The Complaint Challenge: Christmas Edition

Our holiday season was festive and low-key. We went on a nighttime adventure to Filoli Gardens to check out their lights, which were impressive and beautiful. Wyatt and I went ice skating enough days in a row over the break that my right butt cheek was more tired than my left because of always going clockwise.

And of course there was Christmas. More specifically, Christmas Breakfast. This year, we went with Wyatt’s suggestion: Brownie Sundaes.

They were terrific. We used the Sour Cherry Frozen Yogurt recipe from our ice cream book. We substituted dried sour cherries that we rehydrated in a pan with some water. I have no idea if we used too many cherries or what, but the taste was bold, very cherry, and we liked it. This is the brownie recipe we chose, and we included chopped almonds.

The Complaint Challenge continued through Christmas, which, you’d think would not pose much of a hurdle, right? But the gift Wyatt was most hoping for was a remote-controlled airplaine. And he got it! And we took out out around 11 a.m. Christmas morning, to Crissy Field, with Betty in her new Doggy Parton pink pearls—real family outing style. I took Betty for a walk while Marc and Wyatt got the plane ready to fly, and about 20 minutes later, I looked behind me to see they were chasing after me and trying to get my attention. You see, the first time the plane took off, it really took off. It soared high on the wind, way up into the trees far beyond the buildings along the road to Parts Unknown, never to be seen again.

I’m pretty sure Wyatt was some combination of mad, sad, furious, angry, frustrated, disappointed and pissed-off. But he didn’t complain once! When we got home, Marc ordered the first and last replacement plane, which has not yet been flown because of the rain.

The rain! We have gotten so much rain. Which is great! California really needs rain. But also, the rate at which the rain has been falling is faster than our systems are able to handle. On New Year’s Eve, we had a little flood at ground level. It was a mess that we managed to fully clean up by the end of New Year’s Day thanks to a group effort around finding fans to buy (an hour away), dehumidifiers, towels, and ripping stuff up. The sandbags I filled and put into place that Tuesday, along with the plumber’s confirmation that our drain is good to go, have given me some peace of mind that we will stay dry as the storms continue, and when things calm down, we can get the repairs done.

So, who complained? Not one of us. Not one! This is not to say the experience was at all fun, low-stress, totally collaborative, or that no one snapped at anyone. But there were no complaints.

When we set up this challenge, we did not put in a contingency for a tie. And that’s what we ended up with. Each of us used 2 of our 3 lives, so we were even. As a result, everyone kept their money.

Wyatt proposed that for the coming year, we keep 2 jars. In one jar, every time Marc or I complain, we put in a dollar and Wyatt will get that jar. In the other jar, every time Wyatt complains, he puts in a dollar, and Marc and I get that jar. We asked why not a family jar where we do something fun (like go out for dinner or something) with the money, and Wyatt had strong objections: “That makes no sense. You LIKE going out to dinner. So you’ll just complain more so there’s more money to do that. It’s the same as the 'swear jar’ some people do which has never made sense to me …”

So far, I owe Wyatt a dollar.

Happy Holidays!

May your holiday season be as cheerful as a poodle in a sunflower costume.

Our winter traditions are going strong: Winter Solstice means backyard s’mores with the blowtorch and searzall plus reflections on things that we’re ready to let go of; Christmas eve features latkes for dinner; and, Christmas Day will bring dessert for breakfast. We’re trying a new to us snickers cheesecake recipe! This, friends, is how we live on the edge while remaining firmly rooted here at home. Ha.

May It Be Epic

I hope that your holidays are amazing, full of fun and relaxation, and that they bring you the opportunity to spend time with people you love.

In other words, I hope they’re epic.

Today, I have food-related things to do: grocery shopping, preparing Christmas dessert-for-breakfast, and then frying latkes for dinner tonight. We’ve opted for ice cream sandwiches for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll be using a gluten-free chocolate chip cookie recipe from the book, Sister Pie, which my very thoughtful friend from law school gave me when she came to visit earlier this year. If I had been more thoughtful, I’d have turned the page and learned before this afternoon that the dough is supposed to rest for at least 24 hours, which will be impossible at this point. We’re also making custard style vanilla ice cream from The Perfect Scoop. (There’s a newer version of that book, but we have the original one.) I’ll be using Green Girl Vanilla Bean Gelato in my sandwich so that I don’t feel like trash after breakfast. With the leftover egg whites from the ice cream, I’m going to try making meringues. Latkes are courtesy of Smitten Kitchen’s recipe.

Speaking of food, we’ve actually been basically eating our way through this holiday season. Friendsgiving with the staff and volunteers in the Presidio was amazing as always, and it started us off well for the holiday season. I think this was our third celebration with the team, and I love the combination of getting time with our friends we’ve now known for a few years, interns we’ve only just met, and staff who are focused on showing up in meaningful ways (like taking time during the event to bring our attention to indigenous peoples) and doing their best for the earth.

Wyatt and I went ice skating a couple of times over Thanksgiving week, and that was super. A little chilly, but definitely super. Here we are at Snoopy’s Home Ice.

Also, this past weekend, we did a version of the intentions setting exercise in the December article from GetzWell Pediatrics. We made spring-roll wraps with our favorite rice wrappers by Star Anise Foods, and although we used more than 7 ingredients, I’m fine with a more robust representation of the Healthy Mind Platter. We also had two kinds of potato chips because why not? As we ate, we did little maps and drawings of how we envision spending our time in the coming year. We noticed the things we currently have plenty of (like focus time), and the things we need more of (like play time), and considered how we can find more balance in our week. Next, we each made a short list of the things we want to let go of from 2019, and then we burned the lists. I should have timed us, but it was within a few hours that we had already gone back to our old ways on a couple of those things we burned (surprise!), so obviously, this intentions thing is ongoing.

Fortunately, intentions can happen in the background while you do everything else. If you’ve got a free evening coming up and you’re local to San Francisco, you may want to check out Night Bloom at the Conservatory of Flowers. It’s on through January 5. It’s very magical. Here’s a peek at some of the photos Wyatt took:

Happy, merry, and see you in 2020.

Bowie Halloween

“So, Wyatt. What are you going to be for Halloween?”

“David Bowie.”

And a lot of times, he added, “I remember the day he died. I was in kindergarten.”

The whole answer is pretty show stopping, and I think it could not be more appropriate for this time of year. But unless Wyatt was talking to a fellow fan, or a person who felt really comfortable talking to an 8-year old about the death of an icon, the conversation often stopped there. Because really, what do you say?

In the last 6 weeks, I have learned a lot about the evolution of David Bowie as a performer, at least from a clothing perspective. We have taken out nearly every book in the San Francisco Public Library System that relates to early 1970s Bowie, as well as ones that go far beyond that era. Wyatt was very clear from the start that he wanted to go with the Ziggy Stardust Bowie, but with the lightning bolt.

