his children, and worked hard. He only craved a little peace and quiet which he never got. Many people would lament a life like his, but he sees it as a “good” life despite the imperfections.

This week marks Dad’s 88th birthday. He suffers from mild dementia–struggling with the present–but reminiscing vividly on the past. I love to hear stories from his youth and our time in the Big House. (No, not prison, but the huge house we lived in for many years that Dad affectionately calls the Big House.)

He’s a man of simple pleasures; his recliner, coffee and a healthy supply of Snickers, visits with his kids, and a good corny joke…

“Did you hear Willy Nelson died?”….”Yeah, he was playin on the road again!”

Or

“Did you hear? They outlawed round hay bales?” …. “Cows just can’t get a square meal out of them!”

Since we lost Mom in 2014, Dad finally has his peace and quiet. It’s allowed me to really get to know him too. He’s a truly good man full of faith, humor, and resilience. He loved deeply, he worried frantically, and he cherished us all. I praise God for giving me this time with him.

I love you Dad!

 

 

 

Last But Never Least

My days since leaving work have been packed. How did I get everything done while working eight or more hours a day? I just didn’t, that’s how.

“So Jen, what have you been filling your time with?”  you ask.

Well, in addition to lots of business research, I’ve been working on several long neglected projects around the nest. Mostly though, giving my time and attention to those I love the most–specifically helping my daughter Julia and her husband Danny pack up and get ready for their move to the Windy City.

I have written quite a bit about my Vegans (a.k.a my son Jake and his family), and I have written about Olivia (my comedian). Julia has reminded me; however, that I have another child that I have yet to write about and she will not be left out.

Julia is my “baby girl,” And, while she may have been born last, she has never been least.

Even as a tiny girl, Julia was highly self-assured, intelligent, and unabashedly strong in her convictions–always oozing the most pronounced combination of both her parents strongest personality traits.

Like her dad, she has never pretended to like something or someone she doesn’t and is naturally good at just about everything she does. Like me, she has a preference for home, family, a few close friends, and sticking close to the nest–cooking, shopping, or swapping family gossip with me and her aunts– rather than going out or partying.

Since graduating from college, Julia has been diligently creating her own nest in Madison with Danny. This was perfect when I was spending two days a week there. We would see each other almost weekly, could easily grab a quick dinner, or hang out for a few hours after work to catch up.

Now the big city is calling her and Danny another two hours away, and I no longer have reason to work in Madison each week. So last week, we packed up the newlywed’s nest and put it in storage to wait for their new apartment to be ready.

How fun for a young couple to experiencing life in the city? What an exciting new adventure! Yet, I confess it makes my heart ache.

Julia has always been my faithful companion; eagerly tagging along on every shopping whim, sharing all types of culinary experiments, or simply watching chic flicks while painting our toenails.

I now have a little over a week to have her home all to myself.

Well…

I do have to share her with Danny and her Dad.

OK…

and, she has to work too. (I’m finding it really hard not to interrupt her office hours just to check in and see what she’s up to.)

Still, I’m glad to have even a little time with her.

Julia is amazingly responsible and resourceful. I have no doubt about her and Danny’s success on this next adventure.

As for me, I’ll take on the big city just so I can spend time with my baby girl.

 

 

 

What Ifs….?

Since my last post, I’ve been pouring over business ideas and the logistics around getting started. By last Thursday, I was wracked with anxiety and fear. Am I just a crazy person, what if this doesn’t work, what if Grumpa or I have an accident and can’t pay our bills, what if, what if, what if?

Then I had a conversation with my Baby Girl. (BTW–Baby Girl is a 24 year-old grown woman with a husband and career.) After listening to all my what ifs, this wise little old soul says to me, “Mom…”

  • “What if you were 19 years old and pregnant by a boy you barely knew?”
  • “What if that boy moved you and your kids four hours away from your family and friends?”
  • “What if you set aside your own dreams for the last 20+ years to make sure your kids had theirs?”

“Mom, you were pretty successful with all these what ifs, I think you’ll be successful with anything!”

My Funny Girl has been checking in with me every day filling me with ideas and inspiration. And, my Vegans are ready to listen and offer practical advise.

