Monthly Archive

Susan has a post up about a meme that’s going around, and I’m playing along. The rules are, take the picture- no fussing, so fixing it up- just a snapshot of your life, today, as is. No one should care about any of this, but if I had the ability to see these little vignettes from when my mom was little, I was love it- so in the interests of my possible posterity, here’s life at my house today…

#1. Kitchen sink. Don’t touch it- just take a picture. Yes, my sink is full of dishes.

#2. Inside of the refrigerator. Nothing out of the ordinary here…

#3. Favorite shoes.

Well, since I hate shoes and go barefoot at any and all possibility, and I wasn’t going to go outside and take a picture of my feet in the grass with the sprinklers on… I’m granola, but not that granola.

#4. Your closet.

Oh! There’s my SLR cameras!! Seriously, I was looking for them yesterday- and there they are, I see, on the shelf on the left. I didn’t even notice when I took the picture earlier!

#5. Laundry Pile.

It’s a good thing I wasn’t doing this two days ago, cause, man oh man, that pile was up to my waist and the hampers were crawling down the hallway.

#6. What the kids are doing.

Since Abby was still asleep when I took this, and Jeffrey had already doodled off to school, it’s just Beanie, sitting on the couch in the living room, watching Tom and Jerry. You can see his little red head on the couch.

#7. Your favorite room.

Well, here’s the microcosm of the macro- I don’t have a wide enough lens to show the entirety of my disastrous sewing/creating room. But just imagine this shot times 12.

#8. Your toilet.

Ok, really, I did pick my prettiest toilet, but that’s all. This is the toile wallpaper the kids love to pick at. The chalkboard is where we all right little notes to each other. Jeff likes to write “I heart Mom”- but the other day when he was ticked at me, in little tiny letters down in the corner, it says “I love dad, not mom”. He he he.

#9. A fantasy vacation.

Well, I don’t really fantasize about vacations. I do want to take my husband here someday- it’s Wasserburg, in southern Bavaria. I went there alone a few years back for Fasching, and I dearly want to share it with David. It’ll be a long time from now, though.

#10. Self Portrait.

This one has been up before, but there was no way I was taking a pre-shower, in my jammies picture of myself and posting it!

A fine example of why sarcasm is wasted on the young….

Jeffrey: “Mom, I’m faster than you!”

Me: “In your dreams.”

Jeffrey: “Yes, and when I’m awake too.”

Harold and Maude are back! Or, well, it’s probably their children or grandchildren, but still… they’re back! The picture is of Maude- Harold has more azure blue on his hind wings. This afternoon, lulled by the humm of the street-sweeper cleaning our court, and the relative calm before school lets out, I was daydreaming and looking out the back window. As I was idly thinking the lilacs were already starting to pale and fade, but noticing and liking the lushness the hedge fills in as they do- two little yellow butterflies flittered and bobbed through the yard.

Joy lit through me. Harold! Maude! You’re back!

Last summer, shortly after we moved in here, I learned the trees that line the back of our property are a haven for Yellow Swallowtails. They lay their eggs and nest in this particular tree, much to my delight. I have no idea what kind of parents butterflies are, but I adore a yard full of sunshiney wings of happiness.

Butterfly. It’s such a nice word- no matter what language- “butterfly” is just charming. Schmetterling. Mariposa. Papillon. Vlinder. Borboleta. Farfalla. Butterfly. That’s my sappy thought for the day.

This weekend, I tried to cut Jeffrey’s hair. A trip to the barber is out of the (ha!) budget right now, so I dug out the clippers, and convinced him to let me attack his giant red haystack.

What’s that about the best of intentions?

When I turned the clippers on and they made that jarring chunka-chunka noise instead of a smooth humm, that should have been my first clue. But no. I popped Jeff on the bathroom counter, put the longest guard on the chunka-clippers and began to buzz.

Jeffrey immediately began to complain, twitching and hunching and leaning away from me and my evil clippers. The hair was going down his shirt. OK, so I got him a towel. The hair was already downhis shirt. OK, I took his shirt off, and re-smocked him in the towel. I got the towel on backwards, and now he was itchy. OK. Deep breath. Brushing him off with the chunka-clipper included brush thingy, I went back to his hair.

