Something a litte freaky

Sometimes when we're sitting around and talking, Trevor will clean the hair out of my brushes for me (which is sort of a gross job — isn't he the best?). After he cleaned out another mass of hair the other day, he rolled it up into a ball and we analyzed the color, commenting on how dark it looked, lamenting the loss of our blond hair (we both had super blond hair as kids), and wondering what to call our ambiguous hair colors now. So then I told him to hold the hair up to his and see how close it was in color.

Um, it was EXACTLY the same.

It was seriously a little freaky. We totally couldn't see any difference between the two. I could understand more if we were related in any way, but since we're not, it was just too bizarre. I realize this story is a little bit gross (who likes to talk about their own personal hair balls?), but I couldn't not share this.

You know how they say that married couples start to look like each other, after so many years together? I guess we're on our way...

Pride and Prejudice

So I have just resurfaced, ready to face the modern world again now that I've finished reading Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice for the first time. (No, Mrs. Rogers. I never actually read it when we were assigned to in 11th grade English. I wrote my paper based on what I had seen in the movie. I'm a terrible, terrible person.) Anyhow, I have been totally engrossed in this book this last week, and it's a relief— although bittersweet — to be done. Bitter in that I absolutely love being lost in a good book and it's a little sad knowing that it's over, but there's also a certain sense of accomplishment that comes when I finish a book — and it's even better when I finish a good book.

One obstacle I had going into this reading was that I've seen both the A&E television version and the newer film version so many times that it was hard to let the book stand on its own. I read the first few chapters with images of Keira Knightley and Colin Firth swirling around in my head, and I hate not being able to form images of the characters based on what I read and seeing them only as the actors who played them. But that stopped after a while, probably when I read that Mr. Collins is really supposed to be a "tall, heavy looking young man of five and twenty" — the overly sweaty A&E Mr. Collins and the mousy film version were equally formidable, but I was surprised to read the original description.

Anyway, reading the book was so much fun. Even though I knew perfectly well how the story turns out, I was still on pins and needles the whole time, waiting to see if Mr. Bingley really would make it back to Netherfield or how Mr. Darcy would ever find out that Elizabeth really did like him. And this brings me to my next point. To be sure, there is a lot of girliness about the book (it IS about dances and love and marriage), but once you get past that, it's pretty amazing writing.

I also love how reading this book and others from the same period make me want to speak with a British accent — at least for the next half hour after I close the book or until Trevor shakes his head in disgust — and use phrases like "by the bye." Some other favorites I've since added to my list include "make haste," "happy will I be," and "to be sure." Another classic line: "Mrs. Bennett was quite in the fidgets." Love it.

I know that many of you who are reading this have already read P&P (and you're wondering how I missed the boat), so I write hoping that you'll be reminded of how fun it was to read for the first time. And for those of you who haven't read it yet, DO IT. I loved how much more I knew about each character (there's so much detail that you can't possibly convey in a movie), and I'm a sucker for epilogues — so make haste.

Lastly, I may still be too lazy and too not-in-the-U.S. to do anything about this, but my curiosity was piqued about offshoot books like Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife and whatever else they have now. Mrs. Darcy's Sons? Lydia's Grandchildren? Does anyone know if they're any good?

Anyway, it's back to the grindstone. After a brief but oh-so-pleasant hiatus, here's hoping I'll finish the thoughtful but weighty Europe at War sometime this year...

Our trip to Germany, in pictures

Here are a few fun pictures from our amazing temple trip to Germany a couple weeks ago. I'm realizing now that they're mostly just of Anna, because she's so adorable, and that they mostly cover the bus trips there and back. But oh well. Not much we could do while we were at the temple.

on the bus

This is when Anna decided to eat a pretzel stick like she was smoking a cigarette . . . on our way to the temple. (That was the first and only time she's ever done that. So crazy.)

The daughter of a thumbsucker (me)...

...lending a hand to her dad.

On the temple grounds, near the temple "hotel."

You can barely see Anna in her pink jacket in front of the temple. This was near the fountains, which Anna consistently referred to as the "bath."

This is part of the group of Polish members that went on the trip, in front of the temple.

I LOVE these next 4 pictures with all my heart and soul, so much so that I almost considered making them their own post. This is what our angel looks like early in the morning after sleeping on our laps on a bus all night. Isn't she gorgeous?

In other news...

Trevor and I have finally made it to the stage of our parenthood where we have resorted to spelling things so that Anna doesn't understand what we're talking about.

The Worst Job in the World

One kind of milk they have in Poland is the kind that you can store on your shelf for a few weeks or months before you use it. But once you open it, it goes bad pretty quickly, usually within 2 or 3 days. And you can't leave it out of the fridge for more than a few minutes or else it's Rancid City. This kind of milk has its obvious pros and cons, but one downside has made me realize I have the worst job in the world.

See, Anna likes to open the fridge and get her milk cup out by herself, sometimes without us really knowing it. And since she's also quite a mover and shaker, her cup gets left out all the time. It could be anywhere from in the closet to in the stroller to under the couch, at any given time. I frequently say a mild curse under my breath whenever I see it sitting out, because I don't know how long it's been out and there's a good chance that it's already gone bad. And, as her mother and protector, I know I'm going to have to taste it before I give it back to her.

