easiest pickles

My garden is tiny.  A few raised beds and a wine barrel for herbs, that about sums it up.  But you would be amazed how much produce I get out of that little amount of space.  Now is the time of year where it seems to all come together for a perfect storm of too much produce, too little time.

That being said, this is also the time of year where I like to play 50's housewife and get all creative in the kitchen by doing some canning.

And by far and away the easiest thing I can is pickles.  It takes about 30 minutes to whip up a batch plus a little extra time if you want to water bath them to make them shelf stable.

Now if you go looking for a pickle recipe you are going to find a million...so now I present 1,000,001.

disclaimer:  You will find all kinds of information on the internet about acid to water ratios and what is and isn't safe.  This recipe is a fairly low acid recipe, but it's the one I got from my mom and she got from her mom.  It's the one we've always used and we have never had a problem.  If you are nervous about the lower amount of vinegar...go ahead and add more, it certainly won't hurt.

Supplies you will need:

cucumbers
fresh dill
vinegar
pickling salt
garlic and spicy peppers (if you are into that sort of thing...I am)
some crushed red pepper if you like it extra spicy (I do)
canning jars
new, unused lids to fit your jars
rings to fit your jars

Step 1. You'll need to start with clean jars.  I've read that you need to rinse them in boiling water, I think this is overkill.  A good wash with hot, soapy water followed up by a rinse in hot water is plenty good.

Step 2. pack those jars.  I always start with a good head of dill for each jar, followed by a couple of cloves of garlic (love garlic?  add more.  love good breath?  don't add any.), and whatever peppers you are planning on adding (jalapeno, serrano, habanero...they all work).  I find it works best to slice those peppers in half before adding to your jar.  Finally fill um up with freshly washed cucumbers.  You really need to pack those babies in there.  Get some muscle behind it and fill all the space that you can.  Keep in mind you will need to keep the top 1/2 inch of each jar clear and free of cucumber for your jars to seal properly.

3. Next we will need to make the brine, any this recipe could not be any easier:

9 cups water
3 cups vinegar
1/2 cup pickling salt

Add all three to a big stock pot and bring it to a boil.

4.  While the brine is coming to a boil we can move on to the next step: prepping our lids and rings for canning.  Place all the lids and rings you plan to use in a small pot, cover with water and bring them to a boil.  Once the water starts to boil, you can go ahead and turn the heat off.  Just leave them there until you are ready to use them.

5.  Once your brine is boiling you can start pouring it into the jars.  A large funnel will make this job infinitely easier (they sell canning sets that include some of the basics to make tasks like this easier).  As you pour the brine you want to make sure that you are covering all of the cucumbers and still leaving about 1/2 inch of head space at the top of the jar.

6.  Use a clean knife or spatula to make sure you don't have any air bubbles in your jars.  I just kind of poke around each jar and any bubbles that remain will pop up to the top. 

7.  After all the jars are full, wipe down the top edge of each jar with a clean, damp rag to make sure none of the brine sits on the edge (it can cause problems with sealing).

8.  At this point you will want to either strain the hot water from the small pot of lids and rings or use a magnetic lid lifter to take them one at a time out of the water and place them on the jars.  Once the lids are in place, screw on the rings and tighten.  

9.  Perfecto!  Your pickles are now ready for the fridge!!  Wait at least two weeks before enjoying. 

 But wait...what if you want to seal the jars so that they are shelf stable?  In that case move on to the next step.

10.  If you want your pickles to be shelf stable, prepare a hot water canner like this one by filling it with water (you will want to make sure that you add enough water that your jars will be covered with the water once you add them to the pot as well).  Bring that water to a boil.  Add your jars one at a time to the boiling water.  Cover the pot and boil for 10 minutes.  Remove the jars from the hot water bath.  As they cool they will seal.  You can check the seals by pushing on the top of the lids.  Any that did not seal will move slightly up and down when pushed on...these will need to be kept in the fridge.  If the lid is tight and doesn't move up and down when pushed on, it has formed a seal and is now shelf stable.  

You did it!!  Once you do this a few times, it will become so quick and easy that you will be able to whip up a batch of pickles in no time.

The best part of this recipe is that as long as you have the proportions right, you can adjust it to your needs.  More spicy or less.  More or less garlicky.  Try using green beans instead of cucumbers to make dilly beans, or leave out the dill and use cauliflower instead for some pickled cauliflower.  It really is easy and doesn't take much time.

