Leftover Turkey and Cranberry Quesadillas

This was really, really yummy. Really.

4 10" whole wheat flour tortillas
1 1/2 tbsp. butter
1 1/2 tbsp. olive oil
1/2 c. onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
1 stick celery, finely chopped (optional)
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
1/2 tsp. sea salt
2 c. leftover cooked turkey, chopped finely
4 tbsp. chopped fresh cilantro
2/3 - 1 cup Talena's Own Cranberry Sauce
1 c. cheddar cheese, shredded
Sour cream (optional)

Place two of the tortilla shells on a baking sheet with sides on it, side-by-side, or on two separate sheets. Meanwhile, heat butter and olive oil on medium in a cast iron frying pan. Saute onions, garlic, and optional celery until soft, then add thyme, salt, and turkey. Heat through. Turn off heat and add chopped cilantro. Divide mixture between two shells and spread evenly. Spread 1/3 to 1/2 cup of Cranberry Sauce on each quesadilla. Sprinkle each with 1/2 cup of shredded cheddar. Place remaining tortilla shells on top and bake at 350 degrees F until heated through and cheese has melted. Use a pizza roller to cut into wedges and serve with sour cream, if desired.

Serves 4-6.

Your butt gets cold in Memory Lane

After I got the kids in bed, I decided to take advantage of Jason's absence (having a Guy's X-Box Night) to continue prepping our guest room to be painted. Yesterday, I had managed to clear out all the furniture, but the largish closet (which we use for storage) still needed to be emptied, and 12 semi-ancient Canada Flag stickers needed to be removed from the walls. This is the part I was dreading.

With a combination of soapy water, a sponge, and a plastic drywall knife, I managed to painstakingly remove three--the ones lowest down, where I had the most leverage. The remaining nine are on the small vertical edge of a section of dropped ceiling, and after several unfruitful attempts, perched atop a low stool, I decided to buy some wallpaper remover tomorrow and give it another go. But! I figured I may as well keep prepping the other parts of the room.

A few minutes later and the baseboard was laying haphazardly scattered on the carpet in spiky strips, like a giant game of Pick-Up-Sticks gone awry. I laid it (mostly) out of the way, then set to work on the closet. Jason organized our storage room yesterday (HALLELUJAH!), so there was now room in there for the temporary storage of even more junk! (We have so much storage space in this house, it scares me--what are we going to put into a storage area and then just forget about? Until we have to pack it up and move it, that is.)

I would like to tell you that, other than the impossible-to-remove stickers, the room is ready for paint, or at least putty, to be applied. But that would be less than honest. Truthfully, I got the closet about half-way emptied, and then came across a box full of Memory Lane. Dangerous.

Never mind that it was already quarter to midnight. Never mind that I was standing on the cold cement floor in the absolute coldest room in the house (which in this drafty old beast is saying something), I was soon flipping through books, binders, and artwork. I decided that my thirteen-year-old self was a much better artist than my twenty-nine-year-old self. I can't even believe I drew some of that stuff!

And then I came to the journals. The first two journals I ever kept, starting at the age of fifteen. That was the year my parents split. I entered high school. I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour. I changed schools. I changed churches. I changed the parent I was living with. There was a lot of change that year. In many ways, that year defined me, and the way my life would unfold.

Before long, as I read through those journals, I had sunk to the cold, painted cement floor in the dimly-lit storage room, reliving the joys, sorrows, confusion, and drama of a fifteen-year-old boy-crazy girl. The name of the Object of My Affection changed almost weekly, yet I had recognized how hormone-driven it all was. The book included all kinds of lists, poems and songs, (some original, some copied). My handwriting went through innumerable incarnations. And as I re-experienced the emotions poured on those pages by a hurting-but-healing fifteen-year-old girl, I cried out loud several times.

It was an interesting look back at the person that was, and it made me stop and think: What would I say to her now?

• That dating policy you have about only dating people who love God as much as you? That's a good one. Keep to that, and you'll avoid a lot of future pain.
• That dream house you wrote about? I just designed it--and most of those things you wrote about are in there. I think you'd like it.
• Do not judge people who have made mistakes so harshly--someday someone else may be judging you the same way.
• Hold on to your idealistic purism, but do it in love.
• Hold on to your dreams, too. Dreams really do come true.
  
