gone but not forgotten

every season there are the slaughtered tv shows, the ones who didn't make it. cut off quickly in one fell swoop of the cancelling axe, left bloody and gasping. others are allowed to finish out their seasons but with no one watching, like ageing starlets who still recite their lines to empty bedroom, remembering the theatres they used to fill.

i have a tendency to love those shows, at least some of them.


pushing daisies


caprica


kings


if the world made sense everyone would know these shows.


my husband and i just finished watching Kings - the complete season/series, and were once again blown away by just how good this show was.


for the uninitiated, it's loosely based on the book of Kings and saul and david.


really.


so to take a biblical theme that is at times semi obvious and to do it so well, and make it appealing and riveting for everyone was amazing.


king silas benjamin played by ian mcshane is nothing less than spectacular as he plays the games of court, the hidden brutality...


so here is where we begun: david shepherd (like i said not always subtle) is a soldier in war against the neighboring country of Gath. He pulls off a daring rescue mission against Gath's prized war machines the Goliath tank. david rescues two prisoners of war, and prepares for a court martial as he disobeyed direct orders in acting alone. to add to the miracle of it all, one of the prisoners turns out to be King Silas's son, Prince Jack Benjamin.


David is thrust into the world of the court , the intricacies and espionage. He becomes Silas's golden child, his public image miracle. He also falls for the Princess, Princess Michelle.


political intrigue, power, descents into madness, good vs bad... just such an awesome show.


this isn't fast. its well written, amazingly acted. full of mythology and blurred lines of reality and and madness.


Kings is amazing.



and add to the roster an incredibly creepy Macaulay Caulkin who just makes your skin crawl....



Pushing Daisies



Yes a show about a pie maker who wakes the dead, aids a private investigator, and collects the reward. And who then awakens his childhood sweetehart but can never touch her again. Along with Olive the just gorgeous Kristen Chenoweth as the waitress at the Pie Hole who has had a long standing crush on Ned (said Pie Marker) and the two spinster aunts who are retired synchronized swimmers - the Darling Mermaid Darlings - with social anxiety disorders to match. Chi McBride (Boston Public) is the knitting private detective with a penchant for pop up books. And I feel awful but I forget who plays Chuck. A lot of familiar faces make guest appearances - Paul Reubens (Pee Wee Herman), Joel McHale who I will always love because of the Sopoup regardless what he does on Community; David Arquette... Just such fun...




And along with such a funny quirky storyline, and whimsy, you have characters who break out into song, but in beautiful sweet ways - not Glee ways (not hating on the glee. don't flame me here folks). But you can have Swoozie Kurt (remember Little Shop of HOrrors - Audrey?) and Kristen Chenoweth (Wicked's Galinda) just singing at sweet little moments. AND Jim Dale from Pete's Dragon (the guy who couldn't say Passamaquoddie) but most likely known for reading all of the Harry Potter Books with such amazing talent and skill. (He got a grammy for them!) Nothing but joy here. Just how delightful.

Caprica




I never thought I'd get into Caprica.
Never. I didn't watch the new Battlestar Galactica. I remember the old one. Those Cylons (the robots with the blinky light) scared me to no end. Along with that creepy robotic dog. So is it any surprise I didn't get into the new one?

But my husband said, you should watch this pilot episode. Then we'll see if we like it..

That pilot HOOOKED ME. Completely.

ANd It HAS ERIC STOLTZ IN IT! I love Eric Stoltz. Ihave loved Eric Stoltz since The Memphis Belle when I first fell in love with Harry Connick Jr. It was a very unrequited love triangle. But I'm ok with that.



Pre-Battlestar Galactica, set ina world where a virtual reality is the drug of choice. People put on these pretty spiffy little sunglasses, and go into their own little worlds, meeting up with others in those little worlds. but those little worlds aren't as small as you think.

It's also a world of polytheism, and the idea of a one true God is radical and unheard of. So to get the point across, some of those believers in a one true God become soliders/terrorists. One of those soldiers (STO - Soldiers True One) is Zoe Greystone the daughter of Daniel and Amanda Greystone. Daniel created the Hallo Band (those little sunglass thingies) and is evejtually going to create the Cylons.

The show begins with a train bombing. Zoe and her friend Lacey go to the train, Lacey doesn't get on. Zoe's boyfriend blows the place to smithereens in honor of the One True God (very jihadish).

Except Zoe's avatar still lives on in the Virtual world. And the question is, is it just the avatar, or is it really Zoe?

Amazingly written, fantastic stories. Oh That Caprica would survive.....

But on a side note, we found ScyFy doing a marathon of the last remaining episodes. So we squealed and watched the show until we had to go to go bed. Thank you ScyFy....


All of these are available on DVD or Netflix. Some may even be on Hulu. Do yourself a favor and go rent them, youtube them, whatever. they are just beautiful examples of the creative whismical entertainment that has been slaughtered in order to appease the masses.

Ophelia's Shadow Theatre and the Quiltmaker's Gift

i have beens pending more and more of my time in the workd of chidlren's books. and some of these books are downright beautiful, elegant and sophisticated.



among the favorites right now are The Sea Serpent and me; The Quiltmaker's Gift; and Ophelia's Shadow Theatre.



I have already reviewed The sea Serpent and Me at the Tunkhanock.com/library site (look for Rebecca's Reviews).

Ophelia's Shadow Theatre is by Michael Ende. It's hard to find in this country, as it is originally a German text. Buts omehow or another my local library had a copy of it. Whether they do now or not, I don't know.



Ophelia is the daughter of theatre types. When the book takes place she is an old woman. All of her life Ophelia has had a tiny voice, so while she couldn't be on stage with the other actors and actersses, she was able to sit in the wings and whisper the words to the actors, just in case they forgot. This way she learned all of the great plays by heart.



One day, I don't exactly rememebr how, she comes up on a shadow who has no home. So she offers the shadow the space of her purse to live in. The shadow happily accepts, and before long, more and more shadows who have no homes begin finding their ways into her purse. Shadows are very copact you know, and purses of little old ladies and magnificently large.

So all of these shadows live with her. And at night they do plays on her apartment walls, and Ophelia whispers the lines to the shadows, just in case they forget.



This evolves into the grandest shadow puppetry you could ever imagine. Ophelia and the Shadows become Ophelia's Shadow Theater, and they go arond the country (in a snazzy car witht he words Ophelia's Shadow Theatre emblazoned on the side), doing plays in the park, all the while Ophelia whispered the words.



One day another shadow comes to her. She asks it the usual questions? Don't you have a home.. what's your name, and such.

The shadow responds, My name is Death. Will you still take me in?

Ophelia thinks about it for a moment, and says, I suppose so. It's important to note (for parents and for children) that Ophelia isn't scared, or upset. She is calm, and peaceful.



And so she takes in Death and she passes away.



When she arrives at the gates of heaven, Ophelia is innundated by people waving and cheering her on, kissing and hugging her. Confused, she asks, "Do I know you?"

Then they begin to smile more and more, and the feeling of familiarity grows.

"We are the shadows who had no home, until you."

So together Ophelia and all of the shadows, now angelic beings of light, put on more plays in Heaven. And Ophelia still whispered the lines. Just in case.


The story is beautiful and covers death in a gentle way. Ophelia isn't scared or upset when death comes. She is calm, and peaceful. She makes a decision. There is no mention of the southern realm of fire and brimstone, or even of a deity. Just beauty, light, and being surrounded by those who have loved you, and those you love.

Next is the QuiltMaker's Gift.

