Tankard of Tea

What, Lord willing, my kids will be like.  :)

this small town Idaho artist seems to have grown up. I mean, wow!

Check him out! Everyone else seems to have already.

Remember. I knew him before he was cool. Well, in America at least...

recap soon to follow, but for now, delighted to see friend Sarah Demas picked out of the crowd at recent Art-O-Matic, if even in the ever humble blogosphere: read here.

This may seem odd to those of you who know me, but I did not consider myself "white" growing up. Not really at all, until recently.

As a kid growing up overseas, always a minority in a different culture, you might think I would be sensitive to race issues. But my little friends came in every color of the rainbow, and we're not talking upper-middle class all-our-houses-look-identical rainbow, oh no: sleep overs were cross cultural experiences. Heck, my own brother was photo-opposite of me! White-blond hair and blue eyes vs dark-brown hair and eyes? we used to speculate, as little kids will sometimes, whether one of us was adopted; but we could never decided which one. :)  I tanned like a dream, and even my parents used to joke that I looked more like a native than an American.

It wasn't that we were unaware of our color differences, it's just that we didn't understand why they mattered. To my child mind, it never occurred to me that people would dislike each other based on looks alone (I have confirmed this as an adult with my brother; he too felt that way).

When I came back to the States in high-school I was always very tan, and there were always "white" kids around (Chicago-land; go figure). I knew what they were, but I don't think I ever mentally filed myself under an ethnic category. I knew my parents were white; and my brother through his (unfortunate; ask him about the Korea incident, very funny!) blond hair and blue eyes... but I didn't look like them. I learned about racism in History class, which is where I thought racism was: in the past, part of history. A goner. Done. Over. Something my grandmother occasionally did as a consequence of her cultural upbringing (she is very old), but heavens, not something any rational, intelligent person would ever do.

I am ethnically ambiguous, and if I've spent even a few hours in the sun can be (and have been; by nationals mind you, as well as uninformed Americans) mistaken for any number of things: Italian, Egyptian, Hispanic, Spanish, Hawaiian, even mulatto. When lifeguarding in college I won the unofficial "darkest tan" contest among the guards by a mile (I'm even a sunscreen nut); they marveled that my tan-lines were "inter-racial"... their words, not mine. My Kuwaiti friend used to take me around in Bahrain and say "don't speak until I'm done negotiating: they'll never guess you're American with the way you look, unless you talk". Even from a young age I was proud of this cultural chameleon ability I had nothing to do with; it came in very handy.

But a desk job later, I'm not "ethnic" like I used to be; although people still often comment "you look tan, did you go on vacation?" to which I respond "I was born tan" with a big grin. (hey, it's true! I totally get it from my great grandma on my mom's side!)

It wasn't until I moved into DC that I found myself lumped into the "white" category. Here, when accosted on the street with "what you looking at white b!%#?" I looked over my shoulder. When youth yelled across the library "hey white lady?", I didn't think they meant me. Slowly it has dawned on me that, here, Black = "black" (unless, of course, you're actually from somewhere in Africa; then you're ostracized by the Black community, as are pale blacks, as are non-metroDC upper-middle class blacks), and Hispanic = English As A Second Language, and White = Everyone Else.

I'm really, truly not trying to be offensive. It's still a little shocking to me! I am not used to racism and living here is like a crash course on a hundred years of racial upbringing I never had! But that is just my take on the fallout here. Just in case I have offended, please know that I am earnestly growing in my understanding of this city's deep history, and hope to continue to learn and grow.

It is very odd to me to be judged instantly on the color of my skin. I have to force myself not to judge back, because I always though, only mean people (see childish influence) or people who didn't know better would do that. I have to tell myself not to look down on people who are racist against me for being white, which I have as little control over as they have. It is quite novel to be stared at on the bus because I'm the only white woman riding it; I've been stared at before, but not because of that, not in my own culture, not in my own town, not on my daily commute.

And I find myself thinking things when that happens: starting with....
Why are they staring at me? Oh right, I'm "white". Wait.... havent' they seen a white woman before? Come on people, does my presence justify staring? Then again, why am I the only white woman on the bus?

I don't know any of the answers, and I'm guessing this is just the glorious beginning of my foray into racism and history and DC.
And "being white".

Alrighty, I already did a list of things I consider "essential" but there are some items that I use all the time which I personally like but know other people would have no use for. But here they are in no particular order: five fun kitchen items that make my life easier...

1) Wicker Basket (from Target) - We have people over at least once a week and often more, and soon I realized my silverware made an eternal cycle from drawer to table to dishwasher and 'round again. 'Why not cut out a step?' I thought. And so I bought this attractive and super sturdy holder (it's actually plastic which makes it easy to clean). I like the fact that it has four equal-sized slots, instead of the traditional three, so that I can stock the fourth with steak knives, tea spoons, desert forks, even chop stick depending on what is being served (I keep napkins in a separate dispenser).

Utensils sit demurely on the counter most of the week, but are readily accessible when serving groups buffet style, or whisked outside to enjoy frequent patio meals, or easily carried to the table to set for a more fancy dinner party.

2) Baking Stones - You may have seen these pizza shaped or square at overpriced novelty kitchen stores (WS anyone?). I've had one for almost a decade and went ahead and registered for another when I got married in '07. I think they're far superior to any pizza pan, and they make bread just like a dream. I throw all sorts of things on 'em!

