Going Amish

I’m going Amish on Monday.

With National “Unplug Your TV” Week running from April 18-24, I’ve decided that we are going to pull the plug and see what happens. Or in my terms “Go Amish.”

I can say the Amish thing with good faith, as I grew up in a small Michigan town that had quite a large population. Luckily, no TV week is about as close as I will come to becoming Amish, other than wearing black and white a lot and baking my own bread.

It’s not that I think TV is evil or the demise of our civilization (although it could be). It’s more about the fact that I find it a bit embarrassing how much TV our family watches. Even more ridiculous is how much we watch in separate rooms.

I read something recently that said, “if you complain about not having enough time to do something, stop watching TV and now you have no excuses.” More than reclaiming my time, I want to reclaim my family’s attention. I want to spend evenings in leisurely conversation, to be able to look into each other’s faces, without the distraction of a screen, the noise of the Weather Channel or trying to cram a meaningful thought in between commercial breaks.

In my loftiest thought, I want to know deeply what’s on everyone’s hearts and how life’s going in their spirit. I’m sure that is a big goal and probably not accomplished in one week. But it’s a start. Maybe we’ll have great discussions, maybe we won’t. Perhaps we’ll simply watch one TV, but at least we'll be together.

Join me by hiding your remote control and flipping the breaker switch on your TV too. To find out more, visit http://unplugyourkids.com/turnoff-week/.

Also, if you want to be really scared about how much TV we watch, check out this video: http://www.mediaed.org/wp/mef-supports-screen-free-week.

Real Windows to the World

“Birds are awesome,” according to my 9 year-old son.

Lately we have become amateur ornithologists – or people that study birds. There is something wonderful about bird watching. It started off simple in our family. I thought it would be fun to fill a feeder and see what happened.

Once we started getting a few visitors, it was easy to become greedy and want more. We then added suet cakes – a square of bird food that you hang like a popsicle in a tree. Next we wanted to find fancier bird food to see if we could get more exotic and varied guests. Then we got really crazy and got a bird identification card, a bird call book and spending more and more time discussing what we saw each day.

What I love about bird watching is that it slows me down. As I pass by the window that looks over the feeder, I can’t help but stop and see who is visiting. Usually there are Chick-a-dees, Grey Tufted Titmouses, a red Cardinal – but sometimes golden and red-breasted Finches and on the very special days, a Woodpecker.

One day, I was watching from the kitchen and discovered a brilliant red-bellied woodpecker visiting our feeder. It was a cold and gray day, but his tuxedo speckled jacket, white breast and dashing red head were stunning. It took my breath away and I uttered “awesome” out loud. Upstairs my son was watching too and heard me and answered, “I know mom, it is awesome.”

In our go-go, zoom-zoom media-rich life, it was such a refreshing moment to know that there is still wonder in the world. To remember beyond life in the tiny screens, we can still be captivated by the simplicity of nature outside. We can still treasure the real windows to our world.

A Spring Haiku

If your life were a Haiku poem, what would it be?

You may remember that Haiku is a Japanese style poem that has 3 lines and the rhythm of 5 syllables, 7 syllables and then 5 again. For a person that loves to write long, flowery sentences, Haiku feels like the equivalent of naked writing.

What's cool about Haiku is how much you can say in a tiny bit of writing. It usually gives you a sensory surprise and a sweet picture of an experience -- like turning the corner and pow!

My writing life has been "dry" lately --- so the idea of Haiku has been a fun inspiration. You know those dehydrated sponges in a flat shape -- that is me. Too many projects, too little inspiration makes a dusty, uninspired writing world.

But back to the Haiku. My friend recently encouraged me that "some is better than none" -- so to get my writing back on track, I decided doing a little is where to start. So in honor of the season of spring, which offers the hope of lovely summer, I start with my "spring haiku."

Gray spring morning

Birds don't notice dreary

Song everywhere.

Lovely Freedom

I just bought freedom. It was only ten bucks.

There is something oxymoronic about saying "I just bought freedom." It has the same funky feeling as "grandma, put the saw down." It simply does not go together. Yet, I gladly paid my ten dollars for it.

If you haven't heard of "freedom" -- it's a new application you can download to your computer that will not let you connect to the Internet for a certain period of time. (www.macfreedom.com) Some super-genius is now getting severely wealthy over the fact that I (and probably you too) cannot get anything done anymore because we are constantly distracted.

I really bought it for my 9 year-old son. Please don't tell him though. I secretly love turning freedom on and then walking away from the computer. Minutes later I hear the frustrated sighs and then "mom, the Internet's not working!" I fake the irritated face and say "darn that Internet! That thing never works."

Then he is forced to do the amazing -- find something to do. Something wonderful without technology -- like read a book, use his imagination, make a paper airplane or draw. Not only is this forced Internet break great for 9 year-olds, it also works perfectly on adults.