• Keep seeking for the Truth you long for.
• Tough love is tough to give sometimes. True friends give it--and receive it. Tough love shows you who your true friends are.
• God designed woman to desire men, not to pursue them, so let go and don't run so hard after male attention. It is only after you become confident in the woman He made you to be that you will attract the kind of attention you truly want, anyway.
• That list you wrote about what you really want in a man? You'll get to marry him someday. Don't collect baggage with the runners-up in the meantime.
• Time really does heal--if not all, then many--wounds. Knowing that doesn't make it much easier to go through the dark times, but sometimes it helps to know that it won't always hurt this bad.
• Hang on to your hope. Your life holds so much in store for you--go out and live it!

Then Jabin started fussing in the room over my head. I dried my eyes, forced my frozen carcass to rise from the floor, and went to rock my precious baby--such a vivid reminder of all that is good in my life, fourteen years later--to sleep.

Drink a Cup of Kindness...

(You'd never know I took this photo this morning in my living room. I'm totally in love with Photoshop.)

Happy New Year, Everyone!

Edit: I must give credit where credit is due. My brother pushed the button to take the photo. Thanks, bro--got to take only 3 family photos instead of 17 to get the "perfect shot." (The sheep on the head really did the trick!) But I still Photoshopped Jabin's head in from another photo, 'cause he wasn't looking at the camera in this one!

Okay, I just HAD to post this!

I just completed my first-ever 100% digital scrapbook layout! See? See?


It was super-fun! I think I might be addicted!

Edit: Here's the second one I made tonight, to coordinate with the one shown here.

Leave Of Absence

I decided I may as well just admit that I am likely not going to be posting/reading much over the next week.

Yesterday morning, Darryl and Amanda set up home base here, while her labour has been progressing, then not, then progressing some more, then not. For a woman used to fast labours, this has been a bit drawn out. Although she is 2 1/2 weeks early, so the doc is not exactly willing to help it along just yet. BUT! He doesn't want them to go home, either (home being an hour away). Anyhoo, between extra kids here, and half my fam showing up on the weekend, I don't think my head will be able to wrap itself around blogging much. (Unless something just jumps up and screams at me.)

The Magnusson kids get up significantly earlier than ours. And cheerier. David (age 5 and a bit) was up at the crack of 7 this morning, raring to go, I'm sure. Jude dragged himself blinking into the kitchen lights at 8:30, sleep crusting his eyes and his brain still swimming in a fog of people in the dark, when he was blindsided by David.

"We're going to dress up as pirates, 'kay? And then we are going to go and shoot the bad guys [irony], 'kay?"

"Oh," Jude replied, blinking and shielding his eyes with his hand.

"And then, we're going to jump on them, and you can ride my bike, 'kay? [No bikes right now--there's three feet of snow on the ground!]"

"Oh."

"And then...and then... and then..." David kept going on and on.

"Oh," was always Jude's reply.

Guess he got his waking-up genes from me.

Happy Holidays!

Good for the head. Good for the heart.

Scott over at caveat emptor is a good writer on a bad day. However, something about the light on my screen, or the moon out my window, or the fact that Scott ate all his Wheeties for breakfast made today's post exceptional.

You might want to pop over and check it out. Here's a blurb:

"When I was a kid I learned how the world was. I held my paper up to the light and traced out what I saw, true in every detail. I neither learn nor see as well now as I did then, and I can't keep up with all the adjustments to the lines of my tracing. Instead, I've learned to love the blurred lines. I tell myself this."

Happy Tuesday, friends!

Lollipop Dream

"I was in my bed and I saw people and kids walking in the dark!"

He took another pucker-lipped slurp from his lollipop--a rare treat. I turned and looked at him, laundry basket balanced against my torso.

"You mean in your dream?"

"Yeah." Lick.

"What happened?"

He gave me a blank stare. "Nothing."

Oh.

Look at me from the side. Do I look different to you?

Warning: This post involves more than the usual amount of girl talk. Men may or may not be interested in it, but don't say I didn't warn you.

I don't know about most other moms, but I have found that one of the first things that goes out the window upon the arrival of a new baby is excess personal grooming. By "excess" I mean anything that might imply artificially applying colour to hair or skin, as well as anything that might keep me in front of the mirror longer than the bare minimums. Some days, this included choosing an outfit that matched. I was just happy to get out of my pyjamas.

