Fooling Around

The front page of Robert Armin's Foole upon Foole, written in 1600

When Robert Armin, an actor from Shakespeare's own company, wrote Foole upon Foole in 1600, he was bringing personal experience to the page. Since 1598, he'd been developing the roles of key fools in Shakespeare's plays, such as Touchstone in As You Like It. Though Armin's text refers to six kinds of fools, there were two that most Shakespearean scholars will agree are prominent: the artificial fool and the natural fool. About those two types, Armin said the following:

Natural Fools are prone to self-conceit;

Fools artificial with their wits lay wait

To make themselves Fools, liking the disguise

To feed their own minds and the gazer’s eyes.

Essentially, the distinction is this: the natural fool incites his betters to raucous laughter because the fool himself doesn't know any better, while the artificial fool studies his art to learn how to amuse his master while also exposing the master's shortcomings and often teaching a lesson. When I first introduced this idea to my senior elective students this week, we came up with examples from current media; John Stewart serves as an apt example of an artificial fool who uses humor to reveal truth while someone like Robin Williams, perhaps, is solely there to amuse us without a larger message in mind. Though my class will begin reading As You Like It next week, they haven't yet encountered Touchstone, Jaques, or William (all of whom are notable fools in that play), so I was finding myself at a loss to offer more examples to clarify the understanding of the somewhat perplexed students before me. 

And then, like the proverbial lightning bolt, it struck me: the cats.

Earlier in my teaching career, I used to tell stories about my cats all the time; when I taught at boarding school, they'd sometimes even show up for class themselves, perching on the windowsill after having stealthily stalked me all the way from my apartment across campus. Now that I'm in my thirteenth year of teaching, though, my stories have become far more erudite; no longer do I discuss silly cats, as I've moved on to my equally silly husband and our adventures together. However, when Rosie's furry little face popped into my mind during the discussion on fools, I couldn't resist.

The first stage was simply to admit that our three cats--Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Osric--are indeed named after characters in Shakespeare's tragedy, Hamlet. (In fact, I might argue that all three are natural fools, unwittingly bringing humor to dark moments in the play, but that's a topic for another post.) After my students had processed this information--with some good-natured teasing thrown in, of course--I used my clearest, most logical tone to explain my comparison. Rosie--our little furball who not infrequently walks off the back of the sofa, not realizing the end of a tangible support is imminent--is a clear example of a natural fool. Ozzy, on the other hand, is our little artificial dude, the one who studies the world around him closely, then attacks his sisters by using their own tricks against them. 

Rosie, surfing away on a clearly precarious wave of boxes, much to our amusement.

Ozzy, dutifully studying the world outside to learn from the lightning-quick machinations
of the kamikaze squirrel who regularly throws himself at our window.

I'm not sure how much I helped my seniors, except for arming them with the knowledge that their new English teacher may very well be a headed for a future as a crazy cat lady. However, when I told the story to Jeff over dinner that night, he took such delight in his eccentric and fur-covered wife that he made me promise to blog about it.

You thought this was going to be an esoteric post, didn't you? Nope--I'm just fooling around.

Ozzy, studying from the best: Twelfth Night's Feste.

Contagious Joy

I have a longer post in the works, but I had to share this tiny moment from a snowy Friday afternoon--the first one we've ever had (thanks, Global Warming!) in the neighborhood we now call home.

And that's only three of the seven "regular" neighborhood kids
we've adopted as our own!

See that goof smiling at me through the tree? Have you ever loved someone so much that their joy actually has the ability to erase any sorrow you feel?

Jeff will be the most wonderful father one day--but, for today, I'm just so glad he's the most wonderful husband. His joy--in the snow, in the kids, in a beer with some of the men he calls his closest friends--is contagious, and I'm infected now!

Family Dinner Night

For Christmas, my brother (www.rettalbot.com) and sister-in-law (www.karentalbotart.com) gave us three things we'd never had before: a Moroccan lamb recipe, ras el hanout spices (blended in their own kitchen), and a tagine to cook it all in. Pretty awesome present, right?

We've been waiting to dive into our new project until we had an afternoon and evening together to really spend cooking, and today's MLK holiday offered the perfect opportunity! After Jeff enjoyed a long chat with our friendly McLean butcher (who kindly boned the leg of lamb for us), we brought it home to give it a lovely, spicy rub.

