Marble cookies

​I took a day off this past week to get ready for my son's seventh birthday (wrapping gifts, baking a cake, etc.) Since I had the time and no kids underfoot, I decided to do a bit more involved baking for friends and coworkers. 

I've rarely met a cookie I didn't like. But lately I've been following some very talented bakers on Instagram whose creations are real works of art. I was hoping to marry a good tasting cookie with a good looking cookie that not everyone has seen before. Enter: marbelized icing on shortbread. ​

I found this idea through A Beautiful Mess, and made a few tweaks to work better for me. I started with Martha Stewart's shortbread cookie. (I also made a dozen vegan ones for those with dairy allergies.) ​

I used a plastic cookie cutter, but if I do it again will upgrade to these metal ones. Shortbread wants crisp edges (and so does this icing). ​

The top is fondant (which is also dairy free) and is made by mixing colors. I was hoping to find gray premade but couldn't, so ended up kneading together white and black for gray. Note: black fondant has a dark violet base, so when mixed skews a bit purple. ​My tip here is to use much more white than you'd imagine you would need. 

Rolling the fondant into logs, twisting, folding back on itself, twisting more, and then rolling takes a bit of practice to get perfect (or am I just that picky?) But once you have it, the results are amazing. ​

These traveled well, all the way to NYC, and my coworkers loved them. I think they'd be good to mail as well - though you definitely want to priority mail them so the fondant doesn't get stale. ​

As far as elaborate holiday cookies go, these are a clear winner! ​

In defense of the holiday letter

One of the reasons I love the holidays is because people send more mail. Everyone loves when real mail arrives in their mailbox - it's an almost universal feeling. To know that a few days (weeks) ago, someone was thinking of you, took the time to document it, and troubled to send it your way. That is effort.

But it is equally as gratifying to send mail. To think of someone, choose some stationary or card you think they'll enjoy, write a sentiment you want to share, seal it up, and drop it in the box with anticipation of when the receiver opens it. That is intention.

Which brings me to my defense of the holiday letter, which has dropped unceremoniously out of fashion. The holiday letter takes a bit of effort, for sure, but one could argue no more effort than arranging family photos and ordering cards from any of the glossy services that have tricked us into thinking that is what holiday correspondence should be. More than effort, a holiday letter takes a bit of reflection. The writer must pause and evaluate their year, sift through the mundane and the extraordinary, and make decisions about what to share. In this world of social media where there is little visual hierarchy between a glamour shot of a happy hour cocktail and a celebratory birth announcement, it is nice to have a bit more curation. The author of the letter gets to emphasize their preference of topic or event, painting things as rosy or as realistic as they prefer.

And further, holiday letters reach those without social media profiles (or those who don't exercise their ability to obsessively check all platforms daily). The USPS famously will deliver a letter anywhere, whether the receiver wants it or not.

So every year I look forward to crafting our holiday correspondence. Some years it is a long paragraph, some years it is a page. This year it is in the style of a newsletter with some bullet points and sidebars. We usually incorporate multiple photos - the candid type, not the professional, I'm afraid. But Todd and I sit down and do it together. We discuss what was meaningful about our year, in our individual lives and as a family. This year even Søren weighed in a bit on what to include. It's a great time to reflect, before the business of the holidays sweeps us away to the beginning of the next year.

The letter for me doesn't end inside the envelope. I try to find some fun vintage postage and customize it based on the recipient. My farmer father gets the stamps with the snow-covered red barns; and my active brother gets the Olympic skiing stamps; the christmas toy ones to a family with young kids, and those young at heart. This attention to postage is certainly above and beyond (though there was a time that stamps printed with a custom photo were somewhat common), but I enjoy it.

And, these letters are a great historical reference. I keep a stack of one letter from every year in the box with our stockings. Looking back at years past shows us how far we've come, and reinforces our traditions.

