Gnumoon's Stuff

Pink and tan and cute all over: baby cookies

I'm not going to lie. The detail on the onesies appeals a little bit too much to my "OCDetail" nature. I could make them all day long.

Halloween Cookies & Turtley treats

I don't believe in "overkill." Anything worth doing is worth overdoing, in my opinion.

 

Those were my treats, but we let the turtle go collect her own:

Mickey Mouse jack-o-lantern

I've been too busy to carve pumpkins this year. I know, weird. But we finally got around to doing one this evening, so I could indoctrinate Pookie into the fold. Teach her the ropes, show her how to gut a gourd, draw a face, drop a lighted votive into the top in such a way that it lands without going out OR burning your hand. Okay, that last one, and anything with an exacto knife, may actually be lessons for next year.

Our rudimentary "must be finished in 6 minutes because that's the attention span of a 2 year old" jack-o-lantern turned out decently, I thought. She did try to feed it yogurt and then asked when we'd be eating its head. What are those Baptists teaching her at school, anyway?*

*Apparently it was picture day at school today. I didn't get the memo that it was CHRISTMAS picture day, so my child went flouncing in wearing a black and purple Halloween shirt, polka dot skirt, and bright purple tights. Maybe I'll just Photoshop in a turkey, ships and a dreidel somewhere in the pics and do a "fall/winter holiday card" this year.

 

In other Pookie-news, she has finally fallen in love with the light-up skirt and fairy wings my aunt got her for Halloween last year. It adds something to the overall effect when she pokes at the lit up transluscent threads and proclaims, "Those are fiber optics!" Ah, the magic and wonder of childhood. 

I have compiled a list of more halloween songs, but I left it at work. I'll try to get them posted tomorrow.

Dr. Pookie, pachycephalosaurus expert

My little paleontologist. Ah, they grow up and get their doctorates so fast.

Here Comes the Science (and the cookies)

They Might Be Giants are big in our house. Have been since the days before Pookie, but we listen to them most consistently now, because it falls into that rare category of "stuff everyone likes to listen to without wanting to poke pencils in their ears." The stellar "Here Come the 1-2-3s" and "Here Come the A-B-Cs" are perennial favorites, and they are now being joined by a third album (this is where a bad sports writer would try to sound smart by using the word "trifecta" without any reference to a horse race). Our copy of "Here Comes the Science" is, I am assured by Amazon.com, even now making its way up the mountain, where it will be voraciously devoured by our little music nosher, over and over and over again. (Aside: as it's about science, here's hoping the word "miasma" is involved. I love that word.)

The video for "I am a Paleontologist" is great, and we've already committed most of the song to singalong in the car status. Have you ever heard a 2 year old say "pachycephalosaurus?" It's hilarious. The video inspired these cookies, made with leftover dough during this week's "FIRST HOME GAME CRAZINESS." In a world of black and gold butterfly cookies, helmet cookies, football cookies, not to mention the GIGANTOR BLOCK A COOKIE THAT ATE CULLOWHEE, these guys were a fun little diversion.

Note to any actual paleontologist who might read this blog (I know you're out there, Ross Gellar wannabes), I am well-aware that there is nothing skeletally correct about these cookies. That poor T-rex wouldn't even be able to move his leg, as I completely neglected to give him a knee or tibia. He's all femurs and teeth (and of course those ridiculous little arms). And I think it's been decided that the T-Rex didn't actually stand upright like that, but instead pitched forward more, and his tail stabilized instead of drug on the ground. Ross? Wanna pipe in and help me out here? It's a flaw in the cookie cutter (not one of my designs, it was in a set of 101 random shapes), perhaps I should demand my money back. 

I will post my ASU Gameday cookies later, they deserve their own entry, if for no other reason than how silly they are. I'll be hosting a tailgate for the first time ever on Saturday, and I want it to be good, dammit. I've ordered bar-be-que (no time for cooking, there are cookies to be made!), bought cutesy napkins and plates and accessories, and of course there will be cookies. More on the upcoming blur of a weekend later!

For your viewing and listening enjoyment, may I now present They Might Be Giants with "I am a Paleontologist." {note: I heard there is some controversy about this album because it discusses *gasp* evolution and scientific facts. It's about science. Duh. In my opinion, those who would protest this album do not deserve to listen to something as special as TMBG.}

Be sure to look for the pachycephalosaurus doing the Roger Rabbit at 2:22!

Laughing toddler, video upload test, and a weekend wrap-up

You know what is funnier than a teddy bear rolling down the windshield of a car over and over and over? Apparently nothing in the world.

