tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384444922024-03-13T07:22:23.477-05:00Love WellKelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.comBlogger806125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-31127735357782600492018-03-11T23:44:00.000-05:002018-03-11T23:44:16.312-05:00Here, Taste This : Lemon Chiffon CakeSpring is taking sweet forever to get to Minnesota this year.<br />
<br />
To wit:<br />
Last Saturday, we hit 56 degrees - for the first time since November 22.<br />
The Twins home opener on Monday showcased a wind chill of 15.<br />
For the entire month of March, only three days enjoyed above-average temps.<br />
I still have snow drifts in my yard taller than my dog. And she's a border collie.<br />
<br />
So basically, we are Canada without Tim Horton's.<br />
<br />
Always winter. Never spring.<br />
<br />
Unless you make this cake. Which I did, for Easter, because I needed some hope in my kitchen to celebrate the Hope in my heart.<br />
<br />
Lemon Chiffon Cake is spring in the form of a baked good - light, sunny, moist, tangy, sweet, rich. Enough contradiction to make your head spin coupled with brightness that's irresistible. <br />
<br />
It brought spring to my mouth.<br />
<br />
Baby steps, Minnesota. We'll get there. Until then, we have cake.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dliVM8rwGDA/UV5RUfKV1KI/AAAAAAAAELY/5mNYwaW97Q8/s1600/lemon+chiffon+cake+2.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dliVM8rwGDA/UV5RUfKV1KI/AAAAAAAAELY/5mNYwaW97Q8/s640/lemon+chiffon+cake+2.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>LEMON CHIFFON CAKE</b></span><br />
<br />
2 cups flour<br />
1 1/2 cups sugar<br />
3 teaspoons baking powder<br />
1 teaspoon salt<br />
3/4 cup cold water<br />
1/2 cup vegetable oil<br />
2 teaspoons vanilla<br />
2 teaspoons grated lemon peel<br />
7 egg yolks<br />
7 egg whites <br />
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar<br />
<br />
<b>Directions:</b><br />
1. Heat oven to 325.<br />
2. Mix flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl. Make a well and add oil, egg yolks, water, lemon peel and vanilla. Whisk together until smooth.<br />
3. In a mixing bowl, beat egg white and cream of tartar on high speed until stiff peaks form. <br />
4. Add about a cup of egg whites to cake batter and fold together to incorporate. Continue gently folding in the egg whites until the two mixtures are just blended.<br />
5. Pour into an ungreased tube pan, 10x4 inches. <br />
6. Bake about 75 minutes or until top springs back when lightly pressed. Invert cake pan and let it hang until the cake is completely cool. Remove from pan and frost with Lemon Butter Frosting.<br />
<br />
<b>Tips:</b><br />
1. This is Baking 301. There are many intimidating tasks here, but fear not. Online tutorials are here to help. If this is your first time separating eggs, <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/how-to/how-to-separate-eggs/pictures/index.html">check out this slideshow and video at the Food Network</a>. If you are trying to determine if your egg whites are stiff or not (#TWSS), <a href="http://www.bhg.com/videos/m/32071628/beating-egg-whites-to-stiff-peaks.htm">Better Homes and Garden has a great explainer</a>. Or, for a little bit of everything - egg separation, egg white whipping, egg white folding - I love <a href="http://www.thejoykitchen.com/ingredients-techniques/essential-techniques-whipping-and-folding-egg-whites">this blog post at The Joy of Cooking</a>. And of course, I am always here for you. I'd be happy to answer questions in the comments. <br />
2. A tube pan is also called an angel food cake pan, and it is a requirement for Lemon Chiffon Cake. Without that removable bottom, I'm not sure how you'd get the cake out of the pan. (See also: Do not make this in a bundt pan unless you plan to eat the whole cake by yourself, with a fork, standing over your kitchen sink. Because it will never come out.) <br />
3. My tube pan has these awesome little stands on it so I can tip it upside down on my counter while it cools without smooshing any of the cake. If you don't have stands on your tube pan, thread the middle tube through a bottle of wine instead and let it hang there as it cools. (The things we do for cake.)<br />
<br />
<b>LEMON BUTTER FROSTING</b><br />
<br />
1/2 cup butter, room temperature<br />
3 cups powdered sugar<br />
2 teaspoons grated lemon peel<br />
2-4 tablespoons lemon juice<br />
<br />
<b>Directions:</b><br />
1. Beat the softened butter and gradually add the powdered sugar.<br />
2. Add in the lemon peel and the lemon juice until the frosting is fully and of spreading consistency.<br />
<br />
<b>Tips:</b><br />
1. I like my frosting thick, so this recipe works for me. But honestly, it's not the best icing for a delicate cake. So feel free to add more lemon juice and/or warm water, a tablespoon at a time, until you get the frosting to more of a glaze.<br />
2. The cake must be completely cool before you try to frost it. But you knew that, right?<br />
3. I garnished the cake with paper-thin slices of lemon to make it look pretty. If you have Meyer lemons available to you, use those as garnishes. They are sweet enough to eat.Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-60219521365320281582017-10-17T12:55:00.003-05:002017-10-17T12:55:31.604-05:00Salted Caramel Oatmeal CookiesI don't like cookies. <br />
<br />
It's one of my most <a href="http://www.sortaawesomeshow.com/shownotes/2016/4/21/ep-56-unpopular-opinions-ahead-a-group-show">unpopular opinions</a>, but I stand behind it. Why have a wafer of crumbly sugar dust when you could have pie? <br />
<br />
But these cookies. Ahhhh. These cookies. They <i>almost</i> make me change my mind. <br />
<br />
Salted Caramel Oatmeal Cookies taste like fall smells. An oatmeal base (::cough:: whole grain) combines with butter, sugar, vanilla and two secret ingredients. First, you add tiny chunks of caramel to the dough, and then you top the cookies with a sprinkling of kosher salt right after baking. <br />
<br />
I mean....<br />
<br />
Also, please note: all that chewy goodness sticks like mad to a regular cookie sheet. For this reason, parchment paper is a MUST with these cookies. If you don't line your cookie sheets with parchment, your cookies will glue themselves to the baking sheet and you will end up with crumbs when you try to take them off. Which would turn these magical cookies back into regular cookies. Don't let that happen on your watch.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I55Z0yqSea0/WeY_da6rKDI/AAAAAAAAFfQ/j0nN54EZ7RgtxjFMkDRrxFcW_ugGuZbdwCLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-10-17%2Bat%2B12.25.42%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="595" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I55Z0yqSea0/WeY_da6rKDI/AAAAAAAAFfQ/j0nN54EZ7RgtxjFMkDRrxFcW_ugGuZbdwCLcBGAs/s400/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-10-17%2Bat%2B12.25.42%2BPM.png" width="398" /></a><br />
<h3>
Salted Caramel Oatmeal Cookies</h3>
1 cup butter, room temperature <br />
1 cup brown sugar<br />
1 cup white sugar<br />
2 eggs<br />
1 tsp vanilla<br />
1-1/2 cups flour<br />
1 tsp salt<br />
1 tsp baking soda<br />
3 cups old fashioned oats<br />
1 pkg (11 oz) Kraft Caramel Bits<br />
kosher salt for sprinkling<br />
parchment paper<br />
<br />
<i>Directions:</i><br />
1. Preheat oven to 375.<br />
2. Cream butter with sugars. Mixture will be fluffy in texture and light in color when combined.<br />
3. Add in eggs and vanilla.<br />
4. Add flour, salt, baking soda and oatmeal. Add caramel bits last. <br />
5. Line baking sheets with parchment paper (or you will be kicking yourself in about 10 minutes). Drop heaping tablespoons of dough onto sheets and bake, approximately 8-10 minutes. Pull the sheets when the cookies are golden brown on the edges and just starting to set in the center. They will continue to cook after you remove them from the oven.<br />
6. Immediately after taking them out of the oven, sprinkle cookies with kosher salt. Allow to cool before removing from parchment paper. <br />
<br />
<i>Tips:</i><br />
1. That's right. Parchment paper is one of the ingredients. It's THAT important to this recipe.<br />
2. If you are new to baking, you can always sift the flour, salt and baking soda together before you add it to the butter mixture. That ensures no lumps. But honestly, I've baked for decades, and I've never sifted my dry ingredients, and I've never had a lump. (And yes, I'm a <a href="https://gretchenrubin.com/2017/06/questioners-video/">questioner</a>.) <br />
3. I'm notoriously bad about letting my cookies bake one minute longer than they should. Then I end up with crunchy cookies. Gross. Don't follow in my footsteps. Pull these babies when they are just starting to set, and you'll end up with marvelously chewy cookies to accompany you throughout your week.<br />
4. If you haven't seen Kraft's Caramel Bits before (#twss), here's a photo to take to the grocery store. I did not even know caramel bits existed until I was introduced to these cookies. Just imagine all the other uses for them.....<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iwiU6Upo8iU/WeZDGctz_kI/AAAAAAAAFfc/2OZeHlc-hWEHpcZfCLuGFkUO_a4yvb3cQCLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-10-17%2Bat%2B12.50.26%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="702" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iwiU6Upo8iU/WeZDGctz_kI/AAAAAAAAFfc/2OZeHlc-hWEHpcZfCLuGFkUO_a4yvb3cQCLcBGAs/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-10-17%2Bat%2B12.50.26%2BPM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-39339319666241652622017-06-01T22:45:00.001-05:002017-06-01T22:48:39.957-05:00Summer Lovin' S'more BarsWhat if I told you s'mores could be stored in your fridge? What if I promised you the taste, texture and nostalgia of a s'more but in a portable form? What if I said you don't need a campfire to indulge in one of the best parts of summer?<br />
<br />
Because that's exactly what this recipe delivers. Gooey marshmallows, buttery graham crackers, melted chocolate, in a convenient package.<br />
<br />
Make these for a weekend with friends at the beach, for that family reunion potluck, for the evening you'd planned a bonfire but it rained instead. Just be sure to hold a few bars back for yourself. Because you can't ever have too much summer.<br />
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i6O5jmrcwLU/WTDdZAV9zrI/AAAAAAAAFeo/TOd2c5uwVfEw6JL5ZmWWa_SmTzMzLKx1QCLcB/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-05-30%2Bat%2B3.24.42%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="1078" height="298" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i6O5jmrcwLU/WTDdZAV9zrI/AAAAAAAAFeo/TOd2c5uwVfEw6JL5ZmWWa_SmTzMzLKx1QCLcB/s400/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-05-30%2Bat%2B3.24.42%2BPM.png" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Summer Lovin' S'more Bars</b></span><br />
<br />
15 graham crackers<br />
1/4 cup sugar<br />
1/2 tsp salt<br />
10 tbsp butter, melted<br />
16 oz chocolate chips (semi-sweet or bittersweet)<br />
4 cups mini marshmallows<br />
<br />
<i>Directions: </i><br />
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.<br />
2. Crush graham crackers by either pulsing in a food processor or placing crackers in a zipper bag and rolling them with a rolling pin. Your goal is small crumbs. You should have about 2 cups of crumb when finished.<br />
3. In a large bowl, combine crumbs, sugar, salt and melted butter until the crumbs absorb all the butter. Scoop out one cup of the mixture and set aside.<br />
4. Press the remaining graham cracker mixture into the bottom of a 13x9x2 baking dish. Bake for 12 minutes or until golden. Remove from oven and set on a rack to cool.<br />
5. Place chocolate in microwave bowl and nuke on medium for 30 seconds; stir. Nuke again for 30 seconds; stir. Continue at this, in 30-second bursts, until the chocolate is completely melted.<br />
6. Pour melted chocolate over crush and smooth with an off-set spatula.<br />
7. Sprinkle marshmallows over chocolate, pressing gently to adhere.Sprinkle reserved crumb mixture over marshmallows.<br />
8. Preheat broiler and place pan 2” under heat for 30 seconds or until marshmallows are golden. PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO MAKE SURE THE MARSHMALLOWS DON’T BURN.<br />
9. Cool pan on rack and refrigerate for 30 minutes before cutting.<br />
<br />
<i>Tips:</i><br />
1. As I said on Sorta Awesome, these are RICH. I recommend you cut them into small squares, versus the normal size bars. <br />
2. PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO MAKE SURE THE MARSHMALLOWS DON’T BURN. It bears repeating. You look away for five seconds and BAM, those marshmallows are tiny little charcoal pillows on your bars. Stay vigilant. <br />
3. I know it's hard to wait. But do NOT attempt to cut or eat these bars until they are completely cool. They'll disintegrate, and while that pile of crumbs will be mighty tasty, they won't be presentable. I've been known to stick them in the fridge and/or freezer to speed the cooling process along. <br />
4. If your house is warm, or you're taking these bars to an outdoor gathering, you might want to check in on them occasionally. That chocolate layer can get awful melty. That's why I recommend you store them in the fridge, if at all possible. <br />