Now he was wiggling, leaning, shrinking and complaining. Going well? nope. But again, I heeded the warning signs not, and plowed on, me and the chunka-clippers. I kept trying to get him to sit up straight, and he kept leaning farther and farther away. I was getting mad, he was getting mad, the clippers had been mad from the get-go.

When he turned his little face, sprinkled with freckles and full of anger at me, I lost my cool. OK, I never had it at all, but that’s when I really dropped my basket. Picking him up and plunking him on the floor, I told him Fine, he could have half a haircut. I didn’t care. It would have been hard to tell who was the six-year old in the room, had you been a fly on the wall.

Obstinate little man he is, he stood his ground, and told me he hated me. I threw the towel at him and told him to get out of the bathroom. Yeah. Finest. Moment. Ever.

We both ended up crying, and I crawled under his quilt in bed, where he was hiding, and we hugged it out. I promised, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die, I will never, ever, ever, ever give him a haircut again. We agreed that I am, without a doubt, a “poo-poo head hair cutter”. That is a direct quote.

Anyone else have some fine parenting moments? Surely, I am not alone in sucking sometimes at this whole mom thing. Surely…?

Shuttering up for the long weekend…

Have an enjoyable Memorial Day. If you are interested in doing something for the living serving our country, try this site, AnySoldier.com- for a daily updated list of servicemen and women in far flung lands who are mighty happy to get a package or letter from home. Just a thought…

Be back on Tuesday. Have a happy weekend!

Wouldn’t you be so happy to look out your kitchen window and see that? It’s an American Goldfinch, near as I can figure, and I have one little birdy that hangs out in my Linden tree, backed by my now-blooming Lilacs. Every time I catch a glimpse of him nibbling at the birdfood I put out, it makes me smile. Tender mercies.

Whew. So this is what my baby girl’s face looks like this morning. She doesn’t have a cleft, but she sure does have the stitches through the vermilion of her lip up to her nostril.  Same place and everything. What a freakin day.

Let me take you back…

The morning began with Abby dry heaving in her crib, only I didn’t realize it at first- I just thought she was ready to start her day. Nope- as I picked her up, I realized her little body was convulsing. Poor baby! She spent the rest of the morning sucking on popsicles then, barfing them all over me and the family room. Late morning, David picked Bean up at preschool, and brought home some french fries for Bean’s lunch. Abby ate about 5 fries, and, miracle of miracles, they stayed down. Hooray for grease and starch!

Then phone rings, and it’s a childhood friend I haven’t talked to in a few months- we are busy catching up, Bean and Abby are watching Wubsy, and there is no barf in sight. Shreeeeeeeeik!!!! What?! I run in the living room- Abby is sitting on the floor, blood all over her face, and Bean is hiding in the TV cabinet, screaming “I’m sorry Abby! I’m sorry Abby! SORRY!!”- I toss the phone on the couch, yelp to my friend that I HAVE TO GO- scream for David, and start to feel sick as I wipe the blood away to reveal the wicked, red gash of flesh on my daughter’s face.

“David!! DAVID!!!- Get Bean in the car- we have to go to the ER, NOW!!” I scoop her up, grab a kitchen towel, grab the phone, try and call Nana, mis-dial three times in my fluster, tell Nana we are dropping Bean off and we are going to the ER because my daughter…is…bleeding. Of course, all of this is accompanied by the symphony of Abby wailing and Bean screaming “I’m sorry!” (poor Bean- it was an accident- but he was traumatized)

There is a hospital close to where we live, but when we saw the triage nurse, she told us Abby needed plastics to fix this one, otherwise she could have a terrible scar. She sent us downtown to the big children’s hospital- and thank heavens she did. What an amazing place.

The ER at the children’s hospital is wonderful. It’s all just for kids- they take the kids to their rooms in Radio Flyer wagons, they have Little Tykes red cars with IV drip poles mounted to them, there are flat-screen TVs in every room, with tons of DVD’s to choose from.  If an ER can be a good place, they had it in aces.

