Happy St. David's Day!

I smiled when I turned my calendar this morning and saw that today is St. David’s Day! Whenever I hear of St. David, I am reminded of leeks, daffodils, and my semester abroad in Wales during my senior year of college. While there I studied at Trinity College in Carmarthen. There were about a dozen American students in my program. While we were encouraged to take classes that were apart of Trinity’s regular course offerings, thus getting to be in class with Welsh students, we were also required to take a Welsh culture class that was just for the American students. It was in this class that I first learned of St. David, the patron saint of Wales, and the tradition of wearing leeks on St. David’s Day.

St. David was born in Wales in the 6th century and made his mark by founding monastic settlements and churches as he helped spread Christianity among the pagan Celtic people of Wales. He also became the arch bishop of Wales. The leek became his symbol because of the strategic role it played in a battle between the Welsh and Saxons. In order for the Welsh to not confuse friend with foe, St. David told them to wear leeks in their hats to distinguish them from the Saxons. The Welsh were victorious as a result!

St. David was canonized in the 12th century, and as the Welsh began celebrating his feast day, it became tradition to wear a leek on March 1 to commemorate him. At some point, though, the women started pinning daffodils to their bodices, perhaps deciding that wearing a type of onion was not very feminine. (Our instructor told us that if we were in Wales during the spring semester we would see fields and fields of daffodils blooming.) Our instructor told us of a humorous contest that eventually became part of this leek wearing tradition – that of the longest leek! It was quite simple; the gentlemen would measure their leeks to see who was wearing the largest/longest one. I’m not quite sure what you received if you won or even what it proved to win this contest; I can’t quite see it being a mark of your masculinity, although I think that’s what it originally signified!

(I have a great photo of one of my friends holding a leek, but I can't find it right now, so I put in a picture of St. David's Cathedral in Wales instead. It was a beautiful place to see!)

Oh, I should also add that remembering St. David and leeks also reminds me of cock-a-leekie-soup and my dear friend, Clarissa, which makes me smile too!

Time to be Active!

If you had told me a week ago that I would buy a Wii, I would have laughed and said that I would never have any reason to spend that kind of money on a gaming system. Well, that reason came in the form of snow and ice upon snow and ice which has prevented me from going out for my daily walk for much too long now. I like being active and dislike going to a gym. Last week I reached the breaking point. I’ve been doing way too much sitting recently, so I started looking at compact exercise equipment that would give me a good work out without taking up much space in my small apartment. I talked with one of my friends about what I was thinking about getting. He told me I might think it a crazy idea, but he thought a Wii Fit might actually be the best option. His family has it and loves it. As I looked into it further, it seemed like it would be the best fit. It’s compact, has variety, and would get me moving again. So off to the store I went. I set it up successfully last night, which is a small feet in and of itself since I am not too technologically oriented, and I love it! Last night I went for a short run and played some tennis and baseball. This morning I did a hula-hoop activity and some strength training. The Wii has confirmed that I still have bad hand-eye coordination, a poor sense of rhythm, and not the best balance. Ah well, things to improve on I suppose as I watch the 50mph winds swirl the falling snow around outside once again. Perhaps I should try some yoga!

The Lion King

Last night my sister and I attended The Lion King. I’d seen the Broadway musical when it was in Des Moines four years ago and was excited to see the performance again! My sister and I were about a dozen rows from the stage – far enough away to see the entire stage and close enough to see the performers’ facial expressions as well as the details of the costumes and puppets! It is amazing to think of all the individual talent that went into the creation of the show and was shared with us.

After the performance we stayed for a short Q&A session with four of the performers: two individuals from the ensemble, Tony Freeman who played Zazo, and Ben Lipitz who played Pumba. From them we learned that they actually have two complete sets. While one is being used, the other is in transit to the next location and assembled so when the show closes in one city, the performers can fly to the next city and be ready to rehearse/perform the very next day while the set is being torn down in the city they just left. Something usually goes wrong every performance. Last night, for example, the black curtains blocking the backstage from the stage quit working. The performers had to be extra quiet and had to be careful to stay out of the audiences’ line of sight. While one of the ensemble members, who is single and doesn’t have a mortgage, loves to travel all of the US performing, Freeman expressed how hard it can be to be separated from his wife and daughter for long periods of time. With their performance schedule, if the performers want to see their family, their family has to come to them. The performers only get two weeks vacation a year and often aren’t able to make it home to celebrate the holidays with their families. Despite these challenges, they love what they do. Freeman has been Zazo for nine years, and Lipitz has been with the show for seven years. They each mentioned what an exciting experience it is to tell this story each night in live theater. Hearing more about what it takes each individual to perform their part made me appreciate the show all the more.