There are several places in this recipe that require waiting, and this was the first. While the lamb warmed up to room temperature and the ras el hanout soaked in, we decided it was a rare weekday when we could relax.

Jeff got busy setting up his work-from-home computer in the office while I tackled making lunches for the week. Once Jeff had headed out to get sample paint for our bedroom (definitely the subject of a future post!), I chopped up the butternut squash, onion, sweet potatoes, and carrots to toss in the tagine with some olive oil.

Into the oven it went to cook for 30 minutes, which was just enough time for me to finish up this week's lunches: a quinoa salad variation (green and red peppers, edamame, sliced almonds, tofu, mango, and cilantro with a thai dressing).

Once the thirty minutes were up (and the lunches were safely stowed in the fridge), I added some wine and the lamb to the tagine.

With Jeff just home from Home Depot, there was time to snap a few proud pictures to show just what a family affair tonight really is! Not only is our meal from my brother and sister-in-law, but also check out the guest appearances below!

See that super-cute clock on the wall behind me?
A wedding present from Tante, a beloved angel who watches us from heaven.

You're loving that hot pink skeleton apron, aren't you?
Jeff has a matching one in black--
they're from his brother, sister-in-law, and niece who we adore!

Sometimes family isn't related by blood;
the red oven mitts came from an original production of Alice in Wonderlandthat I adapted and directed and that Jeff did set and lighting design for.
The mitts were our lobster claws for the "Lobster Quadrille,"
and they remind us of some of our closest friends and favorite students.

As we waited for the two hours that the lamb needed to cook, Jeff diligently painted our walls with some shades of blue and grey as the house filled with delicious smells, promising the amazing dinner to come!

Next time, perhaps a little less cooking time and a little more salt, but a worthy first attempt with our tagine all the same!

Thai Quinoa Salad

It's Sunday again, so that means it's time for me to get inspired about some healthy, filling lunches for the week. I'm notorious for getting stuck in a rut (which is why I have no problem eating the same lunch five days in a row), so I've returned to the "Iowa Girl Eats" blog for a little more quinoa inspiration (yup, quinoa again--I told you, I like a rut). When I found this recipe, I got really excited: http://iowagirleats.com/recipes/?recipe_id=6037481. I only made a couple of minor changes, most of which were based on what we already had in the house.

Ingredients (for the salad):
1 1/2 cups dry quinoa (I used this cool organic red quinoa my parents gave us recently; it turned out a little more crunchy than the golden kind, which I really liked for this recipe)
1 cup coconut milk
1 cup chicken broth
1 mango, peeled and chopped
1 cup edamame, thawed
1/4 cup chopped cilantro (I cheated with the tube variety again)
1/4 cup nuts (I had some slivered almonds, so I used those; peanuts also work really well with Thai flavors)
1/4 cup dried cranberries

Ingredients (for the Thai dressing):
1/3 cup fresh lime juice (I only had 3, woefully sad limes on hand, so I added a little lemon juice, too)
1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce (I thought the soy overwhelmed the dressing, so I'd go lighter on the 1/4 cup next time, then add as I was tasting)
1/4 cup sesame oil (I did a scant 1/4 cup, and it worked well)
1 tbsp honey
Pinch of ground ginger (dried spice)

Directions:

• Bring coconut milk and chicken broth to a boil, then add quinoa. Turn heat down to medium-low, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes (or until quinoa has absorbed the liquid). Cool quinoa by removing from stove and placing in fridge or freezer to chill.
• Thaw edamame, following package directions. (Usually, immerse in boiling water for 3 minutes, then rinse under cold water until cool.)
• Peel and chop mango. If you've never worked with a mango before, it's not hard--don't be intimidated! A mango has a fibrous, long pit in the middle, and the flesh of the fruit will cling to it. Slice off the sides, then score the fruit before peeling it off of the skin (see photo below).

• Whisk together dressing ingredients in a small bowl. Add each ingredient a bit at a time, testing taste as you go. 
• Mix edamame, nuts, cranberries, cilantro, and mango in a large bowl.

