National Sibling Day

{Amy, Wendy, Joey}

Like any sibling can attest, no one can cause you such grief and then make you laugh until you cry like a sister can.  We complained in the car that She's looking out my window!  She's breathing my air!  Mom, Dad!  Make her stop.  Why'd you have to have three of us?!   

We played school.  We  hid Barbie's good high heels from each other.  We stole clothes.  We yelled to Get off the phone! when we were expecting a boy to call.  We were in each other's weddings.  We are aunts to each other's daughters.  We visit each other's houses.

I'm proud to call these lovely ladies my sisters.

My Mom and Dad learned they were expecting me on Amy's 4th birthday.

Maybe she was getting back at me for stealing her thunder when, years later, she would stuff socks in my mouth and plug my nose.

That might have been as mean as Amy ever was to me.

Amy is the oldest.  She looks out for her little sisters.

She drives me nuts when she asks me if I've gotten my oil changed.  Every week.

I once borrowed a pair of shoes and she had to show me how they buckled.  I was 25.

But That's our Amy, as our Mother will say.

Christmas morning was the one time of the year when Wendy and I would completely cede to Amy's structured, planned approach to life without squabbling.  Awake before dawn, we had hours to fill before our parents woke up so we could open presents.

          - Okay, first, we're going to have our pop-tarts and watch a movie.  (Wendy and I would nod.)  Then, we're going to organize our presents.  Then, Joey, at 5, you're going to go in and ask Mom and Dad to wake up.

          - Why me? 

          - They like you best.  

          - Oh, okay.  

Amy was in college when I was in high school, and, even though she could have slept until much later, she would wake up at 6 to curl my hair.

Once, when I was about 15, I woke up in the middle of the night and saw Amy, struggling to contain her laughter, hovering above my face, putting make up on me as I slept.

          - What are you doing?!

          - I couldn't sleep.

When she was 13, she could have spent her hard-earned baby-sitting money on herself, but instead she bought me a doll I desperately wanted for Christmas.

For as far back as I can remember, Amy does all she can to make sure her little sisters have the best of everything.

A friend will stand beside you when life is hard.  Wendy will stand beside you AND make dirty jokes.

When we were little, Wendy would push me down and call me names, but she'd be the first to snap to my defense if anyone else ever said a bad word about me.

Once, when I was 12, I was sitting on my bed reading a book when Wendy opened the door, walked right up to me, spit in my hair, smiled, and turned and walked out, never saying a word.

She would pick me up from middle school in the family's mini van.  The mini van with the "wood" paneling on the side.  A crowd of kids in my grade stood and laughed as Wendy pulled up honking, yelling my name through the open windows with a huge smile on her face.  Then she would inch forward just as I would move to open the door, pulling it out of reach.

  

          - Sorry!

          - OhmyGodWendystopityouaremortifyingme! I said under my breath.

          - What?!  I'm mortifying you?! She would yell back.  Well, then, get in the van!  And then she'd inch forward some more.

Eventually, she stopped doing those things to me.  Eventually, she let me in on the joke.

As a typical middle child, Wendy does everything first. 

She rode a bike first.

She got married first.

She had babies first.

She has the most open mind I have ever encountered.

If I showed up at her doorstep with a dead body, she would say nothing but Where do we dig?

When I was pregnant with Jane, Wendy would cry whenever she saw me; great big tears of happiness.

Just as kindly, she would hold them back because she knew she was freaking me out.

My Mom says she wanted three kids because she thought two would be boring.  As the youngest, I absolutely agree, three is a magic number.

Do you have a sibling who's made you laugh, made you cry, made you crazy, made you Cinnamon Pop-Tarts on Christmas morning?  Share your story.

Indonesian Ginger Tofu

Here is a dish that is salty, spicy, sweet, and healthy.  Isn't it nice when that happens?

This recipe is adapted from the Barefoot Contessa's Indonesian Ginger Chicken; I swapped the honey for agave nectar, used a reduced-sodium soy sauce (and less of it), used extra firm tofu in lieu of chicken, and then added some veggies.

