Monthly Archives: November 2012

I write letters

Posted on November 30, 2012 | 1 comment

Dear Every-Creator-of-Plus-Sized-Clothing-Ever,

It’s my ASS that’s bigger, and possibly my tits. My arms continue to be normal human length. Please take note.

For chrissakes,

Me

Dear Student,

Actually, “Because I have a lot of homework that has to get done” is NOT generally considered a valid excuse for leaving a 3-hour class 2 hours early. Particularly when you haven’t been exactly awesome about completing the homework for MY class. If you were expecting points for honesty, think again.

I mean really,

Me

Dear Powerball,

If anyone else ignored me so repeatedly, despite all my best efforts, I would totally leave their asses in the dust. But I just can’t quit you, baby. Maybe next time you’ll gimme some of that sweet financial sugar I want so bad.

Addictively,

Me

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Posted in Academe, You Have Got to be Kidding Me

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It’s beginning to look a lot like GAAAAAH!

Posted on November 26, 2012 | 9 comments

Look, I don’t want to freak anyone out here, but … it is the last week of November, y’all. There is officially less than a month left until Christmas. And je suis SERIOUSLY UNPREPARED.

Now, I love Christmas. Despite the family drama, the disappointments, the frenetic pace and hemorrhaging of funds from my bank account, it’s still my favorite holiday. Which has just about zero to do with the alleged birth of one Jesus H. Christ, who, even IF you accept him as a historical figure WAS NOT BORN IN DECEMBER do not get me started. It’s all about having a solstice celebration to get us through the darkest part of the year, and celebrating family rituals, and also OMG presents! Presents for EVERYONE! Which really is the awesome part, but also really can be the stressful part, in that I am neither a) Martha Stewart nor b) independently wealthy.

I don’t know if I mentioned in my introduction how many kids there are in my family. There are six of us in total. I’m the oldest, then my two biological siblings, then my three step-siblings. We span a range of 10 years; four girls and two boys. The whole psychotropic Brady Bunch situation we’ve got going not only made for some extremely interesting living arrangements, what with two couples sharing different joint custody arrangements with six kids, it also was a real study in the radically different way members of the same nominal tribe can construe the meaning of the term “family.” Like for example, I personally would say that I have five siblings and four parents, and I typically distinguish between “step” and “bio” family members only when it would confuse other people not to do so. I do not think that all the members of my family feel the same way; each person has their own way of thinking about that grouping, their own sense of who’s in and who’s out, and Christmas is often the time of year when that becomes most apparent. When we were kids it was pretty straightforward: you gave a gift to everyone. As we’ve gotten older and partnered and spawned it’s gotten more complicated. For a while we we came up with an insane gift-giving matrix that supposedly spread the financial and emotional burden evenly around, and didn’t require anyone to give a gift to anyone for whom it might be awkward. This quickly became untenable (for both logistical and sanity reasons) and for the past five-plus years we’ve been in a weird gift-giving limbo, where some of us sometimes get individual gifts for everyone, and some of us do family gifts, and some of the gifts are sort of token/Christmas ornament-type gifts and some do labor-intensive handmade projects and everyone feels vaguely weird about it. Or that could just be me projecting.

Anyway, a few years ago I decided that the only way I could think about the gift-giving thing without losing my ever-loving mind was to figure out what mattered to ME about the gifts. Like, was it important for me to give the same as I was getting? Did I have to give every person their own gift every year or would I be ok rotating? (annually, for example) How critical was it that the gifts I gave be something their recipients specifically asked for? And so on. Which, actually, I think these are pretty good questions for *anyone* to think about at the holidays, and maybe I’m late to the party, but anyway, what I came up with was, 1) I like giving gifts to everyone, every year. 2) This pleasure is not connected to *getting* gifts from everyone, every year. So, you know, I don’t have to have that “well, X didn’t give me a birthday present last year so are we not doing that any more or what?” conversations with myself. I have successfully removed any reciprocity clauses from my gifting platform. 3) I look at gifts as a way of telling the recipient that I’ve spent time thinking about them with affection. And the time and affection are the important things, not crossing items off a list or spending a given amount. 4) Once the gift is given, my part of the ritual is done. Maybe the recipient will cherish it for generations, maybe they’ll throw it in the trash first chance they get. Maybe I’ll get a thank-you note, maybe the person will never refer to the item again. Doesn’t matter. My job is to give with thought and affection, and that’s it.

Which is grand and all, and I really do think it’s the right approach for me and my family, but I tell you what: there are times when I really wish I could just win the fucking lottery already so I could hire a personal assistant to buy impersonal but wildly extravagant loot for my nearest and dearest. (Personal assistant would be third in line, after I hired a full-time, live-in housekeeper and a personal masseuse. Aw, yeah.) BECAUSE IT WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER. Christ, the time. THE TIME. It flies, and I do not know what I am doing for people! Last year I decided in mid-October that I was going to knit every adult in my family a hat, goddammit, and that’s what I proceeded to do. I think some people probably wear them. I’m sure some don’t. But I make a decent hat, and it was fun picking the colors and patterns to match each person, and amazingly I did not get carpal tunnel from knitting two dozen hats in the space of a month and a half. Mostly that’s the kind of present I like to do: handmade, creative, personal, and functional. One year I did lino-cut prints; one year I made everyone felted things; sometimes I do jewelry.