This was a book i was given years ago, before we had our little girl. My friend gave it to me because I quilted. The illustrations are very reminiscient of the artist in hallmark stores who does all of the figurines with the quilts. Very rich colors, very intricate, fanciful work. All of the illustrations in this book do the same thing.

The story reads and tells like an old folktale with none of the crunchy rustic quality. Just a lovely story.

The story is this: an old woman who no one can remember her not being arond, even the oldest great great grandfather cannot remember a time when she was not there, lives in a cabin way up high in the misty mountains and makes the most beautiful quilts. Nothing rivals their beauty. But she will not sell them, as much as she's offered or begged. She gives them to the homesless or the poor. Then after she has found someone sleeping out in the cold, and tucked them in udner the quilt, she begins a new quilt the next day.

At the same time, there is a king who is powerful and greedy and loves to receive presents, so much that he has his birthday twice a year. But for all of his lovely things, he is not happy. When he he learns of the quiltmaker, he demands a quilt from her, for it might be the only thig that makes him happy. She refuses. He demands. she refuses. He says fine, and chains her into a bear's den. When the bear wakes up, he'll eat you.

well, the bear does wake up, and he is cranky, but the quiltmaker understands why. "You only have rocks to rest your head on. Go fetch me some pine needles and i'll make you a pillow from my shawl." The bear does, and she makes him a pillow. No one has ever been so kind to the bear, and he is so touched that he breaks her chain, and invites her to stay for breakfast of honey and blueberries.

The king, while powerful and greedy is not good at being mean. so he worried about the quiltmaker all night. when he arrives at the bear's den and comes to their breakfast he is infuritated and orders his royal island makers to make an island just large enough for her to stand on. they do and she is placed on the island in the middle of a vast lake,. "When you fall asleep or the tide comes in, we'll see what happens.."

she is left there, and a small sparrow struggling against the wind takes shelter against her. she makes him a tiny jacket out of her vest. He makes it to the other side, and brings all of his sparrow friends and they fly her away to safety.

the next day, because the king couldn't sleep again for worrying, he finds her in the tree, making tiny jackets for all of the sparrows.

"What must i do to get a quilt?"

"You must give away all of your things and when you yourself are popor, i will have a quilt foryou."

"But i love all my beautiful things."

"But they don't make you happy."

convinced to try, the king scours his palace and finds a tny marble he can give away. while he doesn't smile, the boy who receives it is so excited, it inspires the king to give more and more thigns away until he travels the world, giving all of his precious things away. As he travels and gives, the tiny purple backed sparrows come back and tell the quiltmaker, who then sews in a new piece into the quilt.

Until one day, the last sparrow arrives, and she knows it is time to find the king.

She finds him lying along side the road, reading to a child. his boots worn out, his clothes ragged, but bright smile on his face and cheery laugh at the ready. She tucks him in under his quilt. "I may look poor but my heart is full to bursting with all of the memories and kindness I've given and received. I"m the richest man I know."

a story that tells the truth of altruism, of kindness, of love not being in things but in service to others, the QuiltMakers' Gift is a beautiful story, one worthwile reading to your child.. or to yourself. because we all need to be reminded somedays...

a time of changes

i write this on wednesday night, thankgiving eve.

for all that stays the same, everything changes simulataneously.

we have been undergoing changes here in the little world we live in.

the first one, or the biggest one, happened last week. my grandmother earline williams, all of 86 years old slipped from this world into the next. she had been battling on so many fronts. dementia and alzheimers'; aneurysms around her heart; a pacemaker just put in; congestive heart failure; lung problems so she was now on oxygen 24/7 except for when she forgot what the tanks were there for and turned off them off because they made too much noise; failing kidneys; all just to name a few.

in short, she wore out.

she had just had the pacemaker put in, and the hospital tried to discharge her, but she wasn't able to. she wasn't able to get to the loo, she wasn't able to walk more than a very few steps.

when the nurses found out that my mother would not be coming to pick grandmothe up (after mom had been there all day, and no one had once mentioned release papers to her) a few minutes later grandmother called my mom and begged tearfully, "please come take me home. take me home.. please, just take me home..."

mom didn't go to pick her up.

then every night or time people would visit, grandmother would just beg, take me home, please just take me home... or just go, please just go.... she was unable to handle being left in the hospital.

then the phone call came. 6:30am. the hospital called my mother and said grandmother was having a hard time breathing, and get there quick. the hospital is an hour away. so mom jumped and ran and drove off. about three minutes after mom left, the hospital called again, and spoke to dad. there was a strong chance that grandmother wouldn't be alive by the time mom got there. so dad jumped and ran. called my sister and i first. he called me back a little after 7:30 and gave the update. a blood clot had broken off one of the anuerysms, and was blocking her auroital artery (vein?) by 50%. so she was no longer getting oxygen. ordinarily the doctors would do a pretty aggressive surgery to take care of the problem. but she wasn't strong enough and wouldn't survive the procedure.

so nature took its course. she took a breath, and didn't take another.

while i cried that day, i havent cried since then.

i'm more grateful that she went when she did. she went before she lost her mind completely. she still remembered her family. she had to ask my mother's name a couple times. but she still remembered her great grand babies. she still had humor.

she went before she had to go into a home, which was the next step. she went while she was still able to be surrounded by her family, living semi independently, on the farm, surrounded by her knick knacks, her bird feeders, that sort of thing.

and she went peacefully. it was a gentle passage, with no fear. no anger.

a friend of mine, michael, his mother died of alzheimers, or things related to it. he said when she died, he didn't cry one tear, for she had died long before that. and i completely agree. i cried when grandmother was diagnosed. i was angry at this imposter, this fake grandmother...

she has been dead for a little over a week.

second change: my husband got a job. he got hired! full time, with benefits. in his field. not teaching but in conservation. he starts next week. :) this is a huge answer to prayers. huge blessing. he has been out of work for almost a year now. and we have struggled and struggled. sometimes wondering if we would have enough for groceries.

the commute is crazy. but right now, we are staying where we are because i am still teaching at the university until the end of the semester.

which brings us to third: i have next semester off. i am actively pursuing doula training. i am actively trying to complete that as soon as possible, and at the same time finish a book to mirror like revision. polish it until it shines like the top of the chrysler building so said miss hannigan.

i am beginning to really investigate homeschooling or charter schooling for our daughter.

the more this semester went on, the more i realized, very clearly, this was not where i wanted to be. this was not where my focus needed to be. my focus needed to be on our daughter, on home, on writing, on other things. but not with the university.

at first i was scared to admit that, that i would be changing my career - teaching wise - for something else. but the more i thought about it, the more it feels right. the department knows i'm off next semester. i told my supervisor i needed to "re-evaluate" where the university played into my career, my life and objectives.

on top of that, i have found a yoga studio that's semi local and is donation based. their teaching certification is two thousand less than anywhere else i have seen in the region. while i am nowhere near where i need to be to do my training, it's a goal, it's an outlet. and my cousin will drive us there as i hate driving...

it just seems like the universe is aligning.

so today i have been reading all about childbirth, and birth companions. i'll read some of harry potter 7 tonight. and i'll pick up a few other books. i never read one book at a time.

for a complete list of the books that i have reviewed for the tunkhannock library, check out www.tunk.com/library and look for Rebecca's Reviews.

i'm about two weeks ahead of them, meaning i have two weeks of reviews typically done that aren't published. i only write good reviews, as it's to encourage circulation.

but i may start doing bad reviews here, warnings so to speak.

I may make Twilight (the film.. i can't stomach the writing of the book) my first :)

on other notes:

our daughter is awesome. still is. always is. is a climber.... we need to make her a climbing wall.


i will write a few other reviews very shortly but our little one is still awake - we suspect a cold... so, off to find the vicks and saline spray...