“Mom. If I don’t have the bolt, no one will know who I am.”

“Fair point. But technically, the bolt was Aladdin Sane’s makeup. Ziggy had a sun in the middle of his forehead. Are you sure you don’t want to do the sun?”

“YES. Last year I was a galaxy and everyone will think I’m being like an alien or something.”

And so, we opted to exercise poetic license in this costume, merging elements of both characters.

I had no idea that Ziggy Stardust wore an asymmetrical knitted jumpsuit with intricate colorwork by Kansai Yamamoto. But there it was, in the book. And there were all my various colors of fingering weight yarn, and suddenly there seemed no other reasonable option than to make this jumpsuit happen. I had just over a month. Wyatt’s backup plan was zombie, so either way, we’d be fine. But I’d need to make swift and steady progress, I told him (and myself), before we’d buy the wig and face paint for this costume, just in case it started to look like this was too big a task. (I mean, I’m nothing if not practical, right?)

Experience with previous years costumes came in handy for this one. I custom-knit the suit without a pattern, based only on Wyatt’s measurements and my knitting gauge. I know, you’re also shocked there’s no pattern for a child (or adult) sized asymmetrical unitard. I consulted methods on how to make leggings, considered options for how to make the top, and figured I should also steek (cut) the side to add a zipper. We made some modifications (in addition to using simpler olorwork). Because it isn’t 1972, we went with a boy short leg and an above-nipple neckline. More modern and comfortable for this particular 8-year old . It worked, and I’m really proud of how it turned out.

Here are some in—process photos…

Once the knitting was done, we moved on to the wig and face paint practice.

Even better than my being proud of the work I did, Wyatt announced it was epic. And that’s about as high a compliment as he gives.

Here are Wyatt’s thoughts on his costume (typed by himself): Yes I do think it is epic. I love it so much I especially love the wig and I love the whole suit. It’s my best costume ever.

Calico Corn and Second Summer

I’d be lying if I said I like it when the days get shorter and all the summer fruits and vegetables start to be replaced with apples and squash. But it’s happening again, just like it does every year. Fall is here. And if, like me, you are not on board with this seasonal transition, may I recommend a pomegranate or perhaps a fuyu persimmon to take the edge off.

And before you accuse me of hating fall, know there are things I love about it (just not the squash). Take Lambtown. I can’t believe it has already come and gone! Wyatt and I volunteered again in the Wooly Adventures tent. Wet felting, weaving, drop spindling, coloring . . . we pretty much had it all over there. Woven bracelets were definitely the accessory of the weekend, and if I hadn’t been working in the tent, I would have totally made one. It’s such a terrific festival. Always the first weekend in October in Dixon, California. Mark your calendar for next year!

My lunch at Cafe Ohlone last November. So good. A version of the hazelnut chia pudding remains in heavy rotation at our house.

I also like the holidays that sneak up on me in the fall. The ones I know happen, but always forget exactly when they are. This Monday, two-thirds of our family observed Indigenous Peoples’ Day (there was no school for Wyatt, but there was work for Marc). I have two things to share in connection with this holiday. First, the free app: Native Land. It tells you with some accuracy the Indigenous lands you’re on in the United States and Canada (the difficulty of and controversy around mapping Indigenous territories are themselves important discussions addressed in the teacher’s guide on the website). I like this app a lot because the information it provides helps me think about the people who were here first and are still here, as well as how all of us—and the earth—are connected. It’s a great jumping-off point for learning more, too. For example, if you’re in the Bay Area, an easy and delicious way to connect with local Indigenous culture is to visit Cafe Ohlone for an amazing meal.

Second, and along similar lines, our family has adopted different terms for “Fall Things That White People Call Indian.” First, “Indian Corn.” As I told Whole Foods Market a couple of weeks ago, I don’t understand why this term still exists. It’s way past time to move on for several reasons, not the least of which is racism. I proposed that they could change their signage to “Decorative Corn.” I still haven’t heard how they resolved my complaint, but the original sign was gone last I checked. My friend, Susan, helpfully googled “What should we be calling Indian Corn?” Of the various options returned in the search result, she chose “Calico Corn,” and I like it. Following Susan’s example, I googled, “What should we be calling Indian Summer?” Because, again, WHY is this a term? The best answer I found was, “Second Summer.” I’m a fan of this term. If you are, too, I hope that you will use it liberally, even if you’re not having one. As in, “Wow! I thought for sure after that frost, things would warm up again and we’d enjoy a Second Summer.” After all, words matter.

But back to the holiday. This past Monday, Wyatt and I had planned to go downtown to an Indigenous Peoples’ Day celebration at Yerba Buena Gardens, but sometimes, it takes longer to sew your own flannel race car pajama bottoms than you think it will. This fact is especially true when it’s your first pair. So Wyatt sewed, and I consulted and assisted where needed (while knitting his David Bowie Halloween costume—a custom-fit asymmetrical unitard inspired by this tour photo).

Before we get to the pajama pants sewing, though, I need to take a moment with a photo that popped-up in my feed on Monday. It could not have been more perfectly timed. Please note the sewing-sock-gloves. I can only assume the thinking here was, sewing is work; work means gloves.

Present day: same concentration, but no gloves.

Pants sewn, we grabbed a quick, late lunch, and headed for a hike at San Bruno Mountain instead of going downtown. On our hike, we watched for birds we could appreciate but mostly not identify, enjoyed plants some of which we could name (thanks Presidio Nursery Team), and followed the paths away from other people so it felt like we were the only ones in the park. We stayed until just before dusk, and it was absolutely beautiful.

Spring-ing

Now that I've answered Wyatt's big questions about Easter, Passover, God, Jesus, and Moses with various versions of "Some people believe," "Maybe," and "I don't know," it's time to raise a basket of naturally dyed eggs in celebration of spring: May we all enjoy liberation, renewal, and rebirth.

Surely you remember that we're all about annual egg dyeing? Last year's eggs were pretty spectacular. This year, we took a comparative approach and tested two natural dye kits (I purchased both of them). We also prepared dye baths of onion skins (gold), red cabbage (blue), and beets (red) in which to simultaneously cook and dye eggs. This year, we used our new Joule immersion circulator to achieve "perfect" hardboiled eggs. This cooking method is pretty straightforward when you're simply cooking eggs you'll dye in a kit--cook the eggs however you like them (we followed all the recommended steps to make them easiest to peel and went with 45 minutes at 165F), cool them to a temperature you can handle, and then dip-dye-away.