The best part...they are WAY better than store bought pickles!

Enjoy!

the art of being alone

It's totally quiet as I sit in my house right now.  I can hear the hum of the Keurig every so often as it cycles to keep the water warm, and the clicking of my keys while I type.  There is the soft hum of the refrigerator, and every once in awhile I hear my sleeping dog sigh, but besides these sounds there is nothing else there.

And I love it.

When I was in college I knew a girl who positively hated being alone.  If a night came where she didn't have plans, she would come down to the store I worked at and sit and wait just so she didn't have to be alone.  At one point I tried talking to her about it.  I suggested she take the time to read a book, or get a project done around her apartment, or maybe just go for a walk.  Her response was clear, although somewhat befuddling to me... she just couldn't stand to be alone.

Even then, in my late teens, I didn't understand this at all.  I loved people, loved going out, loved parties and friends, and all the normal college things, but I also loved to be alone.  I could get so much more done, I could really think through things, I could become more 'me' when alone.  At the time I chalked this friend up to being somewhat immature.  Maybe she just wasn't comfortable enough with who she was to be okay being alone for the evening.  Maybe her adolescent need for attention was still strong.  Whatever it may have been, I figured that was the kind of thing that one eventually 'outgrows'.

But I was wrong.

Fast forward 15 years to a time in my life where I am a stay at home mom with little kids, and playdates, and mom friends.  I was shocked to find that more than one of the new friends and acquaintances I met seemed to be saddled with the same fear that I had seen in my college friend.  Their lives had to be filled up with playdates and errands, any down time was filled with phone calls and busy work.  I was shocked to learn that for a stay at home mom, these women hated to be home by themselves.

I didn't understand.  The more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that I was looking at the same problem I saw when I was a teen.  Some people never really learn the art of being alone.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that it is just that - an art.  To really be alone, you have to really be okay with the person that you are.  You have to have some level of internal confidence and be willing to accept yourself in the stark lighting that is solitude.  There are no friends or small talk to occupy your mind.  There is only quiet and your thoughts.

Like any art, this one takes practice.  If you aren't practiced in it, it's going to be very hard.  Once you have mastered it, you can wield your brush to create beautiful things...mostly yourself.  I've found that time alone is when I can look at myself in the most raw way to find who I am as a person, and alternately, who I want to be as a person.  It's in these times that I can find the parts of my life that I need to work on, and the parts of my life that I'm so proud of.   The path isn't revealed in some biblical way, but at least I can envision where I am, and where I want to be.   I walk away from these moments with a renewed inner confidence that I actually am pretty awesome.

I wish I could go back to that girl in college and sit down and talk with her.  I wish I could tell her that she was good enough to be by herself...that she didn't need to surround herself with the mental noise of others all the time.  I wish I could go back to have a heart to heart with my mom friends, although I'm not really sure that they would have been willing to hear what I was trying to tell them.

I wish I could tell them that once you are okay being by yourself, you are pretty much okay being anywhere.

I've lost track of my college friend over the years, but chances are she's married, maybe she has a few kids at home.  I hope that wherever she is, she has learned the art of being by herself.  I hope she has learned that there is joy in silence.

Now excuse me while I sit here and drink my coffee in peace and practice the art of being alone.

Every once in a while

I've talked about this before...Having a tween is so hard.

I distinctly remember one interaction I had with my mom when I was a tween.
 
     It was late evening, and I think I was supposed to be asleep, or at least in bed.  I don't remember what drew me out of my bedroom and into the living room, but something did.  As I was walking down the hall towards the living room I could hear my mom on the phone, and based on the conversation they were having, I knew that she was talking with her best friend who lived on the other side of the country.  I also don't remember what made me stop and listen to what was being said, but I did.  What I do remember was my mom saying:

         "I feel like I just never know which Emily I'm going to get, the happy one or the moody one."
 
For whatever tween, hormonal, emotional reason, hearing this sent me into a crazy spiral.  I remember being so mad...I mean, what could my mom be talking about...I was just me...just Emily... always Emily.

Fast forward 24 odd years and I totally get it.  I hate to admit it, but I totally get it.  I honestly don't remember being much of a typical tween, but the fact that I remember that interaction means that I certainly was.