Start with extra firm tofu, one red and one yellow pepper, ginger root, bamboo shoots, water chestnuts, agave nectar (or honey), soy sauce, garlic, and mushrooms.  Next time I make this, I'm adding broccoli, too.  And carrots.  And pineapple.

Finely grate the ginger and mince the garlic and toss it in a small saucepan.  Add the nectar and soy sauce.  Heat over low while you prepare the tofu. 

Tofu is spectacular.  Forget that it's bean curd (because that doesn't sound appetizing at all), and just remember that it's loaded with protein and is a flavor sponge.

To prepare the tofu, drain the water it's packed in and cut into 1/4 inch slices, width-wise.  Stack these slices between paper towels and firmly press to allow the paper towels to soak up any excess water.  If the tofu is water-logged, it won't soak up the marinade.

Once drained, cube the tofu and set in a large casserole dish.  Pour the heated nectar mixture over the tofu and toss to coat.

Cube your peppers, making each piece approximately the same size as your tofu.  Toss these, the mushrooms, water chestnuts, and bamboo shoots with the tofu.  Then marinate for 4+ hours or overnight.

Bake, covered, at 350 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes.  Serve by itself or on a bed of rice.

Indonesian Ginger Tofu
serves 4 to 6

• 2 packages extra-firm tofu
• 3/4 cup agave nectar, or honey
• 1/2 cup reduced-sodium soy sauce
• 1/4 minced garlic, about 8 to 12 cloves
• 1/4 grated ginger
• 6 oz water chestnuts
• 6 oz bamboo shoots
• 8 oz mushrooms
• 1 red pepper
• 1 yellow pepper

Lemon Pepper Bread

Do you like pepper?  No, I mean, do you really, really like pepper?

If so, then you'll probably think this bread goes a little overboard.

The loaf pan is coated with pepper, the dough is full of pepper, and right before you bake it, you add more pepper.  Next time I make this, I'm reining in the pepper and letting the lemon do it's thing.  In fact, I'm giving you two versions of the recipe: the one I used today, and the one I'm trying next time.  Pick your perfect pepper proportion.  

With all that said, it's important to note that pepper does some kind of wonderful to your health...

       ...it benefits your digestive system

       ...it's full of antioxidants

       ...it's good for your skin

       ...and it helps fight infections

This bread will be delicious in a chicken sandwich, a spicy compliment to cottage cheese, and tasty with soup.  In a pinch, it will serve as a handy substitute for sinus medicine and mace.  

This recipe calls for flour, sugar, salt, olive oil, lemons, one egg, yeast, warm water, and pepper.

Add the yeast to the warm water and stir in the sugar.  Let this proof for 5 minutes.

Grease your loaf pan and coat with one tablespoon of pepper.  If you want to ever use your tongue again, however, you may want to skip this step.

In a big bowl, whisk your flour, salt, and pepper.  Make a well in the middle, just like your 8th grade home ec teacher taught you.  I remember my 8th grade home ec teacher; she taught me that eggs belong in the back of the refrigerator where they last longer than when you store them on the door.  Mrs. Davis, you've saved me tens of dollars in potentially lost eggs; thank you.

In a smaller bowl, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, and yeast mixture.  You will know your yeast mixture is ready when it's formed a bubbly foam.

Add the liquid mixture to the flour mixture and stir for as long as you can stand it before getting your hands involved to really blend everything well.

When it's properly mixed, knead your dough for about 5 to 10 minutes more.  Cover loosely with a damp towel or plastic wrap and set in a warm place to rise.

When it's doubled in volume (after about 1 hour), punch down your dough and knead for just a minute more.  Shape into a loaf and place in your loaf pan.  Cover once more and set to rise for another hour.

Sprinkle the remaining pepper on the top of the loaf (or don't) and bake at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes.  The bread will sound hollow when it's done.  Remove from the loaf pan immediately and set to cool before slicing or storing.

Lemon Pepper Bread
if you love pepper...

