Party in a Bowl

Five or so years ago, we attended a ward potluck. These were the happy days before I'd witnessed the kitchens on Hoarders: Buried Alive. Consuming food with unknown origins now induces mild to moderate anxiety. Maybe leaving a potluck with an empty stomach sounds stupid and prissy, but I guarantee I've ingested less pet hair.

Anyway, after spooning a colorful salsa on my plate, I took a bite and almost choked with delight. It was so fresh, the flavor so pleasant and complex....It was like a tiny Mexican angel had landed in my mouth and created a miracle. But my ecstasy ended in heartbreak: when I rushed back for seconds, the glass bowl was empty...I could deal with not having seconds, but a future without this salsa? Unbearable. I had to find the maiden to which this glass bowl belonged.

Fortunately, shameless, creepy gluttons tend to get to the bottom of these matters quickly. My good friend Anna had actually made the salsa and gladly shared the recipe (just an aside - recipes are made to be shared. If you are one of those withholders out there who wants to be the only one able to make your top secret, extra-special blah blah blah....stop being cray and just share, please).

When a recipe is both healthy and delicious, it gets put on repeat around here. We make this salsa probably once every couple of weeks in the summertime, and everyone loves it. It is great plain or with chips, and makes an excellent side dish. Everything in it is good for you, which makes it easy to enjoy responsibly. 

I think out West, they call similar dishes "Cowboy (or Texas) Caviar," but after its ultra-warm reception, Anna dubbed it "Hit of the Party Salsa". Hope you love it as much as we do!

Hit of the Party Salsa

4-5 tomatoes, seeded and diced
5 green onions, diced (we just wash and snip them straight in)
1 can corn, drained
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 handful of cilantro, chopped
1 avocado, cubed
The juice of 1 lime
Garlic Salt to taste (but don't be shy!)

Combine all ingredients, adding the last three in order. Stir together and enjoy!

Getting Good

This past Winter was tough. It was as if Hell actually had frozen over, and we happened to live there. We'd had many detailed discussions about the different seasons with Asher, then Mother Nature sent snow in mid-April and made us look like big liars. Our little condo had long lost its luster for these active boys, so as soon as it hit 50 degrees, we took to the streets. Here are some pictures I snapped last month of our driveway shenanigans.  

 Asher oscillates between dressing as Jake the pirate and Superman. This was a Jake day, complete with plastic sword shoved down his pants.

Master P is getting a reputation for his mean stink faces. I worry about his future social life. When he actually smiles at a stranger it's like....wait. He's never smiled at a stranger. Anyway, don't let his little permascowl fool you - he loved his first cozy coupe experience! 

But taking turns is hard.

Asher and Dad broke out the t-ball set...

 But soon gave it up in favor of a little slow pitch.

 Making contact

Asher has actually begun hitting really well, and we are excited for him to be old enough to play coach pitch softball. Looking forward to that chapter of parenting when your kids play and perform while you watch on with deep pride (or perhaps deep embarrassment). 

Life is really getting good.

The Library: A Beguiling Farce

The library seems like a perfect place to take kids. The walls of colorfully illustrated books, train tables, puppet theater and children’s computers give you a thrill of excitement as you set out to explore with your little ones. You envision peaceful moments tucked away in some quiet nook, your child cuddled close on your lap, reading last year’s Caldecott Award winner and suppressing soft giggles.

You might discover, however, "booking it" means something entirely different to your child. Depending on their age and disposition, he or she may look past the puppet theater in favor of the long, open aisles. They will be faster than you, and you’ll find yourself hoping they trip and fall so you have a prayer of catching them. When you finally wrangle them onto your lap in an overstuffed armchair, insistent upon enriching their minds, they’ll writhe and wriggle like a fish on a hook, then tear the borrowed book as they break free. They’ll push another child as they run from you, then scream, flail, and finally go boneless as you drag them away. 

Your older child will whine about your abrupt departure, and drag their feet. As you round a corner ahead of them, they'll start panicking, believing you have finally made good on the "Okay, see ya later!" exit threat you've used too many times before. Now with two children crying, you make it to the door and in your haste, hit the handicap button with your elbow. Bad move. The children erupt with fresh wails: "BUT I WANTED TO PUSH THE BUTTON!!!!" 

You make it to the car and find children strapped to chairs never felt so right. Taking a deep breath, you think of all the alcoholic mothers out there and for a moment, completely understand. 

It all might not be such a crushing experience if it wasn't your primary goal of every day to teach these kids how to be good. Subtle signs indicate you are failing. But they'll get bigger, you'll keep trying, and they'll learn in time. At least, that's what you tell yourself. One of these days, we will check out books without contemplating checking in to an institution.

You win again this time, library. But - and don't ask me why - we'll be back.