Now I'm in the boat my mom was in.  Sometimes my Sweet Girl is so happy, easy to get along with, and thoughtful, other times...well, lets just say, not so much.  It really is a daily struggle, and sometimes the only thing that gets me through it is knowing that my friends with tween girls are going through the same thing.  I'm not alone.  She really is normal.  These are the things I keep repeating to myself.

But, like I said, there are the moments when she is one of the sweetest girls I have ever had the joy of knowing.  These moments, when there are random acts of kindness and pure love, remind me that maybe I'm not doing EVERYTHING wrong, maybe things are going alright.  Every once in a while I'm reminded that we really are doing something right.

Yesterday was one of those moments.

It was the kids last day of summer vacation.  I had basically told them that they could do whatever they wanted until we had to head into town for some last minute, get ready for school, errands.  They watched too much TV, they played with legos, they ate junk food...all the things summers are supposed to be made of.  Then Sweet Girl asked Little Man if he would like to ride his bike with her down to the pond.  Sure...and they are off.  The only inkling I had that anything special was about to go down was that she had her purse with her.  There is a little market by the pond that sells some basic groceries and I thought she might have her eye on some candy.  Well, 20 minutes later and I hear the kids coming back, and one of them has a treat: ice cream, but it's not Sweet Girl...she surprised her brother with an ice cream cone.

My heart swelled with love at this sight.

The act of giving and not receiving.
The random act of kindness.
The act of finding joy in someone else's happiness.

It was one of my favorite moments all summer long.

So as I sit here, enjoying the silence that the first day of school has brought upon my house, I am going to put this one in the bank.  This memory will be stored away in a sacred place to be called on when needed.  In those moments where I struggle to parent a tween, in the moments where I wonder where my sweet girl has gone, I will call upon it as reassurance that I am doing something right.

Every once in awhile the universe gives us the gift of being able to see the forest through the trees.

don't waste this

This morning I took milk and juice to a PTC hosted breakfast for the teachers at my sons school, then I went for a run, and followed that up with making eggs for breakfast for my daughter.  These may seem like small things, but to me they are huge.

You see I quit my job about  2.5 months ago, but today is the first day that I have felt the realization that I'm not working.

Today would have been my first day back at work after summer break.

As I was running this morning I was thinking about it.  I thought about my fellow teachers at the school where I taught.  I could guess what they were thinking...the mixed thoughts of excitement, apprehension, and wishes for just one more cup of coffee on what felt like a very early morning.  I know the feeling well, the nerves about meeting a new set of preschoolers, and knowing that the first few days with a class full of three year olds is always crazy.

Being out there, running in the morning sunshine, rather than at work, was a bit of an epiphany.  I just kept thinking:

"Don't waste this."

I don't really know what the future holds.  Right now I'm running down a crazy path, seeing if I can create a successful(ish) small business making handmade jewelry (oh, on that note check out my instagram: copperandoakjewelry).  I read somewhere recently that success isn't knowing what you want to do, but rather being willing to pick a path and follow it.  It may not be exactly what you had hoped for, but you can always go back to the beginning and start over.  True failure only occurs when you aren't willing to begin the journey.

I'll never know unless I try.

So I'm off to tackle my to-do list, call friends to make plans, clean my house, spend the last couple days with my kids before they start school, volunteer with the PTA, help out friends when I can, make jewelry and sell it...

Just don't waste this time.

these memories are etched in stone

I remember exactly where I was 9 years ago.  I was at Costco.

I remember I ran into a friend while I was there, we chatted about life, and how I was feeling.  At apx. 37 weeks pregnant I wasn't feeling great.

I remember some of what I bought that day.  I remember buying pork, bringing it home and dividing the huge, Costco sized, package up into smaller packages for freezing.

I remember that the little boy in my belly hadn't been very active that day, so I had a glass of orange juice and laid down to see if I could get him moving.

I remember my husband encouraging me to call the Doctor when the OJ didn't help, when the nap didn't help.

I remember driving myself to the hospital, sure that I would be hooked up to monitors for at least an hour...how I would have to push a little button...how the nurses would tell me to head back home. They would tell me that my baby was fine, that 'room to move' was just getting sparse in that great big belly of mine.