What's ironic is freedom is something I have had all along, yet it took paying for it to see how much I was missing. Now if I could only get it to work on the TV....

It's a Wonderful Lasagna

"Eating a warm meal nourishes the body, preparing it nourishes the soul."

I wish I had written that -- but I actually read it in a magazine today. I think it's amazing that not everyone feels this way. Actually, I don't always feel this way. Cooking is one of those things that I find sometimes satisfying and other times overrated.

Recently I was sharing with a friend my plans to make smoky cheese lasagna this weekend.

"It got four forks on epicurious.com! I can't wait to make it -- all the e-mail reviews were awesome," I beamed.

"I have never made lasagna," she said.

"Never?" I asked.

"Never. I have better things to do with my time than make complicated dishes or anything requiring a bunch of ingredients. I just don't cook," she said.

Well. That sent me thinking "wonderful life" style about what my life would have been like without having ever made lasagna. Then I imagined a world without all the meals I had made as a family, with my siblings and friends. All the effort spent on recipes, testing out ingredients, reading gourmet magazines and swapping awesome dishes with friends.

I briefly considered the freedom it would bring not to really stress about dinner, family gatherings and always trying to outdo myself every holiday. Swatting that thought out of the way, I circled back to my original thought. Cooking has been the fabric that has woven many sweet happy memories together. For me, the best of times were the ones wrapped around the kitchen.

No, I can't imagine a world without cooking lasagna. I think it would be a sad world indeed. Yes, it is a lot of work and with little reward. Yet for me there is some sweet touch of satisfaction knowing that I created something wonderful with my own hands for the people I treasure.

Yes, the magazine was mostly right -- preparing the food does nourish the soul. But only if the cooking is done with a loving heart and grateful company.

My Holiday Pinata

I like order. I especially like it when it comes to the holidays. Tradition trumps chaos as a theme of comfort to me during this season.

I think that’s why singing the 12 days of Christmas song is so much fun. I know what comes next and I enjoy putting things in their perfect rightful order. Partridges before Turtle Doves and so on.

Yet I hate order. Especially when it comes to my siblings. As the youngest of five, order means I will forever be the baby. Always the one that was last to do anything, always the one who needs constant advice and care from the olders. Or so they think.

Despite the fact that I am 41, a mom, a wife and responsible grown up, the minute I return to my hometown, I somehow morph back to being seen as the baby. For the moment, I’ll call it “birth order disorder” to sound cool.

I love going home – there is a comfort in returning to my youth and remembering all the places and spaces of those days. Yet the recycled youth trips send me returning to my most awkward days.

It’s probably because my siblings are there to remind me of every stupid mistake I ever made, like the time I set the house on fire (not my fault), putting the cat in the dryer (total accident) and driving the car into ditches (bad tires). Despite the fact that I should be able to enjoy the emotional pinata of joking – the truth remains that pinata parties are only fun for the whackers, not the piñata.

So as I return to my current home, relief sets in as I leave all the inadequate days and times behind. I return to the comfort of the life I have now, despite my past. My perfect order – no piñatas allowed.

The End of Mid Life Crisis Cooking

Today I gave up cooking like I'm having a mid-life crisis.

It began with the meatloaf. Kindly, my lovely neighbor brought her extras from dinner to spare me the trouble of cooking. I called her blessed as I was relieved of having to come up with a meal for one less day.

As my husband came home from a long day, he casually asked "what's for dinner?"

I replied "meatloaf, courtesy of our awesome neighbor."

Then came the look. Now if ever there were a sweet spot in my husband's heart, it's for meat loaf. And mashed potatoes, and Jell-o salads and pretty much anything that Betty Crocker ever uttered. Yes, my husband is a plain and simple, meat and potatoes love kind of guy.

I am not. I am a spice it until your lips look like you just had Botox sort of cook. I am season it until it wants to get up and do a dance in a red hot dress sort. I love every kind of exotic food, weird spice, unusual and strange fare that sends my husband's Prilosec-loving stomach into flips just thinking about it.

So there was the meatloaf. Love at first site by him, a side of jealousy sauce bubbling in me.

It occurred to me that maybe I was trying too hard and needed to give it a sweet rest. Those were not my words, but words that were inspired in me as my son was reading the 10 Commandments as part of his devotion time.

It went something like this.... "Thou shalt not be jealous of what your neighbors have...or what your neighbors possessions are or your neighbor's meatloaf!" I swear I read meatloaf jealousy right in the Kid's Adventure Bible.

I decided to give it a rest as instructed by the 10 Commandments. I was trying too hard. As I put down my Bon Appetit magazine and picked up Betty's handbook of 1950s perfection, I decided sometimes the simple things truly are the best.