The dye kits are the most fun, because you get almost instant results and can get creative. You can play with resists like leaves and rubber bands, see what works, and then adjust as you go. You can also use multiple colors on one egg. Of the two kits we tried, ColorKitchen, which includes three colors, delivered the most vibrant color the quickest. The other kit, Natural Earth Paint, has four colors, including green. Green has always been difficult for us to get when we try to blend dyes on on our own. Both kits' powdered dyes were contained in individually sealed plastic sleeves. Both kits cost about $10.

The homemade dye baths were a little less straightforward. Last year, I used this method to dye and cook the eggs at the same time. The resulting colors were great; the texture and doneness of the eggs, however, left a lot to be desired. This year, I figured I'd use the same dye recipes but cook the eggs in the dye with the circulator, in one pot.

This part of the experiment? It was a giant pain in the ass. It required so much more temperature testing and fiddling that I anticipated. In the end, I found I was able to keep the individual jars of dye bath at 165F only if the water bath was around 175F. Time will tell whether all the effort was worthwhile in terms of egg texture--we'll turn all these eggs into egg salad tomorrow after Wyatt finds them.

The dye baths we made from food gave a really deep color, but it took 2 days sitting in the dye bath in the refrigerator to achieve it.  I also noticed that the dye coating got weirdly bubbled in spots. The mottling that resulted looks interesting, but it is definitely not interesting enough for me to bother with this particular method ever again.

In conclusion! If you like active egg dyeing, get a kit. If you want a natural egg dye kit that colors eggs pretty quickly and with more time can give you a really deep color, go with ColorKitchen. If you don't mind waiting longer for a more pastel look but like having control over blended colors, go with Natural Earth Paint. If you want to use food to color your eggs, embrace the fact that the dyeing will be mostly NOT interactive. Prepare your dye baths, cook your eggs to your liking, and then place and leave the eggs in the bath in jars in the fridge for several days to color them.

Weird & Wonderful

Mom. What are those fat white or pink skinned babies that shoot arrows at nothing called again? For Valentine’s Day? They look like a church thing. We had them on the wall in kindergarten. It was this picture where there were two of them and they looked like this.

Wyatt arranged his arms and put his chin on them.

They are SO WEIRD.

He's not wrong. Cupids are pretty weird.

And let's be honest. Valentine’s Day is pretty weird. I mean, it's a mid-winter pagan fertility festival the Catholic Church co-opted to celebrate St. Valentine, during which many adults celebrate romance while children all over the United States give out cards to every single person in their class and eat more candy.

I think if you're lucky, you'll experience a Valentine's Day sweet spot at least once during your life. One where, if you want to be in a romantic relationship, you're part of one, and in your bliss and joy, you'll agree on how you want to celebrate the day and each other. Otherwise, Valentine's Day is, as one of my friends has always called it, "Single Awareness Day." And if you're a parent of an elementary school child (or an actual elementary school child), it can also be "Annoying Annual School Project Day."

For the last two years, Wyatt has had no interest in giving out valentines at school. Some kids did, and he was happy to receive them, but that was as far as it went. This year, however, Wyatt came home from school towards the end of January and announced they would be having a Valentine's Day celebration in their classroom. I barely suppressed a groan. I knew the drill--everyone needs to get a valentine, which is fair enough, but there are over 30 kids in his class. Sitting down to write cards and envelopes was going to be torture, even if we did only three a day. He went on, "My teacher says that if we make anything, we have to make something for everyone. And nothing can be store bought." While I wanted nothing to do with the project or the extra “homemade” challenge, I didn't want him to know that. So I asked, offering as much happy, light hearted empowerment as I could, "So, what's your plan?" He replied, "I'm going to make everyone a heart necklace. I have the supplies I need, because I have clay and yarn. But can I please borrow your heart cookie cutter? I don't need your help. I can do it myself." Hell yes, I thought. "That sounds terrific," I said.

Wyatt set to work that afternoon. And he worked on the project most days for the next week. He had probably made 50 hearts by the time he got to stringing the 30th necklace. Why? Because he initially made the stringing holes too small, and the hearts broke when it was time to push the darning needle through with the yarn. He revised his production methods along the way, ditching the toothpick and using a clay knife to make a bigger hole in the new and improved hearts. At one point, I assisted in making a few new hearts because he was so aggravated by the constant breakage, and I know how much it sucks to work on something and feel like you will never, ever finish it.

By the 30th necklace, though? He’d had enough. The last heart was perfect. The hole was just the right size! But he just couldn't bear to push the needle through and tie the last knot. "MOM," he announced, "I'M DONE WITH THIS PROJECT. I should have NEVER thought of it. It was a TERRIBLE idea. I am NOT stringing this last necklace. I don't even CARE. No one will get anything. I'm going to put them ALL IN THE TRASH."

We've all been there, right?

I tried cajoling him. "Come on. There's only one more! You're so CLOSE! You can do it. You've worked so HARD! And they’re so GREAT!" He wasn't having it. He yelled, "I DON'T CARE," and threw himself dramatically onto the sofa. Annoyed at his short-sightedness and unable to accept that it was okay for him to trash hours of work, I said in a serious voice, "I need to go switch the laundry. While I'm away, I want you string that last necklace. I want it to be done when I come back in here."

Much to my surprise, he did it. With that impasse behind him, over the next several days, he went on to wrap and sign all thirty little packages by himself.

If there is a moral to this story, I think it is this: Valentine's Day is flawed, and thanks to that, it's full of learning opportunities. For example, Wyatt learned that determination can require digging deep, and practicing generosity can be hard. I learned it's as important to step back as it is to lend a hand. Also? It's okay to want to throw everything away, but don't actually do it in a fit of rage. Finally, planning ahead is smart. All in all, solid life and love lessons, courtesy of a pretty weird holiday.

"Snowy Winter"

Warm wishes for a wonderful holiday season.

With love!

Show Up, Listen Up & Speak Up.

Christmas Toilet

". . . They're gonna build a toilet around the Christmas tree . . . Mom. How would you even do that? Build a toilet around the Christmas tree? And WHO EVEN DOES THAT?"

"It's TOYLAND. Not TOILET."

"Ah! That makes more sense. Toys. What's a toyland?"

I love the English language, don't you? And Wyatt's mondegreen might be the best thing that has happened to "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town." I mean, would they move the toilet? Or would they move the tree? Or would they, as Wyatt also mused, "Get like a dozen port-a-potties and line them up in a circle around the tree?"

This week, we are working steadily to get all the things done before school lets out for winter break on Friday. In case you are (or your partner is) engaged in the seasonal emotional labor of creating thoughtful, pretty, handmade gifts that someone might actually want, look just the right amount homemade, and are low enough value that no one would mistake them for a bribe, this post is for you.

We opted for edible gifts. Here are some ideas.