5. I also like to say "bars" with my best exaggerated Minnesota accent, like I'm an extra in "Fargo." I commend that pronunciation to you. Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-26632698157414422392017-01-06T09:11:00.001-06:002017-01-06T09:11:37.939-06:00Creamy Wild Rice and Chicken SoupJanuary. It's cold, it's dark, the holidays are over. This is the time of year when I have to reach deep to find my love of winter, when I have to replace my Christmas tree with an equal number of fairy lights, when I build fires and light candles and admit the below-zero temperatures do offer a compelling cryogenic nostril cleanse. <br />
<br />
This is the time of year when I need soup.<br />
<br />
And this soup fits the mid-winter bill. It features a creamy base, nutty, chewy wild rice, enough vegetables to feel virtuous without putting off the kids, chicken - and bacon. Because January demands bacon. And bacon makes all things better. Even, especially, winter.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qYaLmNKZKKE/WG-vR7DenmI/AAAAAAAAFdU/Kd-grhZhGzIi5kkZUdfZGOlHYlTrIjeGgCLcB/s1600/IMG_4795.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qYaLmNKZKKE/WG-vR7DenmI/AAAAAAAAFdU/Kd-grhZhGzIi5kkZUdfZGOlHYlTrIjeGgCLcB/s400/IMG_4795.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Creamy Wild Rice and Chicken Soup</span><br />
<br />
4 cups (32 ounces) chicken broth<br />
2 cups water <br />
3/4 cup wild rice<br />
1/2 cup onion, finely chopped<br />
1/2 cup chopped celery<br />
1 cup shredded carrot<br />
<br />
1/2 cup butter<br />
3/4 cup flour<br />
2 cups half and half<br />
1/2 tsp salt<br />
1/4 tsp pepper<br />
1/4 tsp poultry seasoning<br />
2 cups cubed, cooked chicken<br />
8-12 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled<br />
2-3 tbsp sherry<br />
<br />
<i>Directions:</i><br />
1. In a large saucepan, combine broth, water and wild rice. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer of 20 minutes. At that point, add the onion, celery and carrots, and simmer for another 20 minutes.<br />
2. In a separate saucepan, melt butter. Whisk in flour to from a roux. Once the roux is bubbly and combined, slowly whisk in half and half and spices. Stir until smooth. Let it simmer until thickened, about 10 minutes. <br />
3. Add white sauce mixture to wild rice mixture. Add chicken, bacon and sherry last, just before serving. <br />
<br />
<i>Tips:</i><br />
1. My kids find the sherry flavor in this soup off-putting. So feel free to leave it out. It's still good. But I do think it adds that extra something, that unnameable umami, that puts it over the top for most people.<br />
2. You want to add more bacon? DO IT. It only makes the soup better.<br />
3. You can substitute milk for the half and half. The soup will just be a little less creamy. I highly recommend the half and half, but if are stranded in a blizzard and you have everything else to make this soup but that one ingredient. Fine. You have my blessing to use milk.<br />
4. If you shop at Costco, buy their packs of cut-up rotisserie chicken for the chicken in this recipe. It's cooked white meat, already in chunks. You just need to go through and cut it into bite-sized pieces, and cut off any skin or gristle that may have gotten mixed in when they were pulling the meat off the bones. Super easy. <br />
<script async="" defer="" src="//assets.pinterest.com/js/pinit.js"></script>Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-20708892202856039082016-05-19T20:57:00.000-05:002016-05-19T21:01:59.766-05:00Fresh Mint Chocolate Chip Ice CreamGardening experts always advise: Don't plant mint. Or if you do, plant it in a self-contained pot. Because mint is the virus of the gardening world. It spreads easily, sometimes mercilessly, and it's almost impossible to control. It just keeps coming back until it's taken over. <br />
<br />
I don't subscribe to the experts advice. Because I like mint. (And because I'm lazy.) So I have a rather large crop of mint in my backyard, that grows larger every year. Come August, the mint is a little smug. "You are so toast, lady. I'm going to <i>own</i> this yard in a few shorts weeks, and there's nothing you can do about it." <br />
<br />
Enter this recipe. It requires two cups of fresh mint leaves to make this ice cream, which results in some of the lightest, brightest, freshest mint flavor you've ever laid taste buds on. And pulling that much mint will show your plant who's boss. <br />
<br />
And if it gets sassy again, make more ice cream. Or just smile with the knowledge that winter will be here soon enough. End game, mint. End game. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNdmy3bWK-Q/Vz5t-sUuEaI/AAAAAAAAFbw/ITTqwt39BMkn2ONQrgWBu-fk9Z6v-JJ1ACLcB/s1600/fresh%2Bmint%2Bchocolate%2Bchip%2Bice%2Bcream%2Bpin.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNdmy3bWK-Q/Vz5t-sUuEaI/AAAAAAAAFbw/ITTqwt39BMkn2ONQrgWBu-fk9Z6v-JJ1ACLcB/s400/fresh%2Bmint%2Bchocolate%2Bchip%2Bice%2Bcream%2Bpin.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fresh Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream</span><br />
<br />
1 cup whole milk<br />
3/4 cup sugar<br />
2 cups heavy cream<br />
pinch of salt<br />
2 cups lightly packed fresh mint leaves<br />
1 tbsp. vanilla<br />
1/3 to 1/2 cup mini chocolate chips<br />
<br />
<i>Directions:</i><br />
1. Add the milk, sugar, 1 cup of the heavy cream and the salt to a medium saucepan. Cook and stir over medium heat until sugar has dissolved and the mixture is warmed through. Add in the mint leaves and mix to combine, making sure all the leaves are immersed in the mixture. Remove from the heat, cover, and let steep at room temperature for about an hour.<br />
2. Set a fine mesh sieve over a medium bowl. Pour the mixture through the sieve, pressing on the leaves to extract as much flavor as possible. Discard the mint. Add the final cup of heavy cream and the vanilla and stir. <br />
3. Let the mixture cool slightly, then cover and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled. Freeze the mixture in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's directions. Near the end of the churning process, add in the chocolate chips.<br />
<br />
<i>Tips:</i><br />
1. Your ice cream might end up with a very subtle green tint, depending on your mint. Or it might stay white. If you want that classic mint green color, add a few drops of green food coloring before you put the mixture in the fridge to chill. <br />
2. I have a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cuisinart-ICE-20-Automatic-2-Quart-Cream/dp/B00000JGRT/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1463708791&sr=8-1&keywords=Cuisinart+ICE-20+Automatic+1-1%2F2-Quart+Ice+Cream+Maker%2C+White">Cuisinart 1-1/2 Quart Ice Cream maker</a> and I love it. This recipe makes the perfect amount for that size of ice cream maker.<br />
3. If you're an ice cream aficionado, you will notice I don't call for egg yolks in this recipe. That's because I don't find the texture of custard-based ice cream to be enough of a reward for the work entailed. <br />
<script async defer src="//assets.pinterest.com/js/pinit.js"></script>Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-92224673981892027302016-05-19T20:32:00.001-05:002016-05-19T20:58:11.250-05:00Spicy Grilled PineappleSpicy grilled pineapple might be one of my favorite summer desserts. And that's saying something, because: Pie. Ice cream. Fruit cobbler. S'mores. <a href="http://www.sortaawesomeshow.com/shownotes/2016/4/21/ep-56-unpopular-opinions-ahead-a-group-show">Pie</a>. <br />
<br />
This dessert shoots to the top of my list because it's SUPER easy but unique enough that it impresses people. Plus, all that caramelized goodness on top of sweet pineapple? It's hard to beat. Don't forget the ice cream. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OxvEeqrf_5I/Vz5nzgOvUAI/AAAAAAAAFbg/lqJnSgZx41YKzMT2HbSRZVS6hTqcTD9NwCLcB/s1600/spicy%2Bgrilled%2Bpineapple%2Bpin.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OxvEeqrf_5I/Vz5nzgOvUAI/AAAAAAAAFbg/lqJnSgZx41YKzMT2HbSRZVS6hTqcTD9NwCLcB/s400/spicy%2Bgrilled%2Bpineapple%2Bpin.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Spicy Grilled Pineapple </span><br />
<br />
1 fresh pineapple<br />
1/4 cup pineapple or orange juice<br />
1/4 cup brown sugar<br />
1 tsp. cinnamon<br />
1/2 tsp. ginger<br />
1/2 tsp. nutmeg<br />
1/2 tsp. cloves<br />
<br />
<i>Directions:</i><br />
1. Peel the pineapple and core. Cut into long wedges. You should have about 8-12, depending on the size of your pineapple. <br />
2. Combine the juice, sugar and spices in a small bowl. <br />
3. Put pineapple in a glass container or a Ziplock bag. Pour marinade over, and cover or seal. Marinate in fridge for 1 hour or overnight.<br />
4. When ready to grill, remove pineapple from marinade and grill over medium-high heat for about 15 minutes, turning once, or until edges are brown and crisp. <br />
<br />
<i>Tips:</i> <br />
1. When shopping for a ripe pineapple, pull a couple of the crown leaves. If they come off easily, the pineapple is ripe. (If you can't find a ripe pineapple, leave it on the counter or the top of the fridge for a few days to let it ripen.)<br />
2. Serve this with ice cream for an extra special treat. Top the ice cream with the extra marinade if you want your friends and family to weep with joy. <br />
3. For a grown-up version: substitute rum for the juice. *hiccup*<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=38444492" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=38444492" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-218838321198044212016-01-21T23:52:00.002-06:002016-01-22T00:00:47.593-06:00Here, Taste This: Lasagna SoupI am seasonal eater. <br />
<br />
Perhaps this surprises no one. <br />
<br />
I am drawn to the drama that plays out every day on the other side of my window. Spring's freshness and hope, summer's sparkle and joy, fall's glory and longing. And winter. Winter's quiet and reflection. Each season speaks to me of different flavors, different sensations. I revel in the rhythm of it. I don't want stew in summer, and even though I could technically grill in January if I'm willing to stand in the snow, something about that turns me off.<br />
<br />
No, winter demands soup. <br />
<br />
And this soup, my friends, is all that is right about soup. It sticks to your ribs, thanks to the pasta, and it dances on your tongue, thanks to the Italian sausage, and it is bright with seasonal veggies. (Carrots, spinach, I'm looking at you.) Best of all, it's a one-pot meal that can go from start to finish in less than 30 minutes. Just enough time to hide some fresh mozzarella in the bottom of each dish, slice some baguette and rinse some grapes. <br />
<br />
Then sit down to a steaming bowl of the best winter has to offer. Maybe, just maybe, you'll give thanks for January. <br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xkYj4N4TAYI/VqHBurqGrRI/AAAAAAAAFao/AqcNHATRbmM/s1600/lasagna%2Bsoup%2Battribution.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xkYj4N4TAYI/VqHBurqGrRI/AAAAAAAAFao/AqcNHATRbmM/s640/lasagna%2Bsoup%2Battribution.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Lasagna Soup</b></span><br />
<br />
1 lb. hot Italian sausage<br />
1 cup onion, chopped<br />
2 cups carrots, cut into coins<br />
2 cups mushrooms, sliced<br />
2 tbsp. garlic<br />
4 cups chicken broth<br />
1 14-oz. can Italian diced tomatoes<br />
1 10-oz. can tomato sauce<br />
1 cup mafalda pasta<br />
4-6 cups fresh spinach, roughly chopped<br />
fresh mozzarella<br />
Parmesan cheese,<br />
4 tsp. thinly sliced fresh basil<br />
<br />
<i>Directions:</i><br />
1. Brown sausage in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat.<br />
2. Add onions and carrots; saute 3 minutes. Stir in mushrooms and garlic; saute another 3 minutes.<br />
3. Add broth, tomatoes and tomato sauce; bring to a boil.<br />
4. Drop in pasta and simmer until <i>al dente</i>, about 10 minutes.<br />
5. Stir in spinach and cook until wilted, about 2 minutes.<br />
6. Place fresh mozzarella in bottom of soup bowls and ladle hot soup on top.<br />
7. Garnish with Parmesan and basil.<br />
<br />
<i>Tips:</i><br />
1. The easiest Italian sausage to use in recipes like this is bulk sausage, usually found near the breakfast sausage are in your local grocery store. If you're worried hot Italian sausage will be too spicy (aka you're Scandinavian), it's fine to use "sweet," or regular. <br />
2. Mafalda pasta looks like mini lasagna noodles.(I will pause here for us all to embrace the cute.) But if you can't find it - and I can't, right now - feel free to use bowtie or even penne pasta in its place. I often use <i>campanelle</i>, or bellflowers, just because I think they are pretty.<br />
3. If you can find the fresh mozzarella balls known as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bocconcini">bocconcini</a>, use those for this recipe. It's easy to throw three or four balls of cheese in the bottom of each soup bowl and call it good. If you can't find bocconcini, feel free to dice up any fresh mozzarella you can find. It will all melt the same, and what we're after here is easy meltability. (Totally a word.) Every bowl should have its own soft little nuggets of wonderfulness. <br />
4. Does the price of basil in the winter bring you down? (Plus, it's not exactly seasonal, is it.) Then use a drizzle of pesto in its place. You get the same fresh herb flavor at half the cost.<br />
<script async="" defer="" src="//assets.pinterest.com/js/pinit.js"></script>Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-46560346687906709332015-08-19T13:24:00.001-05:002015-08-19T13:24:14.208-05:00August<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uOgpurKJfrM/VdTJcg-YA6I/AAAAAAAAFZY/12NR3yPQldw/s1600/late%2Bsummer.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="372" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uOgpurKJfrM/VdTJcg-YA6I/AAAAAAAAFZY/12NR3yPQldw/s640/late%2Bsummer.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