• Add cooled quinoa and half the dressing, then stir to combine. Taste and add more dressing as desired. (I ended up using about 2/3 of the dressing I'd made.)

Just like last week's quinoa salad, I plan to add shrimp or chicken to this one daily to get a little more protein added in. Other than that, though, my lunches are ready to go for the week!

Breakdowns and Breakthroughs

I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but I have a wonderful therapist. She came to me by way of Jeff's concerns about my body issues (before our first pregnancy even occurred) and my school counselor's recommendation (after our first loss last January). Knowing the struggles of other women who are frustrated in their searches for a good therapist, I feel all the more fortunate to be under her care.

Last night, I thought a lot before therapy. My first session after this most recent loss was fine, but I left it feeling like I hadn't been totally open and raw with my therapist--who, aside from Jeff, is one of the few individuals in real life who I can be that way with. So, as I considered last night's session ahead of time, I determined that I wanted to discuss success and failure--the ways in which I didn't feel successful at all right now, and the things making me feel like a failure.

Bring on the waterworks.

Now, I'm not surprised when I cry (in therapy, at the mattress commercial, in the first ten minutes of Hunger Games). Last night, though, it was quite enlightening to realize that I couldn't even say the word failure without needing the Kleenex box. Here's the thing: I like to be successful, and I strive for perfection in most areas of my life. These are not new realizations; it's simply how I'm hard-wired, which means it's something I've come to accept. However, the breakdown last night initiated not from my striving for perfection but from my realization of imperfection.

For me--maybe not for other women--but, for me, a miscarriage feels like failure, which means that a second miscarriage (especially one that took 11 months and thousands of dollars to conceive) feels like even more failure. Failure to carry past eight weeks, failure to give my husband a child, failure to offer my own parents the chance to be grandparents, failure to will my body into submission. And so, when I can't will my fertility into submission, then my attention turns to criticizing that body that has failed me.

And so, last night, we ended up back in the realm of mirrors. We talked about my negative self-dialogue--which is, in actuality, a monologue, as I feel completely incapable of challenging the thoughts that spin through my head. I point-blank asked my therapist what to do when I stare in the mirror and judge my pudgy belly or flabby arms. I was pretty sure I knew the answer would be one of two: change where I'm looking to someplace more positive or work on cognitive restructuring (transforming those negative thoughts into more factual realizations). Boy, was I wrong.

"Avoid mirrors."

At first, I was completely confused--I look in our mirrors at home constantly. Heck, I don't even shower after a workout and put on PJs without checking to see what part of me is most unattractive. But then it occurred to me: right now, I'm smart enough to protect myself from pregnant women and infants however I can. I know seeing the nursery at church or the pregnant coworker one building over will trigger negative thoughts and tears, so I just avoid it. Why, then, had it never occurred to me to avoid the thing that most often triggers my body self-hatred?

So, last night I tried it. Actually, I forced myself to do it. Before I took a shower, I opened the mirrored bathroom cabinet so that I couldn't stare at my reflection. When I got ready to change into comfortable clothes, I opened the full-length, mirror-plated jewelry cabinet in our bedroom, so looking in it wasn't even an option. This morning, I got out of the house a full ten minutes early because the only glimpses I gave myself were while doing make-up and then a quick, cursory glance to make sure I'd picked matching boots before I walked out the door.

It's not easy. I still found myself analyzing my round belly in the bathroom work mirror and criticizing my hair. But at least now I know it's in my power to stop looking--and that feels like a breakthrough. I don't have the strength to challenge the negativity yet, but I sure can try to protect myself from the painful thoughts.

So, if we go out to dinner anytime soon and you find me refusing to sit facing the mirrored bar, you'll know why. Self-torture isn't something I'm willing to indulge in anymore.

Superfood Salad (to turn me into Superwoman?!)