Apple Butter. Here's a recipe. Personally, I washed the apples, cut out the cores, and then roasted them, unpeeled, in large chunks in baking dishes with about 1/4 inch of water in the bottom of the dish. Once soft, I pureed the apples (skin and all) in the Vitamix. And then I reduced the purée over many hours in the slow cooker on low. I added lemon juice and honey to taste just before canning. The yield is low (just over a half pound of apples made 4 ounces of apple butter), but it's delicious.

Herbed Nuts. These are the best nuts ever. I always use more sage than the recipe says because the dried sage leaves are easily the best part. Also? They keep way longer than 3 days in an air-tight container.

Granola. Granola would also be a lovely gift. I like this recipe a lot.

Caramel Corn Clusters. Yes, we make them every year. If you omit the peanuts, use more salt. This year, we substituted slivered almonds and I used 1 1/2 teaspoons of Diamond Kosher salt, and the result was perfect.

Choose appropriately-sized mason jars and then conscript the other members in your family to decorate and label them. We used a gold paint pen, some address labels, and a snowflake paper punch with a glue stick to make these jars fancy. We also used tie-on tags to personalize them. Double-sided-satin ribbon around the top of the jar looks pretty great, too. (The caramel corn clusters would work in jars, but I usually use treat bags because the shape is more forgiving, and I tie them closed with red and white baker's twine.)

Better and Better

Have you heard? I just published a new pattern. It's called the Do Better Beanie. I've been writing all the social media blurbs for it in a super positive light, because, you know, POSITIVITY. And the messages are totally positive, and I do truly mean them that way.

But I've already started joking with friends who are peeved about, say, being ignored, "It sounds like you might need to borrow Listen Up!" Or say, hypothetically, there's a huge school fundraiser this weekend and parents aren't signing up for shifts (even though they know that have to), thinking they can duck responsibility without being noticed. Wouldn't it be nice to slap them with a Show Up hat? Or maybe you know someone who could use their power and influence to make things better for others, but doesn't. Speak Up for that one! Unfortunately, it's way more practical for me to passive aggressively make a totally insincere offer to lend any of these people the appropriate hat than to actually knit them. Scaling craftivism is tricky, obviously.

You can find the link to the Do Better Beanie here on this site under Designs, or just click directly to my Ravelry shop.

How was your Thanksgiving? Ours was great but weird. Marc came down with a beast of a cold on Thursday morning, so Wyatt and I made our second annual Thanksgiving trip to Sebastopol without him. Not only did Wyatt and I miss having Marc there, so many of my relatives were so disappointed not to see him. They had saved up all these great things to tell him since they last talked a year ago! I think that if you have to skip Thanksgiving, the next best thing is to be genuinely and specifically missed.

Here is a Thanksgiving photo along with photos of  some new-to-us junk sculptures by Patrick Amiot.

Finally, if you're looking for a great recipe for brussels sprouts, check this one out. We made it this weekend. It tastes way better and is much less fussy than the one I have tried from Cook's Illustrated where each sprout half must be placed individually and none of them get much color. Whether you use Minimalist Baker's recipe for dipping sauce or your own, don't skip it unless you want to make Wyatt sad.

Giving and Getting

This is the face of a happy volunteer.

I thought I wasn't the kind of person who needed the attention that comes from appreciation parties. True givers do the work for the sake of the work, not to be celebrated for it. Right?

We've been volunteering in the Presidio for the better part of this year, and last Thursday was the annual Volunteer Appreciation Dinner where the staff throws a terrific party. The staff cook several turkeys, and everyone who attends brings a dish to share. I debated whether Wyatt and I should go. We'd be out late on a school night, and we didn't really need to be appreciated. We'd show up to work next time with or without a party. But parties are fun, and we like to dress up. So we went, and we are so glad we did.

As we drove up to the party, Wyatt noticed another car arriving at the same time and he said, "Hey! I know those people! That's Abby's car. The convertible BMW. It's got to be her." And sure enough, it was her. She was driving, and had given a ride to several other women we know from the garden and nursery. Once we had said hello, Abby asked if we could carry in some of the things she brought to share. Of course we could.

We checked-in, made our name tags, wrote a label for our shared dish (vegan! gluten-free! with nuts!), and then went in to mingle.

The staff had transformed the office into the most festive dining hall, and they were all still hard at work. Rebecca was tending bar, and she made Wyatt's night by mixing him a Unicorn ("Ginger ale, cranberry juice, and as much sparkling water as your mother would like.") Jean made sure we knew to look for the dressing with the gluten-free sign--she made sure they made some special. And Desmond brought us back to what looked like a gift shop and told us we could choose anything we wanted off the table.

Wyatt chose the orange blanket and I opted for a fleece vest that says "Golden Gate National Parks."

Dinner was truly spectacular. Best potluck ever. While we ate and chatted, they played a slide show of photos from previous years' appreciation parties. Wyatt kept spotting people we know, laughing at goofy photos, and trying to figure out where the photos were being projected from. On the drive home, we debated which side we liked the best (it was the dressing, but so many of the salads were close seconds!), discussed why halvah tastes weird (we tried every gluten-free offering on the dessert table), and exclaimed how glad we were that we went.

It was such a good night, and while we didn't need to be fed an amazing dinner, the truth is we kind of did. It felt good. And it reminded me of a Brené Brown quote: “Until we can receive with an open heart, we're never really giving with an open heart. When we attach judgment to receiving help, we knowingly or unknowingly attach judgment to giving help."

The dish we made to share was the Brussels Sprouts, Apple, and Pomegranate Salad from Smitten Kitchen. It's fancy (thanks to the pomegranate seeds), fast to prepare, and delicious. I couldn't find any brussels sprouts at the store, so I went with a savoy cabbage instead. It was terrific.

More Spring Color

I am delighted to report that Easter 2017 was our best year yet for egg dyeing! We lost only one egg due to cracking (during cooking, in the onion skin dye), and we lost one to the garden during the hunt. Fun fact: Naturally dyed eggs camouflage very well in nature.

Not only did we get amazing color from both of the methods we used (this tutorial and this kit), but the eggs were cooked perfectly. We steam boiled the eggs for the kit dyeing and with the homemade dyes, we cooked the eggs in the dyes. Whether or not the eggs are cooked well matters greatly to us because most years, I hide the eggs, Wyatt hunts them, and then we all work together to make egg salad of them for lunch. The steam boiled eggs were easier to peel than the others, but whatever. Our lunch was scrumptious.

I still have no idea where I hid that one missing egg. But my memory lapse probably made a raccoon's Easter pretty happy.

E. Bunny made Wyatt's Easter pretty happy, too. ("E. Bunny" followed by a drawing of rabbit ears is how the Easter Bunny signs notes to Wyatt. Same at your house, too, right?) Easter was so happy, in fact, that Wyatt reported the butterflies in his stomach continued fluttering around for hours even after he had discovered his gifts. Wyatt received a pretty large (but hollow, because E. Bunny knows our limits) chocolate bunny. It was the "best breakfast dessert ever." Wyatt also received a huge box of colored pencils and a sketchbook, just like he had been requesting for months. If the number of new drawings around the house are any indication, there's nothing like beautiful new art supplies to inspire creativity.

