family

Rose Is Rose

/ J. Thorp / 2 Comments

If you look at the list of blog tags to the right (and down), you’ll see that “Rose” appears only about half as much as “Bren,” “Gabe,” or “Trev.” A number of factors contribute to this discrepancy, including the fact that Brendan and Gabe are both older and have thus had more opportunity to do blogworthy stuff; the Trevor was more recently a toddler and preschooler and thus was more prone to do cute kid stuff than any of the older kids; and that the boys spend more time with me than Emma does. She and Jodi get more one-on-one time by virtue of shared interests, etc.

One thing that hasn’t been a factor, because it simply isn’t true, is that Emma’s not as cute or funny or bloggable as our male children.

Case in point: today our girl-baby and I ran errands together. As we rolled into Elk River, she spotted Chipotle and hatched a plan: “Dad, why don’t we go to Chipotle and not. tell. anyone.“

“Emma!” I said in mock outrage. “That would be incredibly mean and selfish. Besides, I have to go home and make them supper tonight.”

“You have to make supper for them,” she persisted. “Nobody said anything about us.”

“No, Emma, I’m sorry — we can’t go to Chipotle.”

“Oooh! then how ’bout Pizza Hut? I want to toast a tortilla, then wrap it around a slice of cheese pizza and eat it!”*

“If we stopped at either place, that would really toast Mom’s tortilla.”

Emma laughed and laughed. “Next time I get mad, that’s what I’m gonna say: ‘That really toasts my tortilla!'”

“You can do it with other stuff, too.” I said.

And so we did: “That really browns my burger.” “That really fries my bacon.” And so on.

“Toasts my tortilla” and “browns my burger” are Emma’s current faves. I love that girl. And even though I mentioned the other kids in this post, I’m not tagging it that way. She needs to gain some ground!

—–

*This, by the way, was later dubbed the cheese pizzadilla or the quesapizzadilla.

Greetings From the North Pole, Part VIII

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments

Blogger’s Note: Over Christmas 2003, we became annual pen-pals with an elf named Siberius Quill, and he has again delivered this year! Transcriptions of past letters from Quill can be seen here.

Christmas 2010

My dearest Children!

Another year flown by already—and as I sat down to write you this evening, the Keeper of the Birthday Calendar, Monitor Milestone, reminded me that not only do you have a Teenager in your midst, but also another child in Double Digits, as it were! We track such things carefully, because as you might guess, birthdays and other such Big Events are prime opportunities for Young Ones like yourselves to do good or ill. Happily, you all remain on the Good List again this year—believe me, not all my Families do so well!

But old Monty had a second purpose in mind with his reminder: while a decade is no time at all in the Life of an Elf, it is a Significant Step for the children of Big People and a boy’s role in the celebration of All Things Christmas. Why, it seems no time ago at all that I told Master Brendan he was of an age to take on New Responsibilities in that regard, and now Master Gabriel has joined him! As you’ve no doubt guessed, there are Things You Must Know and Thing You Must Do. In a quiet moment, talk to your Father, Master G.—he remembers his own Tenth Year well!

Master B., we’ve noticed the Shifts in your attention and interests this year from Play Things to stuff of a More Serious Nature. Though your house is not small, you are in Close Quarters with your siblings (at least one of whom is still Quite Small) so you cannot do or have everything you would like. Patience, Eldest! St. Nicholas knows your needs and has done something unusual this year—you will find somewhere in your gifts an opportunity to choose something a bit more Grown-Up. Use it wisely!

As for the lovely Emma Rose and young Master Trevor, it is a joy to watch you grow, in grace and wisdom, as well as stature. Miss Emma, your love of the Arts is apparent in all that you do! You might recall I previously mentioned our elfin Songmaster, Jovial Morales, who provides the music by which we elves do our work? His mother, Choral (who was a Longpiper before she married) has heard you with the Children’s Choir and (I hope you don’t mind!) singing about the house. For nearly a millennia she has conducted our church choir, so you can be sure she speaks the Truth: your voice is sweet and will only get sweeter. Madam Choral says keep practicing, and remember: When you sing, you Pray Twice!