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 3 tablespoons pepper + 2 teaspoons
• 2 teaspoons instant dry yeast
• 1 cup warm water (105 to 115 degrees)
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 egg
• 1/3 cup lemon juice
• 3 3/4 cup flour

Lemon Pepper Bread
if you just kind of like pepper...

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 tablespoons pepper
• 2 teaspoons instant dry yeast
• 1 cup warm water (105 to 115 degrees)
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 egg
• 1/3 cup lemon juice
• the zest of two lemons
• 3 3/4 cup flour

Rufus Bumby, Our Little Red Guy

This little guy was running down the road in Clinton, Ohio when the Sheriff spotted him.

He was underweight and heartworm-positive when he arrived at Animal Control that Friday night.

We first saw him Saturday morning.  

He was lying on his side in a cage, looking bored and sorry he got caught.

We took him for a walk in the parking lot, where he smiled and drooled and didn't try to run away.

I want him.

That was four years ago today.  

A few years ago, a psychic named Phyllis gave me a reading.

She said I was a southern belle in a past life.

She knew I had two sisters.

She asked, Who's the little red guy running around with you?

That's Rufus, I said.

Getting him, she told me, is the best thing you ever did.

They Started It

He wore a dark brown suit.

She wore a floral dress.

He and She became They.

Afterwards they had cake.

They moved.

They moved again.

They bought a house.

They had dogs.

They had a daughter.

They named her Amy.

She was pretty.

She cried for three months in a row.

She was perfect after that.

They moved.

They had another daughter.

They named her Wendy.

She was pretty, too.

She was sweet and didn't cry so much.

They moved again.

They had another daughter.

They named her Joanna.

But called her Joey.

They moved again.

And again.

And again.

There were more dogs.

They took trips.

They hid Easter baskets.

They went to Christmas recitals.

They bought the good cereal.

They spent summer nights on the porch.

They watched their girls get bigger.

They watched their girls have girls of their own.

Because He and She became They 38 years ago today, 

good things keep happening.

Like her...

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. 

Blink and You'll Miss It

The most surreal moment of having Jane came the day we left the hospital.

As we pulled away, I half-expected a crew of hospital officials to run after us,

Stop!  They're stealing that baby!

They didn't; they let us take her home.

Everyone told us to Enjoy her, they grow up so fast! 

They weren't kidding.

{Stuffing a pillow under her feet because she can't reach on March 20}

{Pillow-free by April 4}

I love it when these kinds of things happen.  

I love that she's getting taller and growing teeth.

I love that she's now as tall as her crib is wide.

I love that she can flip back and forth and eat mashed peas.

I love proof that she's healthy and growing, even if she's going too fast.

Who Thought This Looked Good?

This was our kitchen floor.

This peel-and-stick, baby blue, marble-esque kitchen floor.

This slightly textured 1984 kitchen floor that gripped dirt, dog drool, and crumbs.

This floor had to go; it never should have happened in the first place.  The designer that created this beaut of a tile probably wears holiday sweaters and pantyhose with her sandals.  She has rings on every finger and an ankle bracelet.  Maybe once she drank too much at a Journey concert and woke up next to a guy named Lenny who treated her to a pancake breakfast at the truck stop before never calling her.  

Only that kind of misery could produce a kitchen floor like this.

We called in the professionals and we honestly cannot say enough good things about this construction company.  Neat as a pin, perfectionists, and nice as nice can be.

(I should add, we are not getting a discount for saying that.)

As the floors are getting an overhaul, the refrigerator and stove are in the dining room, which means I can't cook, which means we've become very friendly with our neighborhood Chinese restaurant.  Homestyle Tofu and I are like THIS.

{Before}

{After}

The ugliness that gripped the kitchen likely originated in the bathroom.  Like an overflowing bathtub, the bathroom was so full of ugly it seeped through the floor and dripped into the kitchen. 

{Before}

{After}

 Once the grout work is done and finishing pieces of trim are put in place, we can officially declare our house un-uglied.  

Well, except for the 13-year-old carpets.

And the dinged countertops.

And the backsplash tiles with the avocado-green leaves.
And the front door with a putty-filled hole where the old handle was.
And cracked driveway...