After spending Monday morning on housework (because spring break continues this week!) we headed downtown to check out the Diane Arbus and Matisse/Diebenkorn exhibitions at SFMOMA. Wyatt opted to leave his camera at home and bring his sketchbook and colored pencils instead. He requested that our first stop be at Richard Serra's sculpture, Sequence. We walked through it, and then he sat and drew (for just shy of two minutes) what he had experienced.

Once in the Matisse/Diebenkorn exhibition (which was crowded), we looked at the various paintings and discussed similarities and differences we saw in the artists' works. We also noticed a woman sitting awkwardly, perched on the corner of a bench full of people. She was fully engrossed in sketching a Matisse using two colored pencils, one in each of her hands. After watching her for a few moments, we walked on, and we talked about how amazing her drawing was. About mid-way through the exhibit, Wyatt suddenly stopped and scooted himself into a little spot on a corner of a different bench full of people. While I juggled the trays of pencils, he began selecting colored pencils that would match Richard Diebenkorn's Ocean Park #6. He then sketched for about ten minutes, totally oblivious to everything else that was going on.

When Wyatt was done, he declared he was starving, and we had to hustle through the rest of the exhibition in search of the cafe.

How better to top off magical artistic moments than by sharing a flourless chocolate cake at a table adorned with an orchid? Well, one way would be by having your very own flourless chocolate cake at that same pretty table. Regardless, shame on me for waffling on whether to renew our SFMOMA membership next month. Of course we will.

Spring Color

In honor of (the first of two weeks of) Spring Break, and in recognition of the fact that I have less than a week left to finish what feels like endless clearing out, this is a short post about three things.

First, we have reached another level in volunteering. That's right, there's at least one level beyond getting a t-shirt. Wyatt and I were invited to join the small crew of people who work in the Secret Garden. I think I'm permitted to tell you that we went, we weeded, and we found ourselves thoroughly charmed. But the rest? It's a secret.

Second, we have found a new vegetable to love: ramps (also known as wild leeks). In the past, I mostly avoided them because the annual hype surrounding them made me suspicious. What a mistake. I have really been missing out. We made David Lebovitz's Bear's Garlic (or Ramps) Pesto this weekend, and it was incredible. We had it on pasta, with a simple green salad, and Wyatt and I had bratwurst with ours. Why bratwurst? The butcher swore it was "the perfect sausage to go with ramps pesto." He was right. Also? I love that he offered such a strong, specific (and correct) opinion on this particular food combination. Next stop is pickled ramps. (Any ramp pickle recipe suggestions? Please leave them in the comments.)

Third, it's time to dye some eggs again! This year, we have a two-part plan. We will be using this kit. Believe it or not, I not only have but have also located the replacement kit the company sent me last year after I groused nicely in an email about how some of the color didn't work as well as in years past. We will also be following this tutorial, written by two of my favorite experts, Samin Nosrat and Kristine Vejar. If these two women say that we can get delicious and beautiful eggs by simultaneously cooking and naturally dyeing them, we must try. Better yet, we must do. Want to play, too? I'll post photos of our process on Instagram. 

Inspired By

Happy Valentine's Day from this little mouse (and me).

My inspiration levels have not been overflowing lately. Shocking, I know. I have had only just enough spark to take someone else's work and riff on it.

This hat is a good example. I loved Bristol Ivy's Peace de Resistance Mittens pattern, but I hardly ever wear mittens. Hats, on the other hand, I wear all the time. So, I turned the mitten pattern into a hat.

I finished the hat on Sunday, and I have posted my project notes on Ravelry in case you would also like to make a hat like this one. I like mine so much I almost slept in it Sunday night.

I then turned to knitting a gift for Wyatt for Valentine's Day. For the last two years, I have knitted him a little Valentine's present. The first year was a red heart pillow (that I scented with lavender flowers and is now worn and pilled from love) and the second year was a bouquet of lavender flowers (that sit on his nightstand).

Last week, Wyatt reminded me that Valentine's Day was coming and asked if I had already started working on his present. (I do love how there is no chance my child will wait and wonder whether I will meet his expectation for a present. I mean, why hope quietly, count on mind reading, and risk disappointment when you can SPECIFICALLY ASK?) I hadn't, so I looked through Hansi Singh's book of Amigurumi Knits, and I opted to make him a banana slug, inspired by the snail in her book, the endless amount of rain we have been getting this winter, and my lack of lovely yarn for a shell. But, the problem was three-quarters of the way through the body, the slug looked a lot like a gangrenous-colored peen warmer (as my friend Sarah correctly observed).

So Monday afternoon, I bought the pattern I had found last week before I talked myself into making that stripped-down snail. I knitted furiously from when Wyatt went to bed until the wee hours of Valentine's Day morning, knitting, embroidering, and assembling a Valentine's Mouse. The mouse is adorable, and way more time-consuming than I had anticipated.

And for dinner? Inspiration has been lagging a bit there, too. We had lots of soup last week. But this Saturday, after another afternoon volunteering at the Presidio Nursery (weeding this week!), I tried making Cabbage Pad Thai for the first time. I know, I know. The rallying cries of "Zucchini noodles!" or "Cauliflower rice!" followed by, "You won't even notice the difference!" is utter nonsense. Of COURSE you will notice a difference. If you don't, you're not paying enough attention to your food. The question should be whether you like the substitution, not whether there's a difference. Sometimes I like the swap, and sometimes I don't. Same goes for Wyatt. He actually scowled when I said it was Pad Thai made with cabbage, and said, "WHAT? NO NOODLES?" And he wasn't wrong--we all really do love cabbage in many forms, but cabbage is not noodles. So I made the recipe as written but added a two bricks of brown rice noodles I had just pre-cooked (mixed them in with the cabbage at the end). We also added a sprinkle of mung bean sprouts, too. We had just enough for the three of us for dinner.

Plunging into 2017

Happy New Year, team. I feel like 2017 will demand, among other things, my being alert and perpetually in an athletic stance. Good thing I love my sneakers.

And good thing we ate lots of black-eyed peas for New Year's Day. We can use all the luck we can get. Wyatt and I also ate bacon, because when you get right down to it, I'm a belt-and-suspenders type of person (who also likes bacon).

There's a lot to be said for starting the new year off with Conscious Intention and Healthy New Habits. If you pulled that off, good for you. We went the contrarian route. After sleeping in, Wyatt and I headed straight into the kitchen to try our hand at a new recipe for us: homemade Accara (West African black-eyed pea fritters) and Sosu Kaani sauce. I had made the sauce the day before, so it was fritter time. Wyatt was very helpful at removing all the skins from the black-eyed peas as we were preparing the batter. I am such a novice at deep-frying, but I did my best. And while the fritters were not as pretty as the ones Marc and I ate when we were in Accra, they tasted great.