Oh, I should also mention the other exciting component of our evening – the weather. When I bought our tickets about six weeks ago, I did so with the realization that with it being January, we could have a lovely evening for the performance or we could have a terrible storm which would prevent Rachel from driving to Des Moines from Lincoln and from us attending the performance at all. I crossed my fingers that it would be the former rather than the later. Unfortunately it was the later. Rachel came a day early to make sure she arrived before the forecasted ice storm. Yesterday morning we woke up to a world encased in ice. We had to skate, quite literally, across the parking lot to my car to chip all the ice off of it so we could go to dinner and then the performance. Fortunately, the roads were not slick, and we did not fall traversing the ice going to and from my car. The storm certainly added an element of danger to the experience, turning it into an adventure

A Truck, the Tree, and a TV

A Truck:

Almost two weeks ago, my brother bought a new truck after planning and talking about doing so for the last several years. It’s a large Ford F150, with an extended cab and 5 ½ foot bed. With two wheel and four wheel drive, he feels his truck can get through anything, and indeed it seems it can. With his truck he is more than willing to play the hero, transporting us through the ice and snow that our little cars are helpless against. It was his truck that enabled our family to have Christmas this year.

I drove to Lincoln Monday, thankful to be able to arrive ahead of a massive storm system that was preparing to move through the Midwest. It moved slowly, arriving in Lincoln later than scheduled but living up to its potential, dropping rain, ice and snow all across the state. Christmas Eve services went ahead as scheduled in Lincoln, although they were cancelled in many communities west of us. The weather was deteriorating as the time for us to leave for church approached, and Dad didn’t want to risk it. My mom, dad, sister and I had our own little service at home, while my brother and sister-in-law went to church.

They arrived in the midst of swirling fluffy snow a bit later in the evening for our traditional meal of clam chowder, cheese and crackers, and snowman roll. When it was time for my sister to leave at 10pm for her overnight shift, my brother was more than happy to give her a ride there and to take me for a ride in the new truck. The roads were bad but not horrible, and he was quite pleased to demonstrate just how effective four wheel drive is compared to two wheel drive when driving through snow-filled streets. He laughed at me when I still grabbed the handle on the door, certain that the back end of the truck would still swing out and smack one of the cars parked quietly on the road!

Christmas morning, Peter and Liz picked my sister up at work and came over for gifts and dinner. The roads had become quite horrible overnight. Without the truck, Liz said, they wouldn’t have been able to make it across town. Peter had bought his truck just in time.


The Tree:

Growing up, we had always had a live Christmas tree. Getting poked by pine needles and having sap residue left on your fingers as you decorated was just part of the festivities. When I went to college, my parents started using an artificial tree. I missed the fresh pine smell the most, but I had to admit that not having hundreds of pine needles to clean up once we took the tree down was a nice change. We wouldn’t have to worry about the tree falling over and soaking our gifts either as had happened on past Christmases

This year, in Victorian fashion, we didn’t decorate our 5 foot, artificial tree until Tuesday night. Dad had actually set it up about two weeks ago with Mom adding lights a week later. It was finally time for the ornaments to be hung! We hung beaded angels, stars, umbrella, gazebos, and icicles. The finished effect was quite nice. But not two hours later, as Mom and I sat at the dining room table, we heard a rustle, a whoosh, and a plop as the tree landed on its side. We picked it up, Mom weighted the base, we redecorated the side that had smashed against the carpet, and we rearranged the gifts under the tree, thankful that none had gotten wet. All seemed to be well.

Christmas Eve morning I was awakened to Mom’s hurried whisper, “Allison, the tree fell down again! Can you come help me?! I was just sitting at the table and there it went.” I crawled out of bed to embark on our mission to rescue the tree, but it was not to be. We tried taping the base with duck tape, but when I’d let go of the trunk, it just listed to the side, pulling the duck tape up with it. We tried tying it up, but there wasn’t an effective place to tie it to. Finally, we just decided to give up on the tall tree and nab my sister’s small two foot tree so we’d at least have something to put our gifts under!

“The fake tree fell over?!” my brother said later. “How is that possible?!” How indeed.