Sherlock Holmes..

For those of you who read this, all maybe three of you? :) you may or may not know that I Have had a iterary crush on Sherlock Holmes, pretty much since I was about thirteen years old. I find myself fascinated by the whole enigma. What can I say, I go for brains over brawn any day. And with a brain like Sherlock Holmes' it's almost porn.

When I was tweleve and reading the stories for the firstt ime, certainly that wasn't even in the vocabulary, I just knew I liked it. I loved the stories. I loved that for once the smart people won. It didn't hurt that the smart guy was also a bad@$$. It was all the things I wanted to be. It was like I had found my own people.

I am nowhere near that smart though if there was a class based on the Science of Deduction, r a way to train my brain to do some of those things, I might just attempt it. Minus the cocaine, morphine and opium. (I don't think he was a heroin addict.)



This time of year, around Halloween, I always start to yearn for certain movies. One of them is Young Sherlock Holmes. Directed by Barry Levinson, written by Chris Columbus, and produced by Speilberg (I think), it's quality from the get go. There's no one that you'll recognize. Absolutely no one. (But Nichaols Sebastien Rowe who plays Holmes has extremely curly hair, and I think that is where I can trace my attraction to guys with curly hair comes from.)




The film takes place at a boarding school. Sherlock is there as a young man, John Watson is a transfer student from a school in the country. They meet and Watson is brought into the world of Sherlock Holmes, especially when there's a series of disappearances and unexplainabale murders. There's human sacrfice, chanting, Egyptian Cults, revenge, hallucinations, lost love, murder... And a whole score with moments that echo back to Carmina Burana by Karl Orf.



This is made in 1986, and was nominated for an Oscar in the category of best visual effects. But it was also 1986. So those amazing effects then may seem common place now. But they enver seem hokey.



An excellent story, with great acting, and a wonderful imaginative beginning to the Holmes and Watson world, Young Sherlock Holmes is perfect for a cold autumn night...



Here's a scene. (funny how it hearkens to the new Robert Downey Jr Sherlock Holmes....)





That's just one scene...Then of course, the next Sherlock Holmes was the Jeremy Brett incarnation from Granada TV. This is the version you probably watched in Middle School when you read Sherlock Holmes. Nothing at all attractive about this guy. Just Jeremy Brett is awesome, and that's all there is, these stand as classics. He still stands as one of the most respected and beloved portrayals of Sherlock Holmes. He passed away, sadly, some years ago, while portraying Holmes...

He's more of the well refined, almost extravagent, theatrical, closest to the literary depiction. While there's nothing to garner attention sensually or attractively, he's still classic.

This is a clip from the Empty House, when Holmes returns. (of course it's a youtube thing, so someone has made a montage with pretty music and slow motion at parts of it.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-MPy13b2IA

Then we have Laurie King's Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes series. I've already blogged about that. So I'll pass on that except that they're fantastic reads.

But my new love is the BBC Sherlock Holmes.

A reimagination, placing Holmes and Watson in the 21st centur. JOhn Watson is a British soldier/dr vetran, wounded in Iraq. Holmes is a scientist who works at a univeristy of some sort? and freelances witht he police. Lestrade is there and calls on him, while ther est of the force views Holmes with disdain and call him Freak. The interpertationi s excellent. That keen deduction is all there. The rapid fire shooting of intellect, adventure and mystery is all over the place. But unlike Jeremy Brett's portrayl which is almost at points a little too saintly, we see this Holmes with all his warts. (when Lestrade decides to harass him and pester him, they call a Drug bust on his flat. Watson, newly moved in is certain it's all unfounded, while Holmes is sweating bullets..)

Now this is viewable on Masterpiece theatre Mystery. The dvds are available for preorder via amazon.com or pbs.org I wouuld include al ink but they are rapidly getting pulled which is fine. So go watch it on Masterpiece theatre.com or Netflix it. TOTALLY WORTH IT!

The Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare

There have been fewer books that I have awaited so anxiously as I did for Clare's first book in her prequel series - The Clockwork Angel.

(I think the last time this happened it was the last Harry Potter, which I actually pre-ordered. I would have preordered this one too, but alas, I am po'. But next best thing: I convinced my local librarian to buy the book. Devious aren't I?)

Clare has two series going on. The one that is already established is called The Mortal Instruments. There's three books released and there's three more to come (I think..) The three released already are: City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass.

The fourth in that series is pretty much done if not done, and is works to released I think in November? City of Fallen Angels?

The Clockwork Angel is the first book in the Infernal Devices SEries - a Prequel series to the Mortal Instrument series.

On Clare's website she says to read the Infernal Devices series first. But really how is that possible when ther's only one book of them out and three or the other series? If you read the Mortal Instuments Series first it's not going to kill you. It's kind of like Star Wars (Yes I know my geekdom is REALLY showing right now). The first three Star Wars Films that were realeased back int h 70s - back when Lucas was still hungry for it, and still passionate, back before Jar Jar Binks cereal - those three films were number, 4, 5, and 6. This indicated there would be three others that took place before them. Those three disappointments didn't come out until the 90s-2000s (and they never should have.)

So while it may be slightly confusing just for a brief moment, it's not a big deal. I will though, read the entire series from 1-whatever when they're all out in chronological order to follow character arcs.
Did you hear that? I"m going to happily re-read these books, all of them, in order, because I want to see these characters again I want to watch them grow, fall, triumph, all of it. Again and again.

These books are awesome.

They do have the dreaded and often stigmatized "Young Adult Fiction" sticker on the spine. But do not let that dissuade you. These are excellently written. Fantastic characters, well thought out, beautiful, everything.

A great combination of fantasy and realism, there is nothing about these books that is juvenile. These are adult novels, except for the fact that the main characters are upper teenagers to early 20-ish.

I cannot say enoughabout these books. Except that if you like fantasy with some teeth - not the rubbish Twilight stuff - but really well written, well developed, non-angsty characters, excellent storylines, cliffhangers, all of it... go and start reading these books.

NOW.

And on a side note - the little video advertisement of this book - clockwork Angel - that you find on Amazon.com is kind of lame. Don't let it dissuade you.

Realy. Katie. Hailers.. GO READ THESE BOOKS NOW.

run fatboy run

i havent been publishing book reviews and film reviews here as often as i have been publishing them for the library. so for the msot part allthe one i'm doing end up there. (www.tunkhannock.com/library look for Rebeccas Reviews on the side bar)

but this film wasn't inthe library's colelction, but in the keystone college library collection.

Run Fatboy Run,



I don't think I have laughed this hard in a long time. We had to stop the film, pause it until we were done, or rewind to catch the parts we were laughing too hard through.

what may appear as a simple. war between two guys over a beautiful woman - great guy, avergae guy/slightly loser-ish guy... turns out to be a great story about friendship, heart, finding yourself, and all sorts of things.

and oh my gosh it's funny. not little laughs. but laughing like oh my gosh i might just pee myself.

i cannot recommend it highly enough.




in other news:

we feared the baby had a peanut allergy. turns out she doesn't. but int he process we discovered, through the ever so geenrous advice of Katie, Sunbutter. Sunbutter is a peanut butter alternative made complete from Sunflower seeds. taste delicious.

i have taken to making Mars Bar cake. think Rice Crispy treats, with a chocolate layer on top, and melted snickers, milky ways or mars bar in the rice crispy mix. Heaven. and a real sugar rush to boot. do not give this to children.