I know some families feel it is wasteful, so much paper used and the expense of it all. But I, perhaps naively, only think it is wasteful if it isn't meaningful. And for me, I still find meaning, in both sending and receiving this bit of traditional correspondence.

Thanksgiving 2018

It’s no secret that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. A whole holiday with a focus on gratitude - what’s not to love.

Though, there are increasingly more things not to love: over $13 million spent on a retail conglomerate’s parade, Black Friday appearing as an official holiday, the continued ignorant misrepresentation of pilgrims, “indians”, and the first thanksgiving… the list goes on.

So this year, I wanted to be even more intentional in our celebrations. Due to sickness in the family, it was just going to be the four of us this year. So I was glad when the homeless man I often chat with who panhandles outside my work accepted my invitation to join us. Due to unforeseen circumstances, he was unable to come, but much of our feast preparation and conversations centered around this invitation. And it led to some great discussions with my first-grader.

Additionally, this holiday, as with any day on the calendar, I wish to amplify native voices. Many native groups observe Thanksgiving as a National Day of Mourning. To them, this day is a reminder of the millions killed by the hands of the white settlers, the theft of their lands, and the continued assault on their culture. Even now President Trump’s administration is attempting to take back reservation land. It is beyond ironic that as we feast, many native people are going hungry. To do my part of reparations, I am donating to the Native Food Alliance. And I’m encouraging everyone to follow native voices on social media. I’ve learned much from: @lilnativeboy @caliwolf @indigenouswomenshike , and just today I found the work of @ndn.o

Once you know better, you should do better. And I hope that thanksgiving celebrations lean back in that direction - with gratitude and graciousness, for the land we live on, the people who came before us, the hard truths around us, and our shared connections.

Happy Thanksgiving, all. May your year be full of abundance that you share with those in need.

Thanksgiving prep
One reason I appreciate this holiday is that it lets me take advantage of all of the very specific dinnerware I’ve amassed over the years.
This year we did a paper table cloth that the kids could color in - though everyone joined in because it was such a big hit!

Food
The main course this year was mushroom turnovers, as we don't participate in the slaughter of nearly 45 million turkeys for this day. But we did have a veggie plate turkey!  

And we served gravy in my late grandmother's gravy boat, that was a part of her wedding china. I always like to have a bit of her spirit when I do my holiday cooking.  

Eating and giving thanks
Each year, each guest makes a list of things to be thankful for. This was the first year everyone in my family could write at least their own name. And hilarious lists from the kiddos, of course.

Ooh child.

I had the opportunity to hear MILCK perform "ooh child" in person last week, and it was incredibly moving. Her rendition and her voice made me process the lyrics in a brand new way. 

This has been a tough week for my family, and this has been a tough year for our nation. But someday we'll get it together and we'll get it all done.  

Lift others.

I know some people want their kids to be smart or athletic or beautiful. But really the top of the list for me is kind. I want my children to recognize other people's humanity and to respect and uplift that. Above all else, be kind. 

Trust

Wisdom from Cleo Wade.  

Find magic.

This past weekend, the entire family spent three days together in New York City. The little dudes are pretty used to urban life, but New York City holds wonder for everyone, even long-time residents. It was great when we took a moment, slowed down, and tried to see the city through their eyes. They found wonder and magic.

That doesn’t mean it was a hassle-free trip…it was as exhausting as any trip with children can be. But it means if you don’t believe something can be good, it won’t be.

Sharpens pencils.

Patricia Lockwood writes in Priestdaddy: 

  "I have lived for the last eight years in seasonless places, where things do not die, but revolve in a constant tropic sun. I had forgotten how the fall sharpens pencils, gray and colored ones. I had forgotten that when you pay attention to the seasons, you are returned to school and all its feelings, the freedom of three o’clock and the nameless dread of Sunday night, when the sky looms over you like the deadline of some paper you haven’t even started. I want to drink cocoa out of a thermos; I want to go to a high school football game."