We had to wait a while, but they put us in a room with Dora and Diego for Abby’s entertainment, and she was calm and distracted. We were waiting for the Peds plastic surgeon to arrive. I’m glad we did. Once she looked at Abby, she told us she would need to knock her out in order to really do a good job and minimize scarring potential. This made me nervous, but I also knew Abby would not want to be 14 and look like Frankenstein’s monster.

Never seen anything so wonderful as that Peds nurse who put Abby’s IV in- tiny hand, tiny vein, tiny needle- one stick, perfect the first time. Give the woman a medal.

When they started the procedure, the SIX nurses in the room let David and I sit in the corner while they all gathered around the bed, each doing something different- there was a tiny blood pressure cuff on her leg, tiny monitors on her back and heart, a tiny pulse-ox on her big toe, and one special nurse, up by Abby’s head, who whispered sweet, comforting words and held small flashing lights for her too see as she nodded off to dream land. Her whole job, I later learned, was to comfort the child. Wow.

I quietly cried the whole time.

When they were done, the doctor told me kids usually come out of the anesthesia better if you talk to them, so I went to her bed and started softly calling her name- Abby… Abby… mama’s here, sweet girl…

She turned her head, groggy and swollen, cracked her eyes, and said “Maaaa-mmmmaaa…,” then looking down, “Daaaaaaad” in the sweetest, drunkest sounding little voice you ever heard. My heart sang, and everyone laughed.

After about an hour, she was alert enough to eat a popsicle, and the nurses said if she kept it down, we were good to go. We got to go.

The cherry on top: Jeffrey went to a friends house after school, arranged from the ER on the last remaining drivels of cell-phone battery. When we picked him up, he had just had dinner, and on the way to the car, he looked a little green, said “Mom, I think I’m gonna…” and promptly hurled in their front bushes.

So, how was your day?

(Many thanks to Mo for posting an update last night- that’s a good friend, who will hack into your blog and tell the world what’s up when you are otherwise engaged! Oh, and Heather O, this is why I never called you back yesterday!)

and it’s me!

Hey, Mo here. Tracy’s a little out of order at the moment, so I totally hacked her account to post for her. Because, well, I’m awesome(that part will be removed in her edit for sure!), and because she really needs some more good vibes and prayers after the day she had. Yes, her inability to get a break has held fast……

We cancelled plans for tomorrow because of the amount of puke Abby was producing today. Oh, the M family word is actually “barf”, my apologies. Strangely enough, the dry heaves her poor little body was producing turned out to be a small miracle, because when they needed to give her anesthesia so that the plastic surgeon could sew up the huge gash in her lip they didn’t have to worry about when she’d last eaten.  8 hours later, mom, dad, and sweet groggy girl were headed home. Just one quick stop to pick up Jeff. On his way to the car he turns and says “Mom, I feel like I’m gonna….” and turned to barf all over the bushes. The most barfingest family on the planet seems to have caught the bug again. This time with a side of stiches….

Kind words, prayers, adoring adoration, sympathy, cheese…I’m pretty sure Tracy will take whatever she can get today. I know you’re up to it, type away

Lately it seems like my brain is firing on about 2 cylinders. When I go back and look at some of what I’ve written over the years, there were some grand ideas, pulled off with aplomb. I like some of the things I’ve written- only lately, it kind of seems the well has run a little, um, slower.

Have I really used up all my original ideas? Have I said all I need to say in the world? The answer to both those questions in an unqualified “Nope”- but yet, here I sit, dum-de-dum, not much happening in the ol’ noodle. I’ve always understood why artists tend to seek the dramatic and chaotic- it really does make the best art- yet, I really don’t want any more drama or chaos in my life. Does my art suffer for it?

I mean, it’s not like we’re coasting on our laurels or anything- criminy, we’re going on almost 5 months of unemployment, we had a dangerous and scary sidetrip down a dark alley last month, we had a health scare, Beanie is getting an IEP to see why he regularly bursts into flames- and we’re running out of funds sometime soon. And yet, here I sit, dum-de-dumm.

My writing has been lackadaisical, my painting progress has been nil, my sewing is neglected, and I haven’t worked up any new textile designs in almost two years. My old ones are still selling, but I just don’t care all that much.

