Adventures of modern life - snowstorm

A couple of weeks ago, we ran into a snowstorm while returning from a home-hunting expedition to New York. At first we were optimistic. What's a little snow? Drive slow. It'll be fine. But our speed steadily plummeted...55...45...35...25.  Mmmm...at a rate of 25 mph, our 5 hour road trip was going to stretch into a 10 hour ordeal.

Sinking down to 10 mph was the breaking point. We cautiously crunched through the unbroken snow on the next off-ramp and fish-tailed over to the first hotel we saw. 

Fortunately, there were two big pluses to be found there. First, the closest lodging to the highway was not a Great Rates Motel but rather a Sheraton. Second, we scored the last available room for the night.

Relieved to no longer be clutching the steering wheel and straining to see the road, we quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, the sky was blue and the sun was reflected on pristine mounds of snow...that covered our car. Wearing the same Ann Taylor skinny jeans and sweater from the day before, I trudged out to take back our car from the elements.

After thirty minutes of sending snow and ice flying, we finally set the car free. My husband later told me that I had looked like I was being periodically attacked by ants with my sporadic, frantic brushing off of coat and jeans. This is what you do when you dread the thought sitting in cold, wet clothes for the rest of the drive home.

Moving, in a nutshell

Moving is:

crying 
laughing
saying goodbye
packing, unpacking, arranging and re-arranging
searching multiple times a day for a specific item which is presumably still buried under boxes
hunting for a new, perfect spot for each belonging
meeting our new public library (happily within walking distance from our apartment)
praying
drinking chai tea at our new neighborhood coffee shop
buying some smaller furniture to fit into our smaller digs
visiting a local gourmet food store (otherwise known as a candy store for grown-ups)
seeing new sights
rejoicing at the efficient snow removal
and feeling exhausted

Broccoli cheddar soup...and keeping warm

In the past two days, I've employed two very different ways of keeping warm.

First, I hunted down and bagged some heavy gear for traversing the cold streets of NYC. I now have a down coat, boots and cap, all in the requisite urban gray-scale.

Second, after having to bid adieu to dear colleagues, I warmed my heart by recalling this charming story of friendship. Just try and read it without smiling. The illustrations remind me of children's books of yore. I feel like curling up with the book and tracing the pictures with my finger.

This soup is also a very satisfying way of staying warm. It is simple, tasty and healthy. I love being able to truly enjoy good-for-you food. I didn't get around to trying the mustard croutons this time, but I'm looking forward to doing so. Unlike Tracy I didn't make this soup twice in one week, but I did make it twice in two weeks with the second batch being a double!

I also have the perfect accompaniment, which I'll be sure to share later.

Catharsis at home

Last night in a quiet house, I folded laundry, washed dishes and wrote thank you cards. It felt so good. 

Since we made the decision to move, we've been going, going, going. There's been no time to attend to life or home. Being able to finally do so filled me with such contentment.

I've also been purging and revising my RSS reader. It's been jam-packed of recipes, waiting to be read and sorted. It's gotten overwhelming. 

Right now, life isn't terribly conducive to being adventurous in the kitchen. Instead, I'm only aiming to be fed and nourished. So I've been weeding some food blogs from my reader and adding a handful of other blogs. 

These blogs bring beautiful words and images into my day, for which I am grateful:

Little Red House
Living the Swell Life
Marta Writes
Simple Days
Summer Harms
The Chic Line

Ham and cheese tarts...and New Year's resolutions

It sounds cocky to say, but I made a lot of headway with resolutions last year. I know you're supposed to be specific in your resolutions, but last year I had a vague goal with a lot of small, specific ways of achieving that goal. 

The goal? Brace yourself. Live a good life.

The specifics? There are many, but some of them include:

1.   Prioritize faith daily
2.   Exercise regularly, even if only in short increments
3.   Challenge myself in exercise 
4.   Eat less processed foods
5.   Consider carefully the processed foods I eat
6.   Cook with less salt and sugar and more nutrients
7.   Show love in tangible ways
8.   Show love for myself by taking time to engage in things I enjoy
9.   Floss more regularly
10. Forgive, forget and move on when I inevitably mess these things up

Number ten was the key for me last year. 