A TV:

Six weeks ago my brother called me to see if I would be interested in going in on a flat screen TV for our dad for Christmas. He thought it would be an awesome gift for him; he would never suspect it in a million years, and he would absolutely love it. I agreed. It would be the perfect gift.

We set our plan in motion. The day after Thanksgiving, my sister-in-law braved the 5am Target crowds to secure a spectacular TV at a great price. The day before Christmas Eve, my brother delivered the 32” Sony TV to our house and hid it in my mom’s closet.

On Christmas morning, Mom kept Dad busy in the kitchen so Liz and Peter could hide the clues and Peter could set up the TV in Dad’s study. The surprise was almost spoiled when Dad decided he needed to go upstairs to get a hat to wear during gift opening. His head was cold. Rachel, Liz and I looked at each other trying to figure out how to stop him without giving anything away. Fortunately Peter came down the stairs as Dad was just getting ready to head up, blocking the way. He forbade him from going upstairs and found Dad’s stocking cap for him to wear.

Gift giving proceeded as usual. Finally, there was just one gift under the tree – Dad’s first clue. He unwrapped one clue and then another, making his way upstairs, the rest of us following along behind. When Dad opened the last clue, the instruction manual for the TV, Dad opened it and said, “Are you serious, you have to be kidding.” He just stood by the study door, disbelieving. “Open the door and see!” Mom said. He opened the door a smidge, hardly believing his eyes. “Wow,” was all he could say. “Wow. Wow.” Then a round of hugs. We all admired the TV before traipsing back down the stairs to get our turkey dinner on the table.

We played Wii that afternoon on the big screen and later the guys watched basketball. Dad watched Lord of the Rings last night. Everything is so much sharper now and that much better. He is looking forward to watching his PBS specials in high definition. He most certainly is set for years to come, and how special for us to be the bearers of such a gift!

Good-Bye to Kinko's

Today I officially closed the FedEx Kinko’s chapter of my life with a good-bye note and plate of chocolate chip cookies to my coworkers.
I began working at Kinko’s in October 2005. As a recent college grad, I had landed an internship at Living History Farms for the summer. When my internship ended, there was a position open for me to continue on as a floater. However, as summer turned to fall, and the last day of season drew closer, so too did my guarantee of full time work at the museum. My winter hours at LHF would depend completely on the number of individuals who decided to book a historic dinner or bring their students out to participate in one of our education programs.

A part time job would be necessary to supplement my LHF income and guarantee the bills, and the student loans, would still be paid. I started at FedEx Kinko’s in October. That winter, if I wasn’t at LHF, I was at Kinko’s filling paper, helping customers run double-sided copies, taking orders, and learning how to run the auxiliary equipment.

When the season began again on May 1, 2006, I returned to LHF full time and only worked two nights a week at Kinko’s in order to keep my job for the following winter. For the next two years, I expanded my hours at Kinko’s during LHF’s winter season, and then scaled back when I could work fulltime at LHF.

However, as my job responsibilities increased at LHF, I found the two evenings a week at Kinko’s to be just a little too much for my packed schedule. My manager was gracious enough to let me take a leave of absence from June until November. He then allowed me to begin my leave of absence in April for this past season. I was to have returned this month, and I had every intention of doing so, but last Thursday, I called my manager and officially terminated my employment.

Last week I was hired to be the Lead Town Interpreter- 1875 Walnut Hill Shops at Living History Farms. It is a promotion of sorts, although I will continue doing much of what I’ve already been doing over this last year: making schedules, planning trainings, supervising the professional sites. Some of my new responsibilities include advising and being a resource to the supervisors of the General Store and Drug Store. The most significant difference is that now instead of being hourly and full-time seasonally, I am salaried and full-time year round!

Ever since I started working at Kinko’s I wanted to be in a position to just have one job, but now that I can have just one job, I feel a bit sad and not as excited as I thought I would be. In some ways, I feel that I am losing a bit of my identity. I had carved out my place at Kinko’s, built relationships with my co-workers there and had regular customers that I enjoyed chatting with. Now, in order for me to move forward in my new role at LHF, I have to say good-bye to that part of me.

So, first, what I won’t miss one iota about Kinko’s:

• Enforcing copyright law, particularly for family photos at Christmas and Senior photos in April.
• The long lines of impatient customers who are upset that it is taking so long to pick-up their order or place their order.
• Apoligzing profusely to an irritated customer that their job wasn’t done correctly even though I had absolutely nothing to do with their order.
• Throwing away old family photographs that were left on the copier because they had been held in lost and found for the prescribed amount of time.
• Wearing my uniform of navy pants that never fit quite right, a belt that was too big and a black and purple shirt. (They are getting new uniforms soon, so I don’t have to turn in my current ones. I suppose I can always put them on again if I do end up missing them!)

