Honestly, I was a little scared I’d be jealous.  But I wasn’t.  I just wasn’t.  When the time came, I was over the moon happy for them.  Like over the moon – I can’t sit still – gotta go see the baby – happy.

The Omnivore and I used to live right across the street from these new parents.  And then my husband and I decided to up and move over 2 hours away though leaving these awesome friends was definitively on the CONS list we made when considering the move.

And it isn’t that I don’t love the parents but now that the baby is here I’m thinking I’m going to be making that cross-state drive a little more often.  Of course one of the first things that popped in my head is “What kinds of food can I make for baby!?”

I think in a couple of years the baby is going to love this coconut lime ice cream.  It is cool and refreshing.  It makes you squench up your face just slightly from the tartness but then the smoothness and sweetness takes that shock away.  I call it ice cream, but I don’t think it really is ice cream.  It is probably a sorbet.  It uses coconut milk, which is rich and creamy, but not actually milk.  Shockingly, the green color comes from avocado.  But don’t let that scare you away.  This stuff is REALLY good.

My husband, out of town for the week, would not be distracting me.

My frugality, rearing its ugly head, would ensure that all the bananas would be baked with.

The blog, well, the blog promised that whatever banana-y treat appeared, it’d be delicious.  Bloggers cook good stuff.

So we started joking about the bananas.  And I started posting on Facebook about the bananas and soon enough we thought we’d cleverly coined the term BananaWatch 2013.

We were all excited about the BananaWatch.  We were, after all, teachers still at work through our summer vacation.  We were all a little bit out of our element: formerly only interacting in the halls and the lunchroom and now sitting for 7 or 8 hours at cafeteria tables, enrolled in a summer graduate course.  The bananas became a way we started the day.  The desserts offered the sugary boost we needed to get through the afternoon slump.  The BananaWatch was in full force and dare I say the lifeblood our of group (okay, that’s exaggerating).

And almost simultaneously, on the 3rd or 4th day of BananaWatch 2013, a few of us realized the hidden meaning behind our nickname.  Naively, we were just speaking excitedly about the next day’s treats.  To an outsider, however, or someone spending a bit too much time around the humor of teenage boys (which we’re all guilty of since we’re teachers), it was clear that BananaWatch was a cute term walking a dangerous, dangerous line.  So, it may no be appropriate to make t-shirts with our summer slogan on them.  We’ll have to find another way to remember these days.

This bread just might be all that’s needed.  It is indeed one of the best banana bread recipes I’ve made.  It is not sticky-moist nor stiffly-dry.  It screams bananas! without screaming sugar!  The texture is consistent and dependable.  It takes a little bit longer to prepare than your average recipe and uses a few more bananas than your grandma’s bread.  The recipe originates from Cook’s Illustrated, though, and we all know what a dependable source that is.

Sometimes he drives to neighboring states; sometimes he flies to different timezones.  I used to clear my schedule to drop him off at the airport.

I would pack him homemade dinners to eat in the hotel room if he was driving; I’d send him off with cookies in his suitcase if he was flying.  I’d track his flight on Delta’s website and kept a catalog of flight numbers, hotel reservations, and emergency contacts.  There were times that I’d pick him up from the airport with helium balloons, a hug, and a kiss like we’d been apart for centuries.

But when traveling is happening routinely it becomes part of your lifestyle.  Soon, very soon, it no longer became a priority to clear my schedule to chauffeur my capable husband to and from the airport.  The more often he starting flying, the sooner I realized his plane wasn’t going to go down in smoke; I didn’t need those flight numbers.  The hotel information?  Yes, that would still be a good thing to hold on to, but we both get lazy, I guess.

I think we both prefer having him home.  There are some benefits to him being gone, though.  For instance, I spent $8.17 on various groceries on Monday and have been eating quite mightily all week long.  This kale chip recipe is one that I am quite certain he would not enjoy.  Not because it isn’t delicious and addictive – it really is.  He just has a mental block against kale.  It sucks, really.