Summer is finally slowing down and stretching out, like long shadows on a lazy afternoon. June and July were energetic. Three different VBS weeks, baseball, family camp, drama, church activities. We practically ran from one event to the other, powered by the drugs of early morning sunshine and fresh cut grass.<br />
<br />
But eventually, the adrenaline wears off and tempers wear thin. Structure, even fun structure, becomes a prison. And so we limped into August and fell head-first into a calendar filled with nothing but white space.<br />
<br />
So here we are, week three of August. We have three weeks of summer vacation left. And I'm starting to feel my shoulders relax and come down from their perch by my ears. These are the days when I make plans with friends because the openness of our days scares me a little, when I let the kids stay up until 11:00 to watch family videos, when I say, "Oh, all right" when asked if they can have a treat after eating a paltry serving of vegetables. <br />
<br />
<b>This is the summer Sabbath.</b> A time to rest, for sure. To recharge and refresh. But also to celebrate and enjoy the work of our hands. August is when I remember how much I like being with my kids when we have no demands intruding on us. It's when I treasure the simplicity of life as it is right now, when I have enough silence in my soul to behold it. Little ones in fresh-smelling pajamas. Connor and Natalie laughing over a video. The sound of lullabies competing with the hush of the trees after dark. <br />
<br />
These are the days I wish August could last forever. Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-57746954104249354792015-01-18T15:16:00.001-06:002015-01-21T17:01:18.301-06:00Coffee, Smoothie and Lucky Charms: Life at 43I turned 43 last week. On my birthday, I posted this picture on <a href="http://instagram.com/kellyatlovewell/">Instagram</a>.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://instagram.com/p/xzWku0Qjh5/" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_top">Birthday breakfast: Casi Cielo in a French press, a spinach-berry-OJ smoothie - and a few handfuls of Lucky Charms straight out of the box. Because #YOLO - and at 43, I really know the truth of that.</a></div>
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A photo posted by Kelly (@kellyatlovewell) on <time datetime="2015-01-13T17:23:51+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jan 13, 2015 at 9:23am PST</time></div>
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<br />
It made me laugh - because Lucky Charms at 43 feels vaguely rebellious. But as the day passed, I began to think of it as prophetic. That breakfast is a fairly accurate snapshot of my life at this age. <br />
<br />
<b>Coffee</b>: I know what I need. I am comfortable in my own skin. I'm not wasting any more time "looking for myself." I'm right here. I know myself, and I like her. Certainly, I have flaws; I have accepted that I cannot do everything I want or be everything to everyone. But I am OK with that now. I am done striving. I feast daily on grace. Give me this day my daily coffee. It's what I need to get through.<br />
<br />
<b>Smoothie</b>: At 43, I am not who I was when I was 23. This seems obvious, but it's not when you are the one inside your own skin. It takes wisdom and observance to realize that age is happening to you. Change is required. Maturity doesn't just happen. So a few years ago, I stopped eating empty calories. I cut out obligations not suited to me, fighting the guilt that says "but you should; there's a need." I created margin in my life. I went to bed at night. I started to work out again - gingerly, after four babies. I gained new respect for my body, this physical frame that carries me through. I fell deeper in love with my husband. I started listening only to Jesus, and stopped craving other people's approval. I discovered what it's like to be nourished. <i>My new way of life became less about what I gave up and more about how good I felt on this side of the divide.</i> That's when change has roots. So now I start most days with a spinach-berry-OJ smoothie - not because I have to or because I fear gaining weight if I eat toast or because I want to appear Pinterest-worthy. I drink that smoothie because I love it. I do it for me, and for the God who made me.<br />
<br />
<b>Lucky Charms</b>: I want to grow in wisdom and love and grace and truth. But I do not want to grow into a person who is dour and practical and predictable. Life is a gift. So let's celebrate! Have a dance party! Teach the kids to love Bon Jovi! Go for ice cream at bedtime! Love someone anonymously! Carry granola bars and water in the car to give to the homeless! Sing loud! Mourn with those who mourn. Laugh with those who laugh. Savor the sunset. Every dawn, a new party is laid before us. At 43, I'm done missing it. I color my hair aquamarine and purple, and I dance my heart out at Zumba, and I make no apologies. <br />
<br />
This is good news for my friends who are 23 or even 33. It's your choice, of course, but life can get better with each passing year. Pain cannot dull the colors, loss cannot diminish the gift. It just grows more precious and beautiful. <br />
<br />
At 43, I know what I need, I know who I am, and I've learned to savor. I'd say that's learning to <a href="http://www.lovewellblog.com/p/love-well.html">love well</a>. Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-5158917909378457532014-10-20T23:26:00.000-05:002014-10-21T13:20:50.300-05:00Boo Your Neighbors: A Halloween Chain Letter In Real LifeYou know what's harder than choosing a costume for Halloween?<br />
<br />
<i>Waiting</i> for Halloween. <br />
<br />
By this point in mid-October, my kids are whipped into a fun-sized frenzy. Costumes are paraded nightly, and their merits debated. Halloween classics are read (<a href="http://www.lovewellblog.com/2012/11/i-dont-understand-charlie-brown.html">the Great Pumpkin feels less offensive</a> in print), Halloween-themed TV shows are watched (our family favorite is the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0009W5IYW/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0009W5IYW&linkCode=as2&tag=lovwel-20&linkId=HYRBQXIJQDGM75W5">The Backyardigans - It's Great To Be A Ghost</a>). At least three times every day, someone asks me, with an exasperated sigh, "Is Halloween tomorrow now, Mommy?"<br />
<br />
Anticipation can be excruciating. <br />
<br />
But fear not, gentle parents. I have a solution. Channel that pent-up energy and Boo Your Neighbors. <br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g-hPb11yKQo/VEXbXp-ZHDI/AAAAAAAAFWY/_hy1Ko0_f1I/s1600/boo%2Byour%2Bneighbors%2Bgraphic.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g-hPb11yKQo/VEXbXp-ZHDI/AAAAAAAAFWY/_hy1Ko0_f1I/s400/boo%2Byour%2Bneighbors%2Bgraphic.jpg" /></a><br />
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Under the guise of darkness, choose two of your favorite neighbors (preferably those with kids, but I imagine kids of all ages would enjoy this). Quietly creep to their doorstep and leave a bag of treats*, a You've Been Boo'd sign and an explanation of the game. (Both are below.) Try not to giggle as you sneak away.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y2VXICteKE4/VEXdVQxzQhI/AAAAAAAAFWk/aoQFikGx01U/s1600/Halloween%2BBoo-page-001-2.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y2VXICteKE4/VEXdVQxzQhI/AAAAAAAAFWk/aoQFikGx01U/s400/Halloween%2BBoo-page-001-2.jpg" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h7hd6a6uBWk/VEXdb7QXIfI/AAAAAAAAFWs/MGbaWzjJewg/s1600/you've%2Bbeen%2Bboo'd%2Bgraphic.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h7hd6a6uBWk/VEXdb7QXIfI/AAAAAAAAFWs/MGbaWzjJewg/s400/you've%2Bbeen%2Bboo'd%2Bgraphic.jpg" /></a><br />
And then watch and wait, as Boo signs mysteriously show up all over your street between now and Halloween.<br />
<br />
It's like a chain letter - only with candy instead of a curse. <br />
<br />
You can download PDF's of the the Boo sign and game explainer below. Or make your own! Use some more of your kids fevered excitement and let them go with markers.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/97975125/Halloween%20Boo.pdf">Halloween Boo poem and directions</a><br />
<a href="https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/97975125/you've%20been%20boo'd%20sign.pdf">You've Been Boo'd sign</a><br />
<br />
Happy Haunting.<br />
<br />
*We all know you have an open bag of Halloween candy in your house right now. It's OK. No shame. Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-34292901507770236412014-09-10T14:48:00.000-05:002014-09-10T20:05:38.061-05:00Seasons Change<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KcjiK9Zg8hs/VBDDpDeE3xI/AAAAAAAAFWI/p69L45cQw_0/s1600/running%2Bfor%2Bbus.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KcjiK9Zg8hs/VBDDpDeE3xI/AAAAAAAAFWI/p69L45cQw_0/s1600/running%2Bfor%2Bbus.jpg" height="321" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
Cold is coming. That’s what the meteorologists say. Never mind that it's only the second week in September and that most everyone in the Upper Midwest is near panicked about summer's end. Nope. Weather don't care. A Canadian cold front is coming in with a left hook. Highs in the 50s with a cold rain, they predict. Gray. Maybe even frost in the outer suburbs.<br />
<br />
Teach us to number our days of sun, Lord, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. <br />
<br />
The dire forecast certainly sent a tingle of terror down my spine. But more than that, it gave me permission to wallow in the last few days, which were perfect to the point of myth. Blue skies, crisp breeze, bright sun that caressed my skin with warmth. “There, there, baby. I’m not gone yet.” The purple and orange coneflowers hosted a honey bee frat party, and the pool was filled, one last time, with laughing, splashing children. <br />
<br />
It was glorious. And I relished it more because I knew it was about to change.<br />
<br />
This is the lesson of the seasons: change is constant. So you best keep your eyes wide open for the gift of today.<br />
<br />
My kids started school last week. There was the normal adjustment: Teyla started first grade - she's gone all day now, riding the big yellow bus to and from school with her older brother - and Kieran is in preschool three mornings a week. But for the most part, this is a well-worn groove. We know this dance. We all get up between 7:00 and 7:30, we leave the house at the same time each morning. I know every possible route to Natalie's private school, I can guess what each child wants for lunch. Everyone gets home around 4:00. It's safe. Predictable. <br />
<br />
But I see signs of change ahead. <br />
<br />
Next fall, Natalie starts high school, and a public high school at that. Connor will transition to middle school. And Kieran, my baby, will start all-day, everyday kindergarten. <br />
<br />
Whew. Left hook to a momma's heart. That's a lot of transition coming for me in 2015. Good stuff, even great stuff. But all of it involves heaping piles of change.<br />
<br />
Which is why I'm savoring this year, The Year Before. I'm 42 now. I have experience with seasons. I have learned to step back and use all my senses to treasure today. Natalie, tall and tanned, embracing her new role as oldest on campus. Basking in her last year with her friends before the high school diaspora. Connor, relaxing in to his second year at his new school. Deepening friendships, growing comfortable with routines and expectations. Teyla, delighting in first grade and the new friends and the new teacher. For her, it's all discovery and giggles. Even Kieran, dipping his toes in the educational pool and then happily joining me back at home, where he can snuggle and play guys and do karate without a single distraction or care.<br />
<br />
I've said before, these are the good days. I know it. <br />
<br />
And this year, I'm savoring it. Open wide my eyes. Listen. Laugh. Drink it all in, every last bit. <br />
<br />
Because I love every season. But the one I'm in is always my favorite. <br />
<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 26px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 18px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 26px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 18px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-58156309518634776332014-09-03T22:48:00.000-05:002014-09-03T22:49:41.930-05:00A Lament for Summer Subtitled: The First Person to Rejoice Over the Return Of All Things Pumpkin Gets Slugged<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S_wKGJyqefI/VAfgibvQqqI/AAAAAAAAFUo/roF1fKk6UQY/s1600/sumac%2Bleaves%2Bstarting%2Bto%2Bchange%2Blate%2BAugust.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S_wKGJyqefI/VAfgibvQqqI/AAAAAAAAFUo/roF1fKk6UQY/s400/sumac%2Bleaves%2Bstarting%2Bto%2Bchange%2Blate%2BAugust.jpg" height="393" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
Take back thy fall leaves on the ground<br />
Take back thy colors all around<br />
<br />
Take back thy pumpkin spice latte<br />
Take back thy apple scented days<br />
<br />
Take back thy scarves, thy boots and coats<br />
Take back thy caps (you know, eh, toques) <br />
<br />
Take back thy cool nights bright with moon<br />
You come too quick, you come too soon<br />
<br />
Take back thy school bus rumbling through<br />
Take back thy chill morns wet with dew<br />
<br />
Take back thy pumpkins, gourds and wheat<br />
Take back thy cheers and football cleats <br />
<br />
Take back this season, though but fair, <br />
’Tis not the time for autumn’s prayer<br />
<br />
