Medela Giveaway

You might be aware that this next week is National Breastfeeding Week (August 1-7) and in honor of the occasion and hungry babies everywhere the good folks at Medela have offered a nice little package for you mothers-to-be out there. (I've got a new little nephew scheduled to make his appearance in the world in one month so this is a timely giveaway around here.)
First, you see here Medela's nursing camisole for comfort and ease in nursing. Second, I've got Medela's sweet little oak nursing stool (which, it occurs to me, would be something that is nice to have around long after your baby has moved past the nursing phase). Finally, there's Medela's breast care set. These three treats make up a gift package that Medela if offering to two separate winners (one gift package per winner, if that makes sense).

If you're interested in seeing more about what the company has to offer mothers you can follow them on Twitter or on Facebook but for sure get your name into the drawing for one of the two prize packages and then cross your fingers.

And if you win I'm sure the company would be thrilled if you considered "Medela" as a name for your new little addition. Just a suggestion. . . . I'm sure it would score you big points.

Here's how to win:

Before 12 am Monday morning go to the giveaway entry form on this page and enter your name and email. I will pick two of the names at random, contact the winners via their email and publish the winners' first name and home town in next Tuesday's post. See the bottom of the entry form for more details.

This giveaway is open to all people with a U.S. address. Good luck!

Growing Strong in Alaska

By contributing writer Kim Christopher of The Mommy Machine.

***

People hold all kinds of preconceived notions about Alaska. Probably the biggest misconception is that the Last Frontier is an arctic wasteland covered in snow year-round. I’m here to report firsthand that in most parts of our fair state, the ice does eventually melt, the ground gradually thaws, and greenery finally emerges in time for summer.

Alaskan summers may be short, but the hours of sunlight are long and help produce some magnificent gardens between the months of May and September. Alaskans hold several records for the world’s largest vegetables. Care for an 18-pound carrot? We can grow it! How about a 127-pound cabbage? That’s a lot of coleslaw.

It’s not just freakishly large vegetables growing up here. We boast some beautiful flowers and lovely trees and charming botanical gardens. Master gardeners all over the state spend their winters dreaming up the next summer’s flowerbeds, sketching landscaping plans and plotting garden spaces. Green thumbers plant their seeds under grow lights in the garage or next to a sunny window in the guest room or out in heated greenhouses.

You won’t find most Alaskan gardens listed in any visitor’s guide. They’re the products of quiet work by unassuming people who have lived here for decades, who garden for the love of it and just want to make their spot of ground a little prettier. They’re family, friends, and neighbors who invite you over for barbecues, which lead to strolls through their yards that result in snips from their hardy plants for you to start in your own rock garden.

My friend, Cathy, literally lives on the side of a mountain. Her home is built into a cliff, and after I’ve visited I tend to suffer a series of nightmares about losing control of my vehicle and plummeting off her driveway into oblivion. The land around her house is so steep that she can’t have a yard, so she pours her creativity into flower baskets.

Another friend has a small yard, but she isn’t into traditional vegetable gardens or flower patches. Inspired by the Glacier Gardens Rainforest in Juneau, Kandy installed an upside-down tree in her front lawn. She then climbed a ladder and worked her magic with moss and colorful annuals to create a mini flower garden on top of the tree’s root system.

My neighbors up the road have developed a stunning botanical garden that they could probably charge admission to enter. Peg provides the vision and Brian the muscle. Over the last 25 years, they have created walkways and sitting areas through an acre of birch forest behind their home. My kids refer to it as Flowertopia, and they love to play among the trails that wind through the trees.

I’ve got four children and a blog, so my time for gardening is limited. I maintain a small vegetable garden, as well as a rock garden, which I expand each year with perennials and wildflowers that my kids help plant, water, and weed. They’re nothing that anyone else would get excited about, but our family’s gardens bring us joy and help teach my daughters that even in the Far North, they can grow strong.

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Summer Kid Crafts: Make Your Own Window Clings

Ah, the things you can do with a bit of puffy paint. . . .

Or, more specifically, a bit of puffy paint and a piece of wax paper. I taped a big sheet of it on the counter, wax side up, then Lily and I drew with the puffy paint. Puffy paint is the three-dimensional kind you get in small tubes at the craft store, though now that you mention it I've always kind of wondered why they bother saying "3D" because there are, in fact, very few things on this earth that are in fact completely two-dimensional. I think some personalities are the only things that may qualify. But I digress.

Fill in your shapes, write words, draw pictures, make a tic tac toe board or holiday greeting, whatever strikes your creative brain. Let it dry overnight or even for two days, depending on how thick the paint is, then peel it off the wax paper and it's ready to stick to the window.

Make sure it is completely dry before putting in on the windows or it will adhere too well and when you go to remove them the pieces will tear and leave bits of paint stuck to the window. Just a warning.

Sponsored by Beau-Coup for unique baby shower favors.

The Geography of Time

It's funny how when I met my husband I rarely read nonfiction. I think high school and college kind of beat the orneriness into me so that once I could really choose my own books I'd never think of picking up something so dry as a book that had no plot. Ugh. Which reminds me . . . some day I need to do a list of all the things Andrew has introduced me to, with Strange Brew and Shredded Wheat being near the top.

But now that I'm so mature some of the best things I've read in the last five years have been nonfiction and I love the feeling that comes from piecing my way carefully through something that completely changes the way I look at the world.

Last month I posted this video on the The Secret Powers of Time and in it they referenced The Geography of Time by Robert Levine. The video was so fascinating that I wrote the book on my reading list then promptly forgot about it until Carina at Babysteps randomly recommended it to me. What are the odds?

So that sent me to the library and I was reading it within the week. Levine is a social psychologist who studies the pace of life around the world. "And how does one measure the pace of life?" you may skeptically ask. Well, he and his minions went to 31 countries around the world and measured three things--how fast people walked, how quickly the local post office would sell a postage stamp and whether or not the local clocks were accurate--then ranked countries accordingly.

Some things were not surprising--that Japan ranks high would be the easiest thing in the world to guess--but the U.S. ranked 16th, left in the dust by Italy, Switzerland (who scored highest), England and Ireland. Go figure. I suppose California kind of balances out the rest of us uptight states.

Levine and his researchers wondered if the same differences would extend between cities and they measured as many cities in the U.S. in the same manner to find that (as expected) Boston and New York were tops on the list while California cities were left back at the beach. Not surprisingly those same fast cities were also the highest in coronary disease with one exception--Salt Lake City. Scoring as the fourth fastest-paced city on record those Mormons are apparently constantly scampering around, running from church meeting to church meeting but as they don't smoke or drink, they alone of all the fast cities are spared the heart attacks.

