Accomplishment

This weekend, Victor and I went to Bermuda for the long weekend to participate in the Bermuda Race Weekend. The "destination road race" was an effort to get Victor back "on the road". He has run over 25 marathons and since being married has had a difficult time with work, wife and whipper-snappers (our beautiful, wonderful boys) making time to exercise. To sign up for such a big trip sort-of puts the pressure on to get in shape and somehow make it happen. And he did!

We were blessed with gorgeous weather while we were there. Typically things can get a little raw this time of year with cold wet windy weather around 60 degrees. However, as you can see we had clear mid and high 60 degree days. (The day after the 1/2 and full marathon the weather included gale force winds and driving rain .... crisis avoided!)

The day before our race, in an effort to conserve our legs, we rented mopeds and cruised all over the western part of the island. In Bermuda (which is far off the coast of North Carolina) they drive on the left side of the road, so that was a bit tricky getting used to ... but what a gorgeous, quaint island. The islanders are wonderful, thoughtful and kind. Numerous times we had islanders go out of their way to ask we needed directions, even if we were just pulled over looking at the sites. One family actually drove us through a short cut back to our hotel.

During the Bermuda Race Weekend there are four different races. I was amazed at the percentage of people who participated in the "Bermuda Triangle Challenge". This was a combination of three of the races. A mile race Friday evening, a 10K race Saturday morning, and either the 1/2 or full marathon on Sunday morning. Can you say WOW? Victor and I opted for the 1/2 marathon and playing around the island the rest of our stay. But the whole event was a runners dream. One race after the next with runners scattered all over the island and running conversation seeping out of every restaurant, bar and coffee shop. A lot of running groups went, participating in all three events, and they seemed to be living it up in spite of all of the running! Can you say Rum Swizzle (fruit juices and rum)? Or Dark and Stormy (dark rum and ginger beer)?

Back to the race, the 1/2 marathon course (which is the same loop for the marathon, you just run it twice which has got to be a little demoralizing as you run past all of the 1/2 marathoners finishing, cheering, hugging and high-fiveing), is very hilly. Victor, whose marathons have generally been at "BOSTON", said that the course was more difficult than Boston. The first half of the course has several big hills with nice (you have to be positive) downhills afterwards. However, the back half has numerous, seemingly unrelenting smaller hills, with a short flat, then up again, and then a flat ... but not a whole lot of down for "a rest". It's tough, but thankfully we live in a very hilly area so I had done quite of bit of hill work simply because this is where I run. So, if you go, you just have to be prepared -- that's all. I really felt great the entire way and kept my pace at between 9:00 and 9:15 minute miles (monitored thanks to Victor's new Christmas Gift: a GPS watch) and ended up beating my previous 1/2 marathon time by almost five minutes. I was very proud of my accomplishment particularly because after seeing all of the volcanic hills around Bermuda, planned on just running the race, enjoying the scenery and doing my best. But, I did it! Whoo-Hoo!

During our run, it was bright and sunny and only clouded up afterwards. We stuck around a little bit to see the Elite Marathon Runners come through (shortly after we finished our HALF marathon!) and cheer folks on. We couldn't take our "after" picture until we got back to the hotel and retrieved my camera. Fun stuff. Thanks Bermuda! We had a wonderful time.

For Victor . . .

My bees, on Victor's flowers.

(Well, okay, there IS a bumble bee on this particular flower along with one of my honey bees.)

I'm hoping to train Victor to become a beekeeper.

He is patient, calm, observant and isn't fazed by buzzing honey bees in the least.

He would be fabulous at it.

Would you just LOOK at those pollen baskets?!

Really, click on the photo to enlarge it. Amazing.

American Gothic

Have you ever wondered why the man and woman in Grant Wood's American Gothic painting look so solemn?

I've done some research and I can say with a high degree of confidence that they . . .

had been working to put up a chicken run fence.

It has been brutal.

We live in an area of town called "Rocky Hill". Need I say more?

We are digging the good old fashioned way with pick and shovel. No fancy, expensive, rented Bobcat or backhoe, no . . . just the sweat off our brow, and skin off our hands. We are just about done. We started nailing the fencing to the posts late last night and are hoping to finish today.

The kicker is . . . this is Victor's vacation week. Not exactly what every family dreams of . . .

At one point when I was exhausted and demoralized I tried to motivate myself by thinking of people in North Korea who are punished by being sent to hard labor camps. Get a little perspective Sandy and stop feeling sorry for yourself!

In the end, it will be well worth it.