I need more heat and pool and sun<br />
More <a href="http://www.lovewellblog.com/2014/08/the-golden-days.html">golden days</a> beg to be spun<br />
<br />
Give me sloth and hair that's wet<br />
I'm not done with summer yet<br />
<br />
But in four weeks, come back, thou fall<br />
Your glory, then, I welcome, all<br />
<br />
Just kindly sibling winter ditch<br />
<s>That season really is a ... </s><br />
That season really makes me twitch<br />
<br />
<i>My sincere apologies to dear friends who are real poets, but that picture at the top is one I took on Labor Day - the sumac are already turning crimson. Thus, passion was unleashed, and this ditty was born. </i>Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-7140150943951128872014-08-31T17:31:00.004-05:002014-09-01T00:53:04.255-05:00The Golden Days<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bfQgqMhbPMc/VAOiwG22hSI/AAAAAAAAFUA/ePcB1cHb258/s1600/trees%2Bsunlight%2Bcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bfQgqMhbPMc/VAOiwG22hSI/AAAAAAAAFUA/ePcB1cHb258/s400/trees%2Bsunlight%2Bcropped.jpg" height="401" width="640"></a><br>
The wind blew crazy Sunday morning. The treetops pirouetted against the sapphire sky and the leaves skittered along the pavement and the dragonflies stayed low to the grass and tried in vain to make headway. <br>
<br>
I went outside in my pajamas just to feel its wildness on my skin. It lashed my eyes and twisted my hair and snuck down into my soul, where it tugged like a hurricane. <i>Faster, faster</i>, it whispered. <i>I bring change on my wings. You cannot stop me. </i><br>
<br>
And I whispered right back, <i>I know, alright? I know. But I have two days left.</i><br>
<br>
Simmer down, wind. Simmer down. <br>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
----------</div>
<br>
Summer has been golden this year - piled high with laughter and sunshine and laziness like a triple-scoop ice cream. I've fairly rolled around in it like pig in slop. We didn't go on any big trips, choosing instead to stay close to home and do ... well, a whole lot of nothing. We swam every chance we got, we spontaneously met friends at the park which turned into pizza dinners at someone's house which turned into sleepovers "please mom please mom please." The big kids spent days watching YouTube videos of other people playing and narrating Minecraft, sort of a Mystery Science Theater 3000 for the next generation. The little kids went camping in their bedrooms, which essentially meant cramming backpacks with two of every toy in the house (tiny little Noahs) and then leaving them for me to discover under beds, in closets, in bathtubs. Teyla spent hours crouched low in the yard, one finger out, patiently willing dragonflies to land on her. Kieran taught himself to swim in our pool, going from life-jacket-only in June to jumping off the diving board by himself in August, part ninja, part fish, bobbing up from sparkling water with a smile and a yell. <br>
<br>
It was the best stuff of life. <br>
<br>
These are the sweet days, I know it. Natalie turned 13 in July. She's almost as tall as me and her thick mane of chestnut hair stretches long down her back. She takes selfies like its her natural language (which it is, I suppose) and she texts with friends from school and when I hug her good night, I close my eyes and hug tight because just a few days ago, she was my baby, and now she's emerging woman. Connor is as wirey and bronzed as some mythical snake. He does perfect dives into the pool and when he laughs, he wrinkles his nose and throws his hair back and his sun-streaked blond hair shimmers. <br>
<br>
This summer shone brighter than the sun. <br>
<br>
I've told many friends that I'm in a near panic about going back to school this year. I'm not ready to return to early to bed and early to rise, I'm not ready to pack lunches every day, I'm not ready to return to schedules and traffic and deadlines. I've grown quite accustomed to waking up whenever I want and doling out breakfast between 10:00 and noon and serving chips and homemade salsa for lunch and eating dinner only when everyone is hungry. Bedtime lately has been well after dark, almost always after 10:00, if I'm honest and feeling brave enough to admit that on the Internet. I'm not ready to give up days where getting dressed means putting on a dry swim suit and we can fall asleep on chair cushions watching the clouds meander across the sky.<br>
<br>
Mostly, I'm not ready to give up my kids. I will miss each one of them when they go back to school on Tuesday. I will miss the time we've spent together this summer, just being. I will miss them as they are in this season, this moment - tanned, laughing, bored, relaxed. I will miss them so much my soul will ache.<br>
<br>
So simmer down wind. I know I can't control you, and I know you are a harbinger of change. But I've got two more days. Still time for one more swim and one more snuggle. <br>
<br>
I don't intend to waste a moment of this golden summer. <br>
<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-15800300002288466752014-07-29T16:03:00.001-05:002014-07-29T16:34:38.427-05:00Here, Taste This : Thai Quinoa Salad with Peanut Lime DressingIf I had to give this summer a theme, it would be - Just Go With It.<br />
<br />
If not observing strict bedtimes makes your evenings stress-free, just go with it. <br />
<br />
If watching "Days of our Lives" every night while you clean the kitchen brings you an odd sort of comforting joy, just go with it. (EJ DiMera is in prison, Sami is on a rampage, John Black is in a coma, Hope's eyebrows still shoot sky-high at the end of every scene she's in. All is as it should be in Salem. It makes me strangely happy.) <br />
<br />
If staying off social media is a breath of fresh air, just go with it. <br />
<br />
And if you discover a salad you like so much, you make it every week, just go with it. Variety is over-rated anyway, right? <br />
<br />
We first met, the salad and I, at a friend's house back in March. I was smitten with the first bite: nutty quinoa, crunchy cabbage and peppers, bits of carrots and red onion and cilantro and peanuts - held together with a Thai-inspired dressing that is the perfect blend of natural peanut butter, ginger, honey, soy sauce and lime juice. It bursts with color, texture and oh-my-word-you-have-to-smell-this aroma. It's the kind of salad that pairs perfectly with grilled chicken or, my favorite, spicy shrimp. Or you can just eat it for lunch every day for the entire summer. Like you do. <br />
<br />
Just go with it. <br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hcol1CGKmGk/U9gRGJ8hytI/AAAAAAAAFMI/qF3ufFksxcg/s1600/thai+quinoa+salad+with+peanut+lime+dressing+2.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hcol1CGKmGk/U9gRGJ8hytI/AAAAAAAAFMI/qF3ufFksxcg/s400/thai+quinoa+salad+with+peanut+lime+dressing+2.jpg" height="492" width="640" /></a><br />
<a href="//www.pinterest.com/pin/create/button/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.lovewellblog.com%2F2014%2F07%2Fhere-taste-this-thai-quinoa-salad-with.html&media=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F-Hcol1CGKmGk%2FU9gRGJ8hytI%2FAAAAAAAAFMI%2FqF3ufFksxcg%2Fs1600%2Fthai%2Bquinoa%2Bsalad%2Bwith%2Bpeanut%2Blime%2Bdressing%2B2.jpg&description=Thai%20quinoa%20salad%20with%20peanut%20lime%20dressing.%20The%20perfect%20blend%20of%20nutty%20quinoa%2C%20crunchy%20cabbage%20and%20peppers%2C%20bits%20of%20carrots%20and%20red%20onion%20and%20cilantro%20and%20peanuts%20-%20held%20together%20with%20a%20Thai-inspired%20dressing%20that%20is%20the%20perfect%20blend%20of%20natural%20peanut%20butter%2C%20ginger%2C%20honey%2C%20soy%20sauce%20and%20lime%20juice.%20I%20mean%20...%20really.%20" data-pin-do="buttonPin" data-pin-config="above"><img src="//assets.pinterest.com/images/pidgets/pinit_fg_en_rect_gray_20.png" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Thai Quinoa Salad with Peanut Lime Dressing</b></span><br />
<br />
3/4 cup uncooked quinoa<br />
2 cups chopped red cabbage<br />
1 red bell pepper, diced<br />
1/4 red onion, diced<br />
1 cup shredded carrots<br />
1/2 cup peanuts<br />
1/2 cup chopped cilantro<br />
1/4 cup diced chives<br />
<br />
<i>Dressing:</i><br />
1/4 cup natural peanut butter<br />
2 tsp fresh grated ginger<br />
3 tbsp soy sauce<br />
1 tbsp honey<br />
1 tbsp red wine vinegar<br />
1 tsp sesame oil<br />
1 tsp olive oil<br />
juice of 1 lime<br />
<br />
<b>Directions:</b><br />
1. Rinse quinoa with cold water in a mesh strainer until water runs clear. This removes the bitterness sometimes associated with quinoa. In a medium saucepan, boil 1-1/2 cups water. Add in quinoa and return mixture to a boil. Cover, reduce heat to low and let it simmer for 15 minutes or so, until quinoa has absorbed all the water. Remove from heat and fluff with a fork. Place in a large bowl and set aside to cool. (Note: This should result in about 2 cups of quinoa.) <br />
2. Make the dressing. Mix peanut butter and honey in a microwave safe-bowl and heat in microwave for 30 seconds, so they will be easier to combine. Add in ginger, soy sauce, vinegar, the oils and the lime juice. Stir until mixture is smooth and creamy.<br />
3. Add dressing to quinoa. Stir to combine. <br />
4. Fold in the cabbage, red pepper, onion, carrots, peanuts, cilantro and chives. Garnish with extra peanuts, chives and lime slices, if desired. Serve chilled or at room temperature. <br />
<br />
<b>Tips: </b><br />
1. Hello Salad Adaptable. Do you have cashews in your cupboard instead of peanuts? Sub 'em in. Want to try honey-roasted peanuts in place of the naked version? Do it. Want to skip the cilantro because it makes you gag? Sigh. If you have to. <br />
2. Go make this. Right now. That is my biggest tip.Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-73717784244625745332014-07-18T17:20:00.001-05:002014-07-18T17:20:56.913-05:00The Parenting Fog<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aILHETEhT7o/U8mdQDJuVWI/AAAAAAAAFLE/BOoSjG8tF94/s1600/fog+lifting.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aILHETEhT7o/U8mdQDJuVWI/AAAAAAAAFLE/BOoSjG8tF94/s640/fog+lifting.jpg" /></a><br />
I call it The Parenting Fog.<br />
<br />
It's easy to slip into, especially in the summer. We get home from a camping trip, we finish up a week of VBS, the relatives leave after a fun visit - and everyone collapses. Fun plus exhaustion plus emotional hyperactivity minus sleep minus vegetables equals a deflated balloon of a person. So everyone retreats to their own corners.<br />
<br />
In my house, that means the big kids ingest hefty doses of screens. Connor plays Minecraft eight hours a day, Natalie watches equal amounts of "Good Luck Charlie." The little kids split their time between Netflix and playing "school" which involves getting out every type of toy we own and putting one of each kind into a backpack to shlep around their bedrooms. And me? I stare at Facebook and various news websites for hours on end.<br />
<br />
In the back of our little brains, the whole engine is going "chug, chug, chug, put this memory over there, chug, chug, file this big thought, chug, chug, do that better next time, chug, chug."<br />
<br />
I maintain it's a necessary and even healthy stage of summer survival. <br />
<br />
The only problem is: like a bad houseguest, it tends to overstay its visit. <br />
<br />
I know this, because last Wednesday - after two weeks of family visiting us plus Fourth of July celebrations plus a week of VBS plus Corey leaving for North Korea the same day the last family members flew home - I entered that stage. I descended blissfully, I'll have you know. "Have at the screens, kids," I mumbled before sitting at my desk with Facebook open. The fog enveloped me like a blanket, and I sighed with pleasure at the nothingness. <br />
<br />
But by Saturday, the sun was breaking through. The fog started to dissolve a little. I could make out shapes. What is that - a child? He's hungry? Bizarre. Do I have children? What day is it? <br />
<br />
And slowly, ever so slowly, I felt strength and determination return. <br />
<br />
That is the moment I decided - hey, this mothering gig. I'm not doing a great job at it - unless you count throwing cheese sticks and granola bars at the fog shapes and calling it a day. Maybe I could get off my arse, put limits on screen time and actually BE with my children. <br />
<br />
Novel, no? <br />
<br />
So Monday, I started over. I parented with intentionality again. I made breakfast for my kids and listened to their stories, instead of retreating with my coffee to my desk. ("I wonder if anyone on Facebook has posted something in the last five minutes?") I made plans to get out of the house. We spent an afternoon at the park on the beach. We dug holes in the sand and ate chips under the trees and marveled at the fall-like temperatures. We took Teyla to gymnastics lessons and instead of pulling out the phone, Kieran and I played tag and catch and let's see who can hit the wall harder. We went to the final baseball games of the season and cheered Connor and his team and basked in the just-warm-enough sunshine and gaped at the best summer sunsets.<br />
<br />
It only took a few days for me to remember - oh yeah, I actually <i>like</i> this parenting gig. It's hard and at times it's tedious and at times it's maddening. But it's summer and I don't want to waste one glorious golden moment with the people I love.<br />
<br />
Bring on the second half of the best season, I say. Here comes the sun. And it always brings grace with it.Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-66827597881850746502014-06-12T10:10:00.000-05:002014-06-12T12:23:47.442-05:00On Being Creative<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RXFGHrVbJCQ/U5nDWnHwl4I/AAAAAAAAFHY/T2w9WnzOXEQ/s1600/summer+night.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RXFGHrVbJCQ/U5nDWnHwl4I/AAAAAAAAFHY/T2w9WnzOXEQ/s1600/summer+night.jpg" height="334" width="640" /></a><br />