3) Silicone Baking Mats - I learned about these when I worked at a cafe and bakery: they're superb! Nothing sticks to them and bakes up just right. I have one that fits my 1" lipped baking sheet, and use it for everything. Clean up is a snap, and delicate foods are saved from destruction. (I have not yet tried other silicon baking items, like muffin or bunt pans, but I do have an extreme-heat resistant pancake flipper that has just the right ratio of springiness and stiffness; very nice and a charming red to boot).

4) Magnetic Things - My husband and I received a bottle opener for our wedding, which seems like such a simple thing, but is really quite wonderful, because it has a magnet in it and "lives" on the front of our fridge. Not that we could ever pick favorites from the overwhelming kindness and generosity of the gifts we received, but I know my husband is particularly fond of that magnetic bottle opener. We're also big fans of magnetic bag clips, the sort useful for keeping chip bags closed. I clip recipes in them when I'm cooking and hang them from the stove hood: out of splatter range, not using up counter space, and in direct eye sight (no scrunching over a book, brushing flower off it going 'does it really say fennel?' ...Of course, doesn't work so well with cook books, but works just dandy with anything loose). And finally: magnets themselves. Not only does our fridge contain photos of friends, but I put my grocery receipts discretely on one side, so I can easily figure out just how old that container of sour cream is at a glance.

5) Pre-set-angle Knife Sharpener - I received some very nice knives from my great aunts, but good knives are only as good as they are maintained. I know how to use a rod sharpener, but I bought this cheapie on a whim two years ago and am never going back! My knives go through tomatoes like hot wire through butter, and I've never cut myself, because I rarely have to use force. I am not concerned that I'm using wrong sharpening technique and damaging my blades either.

6) Kitchen Shears - I have two sets, and perhaps it's because I have no other household scissors (!), but I use these handy babies all day long. They're cheap, they're uber-sturdy, and they do just about anything.   :)

So there you have it! My five, ok, SIX fun kitchen items that I've grown to love and need!

Ok friends, I find the desire to blog about my personal life too strong, but the World Wide Web too broad a soapbox to chat about my family and what's happening this week in my life to, so I'm back on VOX.

I will continue to release some posts to the globe at large for any and all to read, but I will be writing more and more "neighborhood" "friends" and "family" posts. If you've not signed up with VOX, I get it, another annoying login to another annoying site.

But I would really love it if you did.  So consider it a personal favor to me: sign up for VOX and continue to read my blog!

Recent and coming "private" posts include:
Stop In And Visit: A Virtual Tour of My Home
Prayer Requests and Upcoming Travels
You Too Can Speculate On My Health Issues!

well, I've been posting back on blogspot (tankardoftea.blogspot.com)
I can't decide between Blogspot and Vox now....
so I'll let you know if/when I come back here.

But for now, I'm over there.

Since I've been married I have taken care of all the house work, because I've been working part time.  My husband faithfully takes out the trash, because that's something I've never been good at, but that's it.

Now that I am working full-time again, I'm sure we will share the house work more evenly.  And I'm sure some people will take issue with that.

I think modern egalitariansm has crept into our thoughts, that we consider the "despot" of the "oikos" must physically do all the house work in order to be a godly wife.  These younger, modern marriages, which share housework evenly, we conservatives think, are not quite biblical.

Just as a man is charged with educating his children, so a woman is charged with running the home.  A man may chose to delegate his educational responsibility to education experts in prearranged schools, rather than teaching the children himself.  Likewise, a woman has a plethora of ways to successfully, biblically, manage her home that do not involve her doing every last ounce of labor herself.

Personally, I have servants.  They are dishwasher and washing machine, and running water and electricity.  They are immeasurably useful to getting my job done.  They allow me free time in which I may do more refined sorts of home-making, like painting, photography, refinishing furniture, and gourmet cooking. 
I delegate other things.  I am not so handy at making suits for my husband, so I purchase them pre-made.  In fact, I purchase most all of our clothes pre-made.  I do not do all the physical labor myself because, at this point in our lives, I have bought a vineyard I must manage and work in to contribute to the nest egg.  My husband and I work equal hours out of the home, and in the home.  God is in favor of sharing labor.  It is a foolish husband who expects his wife to equal him in the business world, but maintain the home without his help.  It is a foolish wife who does not delegate some things to him in such a situation.

Especially crippling is a home-maker who does all the physical labor herself, that is, her children do not share the load.  They must!  What will happen to a young man's marriage if he never learns how much effort it takes to cook and clean for him?  He, later on as breadwinner, may eventually stop appreciating what his wife does all day futzing around the house.  And there is only a short step between undervaluing her work, and undervaluing her self.

So wives, do us all a favor and delegate.  Make your sons work.  (Let the fathers lead them by example)  Wash, sweep, cook, iron, scrub, mop.  Make them work so hard, that when they cease being sons, and are heads of their own household, they deeply appreciate what their wives do as they tend their home; even if just out of relief not having to do it themselves any more.

Since I've gotten married, my husband and I have both marveled at how much smaller my clothes are than his.  Not just his being bigger in body than I am, but actual fabric considered necessary.  Undergarments for him have practically a whole yard more fabric than mine do.  Laundry is suddenly piles of undershirts.  He wears suits to work; my suits are much smaller.  For a formal event, also, full suit for him, and little dress for me, perhaps with shawl.
When I fold laundry, his items account for two times the amount of space mine do.

And yet, women always need so much luggage. 

I made candied orange peel the other day.  Yum.