I have also taken to making our own home made won tons. we did this as kind of a date night thing, and they turned out incredible. so i'm never buying them again. the price to make them vs. the price to buy them is ridiculous. They are super simple and if you have little ones who you can trust to help, then great. if not, it's still simple to make.
the basic recipe - get some won ton wrappers (our store has them next to the tofu), two things of cream cheese, warmed, chives. and if you want to make them with imitation crab meat, get a thing of that too, and chop it up finely.
put two bowls out, and put a thing of cream cheese in each one, along with spices you want (chives, a little garlic perhaps..) then in one bowl, add the chopped crab meat. stir.
then really, all you do, lay out a won ton wrapper, take about a tsp full of filling (and really a tsp is about it can handle..) put the filling in the middle, and with a pstry brush, brush some egg or water along the edges, then fold it into a triangle. set aside and repet until you have your desired amount of wontons.
then fry them in the skillet - we use olive oil, and a cast iron skillet. about two minutes frying. the won ton wrapper will bubble and start to brown.
then take out and set on a paper towel lined plate.

there you go.
simple.


and while yo're brosing here, check out this other blog that i attend almost religiously - amanda blake soule's blog. http://www.soulemama.com/

very very cool. mama, living simply, homeschooling, just being crafty, writing, photographing, finding joy in simple things.. incredibly cool. and a little transcendental.

rosehip syrup

The past few weeks here have been a whirlwind. July blurs into August. Then comes our Anniversary, and then compressed with office meetings, and a trip to New Hampshire to visit family, we found ourselves home once again, as August slipped away from us even faster than we thought. On top of this, our daughter got sick with strep.

And in the midst of this whirlwind, the roses have bloomed, the purple clover in the fields whee I run has grown heavy and drowsy, and the nights have become blessedly cooler.

So the most recent development in the little known gem department was a book called Grow Your Own Drugs by ___ Wong. This is not a book about growing illicit drugs. It's a book about ethnobotany and how to use the plants around you for medicine and natural healing. I saw this at my friends house, borrowed it, and ordered it the next day.

My first attempt from it is Rose Hip Vitamin C syrup. Rose hips aren't alien tot he world of vitamin C. During the Great Wars, British families used to make a rose hip syrup and give it to their chidlren for the very purpose of extra Vitamin C. That was quite some time ago.
Rose hips are also edible straight once they are ripe. Couple that witht heir use in teas, it's probably a very neglected fruit that's used only for decoration.

But we have this great rose bush on the farm that always has rosehips the size of half dollars on it. So I decided to give it a try.

And it's SIMPLE.

250g (about half a pound) of fresh rosehips.
5 cloves (note just cloves, not of anything.. i used powdered cloves)
1 cinnamon stick (i used a couple tsps of powdered cinnamon)
2 c water.

gently crush the rose hips. then put the rosehips in a pan. mix in the cloves and cinnamon. then add the water. simmer for twenty minutes. Strain the liquid into a bowl through a sieve or cheesecloth (I used a rice strainer). then put the liquid back in the pan, add as much sugar as there is liquid. heat to a boil then turn down to about medium, and then let it heat for ten minutes.
pour into sterilized jars.
processed jars (like canning) will last a year unopened. opened (unprocessed) will last a week in the fridge.

you can take 2 tsp each day. you can use it as a maplke syrup replacement for pancakes. you can also use it as a crodial - pour one part of the rosehip syrup and five parts water into a glass.

there you go :)

i have to say last night making it was one of the coolest things. i have a lng standing interest in etnobotany and using the plants and flowers around us for healing and all of that. i loved making it.
i also found some yarrow out in the fields, dug it up and brought up the house and planted it up here. yarrow is a great medicinal herb. it can be used for staunching nosebleeds, calming insect stings, among many other things... and it's a perrennial. it comes back!

my goal is to get a good medicinal herb garden going here.

the other way the summer has past, is in a flurry of books and movies. the reviews for the library have been going well.
definitely check out www.tunk.com.library Rebecca's reviews for the reviews.

i have read and loved : TINKERS
Neverwhere - neil gaiman
coraline - neil gaiman
as simple as snow
Girl in Translation
Shug

just off the top of my head... loved them all.

so today i go back tot he library to find a movie and some books for week 6 offerings...

Against the Princesses...

When I became a mother, I was suddenly more aware of the threats to my child. I began carrying Purelle around with me. I asked anyone who wanted to hold her, if there was anyone in their household who was sick. I watched for runny noses, cringed when I heard coughs and sneezes. I made most of her baby food so I would know exactly what was going into her food and then into her belly. I changed my tv habits knowing that while she might not be able to say the words she was hearing, I didn’t want the vulgarities to still even have a place in her mind.

There are still the constants. I still despise Barney with my whole soul, so much that I aspire to design a Barney skin rug, complete with green spots and a tail. Next to it would be a small red one with googley eyes; perhaps on this one I would add tire marks. (Sometimes Grown Up jokes keep Mommy sane.)

But there was one threat I didn’t expect: the Princesses. When the Princesses started making it big – and by Princesses I mean the standard four: Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Belle, and Cinderella, though Ariel and Tiana sometimes show up, like first and second alternates in a competition - I thought, rather foolishly, that I’d be able to avoid them. They’re just Disney. They won’t be THAT huge. No big deal.

I forgot who I was dealing with. This is DISNEY. The company that owns ABC, CNN, the Disney Channel, the Muppets, at least six theme parks, a cruise line, not to mention film companies. Their name itself is tied to Family Friendly, Child Safe, Wholesome material for all. It also includes World Domination. But that’s only in the fine print.

And when Disney decides to do something, be it sell a movie, or sell product, Disney goes gung ho, and whoever gets in their way, gets put into the Haunted Mansion as one of the dancing ghosts forever and ever. If you were very naughty, you get to be one of the floating heads in the jars.

Let me back up though. This is not an I hate Disney tirade. I have an incredibly soft spot in my heart for Disney World. We went every year as a family to the Magic Kingdom and EPCOT. I spent three blissfully happy days there with my family every Thanksgiving, going on every ride, getting autographs, and running around like I owned the joint. I even aspired to work there one day. It really was the Happiest Place on Earth. I look forward to when I can take my own family to Disney World and share with them what I so enjoyed as child – even though it seems like half the things I loved then are changed or gone. (RIP 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, The Living Seas pre Nemo, and the DreamFinder from the Journey into Imagination.)

So why the hate for the Princesses?

Somewhere along the lines of growing up, I became the unthinkable. I became a Feminist. Not a Femi-Nazi who burns her bras and verbally emasculates men at every chance she gets, lifts up women like the next superior race while crushing men under her stilettos. Just a friendly, equal rights Feminist. One of those crazy people who think that women are people too, should have an equal chance at things, equal pay, and shouldn’t feel condemned if she chooses to be a mom, or a CEO, or both. Crazy ideas right?

Then enter the Princesses. Those familiar faces, all smiles, all beauty and grace, all fairy tale and crowns. But what else is there?

Not much it seems, except for some very serious Victim Issues, and one case of Stockholm Syndrome.

Cinderella is an abused young woman who requires the help of her fairy godmother to get to a dance where she will meet the prince, with the hopes of falling in love with him, and the pursuant marriage proposal. But then she loses her shoe. Eventually the prince (or the prince’s representative) finds her. But until then she must to be rescued. End of story.

Sleeping Beauty isn’t much better. A beautiful child is cursed by a snubbed guest. She is hidden away, by three fairies who act as teachers and guardians while keeping her in the dark of her past. Aurora (her pre-slumber name) grows up beautiful and lovely. Until she pricks her finger on the spindle of the spinning wheel and zonks out for a hundred years, until a prince braves the fortress and recues her and kills the dragon. She does nothing but sleeps. That’s it.