After breakfast, I made a double-batch of Chocolate Zucchini Muffins to take to our friends' house for their New Year's open house. We spent part of the afternoon catching up with old friends and meeting new ones.

Once home again, I made my annual batch of Black-Eyed Pea Soup, this year I cooked the peas myself (so much tastier) and also added shredded kale leaves. We ate the soup with our new favorite Gluten-Free Sourdough Bread from the recipe in My Darling Lemon Thyme (sourdough starter generously gifted to me by Maja), and cheese, too, of course.

And while 2016 was a stinker of a year on so many levels, we closed it out really well around here. We had early Christmas fun and adventures with my parents, and then spent Christmas Day with dear friends who shared all kinds of amazing, delicious, and entertaining traditions with us. We also feel we won the Yankee Swap/White Elephant Gift Exchange.

Last week, we played tourists in our own city, and took a visit to Coit Tower and North Beach. The murals and view are breathtaking.

We then got shockingly good last-minute tickets to the matinee of Cirque du Soleil's New Year's Eve performance of Luzia. The show was fabulous. Neither Wyatt nor I had ever been to a Cirque du Soleil show, but Marc had been to several. I was so inspired by the athleticism and strength of all the performers, and I was sure Wyatt must have been, too, so I asked him, "Which of the performers would you have been?" He answered, "Remember the guy that was dressed as a cactus and wore the goggles for part of the time? Him." I pushed a little harder, "Not the super strong lifeguard guy? Or the trapeze artist? Or the birds flying through the hoops?" He responded firmly, "No. The cactus guy. With the goggles."

My friend, Sara, shared the following photos of the performance with me. I was too busy being awed to take any. Believe it or not, she didn't get a photo of the cactus-in-goggles. Go figure.

And after the show? We went to a NEW YEAR'S EVE DINNER PARTY. All three of us! I know. Amazing. And we ate dinner, hung out, toasted with champagne and were home by 8:30pm. It was basically perfection.

I wish everyone fortitude as we find our new and improved grooves and move into January. And before I forget, if you eat chicken, you need to drop everything and go make this recipe for Vietnamese Lemongrass Chicken. Make it today, because it needs a day to marinate, and you don't want to wait even one day longer than you have to before eating this. It's one of the best things I have ever cooked, and Wyatt agrees.

Christmas Traditions

It has been nearly two whole days since anyone in our house has been suffering from some kind of illness! And hooray for health on Christmas Day, for lots of reasons, including breakfast.

We don't have a lot of Christmas traditions at our house, and the ones we do have are a little bit younger than Wyatt. But they are good.

One tradition is having latkes on Christmas Eve. I make them every year, and every year, I tell Wyatt about staying up into the wee-hours of the morning with Auntie Debbie, one of my best friends in the whole world, making what might have been hundreds of latkes for her Chanukah party. The fun we had cooking the latkes far outweighed the work (but maybe not the olive oil required). This year, I followed Smitten Kitchen's recipe, including suggested improvements. I subbed potato starch for flour, and I used the truly ingenious suggestion to use cheese cloth to squeeze the moisture out of the potatoes and onion. Wyatt, who became quite capable with the spatula, cooked more than half of the latkes this year.

Another tradition is having "Whatever We Want" for Christmas breakfast. This year, Wyatt knew he wanted ice cream but couldn't decide which flavor, and that meant that we couldn't decide on cookies, pie, or anything else to go with it. We remained stuck until last Wednesday, when we visited Toy Boat Dessert Cafe with dear friends who are moving away (sniff!). I ordered peppermint stick ice cream, and after Wyatt tried it, he announced, "NO FAIR. That's so much better than my mint chip." Suddenly, the choice for Christmas breakfast ice cream was clear. When cheesecake came up for some (divinely inspired) reason on Thursday, our menu was suddenly set.

I used David Lebovitz's recipe for vanilla ice cream (but omitted the vanilla extract and just removed the halved vanilla bean after 30 minutes). Thanks to the recommendation of my trainer, Doug (who's a force in the gym and in the kitchen), we made the ice cream peppermint stick flavor by adding 1/2 teaspoon of peppermint extract just before freezing, and by mixing in about 7 full-sized, crushed candy canes once the ice cream was nearly frozen. Wyatt got to use a mallet to smash the candy canes to bits. He got the best job, obviously.

For the cheesecake, I used the Nourishing Tradition's recipe as a jumping-off point. I made the cream cheese. I also totally pushed my luck on the proportions of ingredients, forgot an egg white, and I had to use the Vitamix for the whole recipe (thanks to the Cusinart blade recall). Nevertheless, the cheesecake turned out to be the best I've made yet. I added the remaining smashed candy canes to the center just before serving to make it look more festive.

On Christmas morning, we started the ice cream maker, opened all the presents, lit the candles on the dinner table, and enjoyed every bite of our ice cream-in-cones-with-cheesecake.

This Best Breakfast Ever set us up for a very merry Christmas, indeed.

Warm Wishes

I wish you a splendid holiday season, full of love, kindness, and laughter.

And I hope you will enjoy a delicious Christmas breakfast of whatever you want. We're still working on our menu, and I'll be back next week with the full report.

Glitter Glue for Refugees

People, look east. The time is near
Of the crowning of the year.
Make your house fair as you are able,
Trim the hearth and set the table.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the guest, is on the way.

So goes the first verse of the Christmas carol, "People, Look East," by Eleanor Farjeon. According to my research, Ms. Farjeon wrote this piece in 1928. Even though I have a lot of Christmases under my belt (many of them church Christmases, even), I don't remember hearing this particular carol before. This year, though, it's Wyatt's theme song, and he sings it under his breath, or at full volume, off and on most of the day. Occasionally, he also belts-out some bastardization of "Jingle Bells," or imitates that classically grating Christmas song by Alvin and the Chipmunks about one of them wanting a hula hoop.

Usually, this time of year, our friend Suzanne emails us and others of her friends and customers to say when she and her business partner, Peter, will be collecting clothing, blankets, and other goods for homeless people around San Francisco. We always bring over what we can, and we relish our visit at their custom shoe making shop. Last year, we saw Peter's diorama of Bethlehem, made from leather scraps, found objects, glue, and glow-in-the-dark paint. We also met Joe, a photographer in the neighborhood. Joe, after learning I'm a knitter, gave me a glass head he wasn't using anymore. The head is the perfect size for hats, looks great on a bookshelf, and it allows me to scrutinize my designs from all angles. We see Joe frequently around town, often walking his beautiful dog. We also got to visit him during Open Studios this year, and now we own two of his wonderful prints.