We’ve all been through the fad of baked kale chips (ZOMG!) but these are better – and that’s because they are salt and vinegar baked kale chips.  How can I describe these?  They simultaneously dissolve and explode in your mouth.  They are tangy and salty which is what a good snack should be.  I used a salad spinner to evenly distribute the oil and the vinegar and I suggest, if possible, you do the same!

I’d like to mention that I was given a copy of the book, Kale, to review.  I have made three recipes from each, and although I made slight adaptations to each, they were all delicious.  The book itself appeals to me because it is not only filled with 75 recipes but has highly informative facts about kale and other superfoods.  The book is affordable and interesting so if you are into kale, give it a chance!

Danny,

The 12 months since our 6 year anniversary has certainly given me plenty to write about.  I could remind you of a funny story or a romantic one.  An uplifting story or a depressing one.  I won’t, for now, though.  I’ll try to stick to the essence of why we’re celebrating our 7 year anniversary today: 7 reasons I love you.

1) Music.  I am writing this post and listening to “Powderfinger” by Neil Young.

Had I not fallen in love with you, I would not have fallen in love with music and certainly not the musicians of yesteryear: Jackson, Cat, Neil, Bob.  You not only introduced me to some of the most soulful artists of the century, you yourself are one.

Look at how you play those drums.  Anyone who knows you, knows that this picture is the epitome of you.  You are at once a maniac and an artist.  You are so shy except when with a guitar your arms or a drum set in your lap.  You taught your little brother about what music means.

2) Teaching.  Your favorite toy growing up was a slate chalk board.  It still hangs in our barn.

Your former students still contact you – after decades and advanced degrees – to say you were the best they ever had.  You bucked what your parents thought, smashed stereotypes, and did what you knew you were born to do: teach.  You taught math but you taught life lessons.  As you say, you taught kids.

You wrote a book.  You wrote a DAMN BOOK.  I sit in college courses of my own now and they cite YOUR BOOK.  In a few months, your second book will be born.  You don’t have an English degree.  You never set out to be an author.  You have, however, mastered the craft of teaching the kids and it is time to teach the teachers.  I admire you for never taking those steps out of the classroom and into the principal’s office as I am sure you were often encouraged to do.  You stayed close to your kids for as long as you could.

3) Kids.  I have never seen a grown man so willing to make an apparent fool of himself to elicit the smile of a babe.  The nature with which you interact with kids of all ages is enviable.

Who stops mid-performance to let a kid shake a tambourine or a plastic rhythm egg?  I wouldn’t.  You would.  And you do.  You make every kid feel special, beautiful, smart, and perfect.  It is a curse, really, that the universe has not blessed you with children of your own to raise into smart, conscientious, special souls.  I truly cannot fathom a better father.  You are an amazing father to our pets.

4) Pets.  Are you Dr. Doolittle?  Cats that hate strangers attach themselves to you.  Horses that don’t like men follow you like puppy dogs.  Dogs speak your language.

Wild animals <horses> understand you.

Thank goodness animals are drawn to you, because it has become one of our biggest hobbies.

5) Hobbies.  Holy Hell are you a man of hobbies.  Any given Sunday you could be hand carving a drum, chiseling a pen, playing guitar, making soap, tooling leather, playing tennis, riding horses…  It must have something to do with your ADD.

6) ADD.  You are a package deal.  Love you and love your faults, you’d say.  In the heat of the moment {you know, an argument}, I could not.  I would not.

But really?  I do.  I love you and your faults.  I love your bouncing-off-the-wall personality and your humor.

7) Humor.  I don’t know if I just think you are hilarious because I love you or because you are truly hilarious.  Laughter is definitely one of our languages of love.  All I know is that I no longer include crunches in my daily fitness routine because you take care of those muscles with the giant belly laughs you give me.

People tell us, quite often actually, that we’re perfect for each other.  Strangers tell us that.  Loved ones tell us that.  Let’s keep it that way.