It was one of those gorgeous summer evenings, when the concept of time relaxes into a hammock with a lemonade. The sun slanted through the leaves, the tree frogs started singing, the breeze blew just strong enough to dry the sweat on my neck and keep the mosquitos at bay. It made weeding the planting beds almost a joy.<br />
<br />
But my four children weren't as lulled. When I finally walked inside the house at 7:30, they were famished. "What's for dinner, Mom?" they asked with varying degrees of desperation.<br />
<br />
I opened the fridge and surveyed the leftovers. Half a cup of mac-and-cheese. Some chicken fajita slices. The pasta and ham dish I had made the night before to a lack of fanfare. Not enough for a meal. <br />
<br />
<i>Then it's breakfast for diner</i>, I thought to myself, and I reached for my recipe box to sniff out some ideas. Initially I was drawn to the waffles. Peanut butter waffles are good with bananas and offer some protein. <a href="http://www.lovewellblog.com/2012/09/here-taste-this-oatmeal-cinnamon.html">Oatmeal cinnamon waffles</a> with yogurt and strawberries are always a hit. <br />
<br />
But then I saw <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/omelet-for-two-recipe.html">Ina Garten's Omelet for Two</a>, and I instantly knew: this is it. I pulled out the thick-cut, applewood bacon and set it to sizzling on the stovetop. I chopped potatoes, onions and jalapeño and heard the Barefoot Contessa music in my head. It felt good to cook, even after a long day bent in half, even though my fingernails still bore the tell-tale signs of tiny black crescent moons. I tasted a bacon crackling as I spooned them out of the pan, and I heard Ina say, "How good is that?" The potatoes sizzled in the bacon grease and I whipped together a batch of biscuits to satisfy the kids. <br />
<br />
By the time we sat down to eat, I was renewed. The act of cooking - the weight of the knife, the crisp of the vegetables, the smells of the jalapeño and the onion cooking in the pan - it had reinvigorated me.<br />
<br />
Creativity is life-giving.Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-6976906921940621712014-04-22T10:45:00.001-05:002014-04-22T13:51:06.997-05:00Recharge<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TszHjfb8Z1I/U1aNx3tzzhI/AAAAAAAAFFk/ecE7SyXnqpo/s1600/gardening+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TszHjfb8Z1I/U1aNx3tzzhI/AAAAAAAAFFk/ecE7SyXnqpo/s400/gardening+hands.jpg" height="380" width="640" /></a><br />
Yesterday was a gloriously odd Monday - I had nothing to do. Two of my children were at school, but the one who requires me driving her back and forth had the day off. Bible study was cancelled because of Easter. It was a perfectly beautiful, completely empty-of-duties type of day.<br />
<br />
My first thought was - I should write. Words are stirring again in my soul. Lately, it's the lack of time more than a lack of desire that keeps me absent from the page. But when I sat down in front of the computer, the muse hid her face. Nothing grabbed me. I spent two hours halfheartedly rearranging paragraphs and tinkering with words (and checking Facebook and reading blogs and my favorite news sites) before I gave up.<br />
<br />
<b>I decided to give my brain a break and work with my hands.</b><br />
<br />
This is a lesson I've learned slowly, but it has become solid truth for me. Those of us who play with words, who talk, write and read for a living, sometimes the best thing we can do is walk away from the letters and create with a different medium.<br />
<br />
Gretchen Rubin, in her inspiring and fascinating book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Happiness-Project-Aristotle-Generally/dp/006158326X">The Happiness Project</a>, writes: <br />
<blockquote>
Long ago, I read the writer Dorothea Brande’s warning that writers are too inclined to spend their time on wordy occupations like reading, talking and watching TV, movies and plays. Instead, she suggested, writers should recharge themselves with language-free occupations like listening to music, visiting museums, playing solitaire or taking long walks alone. </blockquote>
So yesterday, I did just that. I turned off my computer, which is more serious than simply walking way, and I stepped outside into the gorgeous sunshine. I grabbed my garden shears and my green gloves with the hole in the finger and I set to work cutting back the dead plants in the garden. I snapped off tall hydrangea limbs, brown and brittle, topped with delicate chestnut mop heads. I cut down spires of autumn joy sedum and discovered tightly coiled green shoots right below them, ready to burst forth. I clipped the grasses that stand as tall as a sentry mid-summer, but which now bend crooked and worn after a winter of too much snow. I stopped to rub my back now and again, because I'm 42, and when Kieran said, "Mom, there's a worm!" I walked over to find a baby garter snake on the cover of our pool, desperately trying to make the climb to the surface but unable to scale the near-vertical wall. (We got him out and deposited all five inches of him down near the creek. I only shuddered once.) (Hashtag Minnesota mom.)<br />
<br />
At lunch, I came in and decided - nope, still too many words. So I did some laundry and I washed and stored the kids' winter gear - which means, yes, I've cursed the entire Midwest to a freak late-season blizzard. I'm sorry. It was me. I laid Kieran down for a nap and I slept a bit myself. I went back outside and just sat in the sun and listened to the birds sing, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+12%3A22-32&version=MSG">carefree in the care of God</a>. I flipped through a magazine and admired the pretty pictures, sort of a nondigital Pinterest.<br />
<br />
By day's end, my body was spent - but my soul was oddly filled.<br />
<br />
It was a good day for a writer, even though I hadn't written a word.Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-7885686886873606122014-04-17T17:00:00.000-05:002016-03-25T09:28:43.227-05:00Mourning on Easter<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bdzfCISwwFs/U1BOMBry6xI/AAAAAAAAFFE/YyFoRc_9ETE/s1600/second+mourning+on+easter.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bdzfCISwwFs/U1BOMBry6xI/AAAAAAAAFFE/YyFoRc_9ETE/s400/second+mourning+on+easter.jpg" height="412" width="640" /></a><br />
These are dark days for those of us walking the milestones of Jesus. The final week, the last supper, those torturous hours in the garden. It is darkness and dread and fear and suspicion. The air is thick with shrieking evil, and though our eyes perceive it not, our soul knows full and well: this is the end. <br />
<br />
Have you grieved through Easter? I have. And Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, they were cool balms on my raging wounds. They reminded me that it is not all celebration and happy endings and easy answers in the kingdom. No, there is plenty of despair and desperation here. Even the Man-God cried out for relief from it. <br />
<br />
We are not alone.<br />
<br />
We are not alone when we sob into the carpet, we are not alone when we think, "I can't do this! I can't stand one more minute of this pain!" We are not alone when we are numb and lonely and the fog hides us from life, from love. We are not alone when the easy answers make us spit with rage, when we shake our fist at heaven and shout, "How dare you? HOW DARE YOU allow this?" <br />
<br />
This is why Jesus came. He came as Emmanuel, God with us, and he entered our torment because he couldn't stand to see us being crushed by it. He took the burden on his own shoulders, and even now, he stands with us - with you - right under it.<br />
<br />
Yes, Sunday is coming, and Easter's glory outshines our pain. <br />
<br />
But the celebration is flat without the agony of the shadow weekend. It is the darkness dissipating that makes us fall to our knees in wonder and relief and worship. The deeper the wound, the more deeply we are filled with joy, and we learn firsthand what Jesus' first disciples knew: that sorrow is the depth that adds dimension to our rejoicing.<br />
<br />
Blessed are those who mourn.Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-26777981666240985122014-04-14T09:59:00.003-05:002014-04-14T10:09:01.342-05:00San Diego Spring Break, Part 2<i>Part two of the memories, stories and lessons from our spring break trip to San Diego; part one - including how travel is getting easier for us these days and the simple joys of being outside in March - <a href="http://www.lovewellblog.com/2014/03/san-diego-spring-break.html">can be found here</a>. </i><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Not everything on vacation has to be about us.</span></b><br />
<br />
I love taking our kids on vacation. I love anticipating the fun and making plans. I love being in a different setting - especially when that involves escaping winter - and I love the memories and connections that happen when we have time to be fully together.<br />
<br />
But I do worry that vacations will becomes just one more extravaganza for my kids. We have so much already, and I will fight to my dying days the entitlement that privileges seem to breed.<br />
<br />
So when Corey told me his organization, <a href="http://www.feedthechildren.org/">Feed the Children</a>, happened to be hosting on a charity event when we were in San Diego, I jumped at the chance to take a day off from focusing on us and focus on others instead.<br />
<br />
Thus, our second full day in San Diego, we found ourselves standing outside in the bright sunshine in a parking lot just a few miles from Mexico, loading boxes from Feed the Children into the cars of 800 military families who had been preselected by the Armed Services YMCA.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k444TOX7Fao/U0v21_Cw6KI/AAAAAAAAFEs/NPmCrD-uAmM/s1600/second+ftc+event+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k444TOX7Fao/U0v21_Cw6KI/AAAAAAAAFEs/NPmCrD-uAmM/s640/second+ftc+event+collage.jpg" height="840" width="600" /></a><br />
Two Feed the Children semi-trucks were the backdrop - along with a battalion of Navy and Marines servicemen and women. We worked alongside them to hand out a trio of boxes that contained food, household supplies and a special box from Avon for the women of the house.<br />
<br />
Truth: our kids were a little intimidated to be surrounded by so many "soldiers," and yes, there were a few moments of "I'm hot, I'm hungry, how much longer?" But for the most part, spending a morning serving others was a great adventure for our little tribe, and hopefully, by taking their focus off themselves for a few hours, it made the fun to come even more meaningful.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">My ideal trip is a mix of familiar and foreign.</span></b><br />
<br />
I discovered something on our trip to San Diego. The perfect vacation, for me, combines familiarity and discovery. Traveling to a city that's completely unknown is too much chaos at this stage of life to enable relaxation. I like going to a place where I already how to get around town, where I already have a few destinations in mind, where I don't have to scramble just to find a place to grab lunch.<br />
<br />
San Diego is that sweet spot for us. We know the traffic patterns, we know the cities, we know the locale of our favorite restaurants. We have friends to visit and favorite haunts to swing by. But since we stayed with my brother in northern San Diego County, about 45 minutes north of where we used to live, there was also plenty to explore.<br />
<br />
My brother's neighborhood, in particular, delighted me to no end. I took a walk every day; one morning, I even walked to Trader Joe's, which sits at the business end of the mixed-use development, and bought cream for my coffee. I mean, really. <i>I walked to Trader Joe's.</i> I constantly poured over the variety of housing styles in his neighborhood. On Facebook, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LoveWellBlog/photos/a.518976608189491.1073741825.275974072489747/597409580346193/?type=1&stream_ref=10">I showed off four of my favorites</a>. We visited new beaches, new parks, new restaurants. We made memories and discoveries without the stress that sometimes accompanies exploration.<br />
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Maybe best of all:<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Staying with family on vacation is the frosting on the perfect vacation cake.</span></b><br />
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This isn't always possible, but for the record: I highly advise having family live in popular tourist destinations. My brother, Michael, and his lovely wife, Kristen, were impeccable hosts - letting us use their house, their kitchen, even their laundry. Our kids adored having cousins to play with, not to mention all the new toys to play with - including this dream playhouse in Michael's backyard.<br />
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Because we stayed with family, we were able to pack healthy lunches for our adventures, instead of eating out every meal. Because we stayed with family, we were able to swim in the neighborhood pool and have floaties for everyone. We used their toys when we went to the park, their towels when we went to the beach, their fridge to store our leftovers.<br />