But then there are things I will defiantly miss:

• Chatting with Dianna and Heather during slow periods by our register near the doors. Dianna always had something interesting happening with one of her kids or grandkids, and Heather was always thinking about something interesting or wondering about some topic we could discuss.
• Seeing some of our regulars: the elderly lady who made color copies of her watercolors of flowers and gardens, the woman who copied all the brochures for these group tours, the gal from Earl May Gardens and Nursery down the street, the guy who tried to get Heather and I to caucus for Ron Paul during the 2008 election and kept informing us of the latest conspiracy for the US to become one country with Mexico and Canada.
• Knowing about concerts, conventions, restaurant openings, etc. in the Des Moines area simply because I helped the customer run their job.
• The quiet activity of getting the store ready in the morning: filling copiers, straightening paper, dusting, cleaning glass, etc. I could usually just think about my day and all the things I wanted and needed to do – usually at LHF!
• My discount (I didn’t copy things that often, but when I did, it was nice to have!)

Kinko’s was a great place to work. I have no doubt that it was God’s provision for me during the time I needed it, but now He has provided a new job and with it, a new challenge, for me. It’s time now for me to drop the title of Kinko’s employee and dive headfirst into my new role at LHF!

Signs of the Season

The change in weather is, of course, one of the first indicators that the seasons are about to change. For example, the leaves turned yellow, orange and red. I began walking out my apartment in my morning into crisp, fall air. There was condensation on my apartment windows. Fall had arrived. But there are other, more subtle things, which poke into your consciousness too, and say, “Hey, things are changing; the next season is just around the corner!” And which season is it that all these little things are pointing to so strongly? Christmas!?! In the two days following Halloween, I noticed these harbingers:

Sunday, November 1:

• At church they passed out the CD of music for the preschoolers to begin learning for the Christmas program.
• When I bought something at Border’s Bookstore after church (and I must admit it was a Christmas present. Hey, I had a 40% off coupon, and it does pay to plan ahead!), they asked me if I needed a gift receipt. Now I don’t shop at Border’s often enough to know if they always ask you if you need a gift receipt, but it was another indicator that our gift giving season is upon us.
• Amazon now has a lovely Christmas tree swirling across the top of their home page.
• The Toys-R-Us complete toy catalogue was tucked in the newspaper. I guess it’s time for all the little children to begin writing their Christmas letters to Santa!
• The grocery ads are filled with kidney beans and black beans and chili beans and everything you need to make those yummy winter comfort foods! Hot dog buns won't be advertised again until May! Coupons for cold medicine and Kleenex and cough drops abound. Coupons for bug repellants and sun block will return once again in the spring.

Monday, November 2:

• As I was out running errands, I drove by a church which now has their entire Christmas tree display set up in their front lawn. They have dozens upon dozens of trees of all heights surrounding the building. During the day, the trees are very reminiscent of a Southern belle's hoop skirt as the strings of lights stretch from the tip of a pole to a circular base. When I drove by on my way home from work tonight, they didn’t have them lit up yet; maybe they’ll actually wait until after Thanksgiving for that!
•  Hy-Vee had deposited all their Halloween candy in clearance carts at the front of the store and was restocking the empty shelves with bags of red and green M&Ms and snow-flaked, silver-foiled peppermint patties. 
• I received my first red and green Bed, Bath, and Beyond coupon in the mail. No more of their traditional blue until January!

So it appears that Dairy Queen with their oh, so delicious pumpkin pie blizzard is the only one remembering that Thanksgiving does indeed lie between now and Christmas. Otherwise, hang on, because it appears that it is now full-steam ahead to December 25!

Spices Galore!

I was a bit taken aback yesterday when I opened my kitchen cupboard that contains all my spices, canned food, and general baking/cooking ingredients. The entire bottom shelf is completely filled with spices! Now I know this shouldn’t come as a shock; after all, I have commented about my expanding collection of spices. I am also the one who purchased them and arranged them just that way in the cupboard. Be that as it may, I was still a bit overwhelmed by all the little canisters sitting in neat little rows, staring back at me. How did I ever reach this point, especially considering my culinary training?