Since last year's resolution worked out so well, I'm doing it again year with a focus on these goals particularly when I'm stressed. So, that time is now.

This ham and cheese tart recipe is a perfect example of this resolution. The recipe uses refrigerated crescent dough. Not so good. However, in considering that, I paired it with a spinach salad and roasted sweet potatoes. Good. I get to enjoy this tasty dinner but boost the overall nutrition of the meal by serving healthy, filling sides. With this meal, I'm considering, forgiving and forgetting.

One day, I hope to try substituting a homemade dough, perhaps a pizza or calzone dough that I've liked. Until then, I'll continue to enjoy these tarts without the upgrade. The combination of ham and cheese is comforting while the mustard gives it some significant zing. Both dijon and spicy brown mustards work well.

Ham and Cheese Tarts
(generously shared by a former roommate)

1 package of refrigerated crescent rolls
1 package of deli ham (approximately 1/2 pound), chopped
1/4 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 egg
a pinch of black pepper
1/2 heaping teaspoon dijon mustard

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Grease mini-muffin pans.

Mix together the last six ingredients,

Roll out crescent rolls.  Press seams together.  Cut into squares so that each half of the dough makes 12 crusts (see dough diagram below).  Press into muffin pans.  Fill dough with filling.  Bake for 15 minutes.

Makes 24 tarts

Printer-friendly version

Dough diagram

Happiness is...

...not crying in Ikea.

Which is what I did today when I felt sad about moving.

I don't recommend crying in Ikea. Sometimes you might just have to, but afterwards, I recommend enjoying wonderful, ordinary things.

Happiness is...

The perfect cup of tea with breakfast

Finding the book you wanted in the first used bookstore that you checked

Seeing shoes (not your own) dangling from wires, reminding you of college

Eating at one of your favorite restaurants...and getting dessert

Buying a package of your favorite notebooks

I've been thinking about different seasons of life. When do you mourn? When do you rejoice? How can I deal honestly with sadness but still choose joy? I'm hoping to reread Ecclesiastes in the near future and think about this further.  

A lucky dwarf surrounded by giants

I've been walking around with a little black rain cloud hovering inches above my head.

The house is on the market, and I don't want to let it go. I hate seeing that sign in the front yard, next to the mulch that we labored over last summer, next to the driveway we returned to after walking downtown for dinner. Go away, sign.

Can you see the rain cloud now?

Historically, I've gone to my dad for advice. He's excellent at parsing out a problem. However, this time it's my mom that's helping me see the situation more clearly. When I told her that I was feeling sad about the house, she said, "You can't keep everything. Remember the van?"

When I was younger, my family had this huge (or what seemed huge at the time) beige van that we took on summer vacations. The backseat reclined into a fairly big bed, behind which there was a little wooden cabinet that housed a tiny TV. This is before the days of cars with built-in TVs. All four siblings could and would lay on the bed and watch the same cartoons over and over while we drove to the beach, the lake and other summer-y places. I think, if need be, I could still recite every line from Ben and Me. I have so many childhood memories of that van.

"I loved that van," said my mom, "but we can't keep everything."

She should know. My parents immigrated to the U.S. over thirty years ago. My mom said it took her a year to stop feeling sad every day, and now she can't imagine living anywhere else.

Yesterday, my co-worker told me about coming to the U.S. when she was no longer a young person. It wasn't easy then and isn't necessarily easy now.

My mom, my co-worker and I (on a much smaller-scale) made hard changes for the promise of better things.

We are "...dwarfs perched on the shoulders of giants...We see more and farther than our predecessors, not because we have keener vision or greater height, but because we are lifted up...on their gigantic stature." 

I'm making a hard change, but I'm blessed enough to have giants in my life that let me stand on their shoulders, learning and gaining strength from their experiences.