A Break in the Rain

We didn't see the sun here until 5:00 p.m., but with the exception of a short misty period, it didn't actually rain. Everyone in the surrounding area decided to seized the chance to mow their lawns. As I returned home from an errand, it seemed as if every other house had someone in the yard pushing a mower. 

Victor too, when he came home from work, jumped on the bandwagon. His sidekick joined him. Ripley will 'help' Daddy and follow him with his mower until the entire lawn is cut. Now THAT is a commitment. It's the cutest thing ever. 

The bees too seized the day. They send out all foragers and had orientation flights. However, they almost looked frantic and disorganized, which was a little unsettling for the bee keeper. They did settle down in time and around 2:30 p.m. after the mist had stopped (although dark clouds did loom), I decided to go in and check to see if the bees were ready for their honey supers. 

My plan was to see how their mood was to determine whether or not I'd pull frames out and do a full hive check. I started with the right hive, and as soon as I lifted the inner cover off I had a mad bee buzzing at me. I decided that they weren't up for a full visit and just peered in to see how their comb building was coming along. They had made some progress. They were beginning work on frames 1 & 8 in the upper brood chamber, although they hadn't finished with 2 & 7. So, I decided to add the honey super on. Since I have empty wax foundation, they will need to build comb, and will need extra time to build that comb. So I wanted to give them some space and the opportunity to start moving up and preparing a place to put excess honey.

It's been a tough June for the bees. Not only are plants behind about three weeks because of our lack of sun, but they haven't been able to forage as much as they would have otherwise. They may send out some foragers, but as an outside observer it seems like it's just a handful. On a sunny day there are tons of foragers zzzzz-i-pp-ing in and out of the entrance bringing in nectar and pollen. Hopefully at some point our summer will swing into gear. Although I actually heard a weatherman say "if the weather pattern doesn't change all summer . . . " Have mercy.

Fathers: Invaluable

When Victor and I were married, he became a father. A step-father to my son Benjamin from my first marriage. He embraced his role seriously, enthusiastically and thoughtfully. Victor has been more diligent about going to Benjamin's parent-teacher conferences than he has Ripley's (granted, Ripley is only in preschool). He has in his mind, and knows that one day he will get the push-back from Benjamin in a heated moment, probably in his teens: "But you are not my real dad . . . " He thoughtfully and energetically invests time and demonstrates his love and commitment, assuming that that day will come. I will be forever grateful that Victor has been a reliable, committed, loving father figure who has integrity. 

At the same time Victor and I are positive and supportive of Benjamin's visits with his biological father. Benjamin visits with him on Wednesday nights and every other weekend. It is hard to share your child. But a child psychologist we consulted when my ex-husband was going through his second divorce said that unless a father is dangerous in some way, any short comings are far outweighed by the importance of having a bond with your father -- flaws and all -- knowing that he wants to spend time with you and loves you in the best way he knows how. Fatherhood is powerful, isn't it?

When Ripley was born, Victor was in awe. I don't think he could believe he'd been given such a miraculous blessing. At first, we had both wanted a girl. But when Victor saw this perfect little bundle arrive through the miraculous process called birth, looking so much like himself with his Portuguese skin tone, his long thin legs, his long slender hands, his dark brown eyes and eyelashes, and much to his relief and my disappointment -- my reasonable nose, he was speechless. 

He wouldn't let that baby out of his sight. Victor followed Ripley wherever the nurses or doctors dragged him. Shots. Baths. You name it, Victor followed that bassinet cart and stood outside the door and waited until they brought him his baby back. It was the most precious thing I'd ever seen. 

To me, fathers are teachers and doers, and it is their presence and investment in their children that demonstrates their love. I know my perception is stereotypical, but this has been my experience. While moms are throwing dinner together in the kitchen, it is your father who shows you how to mow the lawn. While Mom is bringing wood in for the stove, Dad is teaching you how to split it and stack it. While I am stressed out thinking of the laundry that needs to be folded, or the floor that needs vacuuming, Victor is at peace spending two hours with the boys outside practicing baseball. Maybe it's that sixth-sense that women have about all that needs to be done, and the absence of that sense that many men have that make them good fathers. While I'm throwing the frisbee to the boys, I may pick up the broom and start sweeping the garage. Not exactly what you'd call "present in the moment". 