Sunday morning, Jeff and I stood in the kitchen, realizing that we haven't really cooked in nearly two weeks because of vacation. And, in spite of money spent eating out, we really needed to do a big grocery shopping  so that we would have the makings of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for this week--especially since the only one of those meals we'll actually be home together for is dinner Tuesday night. Feeling completely uninspired about what to make for lunches to bring to school (since I was already grumpy about going back to class), I started to browse the web for ideas--when I suddenly remembered a summer post from my friend, Megan's blog (http://oneemerald.blogspot.com/). In it, she mentioned this awesome "Superfood Salad" from another great blog: "Iowa Girl Eats." Because the recipe isn't mine at all (though I have modified amounts a bit), and because I don't believe in plagiarism, here's the link to the original recipe in the "Iowa Girl Eats" blog: http://iowagirleats.com/recipes/superfood-salad-with-lemon-vinaigrette/

Now, with the technicalities out of the way, here's how to make the deliciousness in preparation for healthy, not-too-expensive, ready-to-go, work lunches!

A confession about these yummy ingredients:
Jeff was kind enough to seed the pomegranate for me last night,
so I had the arils ready and waiting in the fridge!

Ingredients (for the salad):
1 cup dry quinoa
1 orange, peeled and segments chopped (thanks to my folks, we have some delicious FL oranges!)
1-2 avocados, chopped (usually, I'd just do one, but these ones were particularly small)
1 can (15 oz) black beans, rinsed and drained
1 cup pomegranate arils (about 1 pomegranate worth--if it's more than a cup, I just use them all!)
1 cup frozen corn, thawed
1/3 cup cilantro, chopped (in the winter, I cheat and use the tube variety from the store)
Salt and pepper (to taste)

Ingredients (for the lemon vinaigrette):
1/4 cup lemon juice (usually 1-2 lemons)
1 garlic clove, microplaned or finely minced
Dash of sweetener (agave nectar, stevia, or white sugar, also to taste)
Salt and pepper (to taste)
4-5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

My little sous-chef felt it was very important to preview all ingredients.
(Note to self: Ozzy might actually eat pomegranate arils if given the time and means.)

Directions:

• Cook quinoa according to package directions. (As quinoa cooks, it's a great time to also thaw your corn!) Set quinoa and corn aside to cool. (To speed up the cooling process on the quinoa, I often put the warm quinoa in the freezer--it chills down much more quickly that way! You can also put the warm corn in the fridge for a half hour or so.)

Quinoa and corn cooking away.
(Quinoa was in the boiling stage, which is why it looks white!)

• Make the lemon vinaigrette by putting all the ingredients in a jar with a tight-fitting lid (a mason jar or empty pasta sauce jar works great!) and shake to combine.

So easy and delicious! Definitely keep taste testing, though.
And don't be scared to leave it tangy--
the sweetness from the avocado and orange will mellow it out.

• Combine the cooled quinoa with remainder of the salad ingredients (except vinaigrette).

All the ingredients except quinoa--
toss gently, as avocados are fragile!

• Pour lemon vinaigrette over whole salad and stir to combine.

Final salad--yum!

• Can be served chilled (better for summer) or room temperature (my choice in winter)

Portioned out in five perfect lunch-sized containers (about 2 cups each).
Since I only need 4 more lunches this week, maybe I'll be nice and give Jeff one!

One other idea: this salad is delicious by itself, but you can add a little protein boost by grilling some chicken or shrimp to put on the top. It's a bit too cold here to send Jeff to the deck to grill right now, so I just picked up some frozen, pre-cooked jumbo shrimp at Trader Joe's. I plan to thaw 3-4 each morning, then toss them on top of the salad at lunch time.

The Best Lasagna Ever

Nearly thirteen years ago now, one of my best friends, L, cooked me the most delicious spinach lasagna I'd ever had. From then on, it was my constant request for every dinner party we had, and, in a few years, it became my go-to recipe for what to bring to new moms, grieving friends, or potluck dinners. As a result, when Jeff and I learned on Thursday that our neighbor was going through a difficult miscarriage herself, I decided it was time to dust off the recipe, set my own grief aside for a few hours, and pay forward some of the care I received just two short weeks ago.

So, here's the recipe for the most delicious spinach lasagna I've ever tasted (and you don't have to admit to anyone that it's actually healthy!):

Yummy ingredients, all ready to go!