Suzanne's holiday giving email arrived the other day. This year, because of the looming Trump administration, she has shifted her focus slightly. She has volunteered through the International Rescue Committee to sponsor a refugee family who will arrive in the Bay Area later this month. The family will likely be from Afghanistan, Iraq, or Syria. She invited all of us to participate in supporting the family; we are awfully excited to help.

Furrows, be glad. Though earth is bare,
One more seed is planted there:
Give up your strength the seed to nourish,
That in course the flower may flourish.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the rose, is on the way.

"Wyatt. Remember the last couple of years when we dropped off blankets and toothbrushes for homeless people at Suzanne and Peter's? This year, we're dropping off gift cards and probably some toys or maybe art supplies for children. There's a family that's moving here from very far away. And they have almost nothing with them!"

"Are they homeless? Why don't they have anything with them?"

"I suppose they are homeless. They had to leave their home, and they've been traveling a lot, waiting to find out where they will live next and have a home for good. They're going to come to the United States and they'll fly here in a couple of weeks. They'll need to buy everything—clothes, pots, pans, silverware, plates, toilet paper—everything. So we're going to go to Target next week to get them a gift card so they can buy things they need, and we'll also get some presents for the kids. We can look for presents for the kids after you visit Santa today."

"But how old are the kids? How do we know what they like? Maybe we can get them a gift card, too, so they can choose toys."

"We could, but I was thinking that if we found good stuff, we should just get it for them. When grown-ups go shopping and need all sorts of really practical things for the family, like toilet paper, towels, clothes, and a rice cooker, there might not be enough money left over for toys."

"Mmmm. You're right. Should we get them art supplies? I think they definitely need glitter glue."

 Stars, keep the watch. When night is dim
One more light the bowl shall brim,
Shining beyond the frosty weather,
Bright as sun and moon together.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the star, is on the way.

This Saturday, it was pouring rain, and Santa was scheduled to be at Just For Fun on 24th Street for a couple of hours. Wyatt has met Santa there every year for the past three years, and unlike at other stores, Santa looks exactly the same year after year. Right beard, right suit AND same face.

Because we are loathe to mess with tradition or perfection, Marc, Wyatt and I put on our full rain gear and slip-slopped in puddles and rain up to the shop. Along the way, we cleared storm drains that were clogged with leaves and litter, and Wyatt identified all the olive and ginkgo trees without any help from me.

Thanks to the rain, there was no line for Santa. Wyatt stepped right up, made his request, and then we set about our remaining task: choosing gifts for the children who are moving from so very far away. Fortunately, Just For Fun had glitter glue, scotch tape, and more. Even better, everything we bought fits into a tidy box with a snap-on lid. As Wyatt remarked, "They need a box, too. You can't just leave your art supplies lying around, you know."

Thanksgiving Trivets (or Don't Make Everything Yourself)

As I basked in the afterglow of Thanksgiving this year, I thought back to last year and the 10-Hour Vegetarian Pot Pie (otherwise known as the Worst Thanksgiving Food Ever To Grace Our Table). This year's Thanksgiving couldn't have been more delicious, wonderful, or more different from any Thanksgiving Marc, Wyatt and I have had as a family. We were three out of sixteen guests at my cousins' home. Many of the guests were my relatives, but some were not, and all of them were interesting, kind, funny and great eaters. I loved eating the things I'm not good at cooking, including turkey, dressing, gravy, and pecan pie. I also loved eating the foods I thought I was really good at cooking, like mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, because, as it turns out, mine are not as good as theirs. I've never been so glad we brought bottles of wine, and I have already written a thank you note to our hosts. With any luck, we will become part of their Thanksgiving tradition for ever and ever amen.

Just like at the family reunion this year, I have no photos of our dinner or brunch gatherings. But I did get some photos of Patrick Amiot's outstanding junk art near the house where we stayed overnight. Marc also got some after dark.

One Thanksgiving lesson I'm taking with me as we launch headlong into the holiday season is: There's no reason for me to make (or do) everything myself. For example, other peoples' food might be better, it is more fun to do things with friends, and it's easy to improve on holiday traditions if we all bring more joy into the celebration.

This lesson applies equally to making gifts. Don't get me wrong—I love homemade gifts and I love making them for special people who will treasure them. But some handmade gifts are worth making myself, and some handmade gifts are worth buying. One item that is definitely worth buying is this beautiful trivet from Vilt Van Ver (Dutch for "Felt From Far"). You can purchase trivets, coasters, and other products from various retailers, including this one.  Vilt Van Ver's products are stunning, totally handmade, sustainable, and fair trade certified. The trivets are only $39, which is a screaming deal. How do I know? Keep reading.

When Wyatt and I went to the Museum of Craft and Design in August, I spotted a stack of Vilt Van Ver trivets in the (amazing) gift shop. Each was $40, and as Wyatt and I looked at one, we discussed the felted garland Benjamin had made for Wyatt, and we said, "We could TOTALLY make this." I also recall naively thinking that $40 was kind of steep for a felted-ball-trivet. (It isn't. Forty bucks is a steal.) So I took a photo of the trivet on the shelf, and we went home where I did some research about making felt balls. I also checked the Vilt Van Ver website for details, like dimensions and number of balls required. After learning each trivet requires 100 felt balls, I inexplicably decided we'd make two trivets, one for each of Wyatt's kindergarten teachers. After all, it was only August, and how long could 200 felt balls take? Ha.

We bought our first eight ounces of wool roving (for $40, or the retail price of a trivet, for anyone who's keeping track), and I figured out through trial and error that each ball would require two grams of roving. From there, a little math showed one trivet would require almost this entire eight-ounce bag of roving. So, I knew that eventually, we'd need more wool. I also started to wonder if the project would get the better of us. Each ball was taking about 15 minutes to felt. But I got faster. After about a zillion balls, I could hand-felt one two-gram ball of wool in about three-and-a-half minutes. Wyatt required about 30 minutes per ball; he was down to about 15 minutes by the bazillionth ball.

We bought eight more ounces of multi-colored wool roving (from a different retailer, this time for $20) about a month later. Most days through September and October, we rolled a few balls and then set them in a sunny window to dry. We made felt balls inside the house and out in the garden. Whenever there was a spare moment or couple of hours, we were felting balls. Fun fact: Even when a felt ball feels dry on the outside, it is still not dry! Mold dulled our earliest, vibrant, woolly balls, all because I left them together in a bowl, on top of each other, for a few days after they seemed dry. We soon started leaving the balls in one layer in a giant glass baking dishes because NOBODY wants moldy balls.

Once all the balls were made, we rejoiced for a week with the following call and response: "Guess what we don't have to do today?" "MAKE FELTED BALLS!" Even better, the cracks in my hands from all the felting in hot water and dish soap finally began to heal.