Levine's team wasn't satisfied with their results and went back a third time to measure if those same cities whose people moved so fast were also willing to help strangers in need. In short--does pace of life also affect to your willingness to help others? Sure enough, it does. The tests were, again, of a three-part nature but I've got to jump out of line here and tell you what he said about New York. They did simple things such as dropping an item to see if anyone would retrieve it for a stranger but they also put test envelopes on random cars. The envelopes were addressed and stamped and the testers wrote a note on the back of the envelope saying, "I found this letter next to your car, did you drop it?" They then slid the envelope under the wiper blade and waited to see what their subjects would do with a letter that obviously wasn't theirs.

Many letters across the country were tossed in the mail to be mailed back to the laboratory but Levine poked fun at the levels of courtesy the test received. Some letters were sent back opened or tampered with and one letter from New York City--get this--was returned opened and included a rant cursing and swearing the person for being stupid enough to have dropped their letter in the first place.

I love it. New Yorkers are busy but apparently they're even meaner than they are busy and it's worth taking five minutes if you can be sure of ruining someone's day. Levine noted that perhaps the New York points shouldn't have counted on this particular subject as proof of their level of courtesy--after all, they did return the letter and the experimental conditions were met--but he wasn't sure something so spiteful should be added to the total point spread in the city's favor. Heh.

And under the subject of "good news": you can be proud if you live in Tennessee. While up against cities across the entire country (well, in the Lower 48 at least) that beautiful state was able to boast the top three or four most helpful cities, which (if you've ever been to Tennessee, is totally for real). The study, overall, found that a face pace of life was a pretty good indicator that people living there would not be likely to help a stranger in need (Mormons included). But it also showed that being slow-paced, such as in California, did not necessarily indicate a propensity to be courteous.

In fact, California, in it's own laid-back way, scored horribly. Levine posits that it's because California, while comfortable and relaxed, embraces a culture that is all about the individual and personal gratification--hedonism at its finest and most expensive. What makes Tennessee--and many other high-scoring southern cities--different is that while they're slow and relaxed they also have a culture that values courtesy and manners. You help someone because it's the right thing to do and you do it with a smile and a "yes'm."

Anyway . . . I'm rambling but the whole point of the book (which was something I'd never stopped to consider in all my life) is that our perception of time is largely shaped by our climate, our gross national product, our religion and all these things (plus a few others) coordinate to determine how we feel about time and therefore how we live our lives. I go through my day, looking at my watch and coordinating events from hour to hour, which is a distinct representation of how I was culturally taught to view time and not because I merely conform to some innate propriety of how mankind should ideally operate as set forth by the gods.

I guess it's like thinking that I like vanilla ice cream so everyone in the whole world must love vanilla ice cream too (and they should--it's the best). Levine goes a good way to showing how not only does not everyone like vanilla ice cream but most don't even know what it is and would laugh at me for thinking the sweetened, frozen milk of a cow the best treat on the planet. Which I guess is really quite fine because, in the end, it just means more for me.

Sponsored by Storkie.com for baby birth announcements

The Next Forty Years

Two weeks ago I turned 40. For-tee. As in years old. And as you'd expect it made me pause for a moment.

I'll tell you there were times as a young mother that I thought my life would be full of runny noses and messy diapers forever, that I'd never ever again be able to take a shower without someone banging on the door, screaming, "MOM!" or get an uninterrupted eight hours of sleep or have a dinner where I wasn't cutting up someone's meat. I remember days where I'd come home from church swearing I'd never set foot inside the chapel again after the trauma of battling four kids through a sermon or where all I could think about from four o'clock on were the minutes until Andrew got home from work.

Now don't get me wrong--those days weren't horrible or regrettable and I'm grateful for every minute (even the ones that are best forgotten when I may not have been in top form) but I remember so clearly how those years of having small children with big needs stretched on endlessly before me and how I couldn't see that my life would ever be any different. I'd never again be able to wear dry-clean only clothing and I'd always have to carry a purse equipped with disposable diapers.

I was never one of those women who gloried in having small children around. I've known (and admired) women who have a dozen kids, take in foster children, then find time to run a daycare on the side but that's never been me. I've always preferred adult conversation to those where I'm trying to guess what the screaming means.

Please don't misunderstand. I love children--my children--and enjoyed having little arms around my neck and hearing the cute things they'd say but once they got old enough to tie their own shoes and take their own bathroom breaks I was thrilled. I remember older friends telling me, "Enjoy this time because it's the best time of your life" and I'd look at them as if they were insane. Insane. How could croup and colic be the best time of my life? Explain to me that because if it were the best I could expect then my future looked pretty darn bleak.

But it's funny how time has a way of going on with or without you and here I am, realizing that my period of having small children around was only a short ten years of my life, a mere one quarter of my time so far. Sometimes I think I'll be in tough times forever but life does, eventually, change and it moves on to new phases. You break up with your boyfriend and swear that you'll never love again but somehow it seems to pass. You get the flu and you'll never be healthy but one day you'll jump out of bed and feel ready for the day. Or maybe it's been raining so long you've forgotten what the sun looks like and you just know it'll rain forever but at some point you see the sun peaking through the curtains again.

While I don't think I'd ever go back to those years of physical exhaustion I do kind of treasure them in a strange way. It's as if the kids and I went through it all together and we all made it through none the worse for wear and it's made me love them all the more for those tough days. I never thought I'd say it but I am dreading the time when they finally leave home and the house is empty and the dinner table is quiet. On this side of things the accidents and spills are so much more funny and those years of young motherhood have helped me to understand that as life will always have those tough spells maybe other things I'll have to endure will also have happy endings.

Life will always have those bad days and bad times where you swear the rain will last forever but it won't. Even if there is tragedy time has a way of moving on and the weather will--eventually--change and you'll be left with the fuzzy memories of how crazy things used to be. And, magically, instead of remembering the heartache or hard times there's just a quiet satisfaction and sense of accomplishment that some how you made it through, that you were strong enough to endure--and that's feeling is worth more than a mountain of messy diapers.

Sponsored by findourschool.com--Find the perfect school in your area.

Caribbean Jerk Wraps

Don't want to slave over a hot stove in the summer heat? Don't want to cook at all whether it's hot or cold? (Because when I don't want to cook it doesn't make a difference what temperature it is outside).

The pineapple and mint give this a nice, cool flavor, the rice gives it some heft and the jerk seasonings give it a nice little kick. All in all a perfect summer meal for when you don't want to cook. Not much anyway.

salt to taste
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/3 cup jerk sauce (this is the bottled liquid version, not the dry spice)
1 1/2 pounds chicken, cooked and shredded
2 cups cooked rice
3/4 cup diced fresh pineapple
1/4 cup chopped macadamia nuts
3 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
2 teaspoons fresh lime juice
4 10-inch tortillas suitable for wraps

In a bowl mix the salt, cinnamon, allspice and jerk sauce then divide among four tortillas and spread on tortillas.