Having a husband at home all the time has thrown me for a meteoric mental loop. It’s always Saturday around here. Having David at home lets me run errands and have more free time than I’ve had since becoming a mother- but we have no spare money, so I can’t really tackle many projects. The kids routines have been flushed; they are defiant and whiny, and I actually threatened to sell them to the Gypsies this weekend.

Summer is bearing down fast, and I’m quivering in my flip-flops. We’re only holding onto the barest glimmer of a routine, and with school ending in a matter of weeks, I find myself terrified at the idea of having not only all three kids home all summer, but my husband too. Go lock yourself in a room with your entire family for a few days- get back to me on how you feel when you let yourself out.

I fear I may end up resorting to lots an lots of TV for the summer- and that my children will sprout little TV-cords from their behinds, just like ol’ Jimmy Jet and his TV Set. Really, who wants that?

We pretty much skipped spring here, too. It went from the 60’s to the 90’s overnight. No acclimation, no warming up- just winter, then POW, hotter than a cat on a witches brass bra. Or something like that. Grandma isn’t around to ask for funny sayings anymore. I mess them up anyway.

It would seem I am not the only cheese-hound in our house. Jeffrey came home from school today, opened the fridge, and immediately exclaimed. “MOM! You went to the CHEESE store!!”

The next words from his mouth- “You went WITHOUT me?!”

Jeffrey and I have a special Cheese Friends handshake- we really do.  And when he saw the telltale wax-lined paper in the icebox, not only did he recognize it- (He is 6!) But he proceeded to examine all the little wax wedges until he found the Regianno Parmigiana chunk. I told him he could have some, and a few minutes later, I found him on the sofa, watching Tom & Jerry, gnawing off the entire wedge.

Do I really want my boy craving and inhaling cheese that’s $30 a pound?? I have created a monster. I’m secretly tickled pink.

This is my cheese monger’s store. It’s my Happy Place.

Someone, I know not who, did something very, very kind and thoughtful for me today. OK, actually, two people did kind and thoughtful things- One needed the other- and all for me. I am giddy and deeply touched by someone being so generous and kind to me. I mean, really- who else on earth would adore a gift certificate to a cheese market besides me? And whoever sent it- well, I can’t thank you enough. Really- and Mo Mommy- no matter how much I begged, would not divulge who was so kind- well, besides herself! She is a good keeper of secrets.

Here was my take:

• Mt. Townsend Creamery Seastack, a soft ripened cheese with wood ash.
• Super Aged Dry Gouda- Mmmmmmmm.
• English Stilton- you can read my love letter to this cheese here.
• Parmigiana Reggiano, the disputed king of cheeses
• Pecorino Fresca Verde- a sheep’s cheese from Italy
• Vella Dry Jack, from California, rubbed with cocoa.
• Coolea, a hard cow milk cheese from Ireland
• Grayson, and soft, finely textured cow cheese from Virginia

So, to whomever you are, I thank you. My cheese-deprived palate thanks you. My cheese monger thanks you. And, I, humbly, thank you again.

Just the opening notes of the theme song makes me so happy- it’s like little champagne bubbles up my back… I may have to go by myself, which is kind of pathetic, but I will!

I just spent the last hour climbing around the internets looking for spoilers to the Sex and the City movie. I know, I know… and I don’t care! It’s my guilty pleasure, and I can’t wait to see it! But… since suspense makes me nauseous and dizzy (really, it does), I will, I swear I will, actively seek out the spoilers. I hate not knowing what’s going to happen- I just have to know! Yes, I have been known to read the last page of a book, but only if it’s making me sick. I will, and if it’s my worst character flaw, so be it!

Plus, I’ve had a ginormous crush on Chris Noth since his Law & Order days.

What would really make Mother’s Day awesome? Not a carnation, not a petunia in a cute terra-cotta pot- but if we all got to skip church completely. I mean, really.

At dawn, I was woken by two exhuberant boys who had made me “breakfast in bed”- and by that I mean a cheese chunk and mayonnaise sandwich. Lots, and lots or mayonnaise. Lots. They were so excited and eager, screaming and gleefully screeching of “EAT! MOM! HAPPY MOTHERS DAY! EAT!! WE MADE IT FOR YOU! EAT!” before I had even gotten up to pee.