Growing up, I believed the only spices you needed to have a well stocked spice cupboard were: 1. Salt - mostly so Dad had some to put on his popcorn. It never appeared on the dinner table unless we were eating corn on the cob
2. Pepper - for the very occasional scrambled eggs and hamburgers
3. Minced onion – once again for the hamburgers
4. Italian seasoning - for our weekly ground turkey spaghetti sauce
5. Sage – for our holiday turkey dressing
6. Chili powder – for my brother to dump, and yes, I do mean dump, on his chili
7. Cinnamon – for the crumbly coffee cake I loved to make at least twice a month
8. Nutmeg – for apple crisps and our Thanksgiving pumpkin pies
9. Cloves – same as above

These nine spices, and there may have actually been one or two more, would suffice for any and all cooking needs. I didn’t even consider a recipe that required any more than two or three spices, and it certinaly didn't recieve a second glance if it required things like “fresh ginger” and “cloves of garlic.” Very occasionally, I would get adventuresome and try something that called for a more unusual spice, and Mom would have to make a quick run to the grocery store to get it. (This is how Five Spice made it into my mom's kitchen cupboard.) Overall though, I passed a happy childhood eating foods flavored only by the above.

I remember once in high school, I contemplated jazzing up our everyday chicken and pasta dishes by experimenting with different herbs and spices. But then it seemed much too complicated to actually get the right combinations without having a specific recipe to follow, so I didn’t contemplate this idea for very long.

When I left for college, I began building my spice collection. I had cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and Italian Seasoning. (You can also see from this list that I liked baking much more than cooking!) Then I moved into my own apartment, and my little store of spices began to grow a bit. I added things like salt, pepper and garlic powder to the mix. They all fit into a little corner of one my cupboard shelves.

Then I became roommates with Clarissa. She loved spices. She was the spice expert. Her spices filled an entire shelf of one of our kitchen cupboards. Whenever she was cooking, or we were making something together, she knew exactly how much of which spice to dump in to add just a little more unique flavor. If Clarissa used a recipe, it was just the basis to which she added or omitted various herbs and spices as she saw fit, with very successful results. She inspired me, and I endeavored to learn as much as I could from her.

The second contributing factor to my current level of spice ownership was Clarissa’s and my decision to give Indian cooking a try. We both loved Indian food, and since we loved eating it so much decided it would be a great idea to try making it. We got a cookbook and discovered that we owned very few of the spices needed to make any of the recipes. Not only would we need fresh ginger and garlic cloves, more of a shock to me than to her, we also needed things like cardamom pods, turmeric, and coriander. So these spices were purchased and added to the neat little rows in Clarissa’s spice cupboard.

After Clarissa got married and I moved into my own apartment, I, of course, had to purchase my own of all the spices we had been able to share while roommates. We continued to be cooking buddies and frequently tried new recipes, some of which required various spices, which one or the other of us would have to buy. Then there were also the times we’d be cooking at Clarissa’s apartment, and I would comment while digging through her spices for the fenugreek, “Oh, I don’t have this spice.”

“What?!” She would exclaim, “I can’t believe you don’t have it! Allie, you really need to get it. It’s amazing.” and I would make a mental note to pick it up at the store the next time I was there.

So, I suppose that is the long and the short of my spice journey, and why I own all the dozens of spices I do. It comes in handy, having such a stash, because now as I look at recipes, I am more likely to eliminate a recipe that only calls for three spices and uses powdered garlic rather than garlic cloves. I love the layers of flavor that come from all the spices melding together, and I love the variety of the textures and colors of the whole spices! I think that is actually one reason why I love Indian cooking – just look at the whole spices needed to make a wonderful dish of Royal Chicken cooked in yogurt! I get the feeling that I am actually creating something as I cook.



Now that I cook with all these different spices, my next goal is to train my tongue to discern all which specific spices were used to make my food whenever I go out to eat – just like Clarissa. Now I can pick out some of the more distinctive flavors, but not as many as she can nor as quickly. I have many great memories of us eating somewhere together, and she’ll have taken not two bites of her meal before she is saying, oh, I think it has this in it and that as well. Now I think it might have this; she’ll take another bite, chew thoughtfully and then state her final opinion. Once she names it, I can taste it too. After a bit, she may say, “I like it, but I wouldn’t put as much turmeric in it. Or, I think it would be better if they had added more coriander.” I always believe her, even if I can’t quite taste it, because she is still the spice expert, and although I’ve come a long way, I am still learning.