Top with cooked, warm rice and cooked, warm shredded chicken. Then top with nuts, mint and lime juice, dividing each among tortillas. Roll up burrito style and serve warm.

Sponsored by Overstock.com for free online coupons.

Inception

In yet another reason to love my public library, guess what? I participated in their adult summer reading program (trying to be a good reading example to my children and all) and I won movie tickets! Yes, tickets! Tell me that makes sense--read your books and we'll give you tickets to a movie. I don't understand it but boy do I love it, no complaints here.

So Andrew and I decided to check out Inception and I'm still trying to wrap my head around the thing.

My impressions? It was long . . . and full of big name stars who do a fine job of acting . . . great special effects . . . long . . . did I mention it was long? But don't let that worry you--it's long and great. Two thumbs up from Andrew and I.

So if it sounds as if I'm complaining I'm not--it's two and half hours of intense, mind-warping bang that sends you around and around as if you're wandering a maze (a common theme in the movie so I'm sure it's not unintentional).

If you had trouble following the first Mission Impossible movie (I'm over here raising my hand) then you may have trouble following this story-within-a-story-within-a-story-within-a-story-within-a-story (I've lost track of how many that is? Am I to five levels yet?) Oh, within-a-story.

The writer and director, Christopher Nolan, was responsible for Batman Begins and The Dark Knight and this isn't nearly so dark but it's as suspenseful and intriguing and full of interesting human characteristics and emotions. The plot, while long, keeps you focused and connected to the screen though there was a point about 7/8 of the way through where I started to think "Okay, my brain is getting a little tired now, please--for the love of all that is alternate reality--wrap this up quickly now!"

Strange to think that the woman who was able to read the unabridged Anna Karenina and Atlas Shrugged started to get antsy with a movie but yet there it is. A clever story with great actors that's well done in every sense of the word. So what if it started to get a little heavy on explosions 7/8 of the way through? It was terribly clean (you can't count dream guys getting shot as true violence because it's not real. It's just dream guys, right? I'm joking--kind of) so by clean I mean without gore, sex or profanity though it is intense and children will lose interest most assuredly. It makes you remember why DiCaprio is so fun to watch on screen and it makes you want to go back and see it a second time to understand it even better (pretty smart of the movie industry to make a movie that you want to automatically see again the minute you walk out of the theater). So go catch it now--it's the best summer movie we've seen.

Sponsored by Sorella Jewelry Studio for fine personalized jewelry.

The Alaskan Pipeline

From contributing writer Kim Christopher of The Mommy Machine.

***

I was born and raised in Alaska, so I was around during the big oil heyday, back when the small town of Valdez tripled in size with engineers and security experts and boat captains and laborers of every sort working hard to get the oil terminal up and running. You see, the great Alaskan Pipeline ends at the port of Valdez, which is where the black gold is loaded onto tankers and shipped off.

Considering the horrific spill out in the Gulf of Mexico, now is probably not the best time for me to show you pictures of the Alaskan Pipeline, but I thought it might bring you comfort to see how easily it can be shot at by a drunken man. Wait. Let me rephrase that. Security is very tight along the pipeline, so if you get plastered and shoot at it, you will get caught. Lots of people have used the pipeline for target practice over the last three decades, but so far only one drunken doofus with a hunting rifle was able to cause any damage.

Oil sprayed out of the pipeline through the bullet hole and spilled all over the ground, but the inebriated idiot didn’t get away with it. He was prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law--at least I think that's how it ended. Actually, I don’t know what happened to the guy. He probably ended up working for BP on a drilling rig in the Gulf of Mexico.

The Alaskan Pipeline is 800 miles long; longer than the state of Texas, ya’ll. That’s a lot of pipeline to shoot at. It starts at Prudhoe Bay and ends at Valdez, which is a very snowy town—it’s surrounded by mountains and the annual snowfall is ridiculously enormous. I lived there as a child and my mean parents made my sister and me shovel the driveway all winter. Kids these days don’t know the meaning of hard work . . . why, you should have seen me shoveling my way to school, uphill both ways . . . wait, what was I talking about?

Perhaps you’re envisioning a slender pipe running underground for 800 miles, not unlike a telephone cable or the natural gasline that might connect to your house but half of the Alaskan Pipeline is above the earth, not beneath it. Part of the reason is that the ground is goofy up here, with stretches of frozen tundra and permafrost that can be adversely affected by the heat of the pipeline. It’s not only easier but less harmful to unstable soils to insulate the piping above ground. The only problem is that its protective encasement makes for a rather large structure so that, resting directly on the ground, it blocks the paths of migrating wildlife.

Can you imagine a fat mama bear with her cubs trying to jump over the pipeline? Or a gun-toting drunk man? The piping is therefore elevated several feet above ground which allows herds of caribou to migrate and vandals to stagger about unimpeded.

One might worry that an elevated structure such as the Alaskan Pipeline could be toppled by one of the 22,000 tremors that shake the 49th state each year but fortunately the engineers who designed the pipeline made sure it was built to withstand seismic activity.

That mechanism attached to the cross beam is called a shoe assembly, and it actually slides from side to side.

Whether the ground moves because of thermal expansion or an earthquake, the pipeline is built to move along with it. Overall, the Alaskan Pipeline is quite the feat of engineering, construction, and maintenance. Nine out of ten drunks agree.

Summer Kid Crafts: Weaving without a Loom

I saw this idea for weaving a sunflower and bookmarked it for future use as it's a definite A+. This simple, summer craft is inexpensive and time consuming enough to keep little hands busy for hours of happiness.

Using a sturdy paper plate cut approximately 25 teeth around the edge. It’s better to have it be an odd number of teeth for the weaving process.

Tape the end of a piece of yarn on the backside of the plate and bring it up over the top, between two of the teeth, so that the yarn rests in one of the grooves. Cross over the middle of the plate to the other side and the opposite groove. Wrap the yarn around and around the plate, groove by groove until all the slots are filled with a string then tape the loose end on the back of the plate for security.

Using a tapestry needle, begin in the center and weave in and out, around and around the plate as wide and beautiful as you'd like until you have a pretty sunflower. Add new colors as you'd like, use fluffy yarn or sequined string for special effects, you just can't go wrong and it's a great way to encourage small motor skills with young children (just make sure that needle isn't sharp).

Sponsored by Beau-Coup for unique baby shower favors.

How to Grill a Pizza

Last week I went to a cooking class to learn how to grill.

Now I know what you're thinking--what's the big deal? You just fire up the gas monster, throw your meat on the rack and be sure you've got plenty of ketchup, right?