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And the crowning glory: because we stayed with family, our kids had extended time to play with their cousins and get to know them. That was the real joy of this trip - building new connections with family.<br />
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<i>Up next: a few of our favorite things to do in San Diego.</i>Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-73815621535073751792014-03-31T13:42:00.000-05:002014-04-12T16:53:13.430-05:00San Diego Spring BreakWe spent spring break in San Diego this year, something you surely know if you <a href="http://instagram.com/kellyatlovewell">follow me on Instagram</a> or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LoveWellBlog">Facebook</a>. Ever since we got back, almost two weeks ago, I've worn the silliest grin, even as we re-entered daily life and Corey left on a work trip and Minnesota had the audacity to (gasp) snow. I didn't care, not much anyway. It was a great trip, and I'm still basking in the glow.<br />
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I intended to do a photo-heavy post to sum up our trip in one fell swoop. But then I downloaded my pictures and looked through them all and I realized: I have more than one post here. <b>This is the good stuff. I don't want to skimp on this in a rush to get to the next thing.</b> So permit me a few days of snapshots and stories, like we used to do in the dinosaur age of blogging. This is the story of my family and our experiences, and the beautiful thing about sharing these memories here is that my story is often your story too.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Travel is getting easier.</span></b><br />
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We flew from Minneapolis to Los Angeles, even though our eventual destination was my brother's place in northern San Diego, because LAX has more flights and it's easier to redeem frequent flyer points at the busy airports. Our kids are pretty used to flying at this point; Connor has stopped packing weapons in his carry-on (there was that one time we forgot to tell him he couldn't take a pocketknife on the plane; thank you, Lord, for giving us TSA agents with a sense of humor), and since Corey is TSA-Pre, he can take the kids through the expedited security line, which makes everything easier.<br />
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Still, California is a good 3.5 hour flight away from home. It used to be, I packed snacks and new toys and a coloring books and a variety of clothes, diapers and blankets just to get us through. <br />
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Not anymore. At some point, on our way out, I looked across at our family row, three deep on either side. Natalie was reading a book, Teyla was playing on her Leap Pad, Connor was playing Minecraft on the iPad. Corey was working on his laptop, I was reading a magazine and Kieran was asleep on my leg. <br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UPBQG4s3KIA/UziQ7t3lCGI/AAAAAAAAFC8/hcTc5zbA0qE/s1600/plane+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UPBQG4s3KIA/UziQ7t3lCGI/AAAAAAAAFC8/hcTc5zbA0qE/s640/plane+collage.jpg" /></a><br />
No one was fidgeting, no one was fighting, no one had just dropped their marker for the 30th time and wanted me to bend myself into a pretzel to retrieve it from under the seat. They were all taking care of themselves. They were happy and peaceful and able to sit still without reminders. <br />
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"Oh my word. We've made it," I whispered to Corey, nodding at the relative peace around us. "I never thought we'd get to this stage, but here we are."<br />
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And then my heart burst into a million tiny pieces of confetti, because it's true. Don't give up hope, parents of toddlers and preschoolers. You'll make it too.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">California is still my home.</span></b><br />
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I said on Facebook: Every time I walk out of LAX, I inhale deeply and smile. I know that distinctive smell is 95% smog, but it is so familiar and distinctively Southern California, I can't help it. Happy to be "home."<br />
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And this is true. My heart skips a beat when I spy the Pacific Ocean, racing alongside us as we head south on the 5 toward San Diego. The familiar hills, the bright flowers, the traffic on six lanes of freeway, the Tejano music on half the radio stations. It all reminds me of the decade we spent living and rooting ourselves in California. A spring break trip to San Diego would be awesome for anyone, but for Corey and I, it was also a sweet reunion. <br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">When you've been surrounded by snow for 3.5 months, all it takes for a morning of fun is green grass.</span></b><br />
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Our first day in Carlsbad, in northern San Diego County, we decided to take it easy. We investigated the many playgrounds in my brother's adorable neighborhood. The kids were thrilled just to be running on green grass. Teyla performed a full dance recital for Corey and me, as we sat on a bench in the sunshine and drank our morning coffee.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ScO-DZghq2c/UziQxd9UazI/AAAAAAAAFC0/-ejAm7X1mMo/s1600/teyla+dance.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ScO-DZghq2c/UziQxd9UazI/AAAAAAAAFC0/-ejAm7X1mMo/s640/teyla+dance.jpg" /></a><br />
Connor launched foam rockets, one of the many outdoor doors we were encouraged to borrow from my brother's garage. Natalie led her siblings in a game of pirates versus ninjas. It was glorious just to be outside and not be cold.<br />
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That afternoon, at yet another park, the kids took turns rolling down the hills. <br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rouaXDkKjUU/UziRUPfFR0I/AAAAAAAAFDE/5RpJkB3Ao0Q/s1600/rolling+down+hill.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rouaXDkKjUU/UziRUPfFR0I/AAAAAAAAFDE/5RpJkB3Ao0Q/s640/rolling+down+hill.jpg" /></a><br />
It wasn't until they stopped and said, "Our arms itch!" that I remembered Southern California grass is coarsely cut. Each of our downhill rollers had tiny scraps and scratches all over their arms, like a thin road rash. <br />
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Note to my SoCal friends: in Minnesota, the worst a downhill roll will do is stain your jeans.<br />
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<i>Up next: Familiarity vs discovery, we make our kids work on vacation and staying with family. </i><br />
<br />Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-65639789766789833192014-03-20T15:21:00.006-05:002014-03-20T17:46:15.361-05:00How to Make Vacation Re-Entry Pleasant Instead of Painful<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-By8wH0gICHo/Uys9sYlLXxI/AAAAAAAAE5Y/VEKrEiRYoYE/s1600/kids+at+hotel+del.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-By8wH0gICHo/Uys9sYlLXxI/AAAAAAAAE5Y/VEKrEiRYoYE/s400/kids+at+hotel+del.jpg" /></a><br />
We arrived home from spring break a few days ago, suntanned and satisfied after a week away from snow and schedules. Re-entry isn't fun - who wants to go back to school when, the day before, you were playing at a park next to the beach, eating In-N-Out burgers and fries? - but thankfully, our last few days have gone about as smoothly as one can expect. <br />
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<i>And that, my friends, isn't something I used to be able to say.</i> A few years ago, I got serious about setting myself up for success when it comes to vacations. Being on the backside of an anticipated fun event is hard enough; adding a rough return home to the mix was like a double whammy. Instead of winding up rested and refreshed, I squandered my good vacation vibes trying to get up to speed with my normal life. <br />
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Here's my recipe for a pleasant versus painful re-entry. <br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Before I Leave</span></b><br />
<i>Bottom line: I have to do more work before I leave on vacation to set myself up to be able to relish it on the back end. </i><br />
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<b>Clean out the fridge (1-2 days before departure)</b><br />
There is nothing more disheartening that coming home from vacation to find rotting bananas on your counter and sour milk in your fridge. So now, a couple of days before I leave, I go through my fresh food supplies and decide what can stay and what needs to go. Sometimes, that means my family eats a dinner of leftovers a couple of nights in a row so we don't waste food. (I hate wasting food.) Sometimes, I have so much fresh food, I decide to give some of it away to local friends rather than have it languish in my empty house. And always, it means I allot myself 30-45 minutes the day of departure to put freezable food in the freezer - this includes all bread, cheeses and leftovers. And if I have time, I deal with the remaining produce in my fridge that won't keep. Last week, I put all our berries in the freezer; at least that way, I can use them in the future for smoothies or muffins. I froze a bag of pre-cut broccoli; that will go in broccoli cheese soup. I even froze the rest of the container of spinach for smoothies. I also put a bowl of pears on my counter into the fridge. The only thing I forgot was the bananas in my pantry, but banana bread to the rescue, yes? Nothing wasted.<br />
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<b>Make sure I have at least one meal ready to go (1-2 days before departure)</b> <br />
You know what's disheartening? Stepping into your house after a long vacation at dinner time only to realize: there's nothing to eat for dinner. Sure, we could hit up a restaurant, but if we're coming home after vacation, we've just eaten out ad nauseum. And no one has the energy to control the kids at a restaurant after a long day of travel. In the past, a dinner of eggs and toast came to my rescue. But these days, I try to make sure there's something in my freezer that I can reheat the night we come home. Last week, it was a frozen Pioneer Woman lasagna. I put it in the oven right after we walked in the door, and it cooked while the kids ran crazy and the adults unpacked. Ninety minutes later, we sat down to a real meal that didn't include fries or chicken fingers. <br />
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Bonus tip: Make sure you at least have milk and cereal in your house before you leave, so you don't have to run out for breakfast the next morning either. <br />
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<b>Clean the house (1 day before departure)</b><br />
A clean house calms me. A chaotic house makes me crazy. Ergo, I now make the day before we leave on vacation a cleaning day. I don't go crazy, but I do clean the bathrooms, dust the major surfaces, vacuum and Swiffer and make sure my kitchen counters aren't sticky and the sink is wiped down. Walking into a house free from clutter and dog hair makes me think: Ahhh, it's good to be home. I can linger here in this vacation mode for just a few more days. <br />
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<b>Launder sheets and towels (day of departure, if you have time)</b> <br />
If I can, I like to do it the morning we leave. As soon as I get up, I strip my bed and wash the sheets. (I don't worry about the kids' beds. They don't appreciate clean sheets like I do.) I also grab all the towels after morning showers and cycle them through. I figure, even if they aren't hung up (read: I threw that last load in the dryer as I was walking out the door), it's still nicer to come home to fresh. <br />
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<b>Take out the garbage (day of departure)</b><br />
One time, I forgot to take out the kitchen garbage. In the summer. Before we left on a two-week trip. It took me bottles of Febreeze to remove the smell of rotted chicken that seemed to pervade every surface in my home. Never again. <br />
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<b>Start the dishwasher (day of departure)</b><br />
Dishwashers get stinky too, yes? Especially if they are loaded with cereal bowls coated with milk. So even if the dishwasher is only 1/4 full, I start it right before we leave. Because I don't like stinky. <br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Once I Get Home</span></b><br />
<i>Bottom Line: Cash out the pre-vacation work.</i><br />
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<b>Have the Hold Mail delivered</b><br />
I always have my mail held for the time I'm gone and then have everything delivered the day I get home. That way, I can get through the stack of junk right away. It's usually waiting for me, wrapped in a big rubber band, in my mailbox.<br />
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<b>Unpack</b><br />
I used to wait to unpack. "I just don't feel like it yet," I said to myself. You know what happened? Five days after the trip, I was still living out of a suitcase. Ain't nobody got time for that. So now, I unpack within an hour of getting home. And I ruthlessly unpack everything. Laundry goes into the laundry room, clean clothes get folded or hung on hangers, toys get put away, DVDs reunite with their cases (they live in an old-fashioned CD carrier while we are away; less bulk). Yes, it's a pain, but once it's done, you can relax and enjoy being home and bask in all the good memories.<br />