Ingredients:

a) 1 tub cottage cheese (24 ounces)

b) 4 large eggs
c) 2 cloves of garlic
d) 1 tsp salt
e) 1 tsp pepper
f) 1 tsp oregano
g) 1 tsp basil
h) 16 oz shredded mozzarella (reserve 1/2 cup for topping)
i) 1 pack frozen spinach (10 ounces)
j) 1 jar pasta sauce (24 ounces, separated into 4 equal portions)
k) 16 oz lasagna noodles (I often use whole wheat, and you will need 12 noodles total)
l) 1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese

Directions:

• Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
• Prepare lasagna noodles according to package directions. (Usually boil water, add noodles, strain. Make sure you stir while cooking and add a little olive oil so they don't stick to each other / the pot.)

Once the noodles are cooked and strained, run cold water over them to  prevent sticking
and to make them cool enough to handle as you assemble the lasagna.

• Defrost the spinach according to package directions. (When it's defrosted and COOL, squeeze between your hands to remove excess water.)
• Combine ingredients a-i (cottage cheese through spinach) together in a bowl.

Now, organize the components for your lasagna layers:
noodles, sauce, and cheese/spinach combination.

• Put a small spoonful of sauce in the bottom of a casserole pan, just to make the first layer of noodles not stick to the bottom.
• Begin layering:

       Layer 1: 3 noodles (lengthwise), cheese/spinach combination, sauce (6 ounces)

       Layer 2: 3 noodles (lengthwise), cheese/spinach combination, sauce (6 ounces)

       Layer 3: 3 noodles (lengthwise), cheese/spinach combination, sauce (6 ounces)

       Layer 4: 3 noodles (lengthwise), sauce (6 ounces), 1/2 cup mozzarella, 1/2 cup parmesan cheese

The three layers: noodles, cheese/spinach combination, sauce 

Ready to go in the oven!

• Bake for 45-50 minutes. (This is a great time to put together a quick batch of Rice Krispie treats, especially if you're making the lasagna for a family!)
• Let stand 10-15 minutes.

Enjoy!

Why Lint Rollers Were Invented.

My morning trio, without fail, starting every one of my days.

When the alarm goes off, it's like there's a weight on me. And next to me. And pinning down my arm. Jeff's usually been exiled to a small sliver of the bed (I like to remind him that I get a quarter, three kittens get half, and he gets the remaining quarter, but he doesn't follow the logic). And somehow, in spite of how desperately I need to go to the bathroom / shut off the alarm / get a drink of water, I just can't bear to ask the gently purring creatures that surround me to move. And so we lie there for several more minutes, eyes closed, occasional patting happening, and it's absolute bliss.

Rosie and Guillie, cuddled together,
just as they've been for nearly 13 years--since the first night I brought them home.

Jeff and I always both thought we were "dog people," so there's something very humiliating about actually admitting that we've transitioned into "cat people." We used to try to hide it with the typical excuses: "It's so much easier to leave home on a whim with cats," or "It's great not to have to take 5AM walks in the snow!", or "Vet bills are much less expensive for cats than for dogs, you know." But the truth of the matter is that, no matter how often we promised ourselves those things were true, the real truth was that we were falling in love with our little furbabies more and more every day.

Ozzy's two favorite places to be:
Securely on Jeff's back or shoulders (above)
Nestled between his feet as he cooks in the kitchen (below)

And our three little ones, in return, have a remarkable ability to turn "non-cat people" into cooing balls of goo that can't help but reach out and scratch a belly. Even our next-door neighbor, J, who himself is highly allergic to cats, seems inexplicably incapable of walking through our living room (on his way to our cat-free back deck) without reaching out to ruffle up Ozzy's mane as he sits, perched atop Jeff's shoulders like a little parrot. At the vet, Guillie snuggles right up to the tech, even as she's swept away for shots and medication, and Rosie's uncanny ability to locate and infiltrate the warmest lap in the room always earns her a long waitlist of friends who volunteer to serve as her pre-heated furniture.

Jeff swears my co-sleeping with Rosie is a normal occurrence,
which I can no longer deny in the face of photographic evidence.

So, yes, there are vet bills. And scratched-up furniture. And economy-sized lint rollers in every bedroom. But I wouldn't trade any of those things for the unconditional love that our three little ones show us on a daily basis, and even more in a time of grief. They just seem to sense what we need and, just like any family member would do, they provide whatever they can in the way of comfort. The sound of a little purring motorboat (or three) does far more good than most cures I know for broken hearts.