But oh there is so much more to grilling than just cooking a piece of meat. To start with, there's a big difference between barbecue and grilling. I guess if I'd ever stopped to think on the subject I would have realized that barbecuing was slow cooking over lower temperatures while grilling is fast and furious but I'd never stopped to think. And I know I've never stopped to think about cooking anything but a burger or two--maybe a chicken breast if I was feeling really wild and crazy--so I was thrilled to see how it was to grill an entire Italian meal.

I've been to these Allen and Petersen classes before and have been pleased. I've picked up great recipes and enjoyed learning a few new tricks but this one was the best yet. Probably because the instructor knew her stuff so well. She was no weekend chef or self-made fry cook, she had a four-year degree in culinary arts and there wasn't a question I could throw at her (from sauces to knives to cookware) that she couldn't answer. Besides that she was completely cute and perky and adorable, which I liked. So sue me.

We grilled radicchio and steak and peaches and everything in between but what I really came for was the pizza. Pizza is possibly the world's most perfect food and I could probably eat it, three meals a day, for seven or eight years before I'd think about getting tired of it. Only once have I met a pizza I didn't like (and let me tell you it was horrible--think "saltine with salsa" and you'd be close to the evil nature of what I experienced) and I'd heard people say that pizza grilling was a divine endeavor, one that would reward you with pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.

But, come on--how are you supposed to actually grill a bunch of dough? I had to see it to get the full picture and I'm pleased to admit that it's actually not too hard. In fact, I went out the next day and picked up a couple of the ingredients I lacked at home and recreated the entire meal on the back deck for Andrew and me with harmonious and delicious results, as you can see from the pictures.

How to Grill a Pizza: Get Your Dough
First, the dough is fairly important. Typically, to bake good bread that is tender and chewy and marvelous you don't want too much flour. Stiff, heavy and immovable dough just makes for a nasty hunk of bread but with a grilled pizza dough you do need to be careful. Don't let it get too sticky or tacky because you don't want your dough falling down through the cracks. As the instructor put it--if you touch the dough and your finger leaves a tacky mark then it's too soft.

So start with a good recipe. I'm going to refer you to my own pizza dough recipe. You don't need a fancy one, usually salt, flour, water, yeast and olive oil are the basic components that do the trick (I've been told olive oil gives it chewiness).

Shape It
After that obligatory rest/raise period shape a small circle and remember that for your first time, smaller is going to be easier to work with. For our little romantic dinner out back I made two little personal sized guys rather than attempting a full-on 16 incher.

Roll the dough out with your rolling pin until it's about 1/8" thick. As it relaxes once again it will shrink back to a thicker, smaller size so don't worry if it's big and thin immediately after you roll it out. Let it set for a few minutes--maybe 20--once again on a lightly floured surface so it doesn't stick as it sits there.

Grill It
Now here's where things get different. With oven-baked pizza you pile on the toppings and throw it in the oven to let it cook through and get bubbly on top. But with a grill you will instead cook the dough on both sides and then top the pizza for the final melting of cheese/heating of ingredients. This is going to make your pizza turn out quite different of course, not your golden-bubbly variety of pizzeria pizza but with fresh ingredients (chopped basil, fresh mozzarella and fresh tomatoes are a great tradition) you'll get a completely new yet highly desirable product.

Brush vegetable oil all over the top of your dough then lay it, oil side down, on your preheated grill on a medium high heat. You don't want to use olive oil because the burn point is too low so if you just can't bring yourself to use canola oil then use avocado or grapeseed oil which at least won't burn up on the grill (though they're both expensive options).

After the edges begin to look somewhat whitish and begin to bubble a bit, brush oil on the top of the dough and flip it.

Add Your Toppings
Now you scatter that sunshine. Top the dough with garlic, basil, tomatoes, cheese, salt, herbs, whatever you want and let the heat finish the job. I found it worked well to close the grill lid at this point so the cheese could melt thoroughly but still keep an eye on things. Especially if your grill has hot and cold spots.

Once it's got those pretty grill marks and looks done take it off and serve. With the dough being rather thin it should cook well in about 10 minutes total.

I wish I could give out the recipes for the Bistecca alla Fiorentina or the peaches with almond-caramel sauce. I'll tell you now that when I first saw our instructor getting ready to stick those glorious peaches on the grill I thought it was sacrilege.

A perfectly ripened peach is the most perfect fruit in the world so to do anything beyond what Mother Nature has already accomplished seemed profane to me but when I tasted the grilled quarters drizzled with the most amazing caramel sauce (no, seriously--when I made up my own batch of the stuff and had Grace try a spoonful we both giggled. "You can't eat this stuff without giggling it's so good!" she said, and rightly so) then topped with a bit of vanilla ice cream I let a sigh escape. Or maybe it was a moan, I'm not sure--I kind of blacked out at that point.

But see for yourself. I notice that they've got a Moroccan Feast class coming up and I bet Autumn is teaching that one too--her specialty is Mediterranean cuisine, including north African, and I'd love to have her show me the ropes of the region. Bring on the tagines!

Every time I go to these classes my family gets so very, very happy.

Sponsored by Allen and Petersen Kitchen and Appliance Center

How about an Apology?

You know how it's said that the three hardest words in the world to say are "I love you"? Well I've come to realize those are exceeded only by the two hardest words to say: "I'm sorry."

It's interesting how much we drill into our children the importance of being sorry, of admitting guilt and asking for forgiveness ("It's not nice to hit people . . . go and say you're sorry!") but it seems to be a lesson that is reserved only for the very youngest among us. It's as if we've all kind of agreed as a society that children should definitely understand when they're in the wrong and be ready to admit their guilt and beg for clemency but the rest of us are too mature and well-educated to stoop to such weakness.

I read a book not too long ago--I'd quote it here for you except that I can't remember which one it was--that talked about malpractice among doctors. One study said it was easy to predict which doctors would be sued for malpractice and which would not. Of course there are a small handful of cases that will go to court no matter who is involved but the vast majority of times a patient decided to sue a doctor occurred when the doctor had a personality that inhibited communication. Patients who felt their doctors were real people who cared and listened to them were far less likely to sue, even under great provocation; conversely, patients who felt their doctors didn't listen, or even if they only perceived that their doctors didn't care, were far more likely to haul them in for a good old-fashioned lawsuit.

My husband has seen this in the legal field--people who have been wronged (or who merely feel they've been wronged) often don't want lots of money or notoriety for their situation. They don't want damages or fame, they just want someone to pay attention to them, to hear what they have been through and then to say (get this) "I'm sorry."