I also went back and re-read all your encouraging comments on Facebook. I am simply overwhelmed by everyone’s prayers, love, support, and confidence in me.

I can’t even express how much this all means to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

All these shots of encouragement have renewed my confidence and I’ve become a woman possessed. I put on my walkin’ shoes and started pounding the pavement visiting area small businesses and picking the brains of some local entrepreneurs.

Now, I’m actually mapping out a real business plan and scheduling meetings to see if we can really make this thing happen. Once again, I’m doing things I never thought I’d do.

With all my heart I want to follow God’s plan for my life while living in my “Element.” Does this mean I’m trying to have my cake and eat it too?  Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know where any of this will lead, but I can’t seem to stop taking steps toward the possibilities.

The next couple of weeks will be research filled, as well as helping Baby Girl and her Hubby move to start their next adventure (that’s a story for next time).

Thank you all again for listening and encouraging me on this journey. I promise every post won’t be about business, but I will continue to keep you posted.

On a side note:

If you are currently on the roller coaster of parenting and wondering if you’ll ever be able to get off its drops, twists, and turns, I promise you will. Your feet will hit solid ground when your kids return the love, advice, and encouragement you’ve given them. I can finally say that I’m off the parenting roller coaster and am blessed to have my personal cheerleaders to coax me in to the next one.

Have a blessed week!

My Daughter, The Comedian

No I’m not being facetious or sarcastic. My daughter is a comedian.

Of my three children, my number two has never exhibited the classic traits of middle child syndrome.

Ridiculously confident, outgoing, and gregarious from birth, Olivia’s quick wit, and knack for remembering lines from every movie she’s ever watched, led her directly into theater. When cast as the Little Gingerbread Boy in her Kindergarten Graduation skit, Olivia promptly exclaimed to her teacher, “That means I’m the star right?”

She’s always had a flare for the dramatic, but really preferred to make people laugh.

Olivia is a trained actress. Since graduating from college though, she spends her days as an administrative assistant and her evenings learning the ropes and making her way in Milwaukee’s improv community.

Working full time, attending improv classes, and performing most weekends, we don’t get to see enough of Liv or her performances. Milwaukee is three hours away after all. It might as well be three days.

For the first time in many months; however, Grumpa and I were finally able to take in a show.

Olivia is the first to admit she’s still learning. After any show I’ve seen, she’ll preface her usual request for feedback with, “I know you’re not an improv fan, but what did you think?”

I don’t know how she does it, but she always seems to have her eye on me.

True confessions:

  • She’s right, I don’t like improv. I don’t understand it’s nuances and it’s special brand of randomness.
  • For this reason, I’m rarely (if ever) as demonstrative as others watching the show.
  • I really don’t care that much about the rest of the show. I just want to see Olivia.

So when presented with this question, how can I respond and not come across as a totally obnoxious, biased stage mom?

Ultimately this is what I think….

Expressive, quick, and responsive, Olivia never ceases to amaze me. I wait anxiously at the edge of my seat for my girl to tap in and am immediately lost in delightful revelry because she’s funny, she’s really funny!

If you’re in the Milwaukee area, take in a show at ComedySportz or grab a beer at Urban Harvest when they host Mojo Dojo. You’re bound to see my daughter, the comedian, lighting up the stage.

 

 

 

 

The Bittersweet Inevitable

My kids moved out. I came home from being gone for a week and Jake, Alex, Nolan, and Linc moved across town.

They had gone to look at a great place before I left; of course they wanted to take it. Only I anticipated they would take a little time moving out. You know, gradually pack up, move things at a leisurely pace, have a last night of snuggles and bed time stories….

Ah, nope! Gone less than a week later.

Oh, what a fickle fool I am. I was just lamenting my Not So Empty Nest, and here it’s empty again. Before I had planned.

I guess it just caught me off guard. I was getting quite comfortable serving my little master. Nolan required an 8 o’clock bedtime. Even though my evenings were cut short, I was rewarded with bed time stories and snuggles. Going to bed early didn’t make it any easier for me to get up though and I was never excused from breakfast. Chocolate, peanut butter, banana smoothies were on the menu each weekday morning and pancakes on Saturday. Only then could I start my day with smiles, hugs, and grateful kisses.