My husband saved the day. He cleaned up the incredible mayonnaise mess in the kitchen, let me sleep after the sandwich was taken away, swept and mopped the floors, and he got the kids ready for church. It was lovely. I felt like a man for the day!

The night before, Mo Mommy and I went out for a girls’ night- leisurely dinner at a cute Italian place, (it’s amazing how quickly we become human again with no kids around), ice cream at the odd little shop down the street, and a trip to the grocery store so neither of us had to cook dinner on Sunday. I’ll let Mo tell you herself about the escapades on the frozen food aisle- it involved a large stack of cardboard boxes and some falling. She refused to give me a replay so I could film it, drat her! We both proudly served frozen lasagna, frozen mac n’ cheese and frozen garlic bread for Mother’s Day Dinner.

How was your day?

This is a post from my archives- but I can’t say it any better today than I did then- and it’s one of my very favorite things I’ve written. Happy Mother’s Day…

I’m feeling rather soft and squishy about my children tonight. Somedays I feel I am the one learning and they are the teachers. Not necessarily the older wiser teachers, but the harder, tough teachers that you never forget the lessons you learn from. Ever had any of those? I’ve got three of them here under my own roof.

The woman I used to be was independent, a world traveler, a career chick who had a really fun job, cool and interesting friends, a convertible, nice clothes and a good dye job on the hair. I relished my freedom and independence, I sat in bed on Sunday mornings reading the paper and writing self-indulgent things in my journal while my dog slept at my feet. I had friends over for fancy meals and to try out new, gourmet recipes. I spent my free time with other bohemians who were equally self-indulgent and submerged in relative luxury. Luxury of time, of money, of place and weather. Luxury of friends and career’s and choices and plenty. Luxury of museums and concerts and sunset cruises on the Bay after tiny bistro dinners in the City… Ah, I can still feel it, and on melancholy days, I might even miss it a tiny bit.

The woman I am now… Ah, the woman I am now is so much happier than the woman I was. The previous life sounds glamorous and full and fun- and at times it was. But it was also a whole lot of hollow- years of looking for what I felt was missing. Years of writing in that journal, wishing for a family of my own, wishing for my eternal companion (even though he was right under my nose), wishing for children, wishing for a home, wishing for everything that now occupies my days and often my nights.

From my children and my choosing to be a stay-at-home mom, I have learned more than I ever imagined possible. From the moment Jeffrey was born, he has been teaching me- starting with his body sliding into the world… Came the stunning realization that there really is a God. Nothing in my life has been as impacting and as sure as that moment. From Eric’s birth I learned that my heart could expand indefinitely, that love was not something metered out or finite. From Abby’s birth, I learned my capacity to cope and deal with pain reached far beyond what I thought were my boundaries, and I came out not only alive, but thrillingly so.

Each day, as I watch my children grow and change, visibly metamorphosing, the same thing is happening inside of me. My life is not about me anymore, but the irony is that I am more alive, more myself than I ever was when it was all about me. Motherhood has given me confidence in the face of opposition, a knowledge of my personal resources and how deep they might actually be, lessons in patience repeated over and again, a solid sense of what is really important, the ability to discern and trust my intuition, and faith. Oh, most of all, Faith.

How could any of us mother without faith? How could we get through the long nights and exhausting days without faith? How could we do what we do, over and over, without faith?The Lord gave me the greatest gift when Jeffrey was born. I had been searching for years for answers, but it was not until the very moment his warm, wet body was laid on my stomach that I knew, knew with all my heart, that God was there, that God is real.

As mothers, we walk around in the world watching our hearts live outside ourselves. Tiny bodies holding our very lifeblood toddle off into the great blue beyond, and the vulnerability would be unendurable without Faith.

So today, I thank the Lord for answering my questions in unmistakable ways, and for giving me the gift of these little teachers, who stretch and grow and push me toward my eternal destination. I pray that I am enough of a mother to do the same for them.

Happy Mothers Day to all of you. Go kiss your mother!

