An Indecent Proposal

Here's what's brewing in our kitchen this morning:

We are considering living on American made products for an entire year. As I'm typing this, my husband points out we should be living on products "Made in the the United States" instead.
"What's the difference?" I ask.
"'American' could mean Mexico and Canada. 'Made in the US' means just the United States," he pauses to examine the chocolate chip package from which he and our daughters are taking chips out to make our Sunday morning pancakes. "Although some people may not agree with that."
"Okay, let's decide then," I say.
"Made in USA." He declares.

This causes our oldest daughter to ask, "Does this include holidays like Christmas and Easter?" (We have just come from Target, where she ran a little reconnaissance on the Monster High dolls available.)

Doug and I then have a conversation about the level of what I will call "State-Madeness" we're comfortable with. Because we may be looking at a product made here in the US, but perhaps the source material comes from another country. For example, while we're talking about this, he and the girls are making our favorite Sunday morning breakfast: Chocolate chip pancakes. They're making them from scratch, in our kitchen in Washington state. Made in the USA, right? But when we look at the packaging for the ingredients, we aren't entirely sure the chocolate chips, baking powder, flour and salt are made here. The eggs, yes, because we buy them at our local Farmer's Market. A glance at the Nestle Toll House package of chocolate chips doesn't show much. They're distributed by Nestle Baking in Solon, Ohio. Since they're a Swiss company, we're betting they aren't made here.

A quick look at the Hershey website revealed a list of their products still made in Hershey. Great! But where do they source the chocolate from? One of our favorite chocolate makers, Theo Chocolates, based here in Seattle, definitely makes their products here. We've seen them on the factory tour. But they do source their chocolate (in fair partnerships) from other countries.

The Baking Powder (Rumford, made by Clabber Girl) was okay. Not sure about the flour because we'd ditched the packaging after pouring it into a canister. Salt (Morton) was fine.

How many tiers of "State-Madeness" are we willing to go to? What we decided:
- We absolutely prefer items made in the USA, from source to distribution.
- We can deal with an item made in the USA with possible overseas materials.
- "Carbon Credits" will be allowed on complex items, such as electronics. Cell phones, for example, have parts made in the US, but the batteries are made in Japan. If we buy an item like this, we'll make an equitable contribution to benefit children in need in the US. Doug is proposing a $1,000 limit on these items for the year. I don't know how realistic this will be.

Preliminary ground rules: 
- We can keep stuff we already have that hasn't been made in the United States.
- We can accept gifts.

This is hard. We began talking about trying it for a year, but in the small amount of research we're doing this morning (on batteries, athletic gear for Doug's cycling and my running, shoes, breakfast cereal, car parts for our foreign made car), we're getting a taste for how challenging it is to live in an urban environment without relying on foreign made products. So, we'll give it a shot for a month. Four weeks from today. Thank goodness we're starting on Farmer's Market Day.

For you, dear readers: Think about what you're wearing. What you've got in your purse or backpack. How many of those things can you replace with only American made goods? Let me know.

Stuff I Saw During My Run

- Litter. I know, it's everywhere, but litter just bums me out.

- A gray T-shirt, folded neatly and draped over a fence.

- Purple tulips, just about ready to open.

- A pristine orange Monte Carlo raised up, so it probably has hydraulics. Man, I miss those days!

- Four or five pairs of shoes. It looked like someone threw their boyfriend's stuff out of the car window but he didn't pick any of it up.

- A half-eaten piece of cake, on a red plastic plate with a fork. On the sidewalk. I am not making this up.

Lucky Number Seven

I ran seven miles with my training group today. My toes went numb at mile four and I hobbled for the most of the end. I felt pretty good finishing, mostly because I finished at the same time as the woman I was chasing for most of the run. When I asked her what happened she said, "Oh, I ran an extra portion because we took an early turn and cut the course by a block."

Huh.

So, I guess I ran almost seven miles today.

But I'm still eating the chocolate croissant Doug got me as a treat.

Loving PDX

The sign at Tasty n Sons, a restaurant in Portland.

Portland is the perfect weekend getaway for us. It's a three-hour drive, which is just enough time to feel as though