Eat a rainbow

Little One and I zipped over to the co-op after school today, to grab food for the weekend. He looks forward to it, since he knows that every single employee will ask if he got his free fruit. (In an effort to encourage good eating habits and help moms by entertaining kids, they give each kid a serving of the fruit of their choice. By the time your kid has reduced an apple to brown mush, you're more than halfway done with your shopping. Brilliant. And it sure beats sampling Cheetos at Costco.)

He also knows that I'm game for new foods, especially in the produce section. While I'm debating which kind of mushroom to bag, he's tugging at my sleeve, asking if we can have the rainbow stuff. I look over to where he's pointing. Believe it or not, he's clamoring for greens! Rainbow chard, to be exact.

I usually cut the stems off greens, but these were so pretty--red, pink, yellow and white--I couldn't bring myself to discard them. So I chopped them up and sauteed them with some garlic until they were tender, adding the leaves later to wilt them. A drizzle of balsamic vinegar, and they're done, and absolutely gorgeous.

They say that kids are more likely to eat vegetables if they are involved in growing them. I think that must hold true to gathering them (even at the market). You see, there were no leftovers.

One store, one season

I was driving to school yesterday, and a cheerful announcer with the weekly specials from Albertson's came on. I wasn't really paying attention until I mulled over what she was saying: Grapes, melons and strawberries were all on sale. Fresh Atlantic salmon and your choice of blueberries or blackberries round out their "seasonal" offerings.

But wait, it's February! Anybody who's ever grown anything knows that these crops are associated with a long sunny season, like summer. While the co-op offers up local kale and potatoes and leeks, mainstream America, it seems, is pretending the sun is shining. And I'm still trying to figure out why anyone who lives in the Pacific Northwest would buy farmed salmon from 2000 miles away.

OK, I thought, I'll give them a chance, and I pulled up their advertising circular for this week. At least oranges feature prominently, but grapes and melons are still on sale, and the fresh (Mexican?) strawberries are chocolate-dipped for Valentine's Day. But what's this? "10 for 10 sale!" screams the header. That's right, the really special savings are reserved for Oreo 'go-paks', bottled flavored water, canned tuna, jet-puffed marshmallows (strawberry or regular), Barnum animal crackers, canned oranges, canned bean sprouts, Lite Smoothie drinkable yogurt (artificially sweetened), heavy duty sponges, ketchup, paper napkins, coffee filters and canned diced tomatoes. With the exception of canned tomatoes and ketchup (which I buy organic versions of), none of these "foods" live on my larder shelves.

Perhaps it's telling that Prilosec OTC acid reducer and SlimFast shake mix are on sale too.

Underfoot

For years, we have worked to make our home more environmentally friendly, both in terms of materials used and the spaces we create. We've raised the 70's dropped ceiling in the kitchen, removed roomfuls of filthy wall-to-wall carpeting, and retrofitted radiant floor heat to this end. As I write, I sit in a used office chair on a true linoleum floor, chosen for its beauty along with its natural anti-static properties.

As our boys grow up, we are finding they need a bit of privacy, but we don't want to interrupt the flow of their play by separating them and their toys. We hit upon the idea of a large doorway between the two rooms that now serve as shared playroom and bedroom. A pocket door that closes for privacy and opens for play. Ah, but rien n'est simple. If we remove a piece of wall, there's a piece of floor exposed. The while-we're-at-it syndrome kicks in: now is the perfect time to replace that icky synthetic carpet with something more healthy and beautiful.

We know we want wool, and there's a carpet I met years ago in Europe, called Tretford. It's 80% goat hair, 20% wool, with a jute and PVC (non-off-gassing) backing. It comes in a gazillion colors, doesn't need a pad (no dust trap), resists staining naturally, and is easily patched, since the edges don't fray. Warm underfoot but solid enough to form a firm foundation for a tower of blocks. This is what we want. Thus begins my quest.

Google is my friend, and I locate the manufacturer quickly--in Ireland. (A brief visual flashes through my mind of us going through customs with a roll of carpet. I quickly dismiss the idea.) Yes, there is an American distributor, in Pennsylvania. A call to them takes a humorous twist, as the person on the other end can't quite grasp that I would want to put a commercial carpet in a home (never mind the picture of a family room on their website). She finally relents and provides me with the name of the Seattle distributor. A call to them yields the information that they only "sell to the trades," and translator isn't one of them. Still, I persist and they agree to sell to me; I can even bring my kids with me to pick up the sample card (but I'll have to use the side door).

My resolve to Do The Right Thing is being sorely tested. I mean, it's the perfect carpet for us, it's what we want, but it's coming all the way from Ireland! I make a few calls to see if I can find something similar closer to home, but come away empty-handed: they either aren't wool, or they're bound with latex, which I am allergic to.

Remember those maps of the United States that we had in fifth grade, with little symbols representing the different products associated with different regions? There were apples and trees in Washington, wheat in the Midwest, and a roll of textiles in the south. Turns out all the carpet made in the US is made in Georgia. There's just no such thing as buying local carpet. I talk to a sales representative at the Environmental Home Center, and she verifies that even they order their stuff from all over the world--and most of the wool is from New Zealand. She tells me not to worry about the distance, since one trip from Ireland for a sturdy wool carpet is better than twice from Georgia for an inferior synthetic product, since the wool will last (much) longer than the synthetic, and is much friendlier to the Earth to produce.

Now all we have to do is choose a color.

Be nice

It has been a long weekend. Dear Husband and I attended a Gottman Relationship workshop, farming the kids out to various people to whom we are now eternally indebted. This morning, as I cleaned up the kitchen, which was a repository for stuff rather than a center of food preparation this weekend, I reflected on just what and how we had eaten.

Breakfasts were fairly normal, like a regular weekday; Sunday pancakes were replaced by blueberry muffins baked the day before and brought to family #2 in a wicker basket as both fodder for our boys and an attempt to show appreciation. (I also popped a couple into my bag: the ample workshop refreshments were all predictably wheat-based.)

Dinner was a guilt trip for me: poor planning on my part meant that the first night, Ersatz Mom had to come up with something from my nearly-empty fridge. She did amazingly well, throwing together some red sauce and spaghetti. My boys were fed and happy, as were we. Sunday evening, our kids were delivered to us in Seattle, so we walked over to a pub on Queen Anne, and stuffed our faces with insanely huge portions of fried foods.

Lunch, however, was something else. The Gottman folks gave us 1 1/2 hour breaks for lunch on both days, and since we were in Seattle, we were surrounded by all sorts of possibilities, from the Space Needle to a myriad of Thai restaurants. You would think that catching a bite on a deadline wouldn't nourish the soul much, but the opposite was true. Both days we headed to an upscale supermarket, where my better half could indulge his love of chili and I could nibble on salady things. We also picked up some fine wine and chocolate (we nibbled on one but refrained from sipping the other for the afternoon sessions), and had time to chat, browse the record store and just stroll. For us, it was rare luxury to spend unstructured time together. It's something we make far too little of in the hustle of parenting.

The workshop taught some powerful lessons, not the least of which is to be nice to each other. Not coincidentally, that was the sole advice offered by my usually reticent father-in-law on our wedding day. Being nice to each other, lots of small things everyday, add up to a happy life. The everyday is more important than the occasional. We talk, we eat, we kiss everyday. So talk nice to your someone today, and by all means, eat with them.