Photo shoot with Mister Boo

I like taking pictures. I just don't want to be one of 'those' people who carry around their Nikon SLR 20 lb camera to take pictures during every waking second of the day to capture that *one* picture you can brag about. I also don't have a bag to readily carry my camera in. It is a serious issue that creates a need for a messenger bag, yes I need one. I'd take this one or that one really, and then I saw this lovely thing! Ha! Etsy sure has some creative peeps over there. ;) 

So when I thinking about how to fill up my 12 hour day with mister boo diddy, taking pictures naturally sneaks in and fills a void. It also makes my arms tired and sore with North in one arm and the camera in the other. I am suffering quite a bit for art; so much so that I didn't realize my camera was on manual as I was happily shooting away. The short: all the pictures turned out a bit fuzzy and the color was off, so I doctored them a bit and I think they turned out quite cute, for my liking anyways. 

Oooh, auntie loves you so much. *warm fuzzies*

-Marci

Dog Mountain Hike with Lila

My dear friend and blogging partner, Lila, traveled up to Portlandia for a visit and, 'surprise!' to also be co-nanny with me for a few days. :) North was a love bug for us and even agreed to go to daycare (we *might* have left him there all day and were a little late in picking him up, shh, don't tell!) to allow for a beautiful hike up Dog Mountain along the Columbia River. Isn't he a doll?

Mr. Boo even consented to a short photo shoot, although he wasn't smiley about it

 

Alas, back to Dog Mountain. It was a spectacular hike, dotted with shady walks through berry bushes and lush ferns, as well as hillsides painted with beautiful wildflowers. It was a tough, that hike. Thank goodness for awesome views and friendly banter to get us to the top. Dog Mountain hike is about 7 miles RT and 2800' elevation gain=sore everything the next day. Were the hillsides also abundant with dogs like I wished? I'll let the pictures tell you.

Seriously, it couldn't have been more of a beautiful, wildflowery hike. And of course, none the better where company is concerned. :) Did you catch all the dogs along the hike? Yeah, me neither. So, the hike didn't live up to its name, but it sure put on an impressive Washington wildflower show for the California girls.

-Marci

Chile Verde Tacos *Recipe*

I have been cooking up a storm this past month, as it is one of my nanny duties for my sister-family,  and it has made me, oh, so happy to get back into my normal routine pre-teaching credential program. Cooking really is an art form, I think. The ingredients are the media and the meal is the finished piece of art. Cooking helps me feel creative and innovative in my daily routine and without it, the day just isn't as bright as the rainbow swiss chard or ruby, red beets that decorate my plate.

I made chile verde tacos last week, and while it wasn't my prettiest meal I have made, it was pretty easy and very yummy.

Chile Verde Tacos

1lb pork tenderloin
2 cans of 28oz chile verde sauce (or homemade tomatillo sauce)
1 bunch of chard, chopped (any color of the rainbow)
1 large onion, thinly sliced
Block of cotija cheese, use generously
Soft corn tortillas

Preheat oven to 250 degrees.

Cut pork tenderloin in approx. 1 inch squares and put in a 13x9" glass dish. Pour chile verde sauce over pork tenderloin pieces until they are covered. Place in oven and cook for about 3 hours, checking every hour to stir.

That 'Baby's Only' formula is going to haunt all my kitchen pictures

 

With about 30 minutes left until the chile verde pork is done, begin to chop onion and add to oiled pan on low-medium heat. Cook for about 15-20 minutes, or until brown and caramelized. Next, add chard until it cooks down and is soft.

Sliced, but not caramelized yet

 Caramelized: gooey sweetness

 Chopped

Caramelized, rainbowy goodness

Heat tortilla shells and serve with moist, tender pork, chard and onion mixture, and sprinkled with cotija. 

Delicioso y facil!

Buen provecho!

-Marci

The life aquatic abode...

 ...or beach house or coastal cottage, whatever floats your boat. That's where the Northern family spent a warm and scrumptious Oregon (yes, warm, but always windy!) Saturday afternoon sipping black drip coffee and frolicking with the kittens. Well, it was actually just me that enjoyed spying on the kittens' games. :) I sort of fell in love with the slightly run-down beach house and it's occupants as well as it's possessions...buoys, kittens and rusty bikes alike. If I were to live on the ocean, I would want it to look and be like the glorious afternoon we spent en plein air at the coastal cottage. Here we go...

 

 

I think I need one of those kitties...they are too cute for words.

Marci

Le rêve de 'Midnight in Paris'

Midnight in Paris was dreamy and lovely. Or was Paris just dreamy and lovely? In any case, I walked out of the theater humming the tune from the credits and giddily strolling back to reality and home.

To set the scene, I saw the movie in my sister's friendly neighborhood theater in Westmoreland. It was built in 1926 and still only has one screen and boasts original artwork and moldings inside. I was actually sort of charmed by the tad bit of shaking up on the big screen from the film roll camera and the non-surround sound, as well as the old school bucket seats with no cup holders. Plus, plus, it was only $5 for the ticket and $3.25 for soda and popcorn. What era am I in?! It was all just so quaint and cozy and  made me feel so warm inside. :) The experience reminded me of my hometown's old State Theatre. Double features were quite the thing to do during the hot, summer afternoons in my elementary school years!