As for you, Master T., as is typical for Boys Your Age (especially those with Big Brothers) you are always trying keep up. You’ll be happy with the gifts old Santa has prepared—but I urge you to Be Patient, as well. Enjoy being young, and do not rush into the games and toys of Older Kids!

Finally—and I will not dwell on Sadness, knowing you are reading this on Christmas Day, which, like no other day, must be a Time of Joy—we know of the loss your family suffered in November. Suffice it to say that our thoughts are with you. The Devout Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter have joined their prayers to yours, and I have it on good authority (theirs!) that your Dear One is in Good Hands! Master G., your idea of hanging a special stocking was a fine one, but Kris Kringle had a different idea. Each Christmas he will leave a Special Ornament to hang on your Family’s Tree, in remembrance. And this year, he has left Something Else, something from the Wood Shop—he thought it appropriate for your Back Yard, and requested Dorothea Gudwerds of the North Pole Library to track down a Special Poem by one of your Most Famous poets, Emily Dickinson (who, by her language, could have a touch of the fey and elfin in her own blood):

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune—without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Again I’ve run on and made Little Sense, it seems. But you see with the Wisdom of children—I’ve no doubt Some Sense will come of it. Travel safe, my young Friends, and a Very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Quill

Blogger’s Addendum: Bren’s opportunity for something a bit more grown-up was a gift card to Cabelas; he’s had is eye on a variety of hunting knives, as well as an UnderArmor hood/facemask. The special gift from the wood shop was a bird feeder. In the spring we intend to do some landscaping back there, including a fruit tree and statue.

The Second Third, Week 5: What’s Cookin’?

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments

Blogger’s Note: The whole idea behind these “Second Third” posts can be found here.

I like to cook because I like to eat. Even at an early age, I was somewhat particular about how things were made — for example, my dad taught be to put butter or margarine on a PB&J sandwich, because it makes the PB a little easier to swallow. To this day, one slice of bread gets a thin layer of butter, followed by a thick layer of crunchy peanut butter (none of that creamy nonsense), while the other gets plenty of jelly (strawberry preferably). The butter definitely helps ease the stickiness of the peanut butter, and the taste is exquisite (because it’s butter…naturally). I can eat three on an empty stomach, but Brendan insists one is plenty. Washed down with milk (or chocolate milk!) = heavenly!

The first thing I learned to cook for real was French toast, because I loved to eat it, and Mom didn’t want to make it. She showed me once. Once early on I made the mistake of cooking an entire batch using Dad’s rye bread (awful idea) — but otherwise, it’s only gotten better. Jim’s Casserole: noodles, sausage, cream of mushroom soup, cream corn, and as much shredded cheddar as you can melt. Old Lamplighter Chili: winner of work contests and bragging rights. I made Jodi a pineapple upside-down cake for her birthday. I used to even bake bread…from scratch.

In recent years, however, I’ve stagnated a bit…and while several of the foods described above aren’t particularly healthy-sounding, they are possibly better than the processed and preserved stuff we eat otherwise. In my Second Third, I intend for my garden to grow in size and scope. I hope to hunt and fish more, and more successfully. And I hope to take up and master new cooking activities. For example, Dad has given my two sourdough cookbooks. I love sourdough bread, and I’m intrigued by the living alchemy involved. Similarly, a friend of mine brews beer, and our first batch turned out pretty solid. Let’s do that!

But the biggest challenge — and a gift to both me and my wife — is posed by the two or three Asian cookbooks atop the pantry in the kitchen. Jodi and I love Thai and Chinese food, especially. If I can master a few key recipes — sesame chicken, drunken noodles, pork fried rice, Singapore noodles — I think our family would eat little else. Except maybe Jodi’s lasagna and mostaccioli. And breakfast burritos. Oh! and oven-fried chicken! And…

A Little Something…

/ J. Thorp / 10 Comments

jude
if life is a larger, later thing, what left this perfect
child-size hole? what nameless wonder wrought
such joy, such sorrow in so short a time, unseen?
tiny saint — a soul unstained by flesh and blood,
a heart too big for a bone cage — we feel your
flutter, little one, and rejoice to know a piece
of this love has found heaven.