But this year, I did a show, which just closed. Which means my crafting season got cut down to 1/3 its normal size. And all my siblings have partners. And most of them have at least one kid. Plus parents. And in-laws. Also kids’ teachers. And probably some friends. Plus broke, plus kids to take care of and classes to teach. (At least the holiday cards are done. Thank you Costco for your sweet, sweet cheapiness.)

I mean, it’s the usual stuff, right? Just the usual holiday crap. And of course I’m grateful even to be in the position of fretting about gifts, and not, say, salvaging the remains of my material goods from Superstorm Sandy, or something. So anyway, I’m not looking to get out of giving the gifts this year (attention family and friends: do not, repeat NOT, post comments telling me not to give you anything. I mean it.) But I am wondering what other people do on the gift-giving front, and what good ideas and advice you smart people might have. Also Pinterest. Pinterest will have some ideas…

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Posted in Domesticity, Parenting

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Aside

So Ellie brought home a little booklet she made at school, titled “We Are Thankful,” which comprises photocopies of pictures and statements from her class illustrating what they’re most thankful for. Three things: The vast majority of kids were thankful … Continue reading →

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Posted on November 24, 2012

Autumnal Yumminess

Posted on November 23, 2012 | Comments Off on Autumnal Yumminess

Happy Day-After-Thanksgiving! Did you stuff your face appropriately yesterday? I not only stuffed my face, I worked it so that I only had to make two dishes for this year’s meal, while my awesome stepmother made the rest of the food, including dessert, which was chocolate bourbon pecan pie.

CHOCOLATE. BOURBON. PECAN. PIE.

I mean, I totally won Thanksgiving this year. So, while I realize that nothing that doesn’t have chocolate, bourbon, and pecans in it will sound at all appetizing at this point, I did get some requests to post the recipes for the dishes *I* made, and since they turned out pretty yummy, I am happy to do so. We’ll do the savory dish today, and the sweet one tomorrow.

Roasted Butternut Squash & Caramelized Onion Tart

Clearly I need to work on my foodie photo skills.

I only recently came to appreciate the delectable qualities of butternut squash, a situation that I blame on my childhood, during which I was repeatedly made to eat sliced, fried winter squash, something I did and still do detest. Bleccchhh. It wasn’t until grad school that a roommate of mine introduced me to the wonders of acorn, butternut, and spaghetti squash, and I was all, the GOURDS! They are more than just an awesome alt-country band!

Anyhoodle, last year, for a new year’s eve party, I made this butternut squash tart from Epicurious, and it was OK, but I also thought it was kind of bland. So this year I decided to see if I could tweak the recipe to where it tasted more OMG and less Meh. So here’s what I did:

1 unbaked tart shell or 9″ pie crust (good recipe here)

1 1/2 lb. butternut squash
2 Tbsp. olive oil, divided
2 medium yellow onions
1 egg + 1 egg yolk
1/3 c. heavy cream
1/2 c. smoked Gouda, diced into 1/4″ cubes
1/2 c. goat cheese, crumbled
1/2 c. Fontina cheese, crumbled
1/2 c. Parmesan, shredded
1 Tbsp. fresh thyme, minced
1 Tbsp. fresh rosemary, minced

Preheat oven to 400F.

If using a whole squash: Cut squash in half lengthwise (use a rubber mallet – it really helps! Plus how fun is it to use a mallet in the kitchen?), and scoop out seeds & fibers with a spoon. Brush cut sides of squash with 1 Tbsp. oil, and sprinkle cut side with salt and pepper to taste. Place squash on baking sheet, cut side down, and roast until soft, about 40 minutes. Let squash cool a bit, and scoop out flesh into a large bowl.
If using pre-cut squash: Toss cubed squash with 1 Tbsp. oil, a generous pinch of salt and pepper, and pour onto baking sheet. Roast until squash is tender, approximately 25 minutes. Remove from oven and put into large bowl.

While squash is roasting, quarter onion and slice into thin crescents. In a large skillet over medium-low heat, saute onions in remaining 1 Tbsp. olive oil, stirring occasionally, until soft and golden, about 20 minutes.

In large bowl, mash roasted squash until of even consistency. Add whole egg, egg yolk, cream, and stir until blended. Stir in smoked Gouda, Fontina,  and goat cheese (it will be nice and chunky), thyme, rosemary, and salt and pepper to taste.

Spread caramelized onions evenly across the bottom of the tart or pie crust. Pour cheesy squash filling into shell, smoothing the top. Sprinkle shredded Parmesan evenly across the top.

Bake tart in middle of oven until filling is set, about 40 minutes. Cool tart in pan on a rack for at least 10 minutes. Serve warm or room temperature.

