Jodi

Feel the Burn

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments

I had kind of an involved, downer of a post for tonight, about the lengths we’ll go to as a nation to avoid sacrifice or discomfort. There is virtue to be found in a some self-sacrifice, a little pain, and I may yet write that post — but as a light-hearted lead-in perhaps, tonight I share these:

There is a chance tonight (however slight) for frost, and a chance tomorrow (however slight) that I may do some fall cleaning around the yard, deck and shed. So I went out to the pepper pots tonight and plucked countless ripe (pictured) and ripening chiles.

Smoky yellow habaneros, plump green jalapenos, cayennes like lean red flames and serranos like green firecrackers, some turning red. Beautiful aren’t they?

I’ve done a little digging online to find a way, better than freezing and short of canning, to preserve them more or less intact. I’ve seen some interesting ideas involving vinegar and olive oil — but if you have suggestions, do share! (I also have a recipe for jalapeno chili vodka that I may have to try.)

The kids were amazed that the jalapenos are the mildest of the bunch — and that the habs are as much as 60 times hotter, chemically speaking. Why grow ’em? The sweet, smoky taste they impart is critical to a good batch of Old Lamplighter.*

See what I mean? Good things come from a little pain and suffering.

* * * * *

*Old Lamplighter is my best hot chili recipe. Permission to brag: It actually won a chili contest at my old job: took Best Overall and tied for Best Heat. (Of course, there was some controversy because the contest was my idea — but the ballots were cast secretly and verified independently.) I make thick, mild stuff for the little kids — Good Dog Chili-Dog Chili. Bren and Jodi mix ’em to get the temp just right for them …

Summer Vacation, Day 87: Sicko!

/ J. Thorp / 5 Comments

I’m sticking my neck out a bit in hopes that Jodi and I aren’t alone in what happened to us today. Actually, today was all my fault. Allow me to explain …

We took the older boys to tai chi class, then all of us (the entire family, including Betsy), went to Como Zoo in St. Paul. It was hot, but we were drinking lots of water, and there was a nice breeze blowing. No worries, right?

Now, our kids are generally gung-ho for a visit to a park, a zoo, a mall, you name it – at least until we get there. The enthusiasm generally wanes after a little while of walking, and they start to complain they are tired, hungry, bored, etc.

So as we’re going through the butterfly garden (slow going in “bumper-to-bumper” pedestrian traffic), Gabe keeps crouching down in the path, sitting down, flopping around in front of people. And I’m getting after him about it, because I figure he’s getting lazy and grumpy and now is not the time.

Finally he basically sits on by foot, and I give him a light kick in the butt and say, “Gabe! Keep moving!”

Jodi puts her arm around him and asks if he’s feeling alright.

“He’s fine,” I growl.

We’re headed back to the car, but Jodi, Emma and Trevor need the rest room. Bren, Gabe and I decide to walk the little rainforest loop near the entrance. Halfway through, Gabe says, “Dad, I need to get out of here.” I look, and he’s pale as a milk jug – even his lips are white. We rush him out, sit him down, and give him sips of water. Jodi asks if he’s gonna be sick. He thinks a moment, then looks at me and says, “I need to get to the bathroom …”

We made it about halfway. I was trying to steer his through the crowd and keep my cupped hands in front of him. When he erupted, those big ol’ hands successfully made the mess twice as bad by keeping it close to us. Gabe’s shirt, shorts and shoes; my hands, forearms, and shoes. Once bystanders realized what was happening, the sea of people parted, and we made it to the bathroom … just in time to clean up.

There is no worse feeling in the world than to blame your child for something they didn’t do, except maybe to not recognize there’s something genuinely wrong until it’s too late. Combine the two, and it’s miserable. I apologized to Gabe. He thinks puking on me was pretty good revenge.

Summer Vacation, Day 83: Trevor’s Name

/ J. Thorp / 2 Comments

I had no topic in mind this evening, so I asked Trevor what I should blog about. He suggested I write about his name. So, here goes …

Our youngest is named Trevor Christian Thorp. Trevor was an Irish/Welsh name we both liked; in addition, it has good denotations: industrious and prudent. It apparently can also mean “great settlement.”

All of our kids have middle names of family significance – Brendan’s is “James,” after me; Gabriel’s is “Venjohn,” which is Jodi’s nearly unique maiden name; and Emma’s is “Rose,” after my dad’s beautiful mother who died when he was young. With Trevor, we struggled – the male family names to choose from were Kenneth, Daryl, Frank, Duane, Arnold and Firman. (I made a brief, half-serious, and ultimately unsuccessful bid for Bruno, which, along with Brownie, was my Polish great-grandfather’s nickname in America. His real name, Bronsilaw (BRO-nee-swaff), means “armor or weapon of glory; glorious protector” …) So we went with something that spoke to the values and faith of both our families – Christian.

And Thorp is, well, Thorp – meaning “small village or hamlet” in Middle English. Appropriate enough for small-town folk like us – and an interesting contrast to the alternative meaning of Trevor.

There you go, Trevvy! Brendan James, Gabriel Venjohn, Emma Rose and Trevor Christian – that’ll do, I guess …

Summer Vacation, Day 68: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (Belated)

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

On Monday, Emma got sick to her stomach, Gabe got stung by a wasp twice in the neck, I wrote several more pages of a novel, Brendan battled his cousins on the Wii, and Trevor approached Jodi out of the blue to admit, “Mommy? Sometimes I don’t listen to you …”

We still don’t know for sure what that was about.

Headed to Mom and Dad’s today to see the horses, mules and longhorns, then from there to the lake and campground. Probably won’t blog again ’til Thursday at the earliest. Take care out there.

Summer Vacation, Day 53: Good Housekeeping?

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments

Is it a bad sign when the living rooms are just picked up enough that they don’t look like bedrooms, when the bedrooms are just picked up enough that you can make out a trail from bed to the closet to the door, when kitchen is just clean enough that you’d consider crossing the floor barefoot, and when the bathrooms have no standing water – and the children are gushing about how great the house looks?

We’ve worked all weekend, and it still feels like an uphill battle to Jodi and me. Meanwhile, Brendan is declaring victory: “Now all we gotta do is keep it this way!”