Alas, it’s all over now.

I’m being over dramatic of course. I understand Jake and Alex’s desire to get on their own again and I’m happy and proud of them for going for it.

Years ago, when Grumpa and I first moved to central Wisconsin, we lived with my parents for four r-e-a-l-l-y long months. Before moving in, I idealized how easy it would be. My parents were great and I thought it would be wonderful to have the camaraderie of my mom on a daily basis. But while I was at home with them, it was no longer my home. I had been the queen of my own castle, and I was living in another’s realm.

Jake and Alex were conscientious roommates, but I get the feeling they felt a lot like I did years ago. There is nothing like having your own home; your sanctuary, your space…where you can do, be, and keep things in any way you see fit. It’s one of the few real perks of being a grown-up.

Anyway, it is only across town. Jake is still finishing school and Alex is doing exceptionally well at work, so I’m hopeful they’ll be around for a little bit yet. I can also stay up late again and sleep in too. Nolan and I have been using face time to read together before he goes to bed at 8. I don’t get to snuggle, but we chat and catch up just like when he was here.

It is bittersweet, but also a little like having my cake and eating it too. Speaking of eating, you should try Nolan’s special smoothie–super easy, not bitter, only sweet!

Nolan’s Chocolate, Peanut Butter, Banana Smoothie

  • 1 frozen banana
  • 1 heaping tablespoon peanut butter
  • 1 cup chocolate almond milk

Put all in blender and blend until smooth. Yummmmy!

Through a Child’s Eyes

This past weekend, I asked Nolan if he’d like to come with me to Madison for a few days. We would be staying a few blocks from the Children’s Museum and he and I could hang out and do whatever we wanted. Grumpa could even come to.

His response to me was an immediate “Yes! This is going to be the best weekend EVER!”

Mind you, the weekend after Christmas, our whole family went to the Kalahari. A fabulous indoor water park in Wisconsin Dells. There he bravely tackled every water slide he was big enough to go on, spent hours in the wave pool and lazy river, and got to stay up late every night. That too was “the best weekend EVER!”

Now rewind to the week before Thanksgiving. Nolan accompanied his Grumpa to visit some family friends in Indiana. At that time, he met two new friends with more Legos than he could have ever imagined, and got to play video games to his heart’s content. Again, “the best weekend EVER!”

While in Madison, his enthusiasm was overwhelming. He tirelessly explored the Children’s Museum and experienced ice skating for the very first time. We hung out with his Aunt Julia and Uncle Danny, and once again he got to stay up late every night.

When it was time to go home, he cried as if his world was coming to an end. To him it was. Because at five, there’s no room for thoughts of what comes next. That moment is all there is.

None of these weekends were particularly extravagant, but Nolan saw them as epic adventures.

Oh to be five again. It’s my favorite age. Every little experience is a moment to be savored. Why are we always so desperate to grow up?

When you grow up, you forget your sense of wonder. You start comparing yourself to others, and inevitably, someone is always doing something more exciting or has something cooler. So instead of living in the moment, you’re waiting for the next hoping it will be better.

This weekend, I tried to see the world through Nolan’s eyes.

At the Children’s Museum, he approached every display and activity with  amazement. Each child he encountered was a potential new friend despite their skin color, if they were boy or girl, or what they were wearing.

After Uncle Danny helped him conquer an initial fear of the ice, his joy while skating was palpable. The frosty air had no affect on him despite his wind-kissed cheeks. His sparkling eyes, broad grin, and bubbling belly laughs kept me warm too. To my surprise, I wasn’t longing to get out of the cold. I was actually living in the moment and not wishing for the next!

What would it be like to live every day that way? To put away the insecurities, prejudices, and busyness? To approached each moment as we did when we were five?

I don’t know, but I want to give it a try.

 

Is It Beautiful, Is It Useful?

I love tidiness.

I am not a clean freak per se, but clean counters, organized drawers and closets, and alphabetical shelves of books and DVDs give me an inexplicable thrill of contentment and a feeling that all is right in my world.