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<b>Do laundry</b><br />
If I don't start the vacation laundry right away, I will put it off forever. So I gather and sort it as soon as possible and throw in a load before I go to bed that first night. It means I have to fold and put away the next day, but if my house is clean and I have food for meals, it's the only real chore I have to do that day. I can manage that. <br />
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<b>Clean your schedule for a day or two </b><br />
Obviously, this one isn't always possible. But when we arrived back this week, I discovered - to my utter delight - that because many districts around us are on break this week, almost all of my regularly scheduled activities have been cancelled. So I had no Wednesday night church events, no Thursday morning workout classes, no Friday morning mommy and me class. I didn't plan this, but now that I've experienced this slow-and-easy re-entry? I would plan it this way in the future, even if it meant bowing out of normal life for a few days. It's been so much nicer than trying to hit the ground running. The whole family has been able to rest from the time change and enjoy being home without being rushed somewhere. Instead of being stretched and depressed, we are savoring a spring break well spent.<br />
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And isn't that the whole point of a vacation? Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-77486086184238082882014-03-09T11:00:00.000-05:002014-04-21T11:01:52.631-05:00Practicing Sabbath<i>This post was <a href="http://www.sortacrunchy.net/sortacrunchy/2014/03/waiting-tables-day-four-practicing-sabbath-from-kelly-of-love-well-.html">originally published at my friend Megan's blog</a>, as part of her beloved Lenten series Waiting Tables. </i><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GGnultuImYg/U1U_R5Im6TI/AAAAAAAAFFU/WIPFofR5ako/s1600/laura-ingalls-grandpa-and-pig-on-sled1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GGnultuImYg/U1U_R5Im6TI/AAAAAAAAFFU/WIPFofR5ako/s400/laura-ingalls-grandpa-and-pig-on-sled1.jpg" /></a><br />
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If you read Laura Ingalls Wilder iconic "Little House in the Big Woods" at some point in your life, you probably remember the following story.<br />
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Pa told it to Laura one Sunday, when she dared to run and play with her dog Jack after dinner, before the sun had set, when Sabbath was still being honored and no fun or work allowed. Rather than punish her, Pa took her in his arms and told her about a Sunday when her grandpa and his two older brothers could not endure the continual sitting and quiet Sabbath seemingly required either. The day before, they had finished work on a beauty of a new sled. But since they finished it after dark, they hadn't been able to use it. And despite their noses being in catechism books and their bodies being on a bench besides their father reading the Bible, all they could think about was that sled. So when they saw their father fall asleep, with his head on the back of the chair, the boys silently filed out of the room, out to the shed where their new sled sat waiting. They intended to slide it just once, silently, and then head right back inside. But as fate would have it, a big black pig stepped into their path just as they neared their house, and since they couldn't stop or turn, that pig ended up on the sled with the boys. "Squeeeee! Squeeee!" went the pig, the rest of the way down the hill. The boys could see their father standing in the window, watching them, as they swooshed past the house carrying the screeching hog. When the ride was over, the boys put the sled away, slunk back indoors to find their father reading his Bible. No words were exchanged. But that night, when the sun set on the Sabbath, he took them out to the woodshed where he "tanned their jackets." <br />
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Pa ended by saying, "So you see, Laura and Mary, you may find it hard to be good, but you should be glad that it isn't as hard to be good now as it was when Grandpa was a boy."<br />
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We laugh, but it has a ring of truth to it, even today in 2014. Sabbath may no longer demand 24 hours of sitting still. But it can feel like one more task on our to do list, one more badge we need to earn. Stifling. Boring. Rigid. A burden. <br />
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But that, my friends, is not Sabbath. That is the bare bones of the animal, picked dry and brittle by the devouring vultures of legalism. True Sabbath is a lithe, laughing, gentle beast, that woos us to come and play.<br />
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<b>Sabbath is supposed to be the best day of the week, not the worst.</b><br />
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I know this, <a href="http://www.lovewellblog.com/p/sabbath.html">because three years ago, God gave me a year to study and practice and absorb what He means by Sabbath</a>. To get the healing shalom of it right down into my marrow. It has become gift to me. Grace. I do not always observe it well, and certainly, I do not do it to the extent I would wish. But I do live by its rhythm and rhyme. And it has changed me. <br />
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So this Lent, if you want to make Sabbath part of your commitment, I want to bless you and give you a high five and a hug and say, "It's worth it. It's worth it." <br />
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And if I may humbly direct your gaze to the aspect of Sabbath that most surprised me, consider this: Sabbath is about delight. <br />
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Dan Allendar, in his book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sabbath-Ancient-Practices-Dan-Allender/dp/0849946042/ref=sr_1_fkmr1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1398095943&sr=1-1-fkmr1&keywords=mark+allender+sabbath">Sabbath</a>, writes. "Sabbath is our play day - not as a break from the routine of work, but as a feast that celebrates the superabundance of God's creative love." <br />
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Does that make your breath catch a little? Sabbath is designed to restore us, to renew us. To let us set aside the drudgery of the every day and allow ourselves to wallow in delight.<br />
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So I ask the question: What delights you? What restores you? <br />
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And while you ponder the answer, let me stir this into the mix. In <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Rest-God-Restoring-Sabbath/dp/0849918707">my favorite Sabbath book, author Mark Buchanan</a> said Sabbath's golden rule is "to cease from that which is necessary." Don't do what you <i>ought</i> to do. If it something you must do, that you feel an obligation toward, then it is work and not restorative. Choose something that you want to do, something that makes you come alive.<br />
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Sabbath is a reprieve from what you ought to do, even though the list of oughts is infinitely long and never done. Oughts are tyrants, noisy and surly, chronically dissatisfied. Sabbath is the day you trade places with them: they go into the salt mine, and you go out dancing. It's the one day when the only thing you must do is to not do the things you must. You are given permission - issued a command, to be blunt - to turn your back on all those oughts. You get to willfully ignore the many niggling things your existence genuinely depends on - and is often hobbled beneath - so that you can turn to whatever you've put off and pushed away for a lack of time, lack of room, lack of breath. You get to shuck the have-tow and lay hold of the get-tos. </blockquote>
Keep in mind: what restores me may not restore you. And what restores me this week may smell like an "ought-to" next week. Many Sabbath celebrations are built on routine: the lighting of candles, the breaking of bread, the singing of praises and wonder. But there is also a continual discovery to it, a creativity that all things made new.<br />
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A few practical tips:<br />
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<b>1. It doesn't have to be Saturday.</b><br />
For centuries, the Jewish people have celebrated Sabbath from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. After Jesus' resurrection, the early church moved the celebration to Sunday. But let's be honest: for many of us, Sundays are not a restful day. So don't celebrate Sabbath then. Pick a day, or an afternoon, or an hour, when you can create the space necessary for Sabbath to breathe. <br />
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<b>2. Let the themes of rest, renewal and restoration guide you.</b><br />
Answer the question: What restores me? What would rest look like at this point in my life? I heard one man who leads Sabbath retreats say many of his participants fall asleep during the first session of quiet, and then wake up, horrified and embarrassed. He always reassures them it is good to sleep, for it means they finally feel safe enough to let go and surrender to their weariness. Maybe what you need most is a good, long nap.<br />
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<b>3. It might take some work to truly rest.</b><br />
If you truly want to carve out time to rest and restore, you will probably have to prepare in advance to get the most out of your time. If you've ever seen "Fiddler on the Roof," you've seen this play out. Everyone hurries, hurries, hurries on Friday to get all the shopping done, the house cleaned, the food cooked, the animals fed so that they can stop at sundown and Sabbath for the next 24 hours without the most pesky "oughts" bothering them. <br />
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<b>4. If you have young children at home, you might need to get creative. </b><br />
I hear the heart cry of every young parent at this moment, because I'm right there too: How in the world do I do this with young kids at home? My answer: I don't know, exactly. As I've worked at incorporating Sabbath into my own life over the past few years, I've found that I can't expect a full 24 hours at this stage of my life. Sometimes, my husband and I will trade a few hours on the weekend to give each other space to Sabbath. Sometimes, I create my own space during the week by placating my kids with Netflix and Goldfish. Sometimes, Sabbath is more about an attitude for me than a physical expression. Even that is healing and restorative for me. Baby steps. Because every move toward Sabbath is a good one. Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-80529494756111585632014-03-03T14:07:00.002-06:002014-03-20T21:18:02.178-05:00On Sleepovers and Waking Up to ChangeThis past weekend, Natalie hosted a sleepover for two of her closest friends. The way the schedules worked out, the girls were here for a full 24 hours, which normally I would say is A Bad Decision, given what I know about sleepovers and tween girls. But the extra time turned out to be a secret bonus: since the girls knew they had a big budget of hours to spend together, they didn't force themselves to stay up all night to make the most of every opportunity. Ergo, they slept from midnight to almost 7:00 AM, and they were a complete delight on Saturday instead of cranky zombies.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4jR823T5wKs/UxTgVDkKa_I/AAAAAAAAE40/ABV5ryVQEfw/s1600/homemade+mini+donuts.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4jR823T5wKs/UxTgVDkKa_I/AAAAAAAAE40/ABV5ryVQEfw/s400/homemade+mini+donuts.JPG" /></a><br />
Also: they baked homemade mini donuts and then whooped it up with the sprinkles. Can't hate that.<br />
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It sounds funny, but at some point last year, I woke up to the fact that I'm a mom who's oldest kids are rapidly approaching the teen years. And I don't mean I gently woke up, as on a spring morning with the birds singing outside my window. I mean woke up like my alarm went off with its loud "BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP" and I simultaneously have a heart attack and win a gold medal for cartwheeling out of my bed and slamming the snooze button while doing the splits.<br />
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It was startling, is what I'm saying.<br />
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I think it snuck up on me because my focus has been fixed by necessity on the younger ones. The baby years are singularly absorbing, the toddler years are joyfully and exhausting. Natalie and Connor were mostly in <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/julianna-w-miner/the-sweet-spot_b_3617506.html">the sweet spot</a>, the easy and uncomplicated years between 6 and 10, when they are old enough to get dressed by themselves and brush their own teeth (<a href="http://www.lovewellblog.com/2014/01/on-raising-boys-and-other-feral-things.html">theoretically</a>), but they still want to be with you and they have awesome imaginations and they are completely unselfconscious.<br />
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I think I forgot they are changing too, even if it's at a slower pace.<br />
<br />
But you know what? After I got over the heart-pounding moment of recognition, I found myself falling in love with the ages my kids are today.<br />
<br />