We capped off yesterday with blueberry picking and a dinner of blueberry-wheat-flax pancakes. I ruined any illusion of "healthy dinner," however by heating up some of the honey-roasted hand-mushed peanut butter we'd picked up at the Farmer's Market and pouring it over the stacks. I'm not generally a huge PB&J fan, but it was incredible. My mouth just started watering thinking about it. I'm sorry, regular butter, you had a good run. Take that good-fer-nothing syrup with you. Then for good measure we showed Pookie the joy of feeding the dog peanut butter. She wasn't laughing quite as hard as in the above clip, but almost.

Today I made omelets with fresh veggies out of my grandmother's garden, and they were quite good. Even Pooks approved of the "yittle cute greenies" (sweet peppers), when usually she prefers her eggs infused with nothing but more eggs. (This page is quickly becoming "Gnumoon talks about food a lot," isn't it? Oh well, I do. I love food. *shrug*) Then, because I have all this free time, I painted Pooks' bathroom. I haven't posted about this much, but we're having some difficulty in the potty training area. The difficulty is that Pooks refuses. She CAN, she knows HOW, but she will NOT.

So, having tried begging, ignoring, "Potty presents," and other gimmicks with no success, I was left with no other option than to redo the upstairs bathroom (in the nursery). To change it from a dark, never-decorated cave suitable for only hand-washing post diapering and holiday-decoration-storage purposes into a room so bright, so fun, so cheerful that she will literally pee with delight upon entering. Let's hope that lofty goal can be achieved with paint, shelving, and tile. (PS - Do NOT just hand your paint swatches to the good people at Lowe's and then poss-ass off to do the rest of your shopping. Take the paint base of your choice to them. Otherwise, they will default to the MOST EXPENSIVE PAINT ALLOWABLE BY LAW in your state. Lesson learned.)

Then after some lunch we headed off the mountain to do some shopping (filling the pantry to avoid those "Oh shit, we have a sitter coming during football game and NO FOOD IN THIS HOUSE" moments) and meet the family for dinner. My youngest brother is going to portland to visit the middlest brother in the morning, and it's sort of an unofficial family tradition to meet for a meal the night before a trip and take turns chasing the toddler around the restaurant while not actually getting to ingest any food.

So that was our relaxing weekend. My husband spent the rest of the evening in the recliner, reading media guides and spot charts, writing furiously on index cards and highlighting words in his special Game-prep code. I puttered around getting ready for my week, quizzing him on stats and bringing him green tea, as is our gameweek custom. It's a routine we fell back into with stunning ease.

Since I'm starting back to school tomorrow I have this guilt about leaving the family to fend for themselves, not that they aren't capable of survival. I made turkey meatballs, and instructed DJ on where the sauce and pasta were, and the feta and cranberries for the spinach. He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes at me and went back to his charts, indicating that he knew all these things. I also made fresh basil pesto and a triple-recipe of hummus (forever known around here as "Thomas," since that is what Pooks calls it) for later in the week.

I know all these preparations seem silly, manic even, but it's as if I'm stacking sandbags on a riverbank. The flood isn't here yet, but I can feel it coming, and I want to at least say I tried not to get swept away.

Birthdays, the Farmer's Market, and a few moments of stolen peace

That's what I'm doing, ayup. Stealing peaceful minutes while the family naps on this Saturday afternoon, this Last Saturday of Peace before football. We purposely planned to do nothing at all this weekend, but of course we're harried anyway with the business of life.

Maggie's birthday party was lots of fun. The kids all played, the band was great (it was at the park, where they have music on Friday nights), we met some new fun people, and a good time was had by all. Despite cookies, cake, ice cream, and a general overload on sugary treats, Pookie conked out on my shoulder around 8:30. We woke her up at home just long enough to brush her teeth.

The birthday girl, Maggie, getting ready to blow out her candles:

The cookies were a hit, by the way, and several people even asked if I owned a bakery. That is high praise indeed! (And it has gotten me thinking, which is always dangerous)

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I don't recall if I've blogged about it before, but one of my very favorite things about living here is going to the Watauga County Farmer's Market on Saturday mornings. We get up, throw some clothes on (no makeup or fuss, it's not that kind of scene), and head over as soon as we're conscious. We stock up on basics (squash, tomatoes, eggs), find new ingredients and recipes (rainbow chard wrapped around fresh mint tabouli), and catch up with fellow Boonies. We go there for the cameraderie as much as we do to support the local farmers and get wonderful food. There's just something quaint and wholesome and refreshing about the experience we love, some intangible thing that makes us sad when we have to miss it (as we will next week).