So if that's all it takes to make confrontations go away why is it so hard for people to say these words? Politicians, companies, churches--all seem to have the hardest time just admitting that they messed up and I find myself watching the news many nights and thinking, "Why don't they just say they're sorry? They need to stop explaining how they're not at fault and just give a big, honest apology. Forget the lawyers, forget how it might put them at risk because if they really and honestly cared about what they've done they'd put those who had suffered above their own interests." I don't know anyone who really and truly thinks they're perfect, I think we can agree that as human beings we are all full of weaknesses and errors yet how infrequently do I ever hear one adult, industry or organization apologizing. They're usually more concerned about their image than their customers, members or acquaintances than making things right or helping those whom they've wronged.

I suppose we think it's a sign of weakness to admit to being in the wrong--or that it will get us into legal trouble by admitting guilt. Perhaps it goes back to our tribal roots where it was kill or be killed, survival of the fittest and all that but really, that's too ridiculous a notion to be taken seriously. Have you ever in all your life had someone sincerely and humbly apologize to you where your heart wasn't softened towards them and you felt instantly kinder and more gently disposed? One apology usually feeds another so that if you can get your mouth to agree to it, the minute the words are out it usually prompts a similar feeling and response in the other party.

But too often we're concerned about who is right and who is wrong and you'd think that the greatest sin someone can commit it to say they're sorry when they "haven't done anything wrong."

Since when is being right a prerequisite for feeling regret? Putting aside the chance that both sides may have done things suitable for repentance, last time I checked it's a perfectly acceptable human emotion to feel sorrow over a bad situation or a misunderstanding or to take the high road and be the first to admit wrongdoing regardless of culpability. I've never known anyone to be angry because someone else had the audacity to apologize to them.

As a mother one of the things I've worried about the most is messing up my children--of committing some parenting error that would irrevocably ruin their characters or psyches--but several years ago I read an article that talked about how parents who are strong enough (yes, I said strong) to admit when they had made a mistake and apologize for it will actually turn out better, healthier and more well-adjusted children ready for the world than those who are, at first glance, nearer to perfection.

The reality is that children are going to make mistakes just as we parents do and the best thing we can teach them is how to say "I'm sorry." Yes they can learn this by having us monitor their playdates and enforce their apologies whenever they step out of line (this does to some extent help to teach them empathy and other healthy social emotions) but the best thing we can do is to set the example by admitting to our own errors and foibles.

When we can apologize for our mistakes and ask for their forgiveness it not only teaches them how to repent for themselves but it gives them a more realistic view of human nature, a better set of values to emulate and a greater sense of who we really are. We're not just some super-human being wrapped up in a bubble of perfection who demands respect and obedience--we're their flawed parents who are trying the best we can to do right by them and even though we make mistakes we recognize when we're in error and care enough about them and our roles as parents to make it good as best we can. There are many mistakes you can make as a parent but the only unforgivable one is not to say you're sorry when you're wrong.

Of course when you take this road you'll find yourself spending half of your parental time apologizing but in the end it will do far more for your kids than any false image of a superhero ever could.

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Fresh Tomato Salsa

Back me up somebody--I read once that salsa, in order to qualify as true salsa, cannot be cooked. The ingredients must be fresh so "fresh salsa" turns out to be rather redundant.

So here's my favorite recipe for salsa and pure summer bliss is to have a bowl of this with a basket of freshly baked chips like you get in the restaurants. Yum.

8 roma tomatoes
1 large sweet onion
1/2 cup chopped cilantro
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 4-ounce can chilies
2 tablespoons minced garlic
2 tablespoons minced jalepenos

Mix all the ingredients and allow to sit for at least a few hours before serving--ideally chilled overnight then brought back to room temperature. If you want it hotter add more peppers (or some with greater kick).

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Wits and Wagers

I seem to get a lot of game review requests which is okay by me. We love a good game and I'm perfectly happy to spend an hour or two of summer vacation with the kids trying to determine if we like a particular game or not.

Wits and Wagers is as simple a game as you can get--there are about 1000 questions on cards and one player reads the question which always has a numerical answer (i.e. "How many vehicles are there in California?" or "How many Americans are colorblind?" or "How many Weasley kids were there?"). All the other players write down their best guess, the guesses are placed in order, lowest to highest, and then everyone has a chance to put their game piece on the answer they think is closest without going over.

You get points for guessing well and the first person to 15 points wins. Could not be easier.

I liked it because it was interesting (I'm a trivia junkie. Completely.) and it was easy for everyone to play, even younger children. Their guesses might be way off but when they see where the group is voting it's easy for them to make a good stab at the correct answer. Besides, most of the time you're completely guessing anyway. The questions inspire fun conversation and usually a laugh or two and, for me, that's what makes a great a success.

There are a few questions that are too easy (hearken back to that Weasley question for example all you Harry Potter people) but that tends to level the playing field and let those who may be way behind to catch up. Assuming, of course, that they know that there are three teaspoons in a tablespoon or nine people on a baseball team. If not, then they're still out of luck.

Anyway, good game and fun to play. The kids have made multiple requests to play it since its arrival and so far I haven't got tired of it. Kind of reminds me of Apples to Apples if you liked that one (we did). With one month left of school break we'll be playing it a bit.

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Summer Kid Crafts: Felt Roads

I'm a little sleepy *warning: confession time* the boys and Andrew have been out on various camping trips on and off since last Friday which means no one is around to make sure I get to bed on time.

Earlier in the week I had found my treasured copy of Anne of Green Gables and decided that it was high time Lillian was introduced to the greatest of all childhood reads but wouldn't you know it? The kid wouldn't listen. I read her three or four chapters and she liked it well enough--if it kept her from having to go to bed--but she just wasn't into it so with a grumble about the ingratitude, degeneracy and general illiteracy of the current generation I gave up and tucked her in bed.

"Well even if she doesn't like it maybe I'll just read this next chapter to myself--isn't this the part where Anne gets Diana drunk? Funny how much more sense the chapter makes when I actually know what raspberry cordial is. . . ."

Six hours later I'd finished the book and had pulled out the next in the series. Long story short I'm getting a little zombie-like after so many marathon reading sessions. But the good news is the series really is as good as I remember it.

But I digress. Today's subject is not my lack of sleep but another fun activity to do with your kids (assuming the little turkeys won't sit still long enough to listen to a classic of western literature). Felt roads.

All you need are scraps of felt (or even fabric) for your own interstate highway system right in your living room. There are a few options here--in the picture you see how we've laid down felt roads, houses, lakes and flowers in a rather apocalyptic-looking homage urban planning but if you don't have fabric to cut you can get out the markers and draw roads and villages instead. We did that one year on a large piece of canvas. You can lay out your felt pieces on the carpet but you can also glue them to a piece of poster board (like you see in the picture) or cardboard so that it's easily portable. Because, as we all know, neither Rome (nor its highways) were built in a day and being able to tuck your creations in the corner until tomorrow isn't a bad thing.

