Murder in the Microwave

Or: How I Would Rather Read Than Do Housework

I made a big batch of chili at the beginning of last week, and, as the days went by and leftovers were consumed, the microwave began to look...disturbing. Someone forgot to use a cover when reheating a serving of the tomato based chili, and then the next person figured there was no point, and so on. The splatters accumulated, streaking down the side walls, pooling on the rotating plate, dotting the ceiling. It looked like a horror show. I was alarmed, and I have a high tolerance for living with dirt.

I considered showing a "before" photo to go with this post. But who wants to see someone else's dirty microwave? So here is the "after" pic:

The I Hate to Clean method of cleaning the microwave

I give credit for the pristine state of the microwave to my mother-in-law's method. There is no elbow grease required, which makes cleaning the microwave probably my favorite chore. Total time is about 22 minutes. 20 of those minutes you can read your current book. "Leave me alone, I'm cleaning the microwave," will not be believed, yet it will be true.

• Put two cups of water in a microwave safe dish. Add a slice of lemon. 
• The next step will vary depending on your microwave -- you will want to keep an eye on things the first time around -- turn on the microwave for ten minutes on high. The water will boil and boil and boil. About a cup of water will become steam. 
• After the ten minutes is up, resist the temptation to open the microwave. Let the steam stay in there for another ten minutes.
• Now you can open the microwave. Carefully remove the water vessel (it will still be hot), and the rotating plate, if you have one. Use a rag to clean the sides, ceiling, and floor. Wipe down the plate, wash with soap and water if you like. Replace plate in microwave. 
• Admire your work. Go back to your book. Pretend it was such a chore that you simply cannot do another one today.

The lemon slice is important here. It doesn't have to be a lemon. It could be a lime. It could be a toothpick. Something has to go in with there to to prevent the water from superheating and exploding. Really! DO NOT use this method with plain water. I did accidentally superheat water once, and I count myself very lucky that the explosion happened before I opened the microwave door. Lemon, however, makes the microwave smell nice.

PS You do not have to read a book during those twenty minutes. You could surf the web and watch cute cat videos, like this one, instead. Or meditate. Whatever you choose, relax! You're cleaning the microwave!

Best Card Trick Ever, or Algebra Without Tears

I am not, and have never been, pop culture's idea of the homeschool mom: sit the kids at the table to work through lessons, have them do chores to keep the house spotless, make three healthy meals a day to support mental and physical stamina. I mean, I try, but let's talk reality. And how far I have fallen. These days, I have farmed out both math and French lessons to the girls' favorite teacher. Want to guess who it is?

Hello, iPad. Please keep your charge until Kathy has finished that level of Duolingo.

Taryn has been learning algebra with an app called Dragon Box. Multiple friends had given it rave reviews, so despite its price -- $5.99 for an app, really? -- I installed it on all of our iPads. (Yes, each of us has one. Yes, that is excessive. My husband is an early adopter and technophile. We have held off on the 3D printer, at least.)

Screen capture from Dragon Box. The goal for this puzzle is to isolate the box on the left, using the cards available at the bottom of the screen. 

 When Taryn finished all the levels, even the bonus rounds, of the game, I thought it would be straightforward to jump from solving equations on the iPad to solving them with pencil and paper. 

Screen capture from a bonus level puzzle. Don't tell the kids, it's ALGEBRA.

She was up for it, but at the first attempt to solve an equation, the tears began to flow. Uh oh.

The rules of the game mirror the rules of algebra. The jump from the game's tactile and visual solution of a puzzle, to the process of solving for x on paper, was too big for Taryn.

Feeling angry about algebra. Let's take a break.

She needed a stepping stone to make the transition from iPad game to real math.

I puzzled over this for a while. Could I print out cards that look like the items in Dragon Box and play with those? Well, yes, I could, but I didn't really want to take the time to design, print, cut, and laminate a zillion cards. For some reason, it was playing out in my head as a Pinterest-worthy project.

Simplify, simplify. Could I skip the part where I design the cards on the computer? Maybe just draw some by hand? That's an option. What are the essentials? Cards that have pictures, and for each card its "opposite." The game calls the picture card opposites "night" cards. The numbers and symbols get the standard negative sign in front of them.

More musing. Earlier in the day, the girls and I had talked about the phrase "Being in the red." How in a ledger, you might see the negative numbers written in red. How you don't want your bank card balance [a topic for another post] to be red, but black.

Red, black. Cards. Pictures. Numbers. Wait, this sounds familiar. Oh!