The above photo shows today's haul of fresh basil, chard, onions, squash, potatoes, apples and zucchini. The pineapple came from elsewhere (what, you're shocked that they don't grow in the mountains?). Below is a bouquet of sunflowers from the market. They make me smile, which is well worth the $3.

When we got home and everyone else retired to their naps I spent time destressing by cleaning and organizing the kitchen. There is something about having everything in its place in that one room that centers me. Something about having the spice jars clean and ready, in just the right place (turmeric and garlic front and center, tartar and ginger relegated to the back) to grab when I need them. Something that makes me smile to see the low-sodium soy sauces side-by-side, Kikkoman for DJ and La Choy for me. Marriages are about compromise, but this is not an area where we will ever agree, so there they both are, seperate but equally important to our household.

The dishes are all done and put away in order, not haphazardly stowed like they will be later, when  football/work/class are in full swing. The cookie cutters and mixer parts have been carefully handwashed and packed up, ready for the next project. The floor is freshly mopped (Shark for the win!), peppermint oil on cotton balls has been discretely tucked away under cabinets (to distract any curious mice who might be in search of a winter home). (note: so handy that what mice think smells so bad smells delicious to humans. Also, thanks for the tip, Sarah!)

These things all center me, enabling me to not shudder at the thought of all that is coming at us, fast. In an hour everyone will be awake, the house abuzz with noise and activity, and likely the kitchen will again be a wreck. And Monday I start class (I WILL finish this damn master's degree if it kills me), Saturday we start The Season, and work and toddler and life is all in between.

But for now all is in its place, and the restful silence is beautiful.

Army of Cuteness

Back from vacation - it was fun, I missed the kiddo, I'm glad we're home (but not looking particularly forward to another football season yet). I'd post all about it, but really it was 5 days sitting on my butt in or around the Caribbean while sipping mojitos, snorkeling, and reading the fifth Outlander book. Not much else to say.

But we're back to reality now, trying to navigate the choppy waters of parenthood, ASU students returning to school and gridlocking the whole western part of the state, me attempting to finally finish my damn graduate degree, and us all bracing for the inevitable impact of Football Season. (I'm sure that will be addressed in another post.)

But tonight. Ah, tonight.
My friend invited us to her daughter's 2nd birthday party on Friday. I offered to bring something and she waved me off, "No, no, just come. It's a ladybug theme, I'll get the bakery to do something." When I asked again she said if I really wanted to do something I could make cookies. So yeah, cookies. No problem-o. Who doesn't love sugar cookies? They're quick and easy!

So tonight during post-dinner playtime we were sculpting in play-doh, and I thought,"I could make ladybugs out of this for Magster's party, but they'd taste narsty." But THEN I remembered that I had some leftover fondant from Octocake. I got it out and worked in some food dye, and Pookie and I sat at the table, fashioning little red balls, approximately 2x the size of real ladybugs. Fun, fun.

 After she went to bed, though, things got a bit Out of Hand. I made them little heads. Then I used chocolate sprinkles for antennae and poked those into the heads, then used my trusty exacto knife to carve the wings out a bit, and then painted them with black food dye.

By the time the double batch of sugar cookies (cut into flowers, hearts, and the letters in the birthday girl's name) were out of the oven I had an army, a swarm, a plague of these little edible red and black bugs. They go forth and cause people to have diabetes at my bidding, so beware.

Also, I'm fairly sure my friend is going to think me daft. I don't think we've been friends long enough for her to know that to me "ridiculously time-consuming and intricate bug-making in gum paste" translates to "fairly normal wednesday evening" to me.
Most importantly, of course, I want Maggie to love them. (She is the sweetest, most adorable child - she looks like a little wood sprite, a dryad perhaps. I'll have to ask her mom's permission to post her photo so you can see how beautiful she is) And apparently she has a great love for bugs and worms and creepy-crawlies. I hope mine pass muster!

Princess Willowcrown Dirtyfeet photographs her uncle

Despite the overexposed sky and lack of proper fill-flash, this isn't a bad first attempt at photography for a 2-year old.

Octocake: The Revenge

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Here is the finished & assembled octocake, with little baby octocuppies swimming around it. And yes, I finally got the fondant sailor hat to work. It just took some toothpicks and carefully-chosen threatening swears.

The shower was great, the mother-to-be was glowing, and a good time was had.  Unfortunately, today Pooks got sick, so I haven't had a chance to edit any photos or post anything of substance. It's 1:00 am now, so I doubt that any writeup I did at the moment would be meaningful. Maybe tomorrow.