But, as baby approaches that wondrous first-year mark, something magical happens. Suddenly, his wails are not the first sound that drags you out of bed in the morning. Your other children, if you have any, have finally reached an age where they can entertain themselves for a fair amount of time without getting in trouble. And you suddenly have time to actually look in the mirror.

And you shriek, "Oh my GOSH!!"

Then you immediately book an appointment for the hair salon, wondering how it was that you managed to stay married, looking like a slob in sweatpants for nearly a year.

While I may or may not admit to the use of hyperbole in this post (or any post, for that matter. I was raised with a firm belief in blurring the line between truth and dramatic exaggerations thereof), it was so nice to be able to go to the salon today and actually get pampered a little beyond a trim--it was time to rid the winter blahs by adding highlights to my hair.

PLUS!

I think I may have finally found a hairdresser that I like! YAY! Too bad she has a baby due in April, and then I will be punted into the wild again. Hopefully, that gives me enough time to sleuth out another artiste in the hair department--one that does not require a drive to Grand Prairie (2 hours), Edmonton (5 hours), or a one-month minimum advance booking time (downtown Peace River).

Here is a post of my new 'do, taken by Jude about twenty minutes ago after a quick finger-brushing and a long day:

And! Since this is a "girl talk" post anyway, I have been meaning to blog about this for the longest time.

"This" is one of the coolest reinventions to hit the market in a century.
"This" will make you wonder why none of your friends know about it.
"This" will make you want to be the one to tell them.

"This" is the Diva Cup.

Say goodbye to $10/month in feminine hygiene supplies.
Say goodbye to the worry about Toxic Shock Syndrome.
Say goodbye to uncomfortable vaginal dryness.
Say goodbye to messy "Maxi Ultra with wings for Night."

Say hello to taking it easier on your body.
Say hello to taking it easier on the environment.
Say hello to taking it easier on the plumbing.
Say hello to one tidy little pretty cloth bag to carry around with you in your purse, instead of an arsenal of supplies tucked in every desk or bathroom you have.

Picture a diaphragm, but facing the opposite direction. It is not absolutely perfect, but it's the best thing I've ever tried. The only downside is that if someone has particularly weak vaginal muscles (say from birthing too many babies), it can tend to slip up, especially at night. But this can easily be remedied by doing Kegal exercises.

I find I need to wear it with a pantyliner, just for the odd drop that might seep past. Also, the insertion technique took a try or two to master, but the instructions in the box are very detailed, and I soon found it was easier than using a tampon, too.

Girl talk over. If any guys made it this far, e-mail me at talena{at}wintersdayin{dot}ca and I will send you a prize. Plus, you might want to tell your wives, girlfriends, pre-menopausal mothers or post-pubescent daughters. Just sayin'. It might be weird. But they might think that was the best gift you gave them this holiday season. (The information, I mean--unless you are REALLY close and just go out and get them one!)

"Kidnapped by pirates is good..."

No, I'm not dead. It might seem like it, from the activity level on my blog lately, but in reality, that just means I have been so darn busy that I have not had time to blog. At all. :-(

But, I thought I would just dash off a quick note to let you know that I am still alive and kicking in the Peace Country, and give you a quick update:

• More bullet points. I know. It's late, what can I say?
• Remember this project? Well! It's finally DONE! DONE, DONE, DONE! While the majority of the project has actually been finished for several months, meaning I finished all the taping, mudding, and painting some time in August, last Tuesday I finally put up the trim that was only necessary to make it match the pass-through window on the other side of the kitchen. Here, you can ooh and aah:

Before trim:

After trim:

• The dinner theatre on Friday night was very enjoyable. I am so glad Serena took the kids for the evening so we could go. Babysitters are a valuable commodity in this town, and apparently, a rare one. (I need to get to know more teenagers.)
• Saturday's recital went well. We had seating for forty-one in our T.V. room. (Logan, and you laughed!) There wasn't a lot of room for, you know, breathing, but we all made it in, with a few empty seats to spare. And all of my students did excellently--I couldn't be more proud. Very poised, and their pieces were well played. You wouldn't have known that it was most of their first performance. Jude decided to "help" me perform my song, which was the final piece. It was a song I wrote called "Home For Christmas" (and no, I don't know how to post audio files, or I would put it up here--help, anyone?) Jude added a few key bass notes, then turned the amp off and on to make my life more interesting. (We were using my electric Yamaha.) Funny how kids know just what to do to get attention, and just when to do it so that Mommy won't make a big fuss. I forgot to take any real pictures of the recital, but here's a cute one of Jabin in his tux, trying to stand up using the coffee table:
  