Snow White is a lot like Sleeping Beauty. Too beautiful for her own good. Too innocent and beautiful, she is cast out by her step mother, a death warrant sent out on her by way of the huntsman who stays his hand. Snow White flees, finds a house, and takes refuge there (even though she’s not entirely sure who lives there. At first she thinks they’re children.) The dwarves agree to let her stay as long as she will keep the house, and not let in any strangers. (The Grimms have the dwarves as thieves, Disney made them miners) Of course Snow White doesn’t listen and eats the apple given to her by that strange old hag.. Has no one taught this girl about Stranger Danger? And voila – out like a light. The poison apple bite rolls out of her mouth, so she doesn’t die completely, she’s only “mostly dead.” The dwarves mourn her, make her a very pretty glass casket, and once again appears a wandering prince – funny how they just happen to show up - who is so struck by her beauty, that he kisses her, and wakes her from her mostly dead slumber. We could raise questions of necrophilia, but this is after all a children’s story…. Happily ever after. Again, what does Snow White do? She doesn’t listen to anyone. She is innocent, beautiful, and extremely sleepy. She too has to be rescued.

All of these three women are nothing but victims. Beautiful victims, charming victims, but victims nonetheless. All of them must rely on someone else – often with supernatural powers to do the work for them, until their prince comes along amd picks them up. One kiss, and then with a sigh, each woman smiles satisfied with her lot in life, and rides away on his horse, to go be wife to someone she has barely shared breath with.

Belle is the one I had the most hope for. She’s the daughter of an inventor, always reading, turns down the most popular man in town because he’s a jerk, and sacrifices her freedom for her father’s release. These are all noble and admirable qualities. But most of those things happen in the very beginning of the film. The rest of the film is watching her fall in love with the Beast. But wait, wasn’t the Beast her captor? Isn’t she his captive? Doesn’t that spell out Stockholm Syndrome? A really beautifully orchestrated, choreographed, very well dressed version of Stockholm Syndrome?

Why are these Princesses worthy of being role models? Because they are beautiful? Because they are princesses? Why must every single one of them require help from some sort of supernatural being or beings who end up doing most of the heavy lifting? Why does every woman here need the kiss of the prince to make her whole?

What about Mulan? The girl who doesn’t become a princess, but in the process, saves her troop, her country, and her emperor? She has to work hard, she has to think for herself. She makes decisions that aren’t popular but she sticks by them. She is abandoned by her comrades when they find out the truth but she returns to save them. She has a little bit of help, but it’s almost exclusively in the form of moral support, - like any person should have. Why aren’t we lauding Mulan, and putting her face on bouncy balls, and clothes for little girls? What about her? Is it because she isn’t blonde enough? Is it because there’s no crown? And why is she the only example I can think of that fits this bill?

What about Rapunzel? The girl with long golden hair kept locked away in a tower. She just screams Victim doesn’t she? To a point. But things got awkward, when her witch/step mother cut off her hair and lured the prince up the tower again, only to blind him and throw him out the window. The handsome prince, the one character who by most stock purposes should have been doing the saving was lost and broken. Rapunzel too was cast out, but pregnant. She delivers alone, cares for her children, and in the process comes across her beloved prince. Weeping, maybe out of joy, maybe out of frustration, maybe for joy, she cradles the prince’s head in her lap, and her tears fall on his sightless eyes. Lo and indeed behold, the prince sees again, and beholds his rescuer: his Rapunzel.

What about the other blonde haired woman who walked the jungles, with no qualifications except a driving passion, steely determination, and someone who believed in her, who did everything wrong according to the ‘experts’ and has since one of the leading experts on Chimpanzees, and force to be reckoned with in the areas of conservation, chimpanzees and animal rights? Why is there no Princess Jane Goodall action figure for my child to hang on to?

It’s not a far trip up the family tree to find even closer inspiration. My great grandmother was a suffragette, and secretary to the local chapter. Granted these women were often seen un-ladylike, and un-feminine, but what’s the saying – well behaved women rarely make history. But what good is the making history if those you are working for never know your legacy?

This is why I don’t like the Princesses. Because they are weak. Because they hold up the ideal of wait to be rescued. Someone will come along. Beauty before everything else. These are the things I don’t want to teach my daughter. I don’t want to glorify women who are only victims, who are only valued for their beauty alone. And the role models our daughters are given aren’t strong women, aren’t the suffragettes, aren’t the jungle hiking scientists, the teachers, the nurses, aren’t the mothers who struggle against everything to raise their children.

On my daughter’s first birthday, one of my best friends – an honorary Auntie – sent Molly a gift: a storybook titled “Not One Damsel in Distress,” a collection of folktales from around the world where the girl really is the hero, where she saves the day, makes the tough decisions, and still gets to live happily ever after.

I want her to be strong, to think for herself. I want her to be able to make the hard decisions, to stand by what she thinks is right, even when everyone disagrees with her.

Disney is wonderful, and makes a wonderful myriad of products. But, please Disney, make some better role models for our daughters. There are other stories out there. Don’t teach my daughter that she has to be rescued, has to be a certain type of beautiful, and can’t think for herself. Our daughters deserve better.

So what happened to you?

I disappeared there for a while. Sorry about that. But what I have I been doing?

Well the pictures above are two things I did. The bottom picture is of the baby's Big Girl Quilt. We were going to move her into a Big Girl Bed (didn't go so well) so I figured it was time for her to have a big girl quilt.

The center design is an OM in Sanskrit, which is the sound of creation, the sound that came forth in the beginning. It's also the sound and syllable for meditation and peace. I made a few of those OMs by painting them on to fabric using calligraphy ink. The baby liked it so I made sure to incorporate one.

Around the OM is a poem that my mother inked onto fabric. It's the poem Listen to the Mustn'ts by Shel Silverstein.

listen to the mustn'ts child

listen to the don'ts

listen the never haves, the impossibles the wont's

listen to all of them,

then listen close to me

anything can happen child

anything can be.

I thought what more beautiful blessing for a child to have wrapped around them. So I incorporated it. My mother had done an inked version of it for a friend of mine and I asked her to do it again because I didn't like the way it looked - aren't I terrible? so she did, and I kept the original ones, knowing I'd use it somewhere....I used it here.

So I made the baby's Big Girl Quilt. Then while I was at it, I made my best friend Melanie a quilt for her birthday. That is the top quilt. It's all old jeans. Mel;anie loves it. And she got it just in time for a cold snap.

Then the computers died. Yes plural. two computers went. My laptop frizzled out zapped out. And then the desk top died. So I was sans computer for a little while. That was another reason the blogs have been absent.

Now the projects at hand: ripping and tearing off the wall paper from the hallway. I didn't know there were 8 layers of wall paper before I could get to the wall. And the wall was painted with a hdieous sea foam green paint, that they stirred sand into. ugh.

Then along with that, my husband is building a grill outside. He built the baby a play house.

I have taken up running again, for my sanity and health.

And still writing...

so I lost track of time and days. Apologies again for disappearing.

rebecca's reviews

So the idea of doing book reviews and film reviews has moved locations...
in effort to help my local library and to have a wider audience the library and I are teaming up. I write book and film reviews from their circulation and they post them. All in effort to get more attention and increase circulations.

Here's the link..

http://www.tunkhannock.com/library/

On the side bar there will be a tab that says Rebecca's Reviews. Click there.

Now, the deal is I only post positive reviews. so if i read a book/watch a film that I don't like, I bypass it. But I may review it here... So keep your eyes peeled.

There's already four reviews up. Four more have been submitted for next week. I'm trying to keep ahead of schedule considering this coming semester.