I can’t sleep. My husband is snoring like Mike Mulligans Steam Shovel, Abby keeps waking up wanting to talk, and I have indigestion, so laying down isn’t fun. How are you?

Speaking of talking, my daughter has discovered language. Up till now, she has been the Silent Child- even to the point I was beginning to be a tad concerned- yeah, not anymore. Everyday she doubles her vocab- at this rate, she’s going to be blogging next week. Her favorite word? “Mine!” Yeah, wonder where she got that one? It’s especially touching because it must always be shrieked, not uttered.

Bean ate only peanut butter and marshmallows yesterday. Yeah, good times.

Stealing the kids Cheetos after they’re asleep leaves little orange tracks on the computer- I can’t even blame them on the kids- they don’t know about the Cheetos… well, they will now…

Wrote a review of Top Chef over at MMW tonight. I admit it- I’m sucked in- this is why I avoid reality tv like the plague. It only takes one exposure, and the ka-pow, you’re sick. You can’t live without seeing what Padma has on, what Tom is going to snark, how mean and grumpy Lisa will look, and what fancy thing Richard is going to whip up this week. I’m weak.

There are many people I need and want to thank lately. I don’t know who wants notoriety and who wants annonymity; some kind, thoughtful and generous people have been helping our family. Someone left us some money in an unmarked envelope, another person sent a gift card, a friend commissioned a painting and paid way too generously, some family members have given us a little help… it’s humbling and I don’t know how I will ever repay the kindnesses that are showered upon us during this sucky time. It’s actually showing itself to be a time of great learning. Hard learning, but learning nonetheless. So thank you. You know who you are.

I have an IEP scheduled for Bean- so Nan (my cousin who is a special-ed administrator), if you’re reading- call me and tell me what to do…

What the crap is Hillary Clinton up to? Why? Seriously, why? Just go away. Is your ambition really that big? You scare me. Go away.

Last night at bedtime, Jeffrey asked me if we were eating the peach tree’s babies if we eat peaches. Uhhh…. well….. Son, it’s time we have a little talk…

Go see what I made for dinner tonight! Oh, and get the recipe. It’s a keeper.

My friend Melissa, (who by the way, is living an incredible life- she and her husband just had their first baby, in Egypt- yeah, for reals) recently posted about her To-Do list- as in, for all of life. Anyone else have one of those? It got me thinking, and I decided to dig out my old list, and see how far I’ve come… Things completed or in-process are underlined.

• Have Children (well, done and done and done.. and I think I’m done)
• Own my own home. (on house #2- now if only we could find a job so we can keep this little gem I love so very much)
• Visit Germany and Austria. (done that, too- alone- now I want to do it with my husband)
• Learn to throw pottery on a wheel.
• Take a cooking class at Le Cordon Bleu
• See Machu Pichu and the plains at Nazca
• See the Pyramids
• Have an art show in a toney little gallery- and actually sell something.
• Spend some time on the Italian riviera- La Cinque Terre.
• Visit Paris- without kids.
• Date a European man (did that)
• Own a convertible and drive the PCH (done)
• Be a nurse-midwife (sometimes I think this life is just not long enough. That one is probably not gonna happen)
• Have a novel published by a real book publisher. (Not just Blurb. Maybe Knopf?)
• Take an architectural tour of New Orleans
• Run throught he Austrian Alps singing like Julie Andrews (done- and no one even noticed)
• Read Moby Dick and Anna Karenina. All the way through.
• Be an archaeologist. (Yeah, another one that’s probably not going to happen)
• Make beautiful things, under my own name, instead of for someone else’s designs. (in process)
• Learn to fly a plane (yeah, don’t care so much about this one anymore)
• Hang-glide (also one that doesn’t appeal to married-mama-me as much as wild, single me)
• Learn to knit. (that I can do! and do! often!)
• Have the home everyone feels welcome in and want to hang out at…(ongoing experiment- I think I’m doing ok, but my friends and time will be the barometer of this one)
• Grow old gracefully and like who I am (also in process- so far, so good)
• See the Aurora Borealis
• Climb Half-Dome (have climbed Vernal Falls, but not even close to Half Dome)
• Learn to develop film and be a better photographer.
• Keep a journal (oh, how I love my blog!)
• Have a front porch. (hooray!)
• Travel to Morocco, Constantinople, Prague, India and New Zealand. Not all in one trip.
• Find God and stop wondering (oh how grateful I am…)

So, that’s the short list… I hope the list keeps growing as I get older- that as I cross things off and complete goals, I can keep adding new dreams and hopes and wishes.