So what do you do when you combine two households with four busy adults and two playful, adventurous boys?

Damage control!

We live in the perpetual chaos of toys, snacks, papers, work bags and backpacks. I do understand that this is the nature of a busy household. I’m OK with that. But as a person who craves simplicity and order, how to put an end to the clutter is regularly on my mind.

So how I do continually seem to accumulate more stuff than I need or want?

I love beautiful things, but I’m not typically drawn to knickknacks and tchotchkes. I can peruse antique and gift shops and take in all the loveliness without feeling the need to bring something home. What I seem unable to pass up are items that promise to make life somehow easier; less cluttered, more organized.

In my pursuit of a simpler, more organized life, I read Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying up. I agree with many of Marie’s philosophies on tidying, (I’ve never found so much satisfaction with folding my laundry or ease in keeping my drawers and closet in order!) but I’m not sure that everything I own needs to create in me a sense of joy. A toilette brush is just a toilette brush after all, even if it does keep my hand out of the toilette bowl.

Life is messy even without all the stuff. Everyday, we’re bombarded with images, messages, and products that promise our life will be better if we just had this “one” thing. But like Lay’s potato chips, you can’t stop with just one. Before you know it, our best intentions have led us to more than we need, can use–and in many cases–even want.

It takes practice and discipline to identify the true difference between needs and wants. I need lots of practice!

I want to be a good steward of the many blessings I’ve been given, so my new motto is going to be, “Is it beautiful, and is it useful?”

This is actually not going to be as simple as it sounds. It will take some intense discipline to make sure it’s something that will fill a need for the long-term–not be just a quick fix. Also, will it’s beauty endure, or will it lose its appeal after a few short weeks or months?

I promised my Handy Man that my winter project will be to clean out our basement. It will be a good time to practice this new mantra. If I no longer find an item beautiful or useful, it’s going to go to someone who does.

Stay tuned. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Traditions, Memories, & and Change

Of all holidays, Thanksgiving has always been the one to hold the deepest traditions for my family.

The same dishes have been on the menu from the time I was a little girl, through my children’s formative years, and into a third generation with my grandsons: golden roasted turkey, savory giblet dressing, saucy cheesy beans (in lieu of the more renowned green bean casserole), and fluffy, sweet-tart Bavarian salad are just a few of the standards that, even after 40 plus years, would insight mutiny if left off the list of the day’s delicacies.

Vivid visions of my apron-clad Mom occupy my thoughts this time of year. I can still see her painstakingly preparing a king’s feast for her rowdy brood–deftly tossing flour as she rolls perfect pie crusts, fiercely whisking gloriously rich, velvety smooth gravy you could drink from a cup, and slapping greedy fingers as they sneak crusty bits of dressing bursting hot and steaming from a perfect turkey just pulled from the oven.

Dad and the boys would be dragged from the TV to pull out the banquet table and set it up in the living room to accommodate all nine of us, my widowed aunt, and sundry guests. Us girls would set the table and serve up the feast while getting first dibs on the coveted black olives before they were devoured at the table.

We’d sit for hours at the table talking, joking, laughing, but mostly waiting for our full tummies to make a little room for sampling the plethora of pies anxiously waiting to be tasted.

It was a glorious day!

The faces and scenes began to evolve over the years; but the scents, tastes, and sounds remained virtually unchanged. By closing my eyes, I could easily transport myself back to November 1981, when I was still 10 years old, and Mom was busy in the kitchen.

But, I am no longer 10. I am the mom, mother-in-law, and grandmother presiding over the feast. My Mom has left us and new faces grace our table. My children, with their spouses, are ready to introduce new dishes to our menu.

This year, a vegan green bean casserole, Pillsbury Crescent Rolls (Did you know these were vegan?), and a new stuffing recipe my daughter Julia is eager to try, will be joining the old standards.

While my heart aches with memories of the past, it also eagerly anticipates the new traditions ready to unfold. It’s funny how the heart works. It has an amazing elasticity to stretch and hold whatever you choose to put into it. Mine is going to treasure the memories of the past and make room for the traditions and changes to come.

Happy Thanksgiving!


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