Then dig out the cars and go for it.

Here, too, are more goodies from the archives if you happen to have masking tape and hard floors to decorate.

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Even Julia Child Had Her Bad Days

I fail to understand why I can be creative with pastas, soups, sandwiches, desserts or meats but not hamburgers. It's as if there's this solemn commandment in our home that says "Thou shalt not tamper with the perfection that is ground beef between bread."

I can come up with all sorts of interesting and tasty fusion cuisine but if I serve up anything beyond the basic all-American patio classic I'm doomed--do you hear me? Doomed!

Now don't laugh when you read this but I was looking through one of my cookbooks on burgers and saw this recipe for sweet potato burgers that looked really good.

I happen to like sweet potatoes and I also happen to get very, very tired of the same old chopped meat on a bun so I thought I'd branch out and give this one a try. I made fancy homemade buns, homemade mayonnaise and the best, most fresh ingredients and went to work.

"Now don't think of this as a hamburger exactly . . . " I started to say as I brought out the platter of neat little packages. "It's not something to compete with your precious hamburgers, think of it more as a sandwich. A different kind of sandwich. A sandwich that I'm sure you'll like if you just give it a try. . . . " Which of course was my fatal mistake.

No weakness. No suggestion that they may not like it or that it's different from the norm. No hint that there are vegetables of any kind passing for processed meat because any of that and the jig is up. The war is over and I've lost.

"So what are these? Yamburgers??"

"Yamburgers??? You've made us yamburgers??" Pretty soon the cry was coming at me from every angle and everyone was round-eyed and white with terror and I might as well have thrown the plate out on the back deck right then and there.

Yes, they tasted just fine. Not as good as hamburgers--even I have the brains to admit that--but still . . . couldn't they have given them just the ghost of a chance? Maybe I should have dyed them browner and covered them in barbecue sauce and melted, processed cheese.

However I'm pretty sure I could convince them to try a few of these luscious links:

Shaker Pie from Smitten Kitchen

Barbecue Chicken Pizza Soup from Picky Palate

Redskin Pie from Big Red Kitchen

What's your biggest failure in the kitchen? I need support here.

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I'd Rather Be Traveling by Dog Sled

After reading this post from contributing writer Kim Christopher at The Mommy Machine I found myself smiling. When we stopped in France on our way to India last March we were racing to make the connection at Charles DeGaulle and I was so furious with what passed for French security that my French amigos finally ended up pulling me out of line for two random security checks.

Possibly because of the way I was suspiciously twitching and looking at my watch, counting the seconds and then furiously foaming at the mouth over the unwarranted delays and tedious bureaucracy. Dumb socialism.

No thanks to our French allies we made our plane but I swear I was ready to go postal by the time we were actually in our seats.

But after reading this I can't say that good old fashioned capitalism has done much for our security on this side of the Atlantic. So I'm with you Kim. I hear you. Shall we both move to Israel? I hear they have amazing security there (as purported by the Boston Globe). Whose with me?

***

Last month, I flew from Alaska to New Mexico with my daughter’s soccer team. It’s been a couple of years since I last traveled by jet aeroplane, and I was delighted to discover that airport security just keeps getting better and better. And by "better and better” I mean “more dehumanizing and inconvenient.”

I’m not here to dis the TSA. I understand that after the events of 9/11, clearance procedures at major airports needed to improve. I’m just not sure if making me take off my $3 flip flops that I found in a Wal-Mart clearance bin and forcing me to shuffle barefoot through an x-ray machine is the most effective use of screening technology. And something needs to be done about confiscating half-full water bottles. I’m no terrorist expert, but I’m having a tough time believing that al-Qaeda has recruited 6th grade soccer players from Alaska to smuggle chemicals onto planes.

Yep. My daughter forgot to remove a water bottle from her backpack and was busted by the TSA lady at the airport. As soon as the federal agent did a double take at the monitor and then suspiciously asked my kid if she had any liquids in her bag, I heaved a sigh of exasperation. That’s all. A big fat sigh of annoyance. I didn’t cuss out my daughter or knock her to the ground, which is what you would have thought I’d done when the TSA agent placed one hand over her gun and the other in front of my chest as if to signal, Whoa, there, crazy middle-aged terrorist disguised as a frazzled soccer mom, keep your knickers on. Well, maybe she didn’t have a gun, but if she had, she would have drawn it on me.

“Just calm down, ma’am!” she barked at me, with a flexed hand stretched out to stop me from jumping over the conveyor belt, I guess. What the huh? All I did was sigh in irritation at my daughter’s forgetfulness. It’s not like we didn’t hear the recorded message approximately 3, 542 times warning us to dispose of all water bottles while we were standing in the security line waiting to get our orifices probed. "Hey, kid of mine, pay attention!" Too late.

"Calm down, ma’am," the guard says to me! CALM DOWN, MA’AM?!? Oh, Lord, have mercy on a poor sinner such as myself, because I so desperately wanted to show that woman just how un-calm I can get. I was about to demand that they produce a weight and scales, because I am nothing if not precise, and I wanted to see for myself if my daughter’s almost empty bottle of water contained more than 3.4 ounces of liquid. But I’m an Alaskan. Which means I’m passive and non-confrontational. And self-disciplined beyond belief. Okay, okay. I’m none of those things.

Well, I am Alaskan, but mostly what I am is NOT STUPID, and I knew that if I listened to the imp of the perverse tapping my shoulder and whispering in my ear to speak my mind, I’d end up spouting an anti-TSA rant that may or may not have contained such phrases as “government coercion!” “sheep-like citizenry!” and “my taxes pay your wages so how ‘bout YOU calm down!”

However, because I don’t always have 7 days to drive myself from Alaska through Canada to get to the rest of the United States, I decided to avoid placement on the no-fly list and I bit my tongue.

The TSA lady reached gingerly into the side pocket of my daughter’s backpack and gently disengaged the offending container of H20. You’d have thought my gum-snapping, ponytail-wearing, bespectacled preteen had packed live ammo the way the agent held the pernicious water with her gloved fingers and quickly two-stepped over to the trash can to dispose of the plastic bottle. I figured that was that, and we could be on our merry way. I figured wrong.

Frau Inspektor demanded that my daughter step to the side and wait for further instructions. The agent proceeded to swab inside the backpack for what I assume was chemical residue from the container, which—according to my sinister and beady-eyed child—allegedly held water. The TSA lady obtained a sample of residue alright, because my daughter’s smelly soccer cleats were packed in there. Ever so carefully, the examiner lifted the knapsack with straight arms, holding it out in front of her like a ticking time bomb, and made her way back to the roped-off queue where she cut in front of the line of the weary passengers who stood shoeless and thirsty. She set the backpack in a grey bin and signaled her compatriot to run it through x-ray again. Oh, but the fun and games didn’t end there.