To make the trivets, we sorted the balls by color, and then strung each ball, one by one, onto upholstery thread, ten balls per thread. I then assembled the twenty strings of ten balls into two trivets. I pulled all the strings tight, had to restring a few, and I used a needle-felting tool to hide the knots on the ends of each of the strings.

The trivets turned out well. They are imperfectly beautiful, because even after felting so many balls, only the occasional ball turned out perfectly spherical and wrinkle-free. Wyatt's were often better than mine, but as grown woman with a sense of time and my own mortality, there was no way I was spending 30 minutes (or even 15 minutes) per ball.

We finished ahead of schedule, completing the trivets before Thanksgiving. The balls did not beat us, but it's only because I stubbornly refused to let them win. I am happy we completed the project. We made great gifts, and Wyatt and I experienced thanks to hours (and hours) of our own work and shriveled fingers, the value of skilled artisans who make beautiful things. Basically, Velt Van Ver deserves our business.

We decided to give the teachers their trivets on the Friday before Thanksgiving break. One reason for giving the gifts early was so that they could enjoy the trivets now and through the holiday season. Our other reasons are much less laudable, involving ego and pride. Making trivets out of 200 hand-felted balls was a bonkers (and enormous) undertaking. Those trivets (and we) needed our own day of gift-giving to shine.

How To Make A Paper Lantern

It's Thanksgiving week! In addition to pressing civic matters,* there are feasts to cook, family and friends to see, and centerpieces to make. If, like me, you're more of a just-in-time holiday decorator, these paper lanterns are perfect because there's still plenty of time to finish one, or even some, before Thursday.

And before you offer some excuse about not being "crafty enough," or being "too busy," let me assure you that this is a straightforward craft that requires very little time or particular skill, and yet it still provides a huge visual impact, especially after dusk. It would brighten your Thanksgiving hosts' table or your own.

I learned how to make these lanterns at the Parent Craft Circle at Wyatt's school last Wednesday. By Thursday, Wyatt and I had already made two more lanterns.  I love learning new things from inspiring people. Yoriko, the handwork teacher at Wyatt's school who facilitates the Craft Circle, is not only inspiring, she's infinitely knowledgeable, patient, clear, and she's one of those incredible listeners who hears not only the words you say, but also the words you choose not to say, and she responds with a rare depth of sensitivity and clarity. As you might imagine, Craft Circle with Yoriko is pretty terrific.

When I told Yoriko I was planning to write this how-to blog post for lanterns, she was enthusiastic about my spreading the lantern love, and she even sent me additional photos. Here is a photo of her own glowing lanterns (at least one of the lanterns is several years old, and when it is not lantern season, she unfolds it and stores it in her bookcase—how great is that?), as well as some of our paintings from the Craft Circle.

How To Make A Paper Lantern

Gather Your Supplies:

• Watercolor paper that's at least 15" on its shortest side (a 15" square yields a lantern that is approx. 6" from point to point; a 19" square yields a lantern that is approx. 8" from point to point).
• Watercolors
• Brushes
• Jar (or cup) with water for rinsing brushes
• Scissors
• Neutral cooking oil
• LED votive candle (a real votive is a real fire hazard in a paper lantern).

Make Your Painting:

Cut your watercolor paper into a square. (If you have a long rectangle left, like we did, you can paint the rectangle, too. Once dry, you can cut it into pieces to use as gift cards.)

Create a wet-in-wet watercolor painting. An easy way to paint wet-in-wet is to put your square of paper in a basin if you have one large enough, or in the bathtub or shower if you don't. As you paint with watercolors on the wet paper, the pigments will spread, bloom, and blend fluidly. The center of the painting will be the center of the lantern; don't bother trying to paint figures or anything in particular. Abstract clouds of color work well for this project.

Even very small children can participate in this part of the project—just choose colors that when they blend, you get a beautiful result (try red and yellow, or red and blue).

Let the painting dry.

Oil Your Painting:

Take a neutral cooking oil (like canola or some other vegetable oil) and with a paper towel or a rag, apply a thin layer of oil to the painted or unpainted side of the paper. The oil helps the paper to become translucent, and it also makes the paper easier to fold. We applied the oil twice, and after the second coat, the paper was translucent.

Wait to begin folding until the oil has soaked in and the paper feels dry.

Fold Your Lantern:

Most of the following steps are to create an octagon with guide-folds. The lantern itself takes shape in the last three steps. Yoriko explained that the folding of the lantern is a project that is best for about seventh grade level or above. I let Wyatt participate in the folding by having him crease the folds I made.

While your painting dries, you may want to practice folding the lantern by using a regular old 8.5" x 11" piece of paper that you turn into a 8.5" x 8.5" square. You'll have your technique perfected by the time your painting is ready to go.

Make the Octagon:

Fold the square along the diagonal:

Fold the triangle in half, point-to-point:

Unfold the paper—you will have four triangles.

Fold the square in half to make a rectangle:

Fold the rectangle in half to make a square:

Unfold the paper—you will have 8 triangular sections radiating from the center of the paper.

You need 16 triangular sections, so fold your square along one of the guide-folds to make a rectangle. Notice the triangles. Take the outside edge of a triangle, line it up with the next fold, and make a crease. Fold that bisected triangle towards the back. Repeat from the edge with the next triangle.

Open the paper—you will have 16 triangular sections radiating from the center of the paper:

Fold the paper along one of the guide-folds so that the four corners of the square stick out like this:

Take your scissors and cut-off the triangles that are sticking-out. You may want to fold the triangles first so you have a guide-fold to cut.

You now have an octagon.

Fold the octagon into a square:

Open up the folds, turn the paper 45 degrees, and fold another square like the one you just did. Open the flaps.

Fold the Lantern:

Look at the painted side of your paper, and find a "kite-shape." Fold the paper along the guide-folds you created so that you're tucking-in the edges around each of the kite shapes:

You'll end up with stack of 8 "kites":

Is this step hard to follow? You can check out a no-frills video of it here. Fold the top triangle of each of the 8 "kites" down:

Gently begin to open up your lantern. Smush the bottom so that it flattens out and the lantern can sit level. Add light and you're done!

There are lots of different ways to make this type of lantern, including according to this tutorial. Check it out and see which way makes the most sense to you.

* This week, I am calling my representatives to remind them, once again, how unacceptable I find the President Elect's appointment of racists and bigots; I am participating in Senator Paul Ryan's telephone survey to register my support for the imperfect-yet-necessary Affordable Care Act (Call (202) 225-0600, press 2 to weigh-in on the issue, listen to a couple of paragraphs of partisan commentary about the ACA, press 1 in support of the ACA, and leave a voicemail if you want); and I am gathering with some friends to plan how we will get more involved in our communities.