  
• As soon as the recital was over, the students and chairs were packed up and out the door, and I had grabbed a bite to eat, I threw my scrapbooking crate--still unpacked from the previous weekend--into the van and toodled out to Robin's for a night of "personalized calendar"-making. The class had started at 5:00, they live about 25 minutes out of town, and I didn't leave here until about 6:30, so I thought I might miss it all. Guess I didn't need to worry, since we closed 'er up around midnight. Although I was two hours late, I still managed to complete the majority of the pages--should only take about two more hours of work, actually! Yay! So much fun. PLUS! She had chai! Scrapbooking, visiting, and chai. Can't really go wrong with that combination.
• Sunday Jason got me excited about building a log home. Pretty much since then, I haven't been able to think about anything else.
• Today at Jabin's one year checkup, I found out he is in the 20th percentile for height, 29th for weight, and 93rd for head circumfrence. So I guess you were right, Dad: he's just a little round-headed kid. His new nickname is Charlie Brown. And it looks like he's hit a double-recessive with the short genes. (Sorry, son.)
  
• Just got home from watching Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest at Wes & Serena's. Good movie. Good day of visiting before that. Nice to have a break, after the craziness of the previous week.

One more week of teaching after this one, and then a break! Yay! Maybe I'll have more time for ye olde blogging for a couple of weeks!

Or maybe I'll renovate my basement. Hmm...

Three cute kids and a dog:

A Positive Health Breakthrough!

New York becomes first U.S. city to ban trans fats: "(NewsTarget) A unanimous vote from the New York City Board of Health has made the Big Apple the first U.S. city to ban harmful trans fats from its restaurants."

Highlights from the weekend

Friday night:

• Hung out with Jason and the kids.
  
• Cut the boys' hair.
  
• Blogged.

Saturday:

• Let the kids (and us!) sleep in after the late hair-cutting night on Friday.
• I took Jude and Noah with me to the church for Scrapbooking Day, where they, and I, had loads of fun. It was (nearly) as successful as I had hoped it would be. I say nearly, because I didn't quite get my little book finished. But I only have a few pages left, so it was still a productive day!
• Jabin stayed home with Daddy. At some point, Wes B. and Martin (Mr. Sheila from the last post) came and picked them up and they went to Smitty's for lunch. Then, they went and looked at some property that Jason is interested in buying--a quarter for sale near Wes & Serena's.
• Jason played a fair amount of X-Box, as far as I can tell, so he had a good "day off," too.
• On the way home, I rented a couple of movies and brought home A&W burgers (on whole wheat buns!) for the family. When we got home, half of the order was missing. (Grrr.) They said they would send us free food coupons in the mail.
• Watched "Memoirs of a Geisha." They did a great job keeping it true to the book, edited for time. It was one of those rare occasions when I wasn't disappointed in a movie from a book I really enjoyed--although, I am still glad I read the book first. It just added so much to the story to know the details a movie can never include.

Sunday:

• I thought I was on nursery at church, so we whizzed around like a tornado to get there on time. I wasn't. But we made it to church on time anyway! Whew!
• Stopped to get "a few groceries" after church, and ended up doing a whirlwind trip to pick up my groceries for the week. Figured I may as well take advantage of the fact that I was in the store already, sans kids.
• By the time we got home, we were completely famished. Nuked some soup for lunch, then let the kids watch "The Polar Express"--the other rental. Cute movie.
• Explained to Jude that "some kids believe that Santa Claus is a real person. We don't want to tell them that he's not."
• Went to the DMI Christmas party for the children of the employees, where the kids and Jason swam at the pool with Greg Berreth and his two boys, while Robin and I sat on the side with our babies. I actually let Jabin sit in the shallows and splash for a good chunk of time. (Maria, at only 4 months, is not old enough for shallows-splashing yet.)
  