Growing up with a house full of boys and a mother who could managed them all, kill a chicken and be a star at the golf club, my father taught me to be a strong self-assured daring woman for my generation. Even though I was a girly-girl and insisted on wearing dresses and skirts that twirled, my father didn't treat me any differently than my younger brother. He taught me to give a firm handshake and look that person right in the eye. I helped mow the lawn and stack wood. He had no interest in a house full of whiners and insisted that we were 'tough'. We painted and schlepped,  sanded and hammered, assisted and cleaned up after him. He taught me to mow without 'holidays', to garden and weed, to churn ice cream and row a boat, roll a sleeping bag and cook bacon, to ski, skate, swim, dive, ride my bike and be brave. While my mother was expressing grave concern on the sidelines during any of our adventures, Dad would say "Ahhhhh, they'll be fine, let them go . . . " He taught me to lick my wound slap a bandaide on it and move on. He taught me the importance of working hard and playing hard. He taught me that you can still be a serious, smart person and occasionally wear a costume. 

Whatever your political views, I think it's hard to disagree with President Obama's thoughts on fatherhood and I applaud him for addressing this important issue. Here is an excerpt from an article he wrote for Parade Magazine this week:

"In many ways, I came to understand the importance of fatherhood through its absence—both in my life and in the lives of others. I came to understand that the hole a man leaves when he abandons his responsibility to his children is one that no government can fill. We can do everything possible to provide good jobs and good schools and safe streets for our kids, but it will never be enough to fully make up the difference.  

That is why we need fathers to step up, to realize that their job does not end at conception; that what makes you a man is not the ability to have a child but the courage to raise one. 

See family photos of Obama  and his daughters

As fathers, we need to be involved in our children’s lives not just when it’s convenient or easy, and not just when they’re doing well—but when it’s difficult and thankless, and they’re struggling. That is when they need us most. 

And it’s not enough to just be physically present. Too often, especially during tough economic times like these, we are emotionally absent: distracted, consumed by what’s happening in our own lives, worried about keeping our jobs and paying our bills, unsure if we’ll be able to give our kids the same opportunities we had. 

Our children can tell. They know when we’re not fully there. And that disengagement sends a clear message—whether we mean it or not—about where among our priorities they fall.  

So we need to step out of our own heads and tune in. We need to turn off the television and start talking with our kids, and listening to them, and understanding what’s going on in their lives. 

We need to set limits and expectations. We need to replace that video game with a book and make sure that homework gets done. We need to say to our daughters, Don’t ever let images on TV tell you what you are worth, because I expect you to dream without limit and reach for your goals. We need to tell our sons, Those songs on the radio may glorify violence, but in our house, we find glory in achievement, self-respect, and hard work. 

We need to realize that we are our children’s first and best teachers. When we are selfish or inconsiderate, when we mistreat our wives or girlfriends, when we cut corners or fail to control our tempers, our children learn from that—and it’s no surprise when we see those behaviors in our schools or on our streets."

As a mother of two boys, I appreciate the knowledge and understanding that my father has about what it means to be a boy. As a grandfather, although he has high expectations for his grandchildren, he also has a lot of understanding and encouragement to offer a mother beside herself wondering how to manage a bright, intense son. He can see through the challenges of youth through to the gifts that will grow into something fabulous. He, like Victor, can't believe that he's been blessed with five beautiful, healthy, bright Grandchildren to teach and "do" life with. And sometimes I think he's speechless when he thinks about the blessing of having raised two children that through thick and through thin, came out wonderfully. I know he's proud. Now, sometimes, we teach him a thing or two. We are thankful for the privilege of having Dads and a "Gramp" who've taken the time to invest in us, love us, support us and actively be there with us as we "do" life. We love you.

Friends and Family

This week is going to be a busy one. On Friday morning I'm leaving for my -- make note -- 20th year college reunion. Yes, indeed. I went to an all women's college (why, I have no idea) so no one brings their spouses. It's kind of sad really, because I'd love to have Victor meet my college friends all of whom live a long distance away, but instead it will be like a big 'ole girls night out -- which will be fun too! 

So, not only do I have to pack and skidaddle out of town early Friday morning, but I also have to:

• Prep the second half of my garden for planting.
• Make dinner for a friend in need.
• Celebrate Benjamin's 10th Birthday on Tuesday!
• Plant seedlings (after the expected frost tonight) tomorrow.
• Prep our little home for the baby chicks downstairs in the basement.
• Get day old chicks on Tuesday!
• Give Victor a crash course on how to raise baby chicks so they survive my weekend away.
• Install new wax foundation in 16 frames for my hives. (A lot of work BTW)
• Do a hive check on Thursday and install the second brood chamber with the newly prepared frames.

In spite of my looming to do's we had a nice time over the weekend with friends and family. On Saturday Night we enjoyed some potluck grub with friends . . . 