Keep checking there, and here. Sorry I have been so absent. I am doing what I can to remedy that.

book review - A Wish for Wings that Work; movie review -Masterpiece Theatre's Wuthering Heights

… A Wish for Wings that Work by Berkely Breathed

Children’s Book Selection

http://www.amazon.com/Wish-Wings-That-Work-Christmas/dp/0316106917/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1279645323&sr=8-1-spell#_#_

Right now, it’s not winter. It’s not snowing, and there’s certainly no expected visits from Santa Claus to my chimney. On the contrary, it’s mid July, humid, hot, and nary a cloud in sight. I open the freezer door to get a hint of some cooler temperatures. I do hear jingle bells ringing, but that’s because my daughter opened her craft box and is throwing the bells around the room.

I first discovered Berkeley Breathed when I read the comic strip Bloom County (a comic strip that earned him a Pulitzer Prize in 1987), and later Opus. Bill the Cat, Opus the Penguin both became characters I looked forward to seeing each week in the funny pages. He ended work in cartooning in 2008 to work on children’s books.

A Wish for Wings that Work, published in 1991, is about Opus the Penguin’s Christmas wish – to fly. He is determined to fly. He watches the snow ducks fly each morning, he practices take offs, but is thwarted by his wings, penguin wings, wings not meant for flying through the air, but for flying through the water. In full hope and faith, he asks Santa Claus to bring him ‘wings that will go.’

This is a story about embracing who you are and embracing your dreams and how one doesn’t always cancel the other out.

This is a quality book. It’s one that I can read again, and again, (and I have!) and still enjoy it. And really, as parents, we have to like the book too! I am still touched by the beauty of both the story, and the art. Told in gentle meter, it’s easy to read and to listen to. The illustrations are what we would expect from Breathed, poignant, detailed, beautiful, and crisp. It was one of the first books that my daughter wouldn’t part with.

So celebrate some Christmas in July, scoop out some ice cream cones, and read about Opus and his Wish for Wings that Work. And maybe work on your own list for Santa.

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights – as seen on Masterpiece Theatre.

http://www.amazon.com/Wuthering-Heights-Tom-Hardy/dp/B001PUTN3Y/ref=sr_1_1?s=dvd&ie=UTF8&qid=1279645398&sr=1-1

First off, let’s get one thing very clear. This is NOT your mother’s Wuthering Heights. Nor is this the Wuthering Heights you may have been forced to sit through in tenth grade English class. This is a grown up, sexy, dark, haunting Wuthering Heights. Get your paper bags and your smelling salts, because this film may cause swoons and shortness of breath.

Book purists will be satisfied with the faithful interpretation presented here in the film. There are very few changes, the chief among them, being the ages of Cathy and Heathcliff when they first meet the Lintons, and then the ensuing courtship. In the book Cathy and Heathcliff are quite young, barely teenagers, when they first come upon the Lintons. The ensuring courtship seems to take place not far from that age, which might seem a little awkward. In the film, both Cathy and Heathcliff are portrayed a slightly older, thus when the courtship and proposal happen, there’s less squirming and questions about age. Any other alterations in the film are minor, artistic, and true to the characters and storyline. (Remember few movies are EVER exactly like the book.)

While the book is an undisputed classic, it shines in this film. Yorkshire and the moors which figure so heavily in the book are given enough respect in the film to become characters in the film itself. The camera work, the location, the cinematography, everything is just beautiful. It is not beautiful like a Hollywood sound stage. This film was actually made in Yorkshire and on the moors. So what Bronte herself was talking about, what she had grown accustomed to living among, we are able to see and witness. It is a desolate beauty, a beauty that is wild, and sad, and haunting all at the same time. (On a side note, the actress who plays Cathy – Charlotte Riley – is the first Yorkshire woman to perform the role. So both what we see and hear is authentic.)

The book’s prose allows us to understand there’s some attraction and jealousy between Cathy and Heathcliff, in the film that love affair, an affair that destroys all around them if they cannot have each other, comes to life with such heat that you might just find your wall paper peeling. (Keep in mind that when one of them gets spiteful, the coldness of heart might be enough to freeze the paper in place. So don’t redecorate just yet.)

Ladies, kick the men out of the house for a spell, schedule slumber party, or take advantage of a camping/hunting/fishing/…. trip and curl up for a spell.

It runs 141 minutes. It was a Masterpiece Theatre mini-series. It’s not rated. But if it were, it would certainly not be R, nor would it be G.

to my daughter.....

To you, the little one who I held and carried long before my arms ever cradled you against me; you my miracle or miracles; you who are my heart beat outside my body; the piece that I look for that I feel for, the jigsaw that I never knew until I looked squarely at the wholeness of my life picture and then squinted as if I was looking at some Pointillism, or Impressionism, or some abstract piece of art, and suddenly saw what could be, what should be, what is beauty, what is greatness, all thing different to he beholder but still recognized by any who come in contact with it, like a electric shock running through their body, or a breeze in summer. You cannot be ignored.

How is it you have grown so much that my arms cannot contain you? But this was always the plan wasn’t it? To have arms strong enough to hold you, to contain you when you were meant to be contained, and then arms long enough to let you go, but still be within reaching distance, for the moments you need some extra comfort, some support, so that form around the world, my arms will be long enough to reach you, and some how, I shall still hold you.

Then I rejoiced at your growing. “Look at my big girl,” I would say, and dutifully measure you against the wall in your bedroom, a testimony to the passing of time, to the passing of childhood. My big girl whose progress was charted by doctors in ounces, and inches, and by parents and friends by the size clothing you wore.

Now the hourglass continues, sped up to what seems like the normal pace times ten. I look at you, my child, running, running, climbing up in the tree and grinning like a hatter, the hem of your dress resting above your knees when it was at you calves a month ago. You run, you climb, you sing, you dance, all of the exuberance of childhood, the way it should be, this is the way it should be, I remind myself. But I find myself wondering, when did this happen? When did this little child replace the babe I held in my arms? When did you outgrow your favorite shoes that sparkle like the dust of pink diamonds and shards of rubies? I never clicked the heels of those shoes together to see if they would rewind time. I should have tried.

I rejoiced when you slept through the night, for I was the one who was desperate for sleep, for a moment of rest. Never did I think that I would miss those secret hours when it was just the two of us in the dark hours of not even morning. You and I, the bottle and the television remote and whatever movie was on the cable station. Together we were washed in the dim glow from the television. Now when you wake at night, and you cry out for me, I still grumble, but I walk to your room, lift you from your nightmares and hold you in my arms again. Now I can scare the boogeyman, the nightmares, the monsters in your closet. Now I am strong and powerful. I wonder if you shall still think so when you discover the truth about the boogeyman, and monsters under your bed. Then, chasing away the things that frighten you, guarding and protecting you will be a harder job. You will discover then that even SuperMoms, and Normal Moms have their kryptonites. It is I who must develop immunity to it.

It is your eyes that amaze me. Not only the blueness that seems taken from the sky itself, the hypnotic lapis lazuli, or the gray blue before a storm, but the eyes that see everything for the first time. For you the world is as it should be, full of wonder, brimming with mysteries and excitement. My eyes are old, and have seen it all before. But what is that? To teach a child to be bored, to be complacent with wonder, to squash out wonder at the crimson coated ladybugs that march up and down the apricot tree? Who would I be to tell you to simply shrug when you see the dragonflies with their glass clear wings and crystalline etchings, coated in green armor buzzing nearby, or the lightning bugs that droop lazily on a summer night, blinking their green lights as if directing traffic in a never ending thoroughfare. I would be wrong, I would be shameful. I would be accountable for destroying another’s imagination.