• Our fearless child (for those of you not "in the know," that would be Noah) disappeared while we were blinking and went down the waterslide by himself--laughing all the way (Ha ha ha.)
  
• After swimming, we went next door to the arena for the snacks and presents from Santa. Unfortunately, since we were one of the last ones out of the pool side, there was only cheese left. But it was good cheese! Our kids were also last in the Santa line. That was okay, 'cause the gifts were all labelled. The presents were really cool, and all age-appropriate--I was impressed. No dollar store-o-mania for DMI! The kids got a cool motorbike, heavy-duty Fisher-Price front-end loader, and a little "jukebox" for Jabin that plays different children's songs with different record-like "disks" inserted.
• As soon as Noah was off Santa's lap, we blinked again. Greg and some other lady found him outside (without any coat on, of course), on the other side of the parking lot. As soon as we got home, I started checking into the price of one of those GPS micro-chips used to trace pets. It's either that, or I will be grey within two years.
• You think I'm joking, but I'm not.
• Berreths came over afterward for a bit more food (the cheese didn't quite cut it for supper after all that exercise) and some visiting. Good times. They didn't leave until 10:30 though, and while the children miraculously did not melt down while they were here, today was pretty rough--despite the fact that they slept in again. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better. For them and for Jason (poor guy.)

Full week ahead: This Friday night is another event hosted by the DMI Social Society, and Saturday is my recital and an evening of putting a photo calendar together--to keep! I know, so selfish of me, but sometimes it's nice to make a gift for yourself, right?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check and see what price I can get one of those GPS thingies on eBay for...

Transmogrified. That's just a fun word to say.

So, Colleen has been redecorating her blog, and it got me all inspired. I played around with my template for a few hours today, and PRESTO! Here you go! Brand new me! Or at least, my new template.

Tonight was haircut night for the boys. We started too late. Too close to bedtime. By the time we were finished, both the boys were traumatized by the half-hour in the chair, with the razor and the scissors and the hair down their necks. I was traumatized by having to try and get a decent haircut onto a kid (times two) that was traumatized, crying, and not holding still, without gouging them with the razor or scissors. The dog was traumatized by the number of times I threatened her with the razor and scissors to get out of the kitchen until I was done. I don't think Jason was traumatized by anything.

I thought of doing Jabin's first haircut tonight, but it was already past bedtime when the other two were done, so his hair can get a little longer and wispier.

Tomorrow: SCRAPBOOKING! YAY! It's the monthly scrapbooking day at the church, which I skipped last month due to lack of preparation, inspiration, and transmogrification. Instead, I transmogrified into a vegetable and sat on my couch all day. Not really. I don't remember what I did that day, but sometimes it just seems like more effort to decide on a project ahead of time, and pack just the amount of stuff I need for that, so I don't end up hauling everything in the craft room down to the church for a few hours.

This time, I'm prepared, though: I started working on this project I've had in mind for about a year and a half now, and only got a little ways into it, so I threw it in a crate and I'm ready to go for tomorrow! It's a "Special People" book for the boys. Since we live so far from most of our family and friends now, I thought I would make a little mini-album for them of our "immediate" extended family, and their close friends, so they can always be reminded who those people are and why they are special--and that those people love them. You never know, you might be in it. Yes, I'm talking to you.

I'm actually taking Jude and Noah along to participate in the "organized activities" downstairs, and give Jason a bit of a day off. Last year, the few attempts I made at bringing the children were a disaster. We were too new to the church, both the older boys felt a little too displaced and out of their comfort zone with the other kids and adults supervising, and there were no "organized activities," just a moshpit of toddler to pre-teen children being "supervised" by young teenage children who did little to entertain them. Jude and Noah kept wanting to be at my table "helping" me. Between them and the nursing baby, not a lot of scrapbooking was accomplished.

I am optimistic that tomorrow will be different. Jude and Noah know a lot of the kids. This year, wonderful Sheila has taken the reins of the babysitting group and organized activities for the kids to do. And the baby-who-is-teething-two-molars-at-once is staying with Daddy.

Optimism.

"Perpetual optimism is a force multiplier." -Colin Powell

If I stay optimistic enough, I might be able to finish the book, even if I get transmogrified tomorrow, too. But other than a few little kinks to work out, my blog template won't be transmogrified again anytime soon.

Happy weekend, friends!