L-R: Dave, Carl, Matt, Victor, Ron, Cheryl, Jon, Ann, Kara, Michelle, Kathy

On Sunday after church, we were treated to an early dinner at Victor's parent's Portuguese Club. It was fabulous. It had closed down for awhile, but now a new couple is managing it. A small team of people cook a fabulous meal for about 60 people every Sunday. 

L-R: Braulio, Aldina, Dulce, Michelle, Sandy, Ripley

Ahh, this time we got my father-in-law Mario in.

Really, it's about getting together with friends, with whom you have a lot in common, over dinner and a glass of wine, and celebrating your culture. 

Victor and Michelle are on the right, getting coffee.

On this particular Sunday they had music and dancing also -- all Portuguese dancing, of course. It's not like Portuguese Folk Dancing with the costumes and the whole bit, it's a collection of miscellaneous dances most of which accompany music with an accordion. The subtle difference between each of the dances elude me, but my mother-in-law tried to teach me a few.

They had a raffle which everyone jumps to participate in, as a fund raiser. They were raffling off a bottle of pineapple rum. As my sister-in-law Michelle said "yeah, no one wants that." It's all about keeping the club going, certainly not about the random thing they decide to raffle off that day. Ripley, being a young honest boy, was chosen to pick the winning raffle ticket. Being rather reserved, I was surprised that we was willing to go up and draw. But he did. And his "Avo" loved every minute of it!

Thankfulness

It has been five years, five years and I am so thankful.

Just five short years ago, in this very spot, on this very day . . . 

I married my Lovey, Victor.

He is the best thing that's ever been given to me, and I am so thankful.

I love you Lovey.

Homemade Ravioli

Homemade Butternut Squash Ravioli Recipe with Sage Garlic Butter Sauce

Let me start out by saying that my husband Victor has a very discriminating palate. He loves good food. When I make something he really likes that is superior he says "OOohhh! Oh! Oh!" Sometime he might even throw in "This is incredible." Well last night when I finally gave him his bowl of Homemade Butternut Squash Ravioli in a Sage Butter Sauce, he not only said that it was "Oh Oh Oh Incredible!", but he also thought it was better than Federal Hill - - The Italian district here in Rhode Island. So, that's a pretty good review.

Now, having said that, making ravioli is a bit labor intensive. I don't have any pasta making tools like one of those roller - slitter things. And I don't have one of those cute ravioli trays I've seen at William Sonoma. These things may have made things go more quickly. But, I will say that making ravioli is faster than making pasta (like linguine) completely by hand without special tools. When you make ravioli, pour yourself a glass of wine, maybe have a girlfriend over, chit-chat and enjoy being in the kitchen. If you hate cooking and the kitchen, forget this recipe. Now, on to the good stuff!

First: Cut a butternut squash in half put it face-up on a lightly oiled cookie sheet and roast it in the a 400 degree oven for 30 minutes, or until soft. Scoop out the soft part and puree using a blender, food processor or food mill. I already had some reserved in the freezer -- so that was one less thing for me! 

Homemade Pasta Recipe:

(this is doubled and made enough ravioli to serve 4 adults, plus a little extra dough)

1 1/2 C semolina flour (many recipes didn't call for this, but it's more "Italian")

1 1/2 C unbleached flour

1 t salt

4 eggs

4 T water

4 T olive oil

I took the suggestion from a good old favorite "The New Basics Cookbook" from the Silver Palate ladies and whipped up my pasta dough in the food processor. This was a terrific technique. Fast and fabulous. (otherwise you have to knead the sticky stuff) Put the flours and salt into the food processor. Put the eggs water and olive oil in a pitcher so that you can pour it all into the food processor while it's running. Turn on the food processor and gradually add the wet stuff for 15 seconds. Turn it off. That's it. Dump the dough onto a floured surface and work into a ball. Let set for 30 minutes so the flours absorb the moisture.

Meanwhile make your ravioli filling.

Butternut Squash Ravioli Filling Recipe:

2 cups roasted and pureed butternut squash (you could use more, that was what the original recipe called for -- or save the rest in the freezer for the next time, or for pumpkin bread!)

1 1/2 T sage (I was able to use the sage I dried last fall, ground.)

1 onion minced

4 garlic cloves minced or crushed

Olive oil -- drizzled all over the bottom of the pan -- a few T's

Freshly grated Parmesan or Romano cheese, about a 1/2 - 1 Cup mound with the micro grater.