Your wonder humbles me. You have pulled me to watch the sunset more than once, pointing with breathless glee and saying, “Pink Sky! Pink Sky!” When I was too busy, you took me by the hand and led me to the real importance. And for that moment, we shared eyes. We have crouched to watch a line of ants hiking over the branches of a tree, sat ever so still on the edge of the pond and observed the mallard ducks that made their nest in the tall grass. When you saw her egg on the shore, you marvelled at the roundness, smoothness, and whiteness of it all. We came and visited it each day, and though it never hatched - I never told you that as it was out of the nest it would always remain an egg -the importance was in the moment. That day we learned an egg is quiet. I learned so are you.

You are strong willed, which will be important later on. My little one, how can I tell you that the world is growing more and more dark and bleak in some places? How can I tell you we live in a world of bombs, and atrocities, of injustice and genoicides? How can I even introduce those things to you, certainly not now, but how could I ever explain it to you? There should be a follow up statement, that these terrible things happened, BUT they are over now. The world has learned its lesson, and we have all grown up and become better people for it, and that it will never happen again. That is the way the statement should end. But in truth, that statement has no end. The statement is simply that world is full of injustice, and awful things that happen to good people and bad people alike, and not all the bad guys get caught. The only end statement I can add to it, is one that isn’t even necessarily true. There are awful things in the world, BUT maybe you, maybe you my jewel and shining pearl, maybe you can help change things. Even in some small way, like all those who love truth, and beauty and right, maybe you too will find some way to make a difference, even if it is as simple as planting a flower garden for the hummingbirds to feed at, and where butterflies can rest. Maybe that will be enough.

Your tenacity will be needed when it comes to following your own song, and living your own hopes and dreams. People will want to make you feel wrong for having those dreams, will want to cubbyhole you into what they think you should be. But my love, my jewel, my brightest star, do not let them. They have no right to it. They have no right to you. No matter what they tell you. Never listen to them, for once you listen to them, you are lost, and that compass needle that points true north or true desire and hope and fearlessness will be tainted with doubt and confusion. Tenacity will be needed to defend your dreams from the wolves of despair, and to buoy yourself up in the alone times, and there will be alone times. But they are not to be feared.

It is fine to be alone. It is fine to be with others. But everyone needs some of both, some more than others. Just make sure you see the sunshine, the lightning, and the starlight. And may there be someone that can be with you in the alone times, a friend, a dog, a memory.

Now, as you are now, I once was. I was once a little girl, with a temper, with a quilt, who climbed trees in my Sunday Best, who rode the horses bareback, and built forts out in the woods among the birches and thick green moss. I read my books on the roof of our house after I learned to climb that high without falling, and I threw my Barbie dolls down the chimneys. And I see what my mother must have seen, what she must have felt. Where did the little girl go who asked her mother to sit on her so she would stay small forever? Where is the imp who believed in fairies and clapped her hands ever so vehemently? Where is her pet butterfly?

For grown ups, time stops moving. Our may grow silver or white, our birthday cakes get larger to hold the candles, sometimes we grow more round. But that is the end of our growing. But we remember it all. We remember the tree climbing, the fairy forts, and catching firelfies in our hands to watch them glow green. Childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, we remember it all. But that’s about it. We remember it. You my child are on the beginning of your path, and to watch you on the path is much more startling for the hourglass does not stop, and neither do you. Each day you breathe, and each night you sleep, you grow up just a little bit more.

Until one day, you are no longer my baby, but a fully fledged adult and I will wonder where has the time gone? Where is my blueberry girl? Just like every other parent in the world has wondered.

And the saddest thing my love, my jewel, my child, is this: it never ends. It is nothing that we can stop. It is nothing that I can prevent you from experiencing. The bittersweetness of motherhood, should you go on that path, is inescapable. The two are hand in hand entwined.

As I write these things, you are napping in your crib, in your lavender room, under your quilt of flannel stripes with a hand painted OM and blessing on the front. I look at you, I listen to you. I see you in me, me in you. I see your grandmother in both of us, and my great grandmother in all of us. It is like holding up a mirror, generations and generations down the line, and we see it all in our eyes’ reflections. How far you’ve come, how far you have yet to go, and I vow to go with you as far as I can, to soak up every moment as best I can, even if I know it is futile, I will do this…. and then I pray to have the wisdom to let you grow up too. And then, maybe you will see all of this in your own daughter’s eyes

Food Storage and Bulk foods

Growing up a member of the LDS church (official title *inhale* The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saint *exhale.*) and with a father who was adamant about food storage, I had a foot up on some of this when I became an 'adult.'

When we were little, it was a huge comfort to be able to go into the basement, and find literally a complete hallway, probably about seven-eight feet tall, as long as the house, full of shelves of food. All for a rainy day. There were canned goods, soups, cans of HI-C, and generic Kool-Aid.... anything we might need, it was there. On top of this food supply, was also a supply of basic needs: shampoo, laundry detergent, toothpaste, toothbrushes, soap, tylenol, etc. A year's supply.

And having been snowed in, tornadoed in, thunderstormed in, we made good use of it.

The LDS church has been teaching about self sufficiency and provident living (those are the buzzwords) for I think over a hundred years. Making the most of our resources when we have them, to lay up store for those days when we don't. That's another reason gardens are so very very common and truly urged among the LDS community. So while, like I said, these things are basic common knowledge to me, to some others who didn't grow up with my upbringing or cultural background, it's not.

That's why it's in the Little Known Gems.

When I got married, and moved all of across the street, my husband and I started on our own food storage. We canned tomatoes that first year from our garden. We made jams and jellies, and pepper relish. We made applesauce.

But really, who wants to live on applesauce and raspberry jam? Just those two things? No one. So we needed to expand our pantry. Of course the canned goods started lining the shelves. But it was expensive.

And then going to church and talking about Food Storage to some of the members there, we got instant reactions about "You must have X amount of pounds of Hard Wheat in your storage. You have to store Wheat!" As if this is going to build you an ark during the next great flood. I don't even know what to do with straight wheat..... But You have to HAVE WHEAT. Or else you have three heads and speak Kling On.

It got to be really overwhelming. really. There were all these words or phrases, like "Dutch Valley Orders" or "Atlantic Spice Orders..." My head started to spin. I was handed a catalog for one these places and I just couldn't focus. It was like handing someone the telephone book and telling them to pick out their next ten best friends.

Dutch Valley and Atlantic Spice are both places where you can buy Bulk Foods. Atlantic Spice specializes in - drum roll please - Spices. OOoohhhh, Aaaahhh.. Dutch Valley bulk foods specializes in - keep that drum roll going - Bulk Foods. Once again, Oooohhh, Aaaaahh.

From Atlantic Spice company, you can order 5 pounds of cinnamon. Really. But the question you beg to answer is, what do you do with five pounds of cinnamon when you get it? How long does it keep for? and really, do you need five pounds of cinnamon? Or five pounds of chamomile, which due to its fluffy make up is surprisingly, a lot of chamomile.

Well this past month, we just placed and received our first order from Dutch Valley Foods. We ordered the basics, King Arthur Flour, some chicken broth mix, some dried pineapple, a heck of a lot of raisins....

All in all, it works out to being a lot cheaper to buy in bulk. But then what do you do with fifty pounds of flour? or fifteen pounds of flaxseeds?

Well, you get out your Food Saver (or you borrow from someone), start making vacuum packed packets, and then put them in buckets.