After two additional agents had thoroughly examined the possible weapon of mass destruction, the security guard brought my 12-year-old’s backpack to her podium and SWABBED IT AGAIN. Don’t ask me how, but the funk from my daughter’s athletic socks stuffed inside her soccer shoes passed the alkaline test and the TSA lady finally handed over the backpack with a disapproving frown. We were free to go.

Now, I ask you, don’t you think that my sigh of exasperation was warranted?

***

Congratulations to a fellow Michelle of Anchorage who will be joining me for this Thursday's Viking Cooking School class at Allen and Petersen for an succulent evening of Italian grilling. You can bet there is a post coming on how to properly grill pizza. For those who didn't win you can still get at 20% off discount by entering FACEBOOK PROMO in the gift card section online at aphome.com.

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A Cornucopia of Condiments

We had here what I affectionately call a White Trash Cook Off and it was delicious.

I went to the fountain of all knowledge: Google and found recipes for my favorite fast food sauces which we lovingly recreated in our kitchen this past week and you, my friends, are the beneficiaries of our taste test.

I selected the best condiments of the fast food world--those little foil packets that I hoard in my utensil drawer, wishing they sold them in bottles because I love them so much. I am speaking about (in order of delight) Taco Bell's mild sauce, Arby's Arby-Q Sauce, A-1 Steak Sauce (and yes, this one is sold in bottles, I'm aware of that) and McDonald's Big Mac "Special" Sauce.

Taco Bell (pictured on left) was a full-on winner, the delicate flavors of cayenne and garlic beautiful and authentically woven throughout the tomato base but with a slightly stronger kick than the mild sauce typically sold in the packets. Arby's Arby-Q Sauce (smallest jar) was also thrillingly true to the original, with sweet and savory deliciously blended into that sauce I love so much on roast beef sandwiches.

However, the A-1 Steak Sauce (pictured in front) was a disappointment. The final recipe didn't look anything like the bottled original as you can plainly see and the process of simmering raisins then pureeing them into oblivion didn't produce the hoped-for results. Sigh. At least I can buy that one in the store. I'm still giving you the recipe because it wasn't too bad, it was just not like I'd expected. You be the judge.

Finally, the Big Mac "Special" Sauce was good though the recipe I found called for Miracle Whip salad dressing rather than real mayonnaise. After testing the sauce I concluded that real mayonnaise should have been used and is the only way to produce the authentic tang of the original.

And here they are:

Taco Bell Taco Sauce
1 14-ounce can of tomato sauce
2/3 cup water
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1 tablespoon cumin
1 tablespoon minced onion
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar (or white if you have it)
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Mix all ingredients in small saucepan and heat on medium heat until simmering. Continue to simmer for 15-20 minutes, remove from heat and cool.

Arby's Arby-Q Sauce
1 cup ketchup
2 teaspoons water
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon minced onion (or 1/4 teaspoon onion powder)
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon hot sauce

Mix and heat, simmering for five minutes.

A-1 Steak Sauce
1/2 cup orange juice
1/2 cup raisins
1/4 cup soy
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon orange peel
2 tablespoons ketchup
2 tablespoons chili sauce

Mix all ingredients in a saucepan and heat until a gentle boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 5-10 minutes. Remove from heat, cool slightly and puree.

Big Mac Special Sauce
1/2 cup real mayonaise
1/4 cup sweet pickle relish
2 tablespoons French dressing
2 tablespoons Worcesteshire sauce
1 tablespoon minced onion
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/8 teaspoon salt

Mix all ingredients in a bowl and let sit overnight for best results.

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Despicable Me

Tuesday night we did something that we've never done before: we went to a 3D movie together. Universal Pictures sent us tickets for the sneak peak of Despicable Me and the kids informed me that because of those tickets I was officially the best mom in the world.

The only downside to the event was that a local radio station had given out tickets as well so that though I'd been told that seating began at 6:30pm, when we got there at 6:20 the theater was already full and bouncing with expectation. We ended up on the very end of the third row from the front so that the 3D effects were rather freakish--I found myself having to turn my whole head to follow the action on screen I guess you could say we were so close.

Nonetheless, the movie was great. As in a dozen enthusiastic thumbs up all around. As Grace put it, it was "Pixar funny," which is the greatest compliment she can bestow on an animated movie. Though the theater was so packed many were turned away the size of the audience made it all the more fun to watch (every time one of the minions did something silly the kids would shriek with laughter).

The effects were fun (stay through the credits, you'll want to see all the fun 3D stuff they give you at the end), the Bond-villain stunts were too funny, Steve Carell is a hoot, the three little girls are adorable and there is a surprisingly sweet message woven throughout that, while predictable, is still appealing. Best line? "He's SO FLUFFY!" which the kids have gone around quoting all day.

So if you were disappointed by the latest Shrek installment I would suggest giving this one a try--and in 3D if you're feeling rich. I've also heard that How to Train Your Dragon is surprisingly good and it's playing at the bargain theater here in town so you can make it an animated double header this weekend. Anything has got to be better than Eclipse, right? Sorry Twilight fans but I still can't drag myself in to see that one. Even if they do use a liberal amount of Muse for the soundtrack.

Sponsored by Dimples and Dandelions for Serena and Lily baby bedding.

Summer Kid Crafts: Making Perfume

This was a craft (though I use the word "craft" very loosely) that I used to do when I was small. My best buddy and I would "make perfume" and I remembered the thrill it gave me in time for my own little eight year-old to make some. Time goes so quickly and if I wait too long she'll get too smart and grown-up and know that it's not real perfume.

We used to take old pop bottles, wash them out, fill them with water, then add our favorite wild flowers to steep into a lovely "perfume" that I'm pretty sure I gave to my mother.

Well what we did this week isn't quite so rustic but it's just as fun. I dug out some pretty glass bottles I'd saved, we filled them with water then we added tiny, individual lilac flowers. You're right, it's not real perfume, but it smells pretty for a while and for little girls it's fun to come up with different mixes.

If you'd like something a little more advanced/expensive/authentic here's the just-as-easy but slightly more detailed instructions:

Purchase a bottle of jojoba oil (I got mine at a health food store) and add fragrant blossoms such as jasmine, rose petals, lilacs, freesias, etc. The oils in the flowers will gently scent the oil and once it's steeped for a few days take out the flowers. Or, just as easy and a bit more expensive you can add drops of different essential oils in your own unique combinations to make gorgeous aromas for your toilette (and I mean that word in the French way, of course).