Salt and Pepper to taste

Drizzle olive oil in the pan. Add onion and garlic, cooking until translucent (you don't want crunchy onion in your ravioli). Add in salt, pepper and sage. Add in pureed squash. Let everything simmer for about 5 minutes to let all of the flavors mix together. If it gets a little dry just drizzle in a little hot water from the tap. Then, stir in the grated cheese. Put the whole pan in the fridge to cool.

Now onto the pasta (are you still with me?)

Take about 1/3 of the pasta dough and roll it out on a well floured surface. I once heard Martha Stewart explain that when you roll out dough, only roll in one direction -- turn your dough, then roll out again. This prevents the dough from sticking -- and it really does. You want the dough to be so thin you can see through it. Believe it or not, it holds together. The semolina flour in particular is supposed to make it stretchy.

On one side edge of the dough put about one teaspoon of filling 3/4" apart. Cut a strip lengthwise so that you can fold the dough over in half. I used a pie wheel (I don't know the technical term) to cut my ravioli so they had the 'rick-rack' edge. 

See the little lumps of filling? After you fold the dough over, trim off any extra dough on the outside edges (you can use the scraps the next time you roll out the dough). 

Then cut out each ravioli. You could do this with a pizza cutter or a long knife too (don't drag the knife -- just press). 

Then take a fork and seal all three edges by pressing lightly.

Awwwww . . . aren't they cute? Put them on a piece of waxed paper (at least that's what I used) to dry for 10-30 minutes (I did 30).

While you're waiting for them to dry, make your sage butter sauce which is very straight forward. 

Sage Butter Sauce Recipe:

This was just my own invention, because I couldn't find an exact recipe in my books on the fly. How hard can it be? Right?

1 stick of butter or 4 T butter and 4 T olive oil

2 T sage, ground in a mortar and pestle.

8 garlic cloves, crushed (or as many as you have the patience to peel)

Salt and Pepper to taste.

1/4 C white wine would be nice too (I'm thinking), but I didn't have any on hand.

Melt butter & drizzle olive oil (if using) in the pan. Add crushed garlic and cook on low heat until it's translucent. Add in the sage, salt and pepper. Add in the white wine. Simmer a little while but don't let the garlic brown. Turn off heat.

Now you're ready to boil your cute raviolis! Salt your water (1 T) and put in as many raviolis as you think you can handle. Next time I might try more, but last night I only put in about 8 at a time. They only cook for about 1 minute 30 seconds. Remove with a slotted spoon and put into the sage garlic butter sauce. 

Because I was concerned that the ravioli would break up if I "tossed" I just flipped them like pancakes to give each ravioli a light coating of the sauce.

Then, top with Parmesan or Romano cheese and EAT! 

Truly incredible, if I do say so myself!

Yumola! 

To the Rescue!

As you can see, my strawberries have been under attack. Since last summer Victor has been saying that we needed to put a fence up to keep the rabbits out. After the snow melted a few weeks ago the rabbits have discovered my strawberry plants and have been celebrating the approach of spring with a feast. So, this weekend, we did it. We put in a fence.

I won't lie to you. It was tough. Right now as I'm sitting here typing, my forearms are aching from the exercise -- sore from clinching a shovel all weekend. I can't even begin to imagine how Victor feels. Poor guy -- he was the only MAN on the job and had to take care of the real grunt work. 

The boys did their part trying to pitch in. You know how it goes, it's really more work for the parents to include them, but the whole idea is teaching them about the rhythm and reward of work. 

I'd read up on how to install a fence to keep small munching animals out of the garden and particularly liked one "how to" where they utilized wood posts from trees in the back woods. We have tons of these small trees and they were free. To keep rabbits out, the fence has to be 18-24 inches high.

Victor dug sixteen post holes all the way around our garden approximately 8 feet apart.

Then we dug a trench one foot wide all the way around to lay 

fine mesh wire down to ward off borrowing animals.

Just when we thought we were over the tough part . . .

there was seemingly unending digging to be done.

After two days of solid hard core work . . .

We are close to finished. 

(We used heavier "hog fencing" for support and chicken wire on top of that.)

We still have to set the posts into the dirt by pouring water around them, pressing, pouring and filling. We have to finish digging a narrow trench along the rock wall for one last run of fencing that goes along my rhubarb and asparagus plantings (right now the fencing is just resting along the posts on that side of the garden). And fill the trench with dirt. The fence reminds me of the movie "Chicken Run" . . .  but with some green veggies growing inside I'm hoping for a more charming look. Maybe a few sweet peas growing around the outside . . . even if the rabbits get them.