But where do you get buckets? Does your grocery store have an in house bakery? If so, then there. Go to the bakery and ask for Buckets with Fitting lids. See what they'll give you. Our store here gives them away. Just have to go ask. some stores charge fifty cents a bucket. It depends on the place.
get it home, wash it, dry it, line it with a clean, white, unscented garbage bag, and then add contents. Pour in flour, sugar, whatever. Or if you're keeping things in their original packaging, like that giant thing of Ramen you bought, or in our case, Kraft Mac and Cheese, you can stack them in there. Then twist tie the garbage shut, put the lid on, and label it, And you're good to go.

(Another awesome thing about the buckets is, aside from being free, is that they are air tight. If you, like us, have ever battled Pantry moths, those stupid little bugs that will eat their way through ANY container, including cardboard, plastic, etc - you know you absolutely have to go with something that's air tight. And these buckets are completely air tight. and even if they weren't, the bag that lines the inside of the bucket and then is twist tied shut, creates an air tight environment.

But why should anyone do this? It's just easier to go to the store and buy it when you need it. Yes it absolutely is. But you're paying extra for that convenience. you're paying extra to be impulsive or not impulsive.

I am very guilty of this. I have been known to go to the store a few times a week. I'm awful. I don't do meal plans. I need to do that. I don't do a lot of things the Super mom does...

But I thing having a few things set aside for a food storage, is definitely worth noting here.

How do you begin? You begin by making a space in your cupboards, or your basement, and when you go to the store, instead of just buying one can of soup, you buy two. Do this little thing, every time you go to the store. Other options are bulk stores like Sams Club, Bjs and Cosco.... you can buy an entire case of green beans, thus making you ready for the world's largest green bean casserole. Or just on those off nights when you have no idea what vegetable to have with your dinner, you can just go grab a can.

Look at things you use a lot of. We bake here, a lot. We make our own bread. So we need more flour than someone else might. Start with little things. Do you have to go for the whole years' supply? No. you go for a week. then go for a little longer. But make sure you store stuff that you're going to eat and use.

If you want to check out bulk food places like Dutch Valley, or Atlantic spice (http://www.dutchvalleyfoods.com/ http://www.atlanticspice.com/) go ahead, make a list of things you might be interested, and absolutely of course shop by price. Just because they have fifty pounds of dried cream of mushroom soup, doesn't mean you have to get it.

And don't forget about storing water. In moments when the power goes out, and your well is run off electric, you then have no water. every large soda bottle, every juice bottle, rinse out, fill with water, assuming your tap water is fine, and then seal it up, and put with your storage. This will give you water to drink, water to flush toilets with, water to do dishes with, water to wash with.

One other note: well two actually. anyone out there remember the Far side cartoon, with the man and woman in the underground bunker full of food, and there's a large mushroom cloud over head. the woman is scolding the man. "How many times have I told you to make sure there's a can opener in there? How many times? It's not any good to us, if we don't have a can opener...." Ditto that. keep a can opener in the food storage area, along with one of the bucket wrenches to get those lids off. http://www.bungwrench.com/

You can save some money, add food to your pantry, create a little more organized household, and help secure that you'll have food on the table in times of emergency.

While you may think I've been drinking the Apocalyptic Kool-Aid, just think of it as being practical, frugal, and slightly organized.

And just for the record, I STILL don't have Wheat.

Now back to washing those buckets.....

How to make Denim Quilts - with directions.

I don't know what it is, but I hate to waste fabric. If there's a way to use it again, I'll try to keep it and make it into something else. Today this is very hip and called upcycling, or recycling, or any number of 'cycling' words. Years ago it was called pack rat syndrome. Because until you found a use for that object, you had to hold on to it, until its use appeared. I do my best to combat this by also being an impulsive clutter purger. Sometimes the results are disastrous.

I grew up a quilter. As soon as I could hold a pencil, I could hold a needle. I hand pieced, hand quilted, or tied. It was all very Little House on the Prairie. I took my baby quilt to my after school sewing classes and fixed it. At the same time, I listened to Phantom of the Opera on my walk man (yes walk man, with audio cassette tapes) that was held together with really large hair ties. There's actually a picture of me doing this in my friend's book. "small folk quilters" by Ingrid Rogler. Look it up and laugh at my geekishness. even then I was a serious looking chipmunk faced girl. (I can say this now..)

One year when my mom went out West to visit friends, she came back talking about the quilts made out of old jeans that she had seen on the family ranch. And that was all it took to begin my love affair with making denim quilts.

So I began collecting old jeans, old flannel shirts, anything that I could cut apart and put into a quilt. My first denim quilt I finished after my grandfather passed away and after being snowed in for two weeks. I could name every piece of fabric in that quilt, tell you who's jeans they had been, where the green paint came from. All of it. And that act of piecing together my family, just after I had lost one of the major pieces was such a comfort to me, such a catharsis, that it has remained part of my life.

Now if you're thinking, Quilting, I could never do that... And if you're thinking about the beautiful intricate appliques that you see in the county fairs, or the really annoying ladies on PBS Saturday mornings, and how they all look a bit stuffy and artificial - both the tv show hosts AND the quilts, then erase your mind.

When it comes to my way of quilting with denim, I am all about ease, and speed, and fudge-work. I don't measure anything. really I don't. I just sew everything together and make it work. This is almost brainless sewing. It doesn't require a lot of thought, just a lot of imagination. And as it's not the 'traditional' or 'archival' way of quilting, then you can do whatever you want!

The more denim you use, the heavier the quilt will be. My first denim quilt I made probably weights about ten pounds. Maybe more. It's very heavy. It's also very warm. (This quilt just above is a close up of my first denim quilt, made in the midst of mourning and being snowed in. It's ALL denim. And very warm, and very heavy.... It's also pictured at the top of the page, on the bed. The fuzzy part is my dog's head in the bottom of the picture. She just wanted to be included.)

So if you're concerned about the physical weight of the quilt, intermingle some flannel with it (old flannel shirts are great for this), corduroy, quilt cottons... Do NOT use old T shirts.

to the right, is I think, my second denim quilt. thhis is a close up it, showing the use of flannel shirts and denim mixed together. It's lighter in weight and warmth but sitll very warm. The pattern is called Roman Coins. This detail is taken from the quilt pictured above.

And of all things, use your imagination. I've appliqued patches on mine. I leave the pockets functional. I've even painted on mine.

If you have basic sewing skills, a reliable sewing machine.... You can have this done in about two to three weeks. The hardest part is the cutting apart the shirts and jeans and rendering them into usable pieces. Other than that, it's just easy straight shot sewing like we learned in sixth grade Home Ec class.

They are also notoriously easy to make. I don't like measuring. I'm typically as unfussy as possible when it comes to quilting. I usually just cut things out and make them fit together. There's no pattern. But when they are laid together, it can be the most beautiful randomness ever.

I am including a link to the directions I wrote on how to make a denim quilt. I submitted it to an online newsletter years ago - Mormonchic.com. The article is still there and viable. There was some less than stellar editing by the people there. But the directions are sound, and there's some great pictures there too. Some of those quilts pictured in the article are mine, some aren't.

http//www.mormonchic.com/crafty/denim_quilt.asp

But if you're one of those people who hates to throw out jeans, or flannel, or fabric, or who doesn't think they can quilt, because it's too complicated, or there's too much measuring, really truly, try a denim quilt. They're forgiving. They wear like iron. They are very warm and heavy - note the more denim you use the heavier the quilt will be, even though it may look thin, it's going to be heavy. very warm quilts. and you don't have to worry about them getting dirty, because they're made from jeans. Toss them in the wash, then in the dryer, NEVER ON A WOODEN DRYING RACK - they'll snap the rack in two almost instantly - and you're good to go.