I've always loved back to school, because it contains new school supplies, and also because it happens during the crisp new days of fall. This time of year has always felt more of a new beginning than January 1. As Lockwood notes, the fall sharpens everything - cleaning up the air, our schedules, energy levels. The oppressive summer sun gives way to dappled sidewalks and luminous leaves; the warmth of the days lingers from summer and the cool of the nights borrow from winter; the Earth feels habitable again. A new start.  

And with that new start: a fresh notebook, and unblemished cases full of those freshly sharpened pencils. Prepped to begin in earnest. Both gray and colored pencils, at the ready. The work and the play of autumn.  

(Thanks to Austin Kleon for inspiring this post.) 

Be where

It’s the last weekend of summer - try to acknowledge and be present for it. 

Raise your sails.

Lettered with a sharpie. 

Kindness rocks.

Playing at Maggie Daley Park, my oldest son happened upon a painted rock. As an avid "treasure" hunter, this made his day. He loved it, and when he showed it to us, already had the idea to paint rocks for others.

About a month later I came upon a write up of the Kindness Rocks project in a magazine. So, we decided as a family to participate. To maybe make someone's day by giving them a chance to find a treasure. Using some old acrylic paints left from college studio days, and some Sharpie paint pens, we went to work one Saturday - painting on smooth landscaping stones. 

The kiddos had a great time getting messy, and creating messages. Todd and I had fun putting some thought into each stone that someone might come across. There is now a box of hand-painted stones in our mudroom. So when we visit a playground or a park as a family, we take a few with us. We drop them or hide them where others can find them (some easily, some not so easily!) It's a small gesture, but one that was rewarding to make and hopefully is joyful to find.

"I love rocks."

Stand tall.

Hiding his first rock. "Camofluage!"

One of my favorites.

Above all else, be kind.

The Wrong Way to Save Your Life

I am lucky to be a part of a group of intelligent and thoughtful women who want to challenge themselves and have hard discussions about important matters. The way we do that is with a monthly book club. This past month we read The Wrong Way to Save Your Life: Essays by Megan Stielstra. I haven't made this many notes from a book in a long time.

The series of essays explores her life through a number of fears - from the seeming inconsequential to the life-halting. She's humorous and engaging, and being a Chicago writer, I appreciate the local connection. Some of her clever lines border on Mark Twain-esque : "I am a midwesterner: we always worry about everything" and "Nothing is as awful as doing something you hate to pay for a waste of your time." She is beyond transparent. You feel her emotions - you are scared with her, you grieve with her, you savor life with her. But what struck me the most is how she cataloged her own growth and development about the way she sees the world. She laid open her own prejudices and inadequacies, that we may find similar ground, and also grow.

A huge topic for her is race and privilege. She lays bare her own ignorance, when she first learned some of the real stories of the LA race riots: "'Why didn't I know about this?' I said, incredulous, not yet understanding that it was my responsibility to look." This resounds with so much of what I'm experiencing lately - finding ways to educate myself on an entire world that was obscured to me. Stielstra says, "At some point our education no longer belongs to our teachers. It belongs to us." I've been attempting to vary the media I'm exposed to, and the stories I surround myself with. I've intentionally sought out diversity in my Instagram feed (Rachel Cargle is a saint and tremendous resource!) and my media (Dear White People streams on Amazon Prime). White people must do this work ourselves.

Stielstra asks, "When do you think about your privilege?" and this is a question that cannot be asked enough. Because once you recognize it, you can begin to use it. She says:

I teach writers. It's on me to show them the weigh of words, how they can perpetuate or elevate. 
Privilege isn't blame or shame or fear.
It's responsibility.

Petitioning us (not only her students, but us as readers) to use our platforms to make change, no matter how small, is a reoccurring theme. As well as listening, and looking.

I cannot recommend this book enough - and not just for anxiety-prone white Midwestern women who like literature. The content here is universal.