Anna has seen me taste her milk and then, when it's gone bad, quickly spit out the putrid liquid enough times so that she'll sometimes make a face and say "ewwww" when she takes the first drink — even if the milk is still good. (Other times, she reassures me that it's okay, just like I do to her.)

I realize there's no way I can get out of this, the worst job in the world, if I want to give my daughter unspoiled milk to drink. And complaining isn't going to help anything, but that hasn't stopped me, has it?

De-lish

When I was at the age when you're probably too old to go trick-or-treating but you go anyway to score as much candy as you can, I dressed up as Mrs. Claus. I thought this was especially clever, because what's more un-Halloween and more unexpected than something relating to Christmas? I tied my hair in a bun and wore my mom's Christmas goose apron over a red dress, but no one really got my costume. My friends called me Betty Crocker the whole night and, much to my dismay, the nickname stuck for a while.

All of this is to say that, while I don't want to give you the impression that I'm old and boring, I do like to cook. And I especially like to bake. In celebration of spring, I thought I would post one of my favorite recipes for the best Strawberry Shortcake ever. Make this recipe. You won't be sorry.

The Perfect Strawberry Shortcake
makes 8 servings

Shortcake Biscuits
2 1/2 c. flour
1 T. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
1/3 c. plus 1 T. sugar
1/2 c. cold butter, cut up
1 large egg, separated
1 c. buttermilk

Sugared Strawberries
2 1/2 pounds strawberries (8 cups)
2 T. sugar

Whipped Cream
1 c. heavy or whipping cream
2 T. sugar
1 t. vanilla

Preheat oven to 425 F. Shortcakes: In bowl, combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and 1/3 c. sugar. Cut in butter. With fork, beat egg yolk with buttermilk; stir into flour mixture just until dough leaves side of bowl. On floured surface, with floured hands, knead dough 6-8 times to combine; pat to 3/4-inch thickness. Cut out shortcakes; place 1 inch apart on ungreased cookie sheet. Press trimmings together; cut to make 8 biscuits in all. With fork, beat egg white; brush on shortcakes. Sprinkle with sugar. Bake 15-20 minutes or until golden. Cool on wire rack.

Sugared strawberries: Hull strawberries, then slice. In large bowl, stir strawberries, sugar, and 1 T water. Let stand 15 minutes or refrigerate up to 4 hours.

Whipped Cream: In medium bowl, beat cream, sugar, and vanilla until stiff peaks form.

Split each shortcake. Layer berries and cream over shortcake bottoms, replace tops, and then dollop with cream and berries.

A few notes: The shortcakes are the most delicious part of the whole thing. I could eat all 8 of them plain, as soon as they're out of the oven. Also, another way to prepare the strawberries is to slice 3/4 of the berries, puree the rest in the blender with a little sugar, and then combine to make a strawberry sauce. I like either way. I also think I've left the vanilla out of the whipped cream before and it tastes fine without it. Whatever suits your fancy.

Bittersweet babbling

So Anna is almost 2, and her language skills seem to be growing by leaps and bounds every day. It's so exciting to see her learning new things and getting smarter and smarter all the time. I love that she can now pronounce "clock" as clearly as the rest of us and that she learned the difference between the words "Grandma" and "Grandpa" this last week. She says "whoop" when she drops something, which I'm sure she has heard from both her mom and her grandma. I also love that she yells "Trev!" and "Ash!" around the house, just like her mom and dad do, and that she recently learned to add the -ch sound onto the end of "ow!" I'm constantly in awe of our little daughter, pondering how her brain is processing things like consonant clusters and plural nouns and negotiating two-syllable words and multiple-word phrases.

But at the same time, I still experience intense joy and delight when she says "Domp!" (with a long 'o') for "don't" and when she says "bump" for "bum." (The bonus P seems to be a popular favorite around here.) Our already abundant love for her multiplies when she consistently refers to the computer as the "penloo" or when she pleads "thank you" (instead of "please") when she really wants something. So her own take on language delights me as well.

And lately I've been mourning the loss of the classic Anna words, like "bizee," that have disappeared from her vocabulary. "Bizee" was the word she said when she wanted her jacket zipped up. Now she says boring old "zip." Anna also used to say "jackee" for "jacket," which was supercute, but now it sounds more like "jackuh."

In addition, and much to my consternation, there are a couple phrases Anna says that I cannot decipher. For the life of me. Several random times throughout the day, she'll get my attention by saying "Mom. Mom. Mom." which is followed either by "gotch" or "uggadoo." She's incredibly consistent with the pronunciation of these words so I'm fairly confident that they mean something real, I just don't know what it is. She will also sit down somewhere, pat the space next to her, and say "pear." Is this some pared-down, slurred version of "sit up here"? Who knows what we've said to her to make her think "pear" makes sense.

For the time being, I guess I'll just have to content myself with trading the old adorablenesses for the new and patiently await the day when I finally decode the meaning of "gotch" and "uggadoo." Even though I miss "bizee" and the rest, there's still plently to enjoy, like when Anna says "change" (meaning "change my diaper") when she tries to say the name of her Aunt Jen or "Lala" when she points to a picture of her Aunt Natalie.

Isn't language development (and Anna) utterly amazing?