Why, oh why, can’t little boys hit the toilet? After cleaning the boys bathroom this morning, I feel like I have to go take a bath in Lysol. That’s all I have to say about that.

I don’t live in Seattle. For some reason, many people think the rest of the Northwest is hicksville. I just don’t get it, and sometimes, just sometimes, the comments and cracks bum me out. We live in a very nice town- and I love it here. Sure, we may not be cosmopolitan, but we are an easy drive from Seattle if we need some big-city culture. We don’t have an Ikea, but Seattle does, and I can go there if I need it bad enough.

Not all people who opt to live in smaller towns are backward hicks. Just needed to say that.

So I’m taking a day or two off to go sew. I owe some folks some things, and I need to make stuff.  Rant over.

Allrighty, ladies and gents- Both of these enchilada recipes utilize fresh and pantry goods, are simple and are vegetarian, but can easily be amended to add shredded, cooked chicken, pork or beef. I don’t prefer it- but I have added meat before for my carnivorous husband. I call for canned enchilada sauce, and it works wonderfully. If anyone is interested in learning how to make enchilada sauce from scratch, I can teach you how, but really, for a quick week-night dinner, the canned stuff is just great.

OK, first, the recipe Mo Mommy dubbed “Crack on a Tortilla”- and beware, I don’t even want to know how many WW points this one would be- if you figure it out, please don’t spoil them for the rest of us!

DM’s SOUR CREAM ENCHILADAS

• 1 package 12-15 count flour tortillas
• 1 -16oz container sour cream
• 1 -8 oz package cream cheese, softened
• 1 -6oz can diced mild green Anaheim chilies
• 1 can condensed cream mushroom soup
• 1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
• 1 bunch fresh scallions, white and green, sliced thinly
• 1 clove fresh garlic, minced or pressed
• shredded jack or Colby cheese
• 1 small can sliced black olives, drained
• 1 can red enchilada sauce

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees
2. In a large bowl, combine sour cream, cream cheese, chilies, soup. Mix with wooden spoon until uniform in texture.
3. Add drained and rinsed black beans, sliced scallions, and garlic. Gently mix well
4. Fill each tortilla with a portion of the sour cream mixture, some shredded cheese, and roll tightly, and place in a lightly oiled large casserole dish
5. Pour can of sauce evenly over enchiladas, top with extra cheese and sliced olives.
6. Bake for 1/2 hour or so, until top is bubbly and golden.
7. Enjoy!

DM’s WHOLE WHEAT VEGGIE ENCHILADAS

• 1 package 12-15 count whole wheat tortillas
• 3 Tbsp Olive oil for sauteing
• 1 small onion, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
• 1 -6 oz. can chopped Anaheim green chilies
• 1 small zucchini, seeded and diced
• 8 oz. crimini or button mushrooms, chopped
• 2 plum tomatoes, seeded and diced
• 2 cups fresh spinach, chopped
• 1 can low-fat cream of mushroom condensed soup
• 1 can rinsed and drained black beans
• shredded jack or Colby cheese
• 1 can green enchilada sauce

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees
2. In a large pot or skillet, heat oil until shimmery, and add onion. Saute ’til translucent.
3. Add mushrooms, cooking until liquid has been released and the pan reduces
4. Add zucchini and tomatoes and cook until reduced as well.
5. Add chilies, fresh spinach, and garlic, cooking until fragrant and wilted-then remove from heat.
6. Off of heat, add soup and black beans, stirring gently to combine.
7. Fill each tortilla with a portion of the veggie mixture, some shredded cheese, and roll tightly, and place in a lightly oiled large casserole dish.
8. Pour can of green sauce evenly over enchiladas, top with extra cheese.
9. Bake for 1/2 hour or so, until top is bubbly and golden.
10. Enjoy!