I had most of the ingredients on hand leftover from past projects (you wouldn't believe the things I've got hiding in my craft closet) and we produced a lovely vial of parfum with ten drops each of plumeria, mango, and omar plus 3 drops of rose and honeysuckle and 2 more of almond. Lovely.

And that actually is real perfume. Not strong, mind you, but still perfume and one that will moisturize your skin.

***

If you haven't entered yet be sure to get in on the chance to go to one of the Viking Cooking School classes with me next week. We'll be throwing all sorts of Italian things on the barbey--you won't be able to miss me, I'll be the one snarfing down the pizza. Click here to see the post.

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My Little Dwarves

I know it's not even close to winter (perhaps our unusually chilly summer is to blame) but I couldn't resist making this. Let's just call it an early Halloween costume.

Here's one of my dwarves--I think we'll call him Spazzy--with the hat on though the other resident dwarf wanted his turn with it too, complete with battle axe. It's a simple seed-stitch for the helmet and then I used a furry yarn for the beard and braids. Oh, the possibilities for this one.


Now tell me that isn't completely awesome. Yes, awesome. You can find the pattern here at Ravelry.

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They Saw It Happen

Just a light posting today. I don't know if you notice but I normally save bigger posts for Mondays but then today isn't just any old day.

Because Independence Day fell on a Sunday this year, we're doing our celebrating today and I'm betting many of you are doing the same thing so we'll take it easy together, shall we?

Besides, I've got a fabulous giveaway running this week that I'm posting today as well so in reality you're getting double the bang for your buck--be sure to check it out because I'm very excited to be offering such a fine prize.

Lately I've been doing a bit of knitting and crochet and quilting--things with my hands--and it drives me crazy to just sit there, staring at the yarn without a thought in my head so I like to listen to audio books while I'm working or exercising. I found this gem on Listen Alaska that allows you to download audio books in both WMA and MP3 formats as if you were checking them out of the library. So it's free people, free, free, free!

They Saw It Happen is a collection of first-hand accounts of various historical events. Sound ho-hum? Not at all! Each segment is given by an actor (sometimes with appropriate accents) as if they were the writer speaking to an audience, telling about whatever event they had the privilege of viewing. Starting with the battle of Thermopylae in ancient Greece (aka 300 for you graphic novel fans), through the Crusaders taking Jerusalem, the fall of Masada, the Black Death of the 14th century, the execution of Charles I, the great fire of London, the Salem witch trials, the Boston Tea Party, the execution of Louis VI, the battles of Bull Run and Little Big Horn, the San Francisco fire, the sinking of the Titanic, the opening of King Tut's tomb, trench warfare in World War I, the Wright brothers first flight, Lindbergh's Atlantic crossing and the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. To name just a few.

However, some of the segments are those where someone is observing a famous person and giving their general impressions--such as Napoleon or Marie Antoinette--which gives you a strangely personal and intimate look at these historical celebrities. Some segments are written by average people or reporters who describe what life was like in their world. For example, they have people giving their impressions of public executions, child labor, cock fighting or a slave auction in Virginia. One woman--a social worker from 19th century Paris--even described the horrors of prostitution in London in the most moral and Victorian of ways and it was just as fascinating as the other parts.

Perhaps the most interesting was the narrative by a naval midshipmen stationed on the U.S.S. Arizona and who survived his crew and his ship when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. His first person narration of the fight is at the same time horrifying and moving and the narrative that follows his account is by a Japanese pilot who flew one of the bombers for his own country that same morning. Strange to hear two men speaking of the same event from their own perspectives and I tell you it makes an impression.

The most disturbing account was the official statement made by Rudolph Höss, the commandant of Auschwitz. During the Nuremberg trials he signed a sworn statement which an actor reads, making you feel as if you were sitting down to tea with the man who is credited with killing three million Jews. He describes his career and the conditions in the camps and his pride in his efficiency in executing so many at a time--all with a cold-blooded carelessness that is terrifying.

So if you're a history enthusiastic or even just a person who likes a good story I'd recommend this for your listening library. I've burned the four parts onto CD and plan on keeping this one around and forcing my children to listen to sections from time to time. It'll be a good way for them to get a dose of what life was like outside of the 21st century.

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Come to an Evening of Classy Cooking

Want to play Iron Chef with me?

I thought so--because I have a great treat to give away this week.

A year or so ago I wrote about two cooking classes I attended where I learned how to cook Indian and Thai food (though not together, talk about your fusion cuisine!) The Thai night was especially great, with six or seven other students I learned how to make spring rolls and banana-wrapped halibut and more tasty food that we could eat (and they let us eat everything we fixed). I went home with recipes, a stuffed stomach and the thrill of learning lots of things that made my family very, very happy.

Well how would you like to go too? Allen and Peterson Cooking and Appliance Center is offering one of you a chance to attend one of their cooking classes with me next week where we'll be doing some Italian grilling. Yes indeed, a gorgeous, full Italian meal made entirely on the grill including:

• Grilled Pizza with Tomatoes and Arugula
• Tuscan-Style Porterhouse for Two (Bistecca alla Fiorentina)
• Grilled Radicchio and Endive Salad
• Grilled Seasonal Fruit with Amaretto Sauce
• Sample Recipe: Grilled Antipasto with Caper Sauce

Have I got you drooling yet? Summer is all about easy ways to cook and grilling is a perfect way to learn the nuances of Italian food. You can read more about it here at the AP Home site. I'll be writing more about what I learn and sharing all sorts of great tips.

It will be held on July 15th from 6-9pm at the Allen and Petersen Viking Cooking School kitchen (make sure you have that date available) and if you're up for a fun night out I'd love to have you join me. I'll be taking entries all week long until Sunday and will post the winner next Monday morning. Good luck and good eating!

Here's how to win:

Before 12 am Sunday morning go to the giveaway entry form on this page and enter your name and email. I will pick one of the names at random, contact the winner via their email and publish the winner's first name and home town in next Tuesday's post. See the bottom of the entry form for more details.

This giveaway is open to all Anchorage residents. Good luck!

Watermelon Salad

Hope you're having a wonderful Independence Day--we're doing our picnicking tomorrow so there's still time for me to cook.

Salads are always the highlight of our parties and this one is a salad I'd definitely recommend. Easy, colorful, summery and healthy.

1/3 balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon honey
4 cups seeded, cubed watermelon
5 cups arugula leaves (or mixed greens if you prefer)
3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 cup crumbled feta

In a small saucepan mix balsamic vinegar and honey, simmering until reduced to a syrup (about 5-7 minutes).

Let it cool. Toss the watermelon and arugula leaves together and drizzle vinegar reduction over the top along with the olive oil. Top with the feta and serve right away.

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