I was convinced I'd be driving myself back home that evening, bummed to lose one of our last afternoons as a family of three.

The details of that day are etched in my memory.

I never expected that once I was hooked up to the machines and wires I wouldn't have to push that little button even once.

I never imagined that they would call for a tech, and she would hook me up to an ultrasound machine. That she would sit and watch my baby's heart rate go up and up, and that the sweet baby in my tummy would refuse to move the whole time she watched.

I never imagined that they would tell me that I needed to call my husband, that he should come, without our daughter, that he should bring a hospital bag.

I never imagined they would tell me that they couldn't wait any longer...

That we were having a baby now.

Fast forward nine years.

I never would have imagined how my son would love math and science.  How he'd dream of being an environmental scientist to help save animal habitat.

I never would have imagined the heart of gold he would have.  How he'll spend his allowance on a toy for the dog, or give it to a homeless person instead of saving for toys.

I never would have imagined that he'd have his own sense of style, with shaggy, surfer-boy hair, and a love of crazy sneakers.

I never would have imagined that my son would be so strong, and work so hard at a sport that he loves.

I never would have imagined that he would have the same sense of adventure that I do.  That he would love climbing mountains and swimming lakes.  That he would dream of traveling to Egypt and Africa.

I never would have believed I could love him so much.

Happy Birthday Little Man!

In this moment of happiness and joy for me and my family, I want to take a moment and acknowledge that things turned out good for us.  That night in the hospital my boy was born with nothing that some antibiotics, love from family, and good care from amazing doctors and nurses couldn't fix.

We are the lucky ones.

My heart is with you today if you have suffered from infertility, miscarriage, or infant/child loss.

My heart is with you.

being a girl is exhausting

The other day I was struggling to find the time to schedule a manicure.  I realize this may sound like the pinnacle of first-world problems...and it probably is, but hear me out.

You see, I try to get a manicure every few weeks.  I like having pretty nails, I think most girls do, but by husband really likes when I have pretty nails.  I figure it's a small price to pay to look good for my man, but sometimes timing it is tough.  Trying to find an hour to schedule that manicure every 2-3 weeks can be tricky at best.  As I sat, looking at my schedule, on the phone with the lovely woman who does my nails, trying to find a time that worked for both of us, I was reminded of one thing:

This being a girl shit is rough.

A couple of weeks earlier I had been talking to an acquaintance at the gymnastics school where my son goes.  The lovely woman had the most beautiful eyelashes.  They were the kind that are so gorgeous, full and beautiful, that I figured she must have extensions.  My lashes are nothing like that. They are short and not exactly full... I live and die by "Their Real" mascara thanks to my friends over at Benifit.   Hmm, maybe I should consider lash extensions.  Once again I was reminded that:

This being a girls stuff is exhausting.

Flash back even farther to the beginning of the summer when I had forgotten to make a wax appointment until the last minute with the amazing lady who's job it is to rid me of unwanted hair. Luckily she had one time slot left before I left town.  Yet another reminder that:

This being a girl business is grueling.

And as I sit here, typing this post, I'm yet again reminded that I REALLY need to make an appointment for a hair cut/color with my wonderful woman who does my hair...

crap...this being a girl situation is a full time job.

Nails are painted (or acrylic nails are applied), hair is removed, lashes are added, hair is cut...and colored...and maybe added if you are the extension type of girl.  The list could go on...we could get into makeup or maybe skin treatments...blah, blah, blah.

Now please don't take this the wrong way.  I love being a girl.  I love putting outfits together (as proven by my Instagram style account: thismontanastyle).  I love looking good (or at least trying my best) when I go out.  I love getting a pedi with girlfriends.  I love trying new things with my hair.  But at some point even a girly-girl like me has to take a step back and wonder how we created this situation.

For one week I would LOVE, just love, if all the men in my life had to live as girls...hair, clothes, makeup, nails...and they would certainly be required to get a brazilian.  I'm not quite sure how we ended up in this place where women work so hard to look 'good', and most dudes just roll out of bed, quick shower, throw on some clothes and can count that as looking 'good'.

I wish I had some great idea on how to try and change this situation, but I don't.  I guess the one thing I hope is that if any dude reads this, they start to realize, even just a little, the work that goes into a girl looking 'good'.

In the mean time, I'm just gonna hope that my man notices my manicure.