Now, you might say anything with that much cheese and cream in it will taste pretty amazing regardless, and of course you would be right. I mean, you could pretty much just throw all the dairy ingredients into my mouth at the same time and I’d be a happy camper. But there’s something about the smokiness of the Gouda combined with the nutty sweetness of the squash and onions and the sharp taste of the fresh herbs that is … mmmmmm. In fact, I think I might have to go heat up a leftover piece for my dinner right now.

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Posted in Domesticity

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This is me

Posted on November 20, 2012 | 3 comments

Hi there. My name is Elise Robinson and I am … well. Where to begin? Since 2003, I’ve been blogging pretty regularly at various places on the internets. And then the parenthood shark swallowed my blogging ability whole (how’s THAT for a painful metaphor?) and I went on an extended hiatus. And then a couple of my friends were all, don’t be a jerk! Start writing again! So I submitted some stuff to an online parenting magazine, but they didn’t really want it, so I dithered around for a while and then I finally decided to start a brand new, all-me, all-the-time website. Because, when in doubt: solipsism.

So who am I? I was recently told by an editor that I’m a “modern parent,” which I guess is as good a place to start as any. I mean, I certainly qualify for that category, in that I am both a parent and alive right now. NAILED IT. Of course, that’s not what most people tend to think when they see the phrase “modern parent” or “modern family,” is it? I mean, “modern” usually connotes something edgy, alternative, boundary-pushing. Anything but old-fashioned and traditional. And that’s where I start smiling nervously and slowly backing out of the room, because for someone who once spearheaded a pro-choice advocacy group AT A CATHOLIC COLLEGE and liked Boy George before it was cool (I know, I know: it was never cool), I have become a pretty freaking traditional person in a scary number of ways. Check it: I am married. To a man. We got married before we had kids. Once we had our two girls, I quit my job so I could stay home with them full-time. My husband supports us by working outside the home. I’m college educated, middle-class, middle-aged, and WHITE, for chrissakes. Practically the only way I could get more traditional would be for you to surgically attach pearls and a twinset and give me a lifetime membership to the Junior League. Could I BE any more boring? (Case in point: I just did a Chandler impression to add humor to my opening paragraph. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.)

Well. Ahem. I guess maybe it’s not quite as bad as I’m making it out to be. I have kind of a crazy extended family, for one thing. For example: my stepmom and stepdad used to be married … to each other. Ima give you a minute to work that one out. Take your time. Think it over. Got it? Yeah. There were two couples: my mom and dad, and their best friends, Mr. and Mrs. Future Stepparents, and then both couples got divorced and then they sort of, uh … switched out. Changed partners. Do-si-do’ed. Whatever you wanna call it, it’s most definitely neither traditional nor old-fashioned. All of us kids got YEARS’ worth cocktail party small-talk out of that one, I tell you what. Don’t you want to hear some of the stories? Then there’s the fact that my mom, dad, and step-dad are all philosophy professors. I’m not sure what normal 80’s-era families talked about at their dinner tables (football schedules? Kirk Cameron? Bowling? Seriously, I have no idea) but at our house, we were learning how to construct logical syllogisms while chowing down on our nightly meal. As a game! It’s fun! And I really mean that, which is one reason why you probably don’t want to invite me over for dinner, unless there’s enough alcohol to make me stop correcting your children when they end sentences with prepositions.

Or, if my family quirks (of which there are many! So, so many) don’t trip your non-traditional trigger, how about my faith? For a long time I listed my belief system as “Militant Agnostic: I don’t know and you don’t either,” partly to be snarky-funny and partly because I kind of actually DO think that. But then, right on schedule, I had a mid-life crisis and realized that I was actually probably Buddhist, and sort of unknowingly had been for a while, because that Siddhartha Gautama? Was one enlightened motherfucker.

(Er – I may have forgotten to mention that I have a tendency to swear like a sailor. Does that count as non-traditional and modern?)

I’m also urban, for what it’s worth. Or at least, I don’t know if I’m urban, exactly, but I live with my family in south Minneapolis, MN, in a neighborhood that a realtor would probably describe using words like “up-and-coming” or “a real investment opportunity” and that normal people would just call “kind of shitty.” We’ve been living here for six years now, and the neighborhood is definitely improving, in the sense that we’ve only had ONE fatal-stabbing in a three-block radius so far this year. Woohoo! Raising kids in the middle of the city can be weird – I grew up in the south, and it’s hard for me to fathom a childhood that doesn’t include regular contact with wild snakes and overt racism – but Minneapolis is also a really awesome place to have kids, and if I could just move this town to somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon line I would happily live here forever.

So anyway, that’s me: just your average southern-fried, forty-something, lefty, feminist, academic, Buddhist, theatre-geek mama. As I sit here typing, I’ve got one ear cocked towards the baby monitor in case my three year old decides to, you know, act like a three year old; my husband is trying to lure me away from the computer with a pre-recorded episode of Louie; and in the back of my mind I’m trying to figure out what to make for dinner tomorrow when we don’t have any food in the house and we don’t get paid until Monday. I’m tempted to make some sarcastic remark about how I’m “living the dream,” but my life is actually pretty rad most of the time. Even if I do still use completely outdated 80’s slang words like “rad.” Pleased to make your acquaintance.

 

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