Vinny?  He’s in the comfortable, overstuffed chair that I begged my husband to donate.  Putting it on the porch was a compromise.  He’s sitting up, chest erect, nose pointed slightly upward and out toward the road.  He is a king and this tiny farm is his castle.

Blue? Her 10 year old body is laying haphazardly on the wooden floor, ignoring the comfortable dog bed that invites her from just feet away.  She’s given Vinny permission to take over her watchful duties of yesteryear.  Sometimes she reminds him, though, that she can outrun him (if she wants to).

Flo? She’s sitting by my ankle.  This dog heels naturally.  She won’t take her eyes off me.  She’s asking me what she is supposed to be doing right now.

Flo wants me to know that the cat is inside the house, longing to be on the porch, sitting on the window sill.  She wants me to know that he’s making her nervous – the way he’s staring at us.  She’s asking me if dinner will be served on time tonight (it won’t) and if the rain will stop soon (it won’t).  Her glossy brown eyes are telling me exactly how much she missed me while I was in Austin for 4 days.  Daddy doesn’t take care of her the same way I do.

Can you imagine being a caveman and being a part of this evolution of wolf to dog?  Taking a wild, independent creature and choosing the ones that had the odd propensity to stick near to people – selectively breeding and creating a new species – the dog – that is helpless without him.  They took the wolf and created the lab, a wild dog suspended in puppyhood with floppy ears, big brown eyes, and submissive behavior.

Who took the first sweet potato and decided to cook it – to soften the flesh and enhance the sweetness – and eat it?  How did cooking even come about?  Who peeled that ugly avocado and braved the bright green flesh?  Why?

Put them together with a smattering of tangy goat cheese on soft, sweet, whole wheat bread and you have yourself a lunch.  An ally that won’t let you down – like your dog.  Something decidedly delicious and perfectly healthy.  Something to be thankful for.

But you guys are doing well!  Tons of people recognized the famous endoplasmic reticulum and golgi apparatus.  And while having my students remember these organelles 10 years down the road is not my goal for my own students, it sure made me happy to see how much everyone remembered!

I made these cakes for two of my six classes that took a state biology exam.  The cakes sort of encompassed the entire year.  They required patience, time, research, creativity, and a little massaging.  In true annoying biology teacher fashion, I did make students identify the part of the cell as well as its job before they could have a piece.

This fondant is easy to work with and tastes much better than what you might find in the caking section of your local craft store.  It rolls out nice and thinly without tearing and takes color well.

It isn’t a break for long, though, because I’m on the move this summer.  First up is BlogHerFood 2013 in Austin, TX.  If you’re going, track me down!  That, in combination with a college class, and some other various traveling, means I’m pretty busy this summer.

Not too busy, however, to make sure I enjoy this baked oatmeal many times.  This is a recipe that I make often for people in need of casseroles (new babies, condolences, etc) but I’ve never blogged it.  It is nice for giving away because it isn’t pasta and marinara sauce AND isn’t dinner.  It reheats well and is so delicious it might just pass as dessert.

I used strawberries and bananas but you could probably incorporate many fruits in place of the berries.  I suggest leaving in the bananas, though, because they dissolve away to impart a delicious sweetness throughout.  The Omnivore, who has the most tarnished impression of oatmeal, ate this under peer pressure from me and a friend and declared it a favorite.  So make it for you and make it for a friend – and be sure to make a double batch!

I am not quite sure what influenced me to buy the pasta shells; I usually am very loyal to only whole wheat pastas and I haven’t seen a wheat variety of these shells.  Anyway, when I got home that very afternoon and got to making dinner, I opened the box of these so called “jumbo shells” and screamed “JUMBO MY ASS!”

Seriously.  The shells seemed smaller than a radish.  They seemed as if they’d be perfect for Velveeta Shells n Cheese (which I’ve still never eaten).  How on earth was I supposed to stuff these shells with deliciousness?