Peace.

Adventure Thursday

Things do not always go the way that I think they should, but the older I get the more I'm believing that things do always go the way the universe intends.

One great example of this is what I've lovingly dubbed Adventure Thursday.

A few weeks back I realized that as the summer was beginning to wane the list of small(ish), Montana day-trips that I had planned was not getting much shorter.  I had been so busy with the longer, more involved trips, as well as the (unending) work of trying to create my own small business, that these little (yet important) adventures were getting pushed to the wayside.  I was feeling pretty disappointed in myself for letting this happen and I realized that I needed to pencil in some time in my planner specifically for this reason.

Thus was born Adventure Thursday.  One day a week when I will not work, and the day (well, at least a good chunk of the day) will be devoted to heading out somewhere new with my kids.

I had high hopes of excited children with smiling faces who were having so much fun that they couldn't possibly whine or argue (why would they when they are having the time of their lives).  I imagined them falling into bed early in the evening because they were so worn out after a day of adventuring in the mountains with fresh air.  I even thought they would be so thankful to me, their loving, thoughtful mother, who had put together such a special day for them.  I pictured myself tucking them into bed and then sitting on the couch, with a glass of wine in my hand, feeling blissful after spending a full day winning at motherhood.

Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, things didn't go quite as I had planned.

The problems started before we had even left the house.  This kids couldn't agree on where we should go to get some items for our picnic by a lake. They whined and argued, while I got frustrated that they were more concerned with getting what they wanted rather than being thankful that they got to have a special day (lunch included).

The problems continued when we got to the trailhead...or what I thought was the trailhead.  Things didn't look quite like I remembered from hiking in the area several years back.  Our destination wasn't even on the map at the trailhead.  The kiddos were starting to question my knowledge about where we were and therefor if I could even be trusted to keep them alive.  But we continued on...we might not be were I intended, but we were at a beautiful trailhead and damnit we were going to have a good time anyhow.

Next up we ran into some hikers that I would have very much liked to punch in the throat.  A group of older ladies who I can only assume were from out of state...and here to experiance the great outdoors. They talked loudly and obnoxiously,  they questioned several parenting decisions I made within the span of minutes that we were in earshot of each other, and talked down to me quite a lot when they found out (thanks dear children of mine) that we were not at our intended trailhead (which was quite ironic as it turns out that they weren't either).

But, after hiking in for a good mile or so, my frustrations started to lead to gratitude.  The trail that we were on turned out to be quite beautiful, and I started to feel so appreciative that the universe had led us here.  I was reminded that even though I am very much in charge of my life,  I am very much not in charge of what the world will put in my path.

where we ended up:

I was starting to feel very zen about the whole thing, but pre-teens have a way of putting an end to almost any zen you think you find.  I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say that all was lovely until we drove back down to a nearby lake to have our (much fought over) picnic lunch.  It was at this peaceful moment that the Tween decided it would be the perfect time to lay out (in bullet point form) all the ways in which I had fallen short as a mom that day.

And I swore that was the end of Adventure Thursday.

Luckily my husband was there, on the other end of the phone, to talk me off the metaphorical ledge, and after a weeks worth of time passed by I decided that I was feeling strong enough to once again venture out with my children for a day of wandering off the beaten path.

And I'm so glad I did.

This time, wether it was because the universe really owed me a solid, or maybe because my husband threatened to ground the kids until school was back in session if he had to talk me off the ledge again, things were much more as I had envisioned them.  Although part of that is probably due to the fact that I had some time to adjust my vision...bring it a bit closer to reality.  There were far fewer complaints from the very beginning.  The kiddos seemed honestly happy to spend the day together and even the time in the car drew very few complaints.  I felt happy and so in awe of the beauty we saw.  

the following adventure Thursday

One of my favorite sayings goes something like this:

Right when you think you've got it all figured out, is right when it will all start to fall apart.

I'm thinking the universe needed to remind me of this once again.  I had it a little too planned out in my head.  I thought I knew what the ideal Adventure Thursday looked like.  As cheesy as it sounds, I needed the reminder to go with the flow, to relax and try to enjoy the journey, not to force it.   

As my husband said (whilst talking me of aforementioned ledge), "babe, you took the wrong road and ended up hiking somewhere new...sounds like an adventure to me!".