Neighborhood theater in Westmoreland

 

 Drawing of Red Bluff's State Theatre for rebuild in 1946

              Current State Theatre, used for plays and special events   

Owen Wilson's character yearns to travel back to 1920's Paris, and mysteriously, he does. Picasso, Stein, Hemingway and many others visit him during his magical and unexplained journeys back in time at the stroke of midnight whilst he meanders and loses himself in the city's side streets. For Wilson, the golden age of creativity and romance is early 20th century Paris, in which he dreams of living the life of a novelist in the boom and bustle of aspiring artists. 

To me, Paris is all things romantic and dreamy and je ne sais pas. C'est tout. But are dreams always a reality? Whenever I am visiting Paris I always revert to the notion of wishing to live in a 16th century building with fanciful fireplaces in every room and minute balconies that look over the busy street below. At night, on a whim, I'd step out the front door to the sidewalk and stroll along the cobble-stoned road until I came to my favorite cafe to sip a cup of earl grey tea with bergemot and dip some madeleines. Wouldn't it be wonderful to walk, always looking up to the sky, to admire the architectural details of each window and balcony? To enjoy fondue on a chilly night and a picnic in the gardens on a sunny afternoon? However, I don't believe Paris would be such a whimsical place had I lived there for a time. There would be no sense of the 'perfect' evening or afternoon. Ever so rarely I think dreams are better off remaining far-fetched fantasies because the magical feelings are kept alive in your imagination and the process of creating the perfect dream. And being a Parisian is mine.

Bisous

Marci

The Northern Garden

My sister is a natural. Gardener and mother, that is. Which leads me to her veggilicious garden and squeezilicious baby, North. When she focuses her love, it grows. Can you guess which one she is loving on now? How'd you guess?! North is growing (big boy, he is!) and the garden, well, it is surviving, let's say. Maybe when you have a baby the days and months just get all tangled up and before you know it, a whole season has passed and seeds are not in the ground...until Tia Marci shows up at your door.

Let's take it back a year. I, again, showed up at their door and peeked into the backyard to see a luscious garden, fraught with ripe vegetables ready to be picked and devoured. This year, I peeked through the front window to see a baby fraught with milk, ready to be auntie-kissed and hugged. I didn't even make it to the backyard garden until hours later...

I couldn't help but notice how priorities get shifted when a new body comes into the house and demands your attention 24/7. Okay, he's not that bad. He's actually the best baby ever! ;) (Oh North, Auntie loves you!) And I found it kind of comical comparing the garden of 2010 (Pre-North) to the garden of 2011 (Post-North).

Let's take a photo walk through of the Pre-North garden situation and the Post-North garden situation.

Pre-North: 

I just want to reach out and eat some 'maters

Post-North: 

There is a lot of room to just get your hands dirty, I guess...

Pre-North: 

Let's pull some out and eat!

Post-North: 

Zanahorias? You wouldn't know since there are no plants to identify.

Pre-North: 

beautiful sunflowers against back shed

Post-North: 

lonely prayer flags against back shed

Pre-North: 

Territorial blue jays and squirrels were the only warm-blooded visitors

Post-North: 

Well, squirrelly wirrily North!

 

And a smidgen more of mister smiley

So, I suppose I've learned that motherhood pretty much out weighs domestic and outdoor duties around the house. I can't lie and say auntiehood isn't any different actually...

Yep, I got the seeds in the ground and then went right back to loving on mister boo.

Admiring the garden from afar and my nephew up close-

Marci

Cast Iron Pita Bread

I have to admit that I was pretty stoked to try the cast iron pita bread from Smitten Kitchen's blog for a while because it looked so light and fluffy and moist, which is everything I do not experience from store bought pita bread. Although my final product did not look too much like Smitten Kitchen's pita bread pictures, it did taste delicious and more like naan than pita, actually.

The players

Super simple: flour, yeast, water, olive oil and salt

All mixed up

 Contemplating dough...

 Digging in! Forearms did get a little tired for this one. You knead until the dough gets nice and glossy.

 Rest little pita, rest. You *were* just pushed around for 10 minutes.

 Glossy and YUM!

 Divide dough into 8 balls and roll them out.

 My swap meet cast iron skillet met a new friend, pita. 

And, I may be eating it with nutella at the moment...Last night I was traditional and ate it with hummus, and it was great and all, but with its gooey, moist texture and sort of bland flavor I think it must be gussied up with some chocolate hazelnut spread, please. The recipe can be found here.

On another note, I am a little irked at the moment because I thought, hey, bread doesn't take long to cook in the oven, right? Well, wrong. The No-Knead Bread recipe from the New York Times actually takes up to 60 minutes in the oven. WTF?! So, sadly I won't be bringing it into my art class to share my new bread making skillz because I *assumed* it wouldn't take more than 30 minutes. Either I learned nothing from this little bread making experiment, or my classmates will think I made this all up and didn't bake anything because I don't have any proof. Or both. Shoot. 

I guess I'll just enjoy me a whole loaf of No Knead Bread tonight by myself. I didn't really want to share with 40 other people anyways. (just kidding, really)

-Marci