And while the non-jumbo pasta shells boiled, I went through a semi-tirade:
-wouldn’t it all taste the same if I just mixed any sort of pasta up with spinach and cheese and baked it?
-why must I laboriously stuff these stupid shells?
-am I going to have to eat like 12 shells to feel full?

It turns out the shells puffed up respectably while boiling.  And stuffing them didn’t take that long.  And they sure do make for a neat presentation, which breaks the cycle of uuuugh more pasta with red sauce.   They were tasty and reheated well so I’m sure I’ll make them again.

This pizza might deserve the “King of Junkfood” title more than any other pizza around, though.  I found some whole wheat pizza dough in my freezer (aka the blackhole) and recognized that I had a pound of brussels sprouts ready to be used.

Most pizza recipes with brussels sprouts contain bacon also because obviously the two are a winning combination.  I ran across a vegetarian rendition of the pizza, though, and keeping with the healthy theme of the whole wheat dough decided to try it out.

Are you scared of lemon on pizza?

Don’t be.  What a delicious surprise!  The cooking mellows them but they retain their juicy bite and go perfectly with the cheese and veggies.  Be sure to slice them thinly so they just sort of dissolve into your pizza.

Who loved this pizza the most?  The Omnivore.  That doesn’t mean, however, we won’t be fighting over the lone leftover piece.  By the way, the recipe is a Martha Stewart recipe so of course the Omnivore couldn’t resist cracking jokes about learning amazing recipes in jail throughout our dinner.

I am finishing up my second year as a high school biology teacher.  This week my students are taking their end-of-course test in the subject.  This is the exam administered by the state (the type of exam people scream about when they say we “teach to the test”).  In just a few short weeks kids will leave my classroom and kids may leave my life.  Naturally, it is a time for reflection.

This job.  This job.  THIS JOB.  

If you had asked me as a 5 year old what I wanted to be when I grew up it was decidedly an anesthesiologist.  If you had asked me when I was 20 what I wanted to be, it was veterinarian.  You can read about what became of that here.

Now I’m a high school biology teacher.  I walked into the classroom last year with no experience teaching, no know-how, and dead-wrong expectations.  My lilly-white private school education didn’t prepare me for what it would be like to educate the children of rural South Carolina.

I stole a line from my husband.  When people ask me what I teach, I say, “I teach children and if we have time I teach them biology.”  This job makes me laugh so hard.  Kids say the darndest things.  This job makes me cry.  Hard.  Kids can be mean.

Have you seen the video of Jeff Bliss teaching his teacher a lesson?  If that doesn’t cause a teacher to stop and think, I don’t know what does.  Are we touching their hearts?  Do I get them excited about biology?  Am I doing our country justice as I attempt to educate America’s future?

Are they going to remember the standards of biology I’m required to teach when they take this state test this week?  In 5 years when in college?  In 10 years when deep in life’s path?  Will those standards of biology matter?  Probably not.  How much do I care?  Not much.

The lessons I aim to teach have little do with cellular respiration or prokaryotic cells.  They have to do with solid thinking and research, problem solving, and morality.

Are they going to remember the example I set?  Do I set the right example?  How I showed them kindness and didn’t give up?  How I gave them my best on a daily basis?

They won’t.  I didn’t appreciate my teachers until far too removed from school.  Maybe I didn’t truly appreciate them until I was a teacher.  It is okay, though, if they don’t know what I do for them.  Maybe that’s the selfish part of me; maybe I try to do a good job just to please myself.

I made my kids these blondies as a snack to eat before their big test.  I gave them a pep-talk, fist bumped a few boys, and disappeared.  The blondies are delicious.  Browned butter and brown sugar – sweet and rich and moist.  I studded them with razzcherries, which are cherries soaked in raspberry juice.  The dried fruits were gifted to me by Sincerely Nuts.  Be sure to check out the site – it is full of interesting and top quality dried fruits, nuts, and more.