Yes, Natalie is only 18 months away from high school. (I'm not really OK with that <i>at all</i>, but I keep saying it to myself to see if I will eventually get over the shock.) But she is still my girl, she is sweet and loving and responsible and generous. What's more, now she is genuinely funny (versus the knock-knock joke funny of second graders, which we all know is a special kind of torture) and she sends me cute emoji texts and she gets totally embarrassed when her friends follow me on <a href="http://instagram.com/kellyatlovewell">Instagram</a>, which is endearing.<br />
<br />
Connor draws comics like it's his job right now (which he hopes it will be, someday), and he shares them with me and explains each panel so patiently. "And here he falls down and then it's all 'aaahhhh' and the bomb explodes and then this darkness is where the ninja dies.'" And I smile and nod and feign understanding. Because it's not about the drawing, it's about his imagination, right? And that I get that spades.<br />
<br />
Just last week, I unearthed a bizarre belief deep down in my subconscious, which was: once we are mature, we stop changing. I have no idea where I got this, because I'm fairly certain no adult ever told me that. When I stumbled upon this belief and and held it up to the light, I laughed a while with God because - to live is to change. Even now, at 42, I'm shifting, evolving, learning, growing in my soul and my world view. And I love it. Change isn't always easy but it's exhilarating.<br />
<br />
And so it is with my children. Change is constant. For sure, trying to keep up with the growth of four kids at once is like trying to watch four TV programs at the same time, as I often say. I'm bound to miss key twists in the plot, because there's only so much I can absorb at once.<br />
<br />
But oh. To be on this ride. What a joy.<br />
<br />
---------<br />
<br />
<i>So as long as we're talking about change, let me ask you a question: how old are your kids and what is their bedtime? We are not an early-to-bed family, so generally, the kids all have the same bedtime because a. it makes it easy for us to enforce and b. we rarely make that bedtime anyway. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i> <i>But it occurred to me this weekend that Natalie, at 12, probably doesn't need to aim to be in bed at the same time as Kieran, who is 3. At what age is it right to make the shift to a later bedtime? </i><br />
<i><br />
</i> <i>(I'm going to post the same question over on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LoveWellBlog">my FB page</a>, where there is usually more discussion. So if you want to comment there, feel free to hop over and join the conversation.)</i><br />
<br />
<br />
Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-24145542982919022482014-02-23T23:26:00.001-06:002014-02-23T23:26:09.946-06:00To Hear God<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0Gd4aT_382U/UwrXJWbqoRI/AAAAAAAAE4c/Hwg-OzME6DI/s1600/2ee15a2a010767dbd5741cc27d00ba79.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0Gd4aT_382U/UwrXJWbqoRI/AAAAAAAAE4c/Hwg-OzME6DI/s400/2ee15a2a010767dbd5741cc27d00ba79.jpg" height="427" width="640" /></a><br />
It wasn't until we had settled into our seats - tucking purses away, smooshing winter jackets into an extra chair, pulling the coffee tumblers out - that I noticed the family in front of us at church.<br />
<br />
The parents were sandwiched between children, four in all, three girls and a boy. I was quickly drawn to the oldest girl holding her youngest sister, because the little one had glasses strapped over almond-shaped eyes characteristic of those with Down's. She plugged her ears with her fingers when the music started, the loud drums and the reverberating guitar quite too much for her nerves. Her older sister took it in stride and gently swayed to the music. Mom and Dad, a few seats down, held out their hands at various times, the universal sign for "Do you want me to take her?" The older girl, maybe 15, just smiled and kept swaying.<br />
<br />
When the music finished, and we sat down, the parents dispersed paper and crayons for the middle kids and gently fit large headphones over the ears of the youngest girl, now carefully cradled in her father's lap. I kept watching them, even as I listened to the sermon, because who can look away from love?<br />
<br />
And then I felt it, a quiet tugging in my marrow, a whisper in the space I've created recently for the Holy Spirit to speak. "They are doing it. A job well done."<br />
<br />
"I know," my spirit replied, more with a smile than with words. "I see it."<br />
<br />
"Tell them," the voice whispered back. "They need to hear it."<br />
<br />
Straight away, my eyes filled with tears. I have no idea why, but that always happens to me when the Word speaks right from the center of my being. I am simultaneously terrified and exuberant. It is no small thing.<br />
<br />
My first thought: "Yes! Yes, I should tell them. Who wouldn't want to be told something like that?"<br />
<br />
Immediately followed by: "Oh my word, I can't tell people I don't even know I have a Word From the Lord for them. That's so ... Pentecostal." (At this point, the Holy Spirit smiled. I felt it.)<br />
<br />
"Plus, what if they are doing all this as a front? What if they yelled at their kids all morning? What will the kids think if they hear me say, 'I feel like God wants me to tell you that you're doing a great job' and they think God condones something that isn't good? I shouldn't insert myself."<br />
<br />
And so the wrestling match went, for 20 more minutes. By the end, I was pinned by the Spirit. (Which might be the real meaning of the Greek phrase "to be filled" we see in Ephesians 5.) If I say I want to hear from God, that I want to create margin in my heart, mind and schedule to listen and act, how dare I reply with pithy rationalizations that allow me to do nothing?<br />
<br />
So it was, at the end of the service, that I stood tall and silent for a minute as the crowd around me gathered coats and voices, and then leaned over to the woman in front of me and said, "Are you new here today?"<br />
<br />
She didn't hear me at first. (Of course not. That's how the Holy Spirit plays with me.)<br />
<br />
I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry, are you new?" I asked with a louder, almost frantic tone. "I loved watching your family during church today."<br />
<br />
At this, the mom turned and smiled. "Oh, we aren't new. We're just visiting today, for the baptism, to support some friends. We normally attend Bethlehem. I hope we didn't bother you too much with our chaos."<br />
<br />
"No, not at all," I said. "In fact, I sat here and thought, 'you are doing such a good job.' And I think God wants me to tell you that. You are doing a good job."<br />
<br />
She smiled, "Thank you. That's very kind."<br />
<br />
And then the after-church rush pulled us apart and the conversation ended.<br />
<br />
Did it matter to her? I don't know. I doubt encouragement ever goes unappreciated.<br />
<br />
But I know it mattered to me, desperately. Because I want to hear God, and I think the Spirit talks most to those who have ears to hear.Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38444492.post-17779852944965623292014-02-16T16:28:00.003-06:002014-02-16T16:28:47.673-06:00Why I'd Rather Write on Facebook than Actually Blog<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bqFFVM59ONI/UwE7F321T7I/AAAAAAAAE4M/02EG74Q1irI/s1600/writers-block.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bqFFVM59ONI/UwE7F321T7I/AAAAAAAAE4M/02EG74Q1irI/s400/writers-block.jpg" /></a><br />
If there is consistency in my life, a thread that runs through the whole panarama, it is writing.<br />
<br />
In elementary school, I penned books of sincere, maudlin poetry. In junior high, I filled journal after journal with observances, annoyances and my overwhelming fear that I would die without ever kissing a boy. In high school, I wrote and eventually edited for the school newspaper, and in college, I wrote and then edited and then managed our monthly magazine. Upon graduation, I took a job as the editor of a beachside newspaper, my first "I can't believe I get paid to write" job. Eventually, I landed at NBC, writing and producing stories and sometimes newscasts, in a dizzying attempt to court fickle Nielsen.<br />
<br />
These days, I write here. Or at least, I imagine I do. Lately, I've struggled to write, <a href="http://www.hollywoodhousewife.com/2014/01/do-the-work.html">to do the work</a>, as a good friend says. I find myself facing a wall of fear every time I sit in front of the glowing empty screen, a fear that's murky enough to defy examination but real enough to send me scurrying back to Facebook, where I can read and write pleasant little nothings without having to do battle.<br />
<br />
Then, last week, I read an article on The Atlantic about <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2014/02/why-writers-are-the-worst-procrastinators/283773/">Why Writers Are The Worst Procrastinators</a>, and my whole being practically vibrated with resonation. Because the author, Megan McArdle, somehow saw fit to peak into my brain and heart and write what she saw. After describing in excruciating detail the lengths most writers will go to put off the work of actually writing - "In the course of writing this one article, I have checked my e-mail approximately 3,000 times, made and discarded multiple grocery lists, conducted a lengthy Twitter battle over whether the gold standard is actually the worst economic policy ever proposed, written Facebook messages to schoolmates I haven’t seen in at least a decade, invented a delicious new recipe for chocolate berry protein smoothies, and googled my own name several times to make sure that I have at least once written something that someone would actually want to read." - she postulates this theory:<br />
<blockquote>
Over the years, I developed a theory about why writers are such procrastinators: We were too good in English class. This sounds crazy, but hear me out.<br />
<br />
Most writers were the kids who easily, almost automatically, got A's in English class. (There are exceptions, but they often also seem to be exceptions to the general writerly habit of putting off writing as long as possible.) At an early age, when grammar school teachers were struggling to inculcate the lesson that effort was the main key to success in school, these future scribblers gave the obvious lie to this assertion. Where others read haltingly, they were plowing two grades ahead in the reading workbooks. These are the kids who turned in a completed YA novel for their fifth-grade project. It isn’t that they never failed, but at a very early age, they didn’t have to fail much; their natural talents kept them at the head of the class.<br />
<br />
This teaches a very bad, very false lesson: that success in work mostly depends on natural talent. Unfortunately, when you are a professional writer, you are competing with all the other kids who were at the top of their English classes. Your stuff may not—indeed, probably won’t—be the best anymore.<br />
<br />
If you’ve spent most of your life cruising ahead on natural ability, doing what came easily and quickly, every word you write becomes a test of just how much ability you have, every article a referendum on how good a writer you are. <b>As long as you have not written that article, that speech, that novel, it could still be good.</b> Before you take to the keys, you are Proust and Oscar Wilde and George Orwell all rolled up into one delicious package. By the time you’re finished, you’re more like one of those 1940’s pulp hacks who strung hundred-page paragraphs together with semicolons because it was too much effort to figure out where the sentence should end.</blockquote>
My heart almost burst with recognition.<br />
<br />
I write, in my head, all the time. <i>Constantly</i>. I rearrange words and record lines of dialogue and get the lead just so. I come up with idea after idea, and I feel so proud of my imaginary work. And then I sit down to write, to do the work, and I freeze up, because now I'm face to face with the very real possibility that what I write will be drivel, that the beautiful concept in my head will end up squished and bloody as a newborn baby after it descends from my brain to the screen. <br />
<br />
Failure. I fear it. I avoid it. I despise it. So I slink away from the challenge and go fold laundry instead. Because at least then, I know I'll end up with something to show for my work - like a pile of neatly pressed towels - instead of a page of messy, incoherent crap that looks nothing like I had imagined.<br />
<br />
Maybe you relate to this? For you, it might not writing. Maybe it's getting off the couch and starting to exercise again. Maybe it's changing, <i>really changing</i>, the food you eat. Maybe it's the art supplies you've stuffed in the back of the closet with a huff and a sigh. Maybe it's going back to school to finish that degree or entering that songwriting contest or looking for a new job that really excites you.<br />
<br />
Whatever it is, I know this: <b>doing nothing to avoid failure ensures failure of the deepest kind</b>. We must try. We must fail. We must learn. We must grow. And we must never give up. <br />
<br />
In <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bird-Some-Instructions-Writing-Life/dp/0385480016">Bird by Bird</a>, Anne Lamott says: <br />
<blockquote>
Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.</blockquote>
Amen? Here's to more having fun. Kelly @ Love Wellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18037513409301217473noreply@blogger.com0