A standard deck of cards becomes a tool to learn algebra

I pulled out a standard deck of cards, and sorted them by number. I gave Taryn these rules:

• Black number cards are have positive value: spades and clubs are numbers 1-10.
• Red number cards have negative value: hearts and diamonds are numbers -1 through -10.
• Ace and face cards are variables, with positive or negative value depending on suit: Ace of hearts represents -a, Jack of clubs represents j, and so on.

Music in the car

One last picture before we started home

Goodbyes are no fun. Jennie and I did our best to make this one tolerable. Instead of leaving directly from their house, we took the girls for a short hike on a "storybook trail" at a park nearby. As you can see from the girls' expressions, there was no overcoming the melancholy of this farewell.

The trail is lined with pages from a picture book about autumn.

After the walk, Kathy jumped into Jennie's car. I guess she hoped I would not notice her absence. That ruse didn't work. It did remind her that she had forgotten something at their house, a gift of the CD of music Jennie had been playing in the car as we drove around Nashville all week.

Quick thinking Jennie popped her copy out of the car and passed it along to us. As we drove away, their music comforted us. "Skip to number 5," Kathy demanded.

"You don't want to just wait for it? We have a long ride ahead of us. You'll hear it soon."

"No, I want to hear it now."

The fifth track is "Defying Gravity" from Wicked, performed by the cast of Glee, neither of which shows Kathy knows anything about. But it wasn't the origins of the music that mattered, just the feeling. Something about that song was what she needed for the beginning of the trip.

Sign we've returned home: waking up to a pile of cats

We've been home for a week now, and in that time we've been in the car a lot: to a field trip with our Girl Scout troop, to the skatepark five times (including Taryn's triumphant first drop into the concrete bowl, and Kathy's conquering of the fear of going down ramps), to an art class about Georgia O'Keefe, to see that silly Free Birds movie, to our history/science co-op, to a Girl Scout meeting ... and more. Our friends' music has been our soundtrack as we drive to all these places.

Just yesterday, Taryn and I shared a funny moment at a stop light. "I really like listening to this because it reminds me of my friends," she said.

"That's exactly what I was thinking just now!" I replied.

So many thanks to Jennie and her girls -- for everything. We had such a fabulous time while we were with them, and the music continues to give us that warm fuzzy feeling of being with our dear friends, even at home.

 

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Skateboarder mom

I've been spending a lot of time with Taryn at one skatepark or another. This is most definitely her thing: constant motion, a bit of a thrill, burn lots of energy. She's been trying for a couple of weeks to get up the courage to drop in, or skate down a concave ramp. At her regular skatepark, the smallest is about four feet down into a concrete bowl. It looks pretty scary to me, so I get her hesitation.

One of the guys at the skate park told her that hesitation is the enemy. "You gotta commit to it."

At home, she has not been able to commit to the drop. And she's been pretty hard on herself about it. I keep telling her that she will know when she is ready, and she'll rock it.

I don't want to write much more about her experiences, because that is her story. I won't be a tease, though. On this trip to Nashville, she tried out an indoor skatepark with her buddy. She mastered a wooden ramp with a two foot drop, and then went for the next size up. When she dropped in from that one for the first time, she pumped her fist -- I couldn't hear her, but I'm sure she said, "Yes!!!" -- and popped off her board. She jumped up and down with excitement like she was on a pogo stick.

Dropping in, like a boss.

While this is going on, I sit on the side lines, like a stage mother, or a soccer mom. I'm usually on my own, reading a book, catching up on emails, and (now) blogging.

Not much, just blogging. How are you?

On the sunny days, it's been great to sit outside and soak in the autumn sunlight. Sometimes it is cold enough for me to huddle in the car. Taryn is out there, in whatever the weather, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Here in Nashville, we've had beautiful weather, and she wanted to try an outdoor park. We tried the Two Rivers Skatepark, but she didn't want to stay.

Two Rivers Skatepark, great in theory

There was a lot of steep concrete. That and the cigarette smoking, sweat-stinking twenty-somethings made an unappealing situation. So we've returned to Sixth Avenue Skatepark.

The first thing she said when we walked in was, "It's great that there aren't any smokers around." It's funny how the skateboard culture is full of really nice guys, but there's a lot of smoking and cursing that goes with them. There's also the lack of girls. When we see one, we always take note. I love it when the occasional woman shows up and barrels around the concrete bowl. Without fail, she will acknowledge Taryn in some encouraging way.

A gradual realization has culminated in an obvious question: why don't I skateboard, too? There's only good reasons to start. Taryn would get to be the expert, which would be a nice change-up in our homeschooling relationship. I'd stay warm as a participant, instead of cold on the sidelines. I would be a skater, not just another girl watching from outside the fence. I'd be setting a good example for my daughters, too, that chronological age doesn't have to be a barrier to starting something new.

Circumstances confirmed that I need to get onto a skateboard. When we found out that the skate park rented helmets but no pads, I bought a set of protective gear for Taryn's friend to use, but for me to keep.

My elbow pads. I had a banana seat bike in these colors.

It looks vintage 80's, kind of like me. I'll pull a classic newbie move and borrow my boyfriend's board (except that because I'm a grownup, it's my husband's) to see if I want to invest in my own. I'm pretty sure I will.

 

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One day in Nashville

Our recommendations for a fun day in Nashville include, but are not limited to:

Wake up with your friends and start playing right away.

Count cars as a train goes by. Lose track.

Visit the old family home.

Notice and be happy that Grandmother's flowers are still blooming out front.

Take a coffee break at Crema, great coffee, good prices, nice people, fabulous view.

Ride the flight simulator at the Adventure Science Center.

Again.

Lift a car off the ground.

Simulate walking with the moon's reduced gravity.

See really interesting, if vaguely gross, things.

Wait for a table at the Loveless Cafe. Eat the best fried eggs ever, not to mention the pulled pork and those biscuits.

Go to bed excited about tomorrow's adventures.

 

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Feels like home

Our dear friends moved from NoVa to Nashville, eleven driving hours away. There were tears the morning they took off in July, and great anticipation for the next time we would see them. November felt a long time away. There was great rejoicing when we got in a bonus visit! We spent a weekend with the oldest daughter in October, as her parents finished up some business in town.

The day for our visit there arrived, as did we, this afternoon. As soon as we walked in the house, it felt like home: the familiar artwork, the wall of bookshelves, the pantry full of Costco-sized staples, and, of course, the family.

After hugs and squeals, the girls settled in. They pulled out sparkly gel pens and paper. Later, the dolls joined them.

Nashville has always meant family to me. My grandparents lived here, and we made many a journey from the DC suburbs for visits. My parents would do the drive in one long day. We'd have dinner at a soda fountain, ordering dessert first and a burger after. Then I would fall asleep for the rest of the trip, awaking as the car turned into the driveway. My grandmother, Louise, would put me to bed in a big four-poster, and I'd open my eyes in a sun drenched room.

For breakfast, I'd have Grape Nuts with milk and sugar. More like sugar and milk: Louise was generous with the sugar cubes and would let me help myself. She made the best fried chicken, but my favorite was the cinnamon apples. On the road, I picked up a pound of red hot candies to bake my childhood favorite for our girls.

Core the apples, fill with cinnamon hearts, add a pat of butter. Bake at 350 until soft.

Dinner was a southern classic: Krystal burgers. All these years later, the restaurant's gimmick is the same, even though the menu has expanded. Everything is miniature. The burgers are 2"x2" square, served on a bun with minced onion, mustard, and sliced pickles. The chicken tenders are popcorn size, with an incredible ratio of crispy coating to actual meat. The corn dogs are adorable. Afterward, I built the requisite tower of Krystal burger boxes.

My record tower height was ten boxes tall.

Kathy has already planned future visits, and she says this is her "Nashville home." It is so nice to have family -- by blood or by choice -- in Nashville.

The grown ups toasted the occasion with strawberry margaritas.

Here's to great friends, and a full, if short, vacation.

 

 

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Better than a pumpkin pie

We have had the most spectacular autumn. Somehow, all the trees coordinated their peak color to happen in sync. There have been riots of red, outcrops of copper, and my favorite, yellow, glows in the sunlight. Taryn, Kathy, and I took a walk in the late afternoon to soak it all in.

The creek that runs behind the house empties out into a lake. We paused at the wooden footbridge to admire the view. A pair of mallards floated nearby. Kathy said she spotted "duck eggs." That would have been exciting! It turned out, they were just golf balls. 

We were chilly, even though we walked briskly, sometimes one running ahead, the better to call the others Slow Pokes. We walked backwards, forwards, sideways, up hills and down, but the late afternoon sun only dappled the path and couldn't warm us. We won't be going out again without layers.

Dinner was Dorie Greenspan's Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good. As she recommends, I riffed on the recipe. We like Italian sausage, provolone, and mozzarella. It makes a filling dinner, and we discussed if we should fit it onto our Thanksgiving table. I suggested the pumpkin instead of a turkey, but was voted down. Perhaps it will show up again in the days after the big meal. I'd better snag another pie pumpkin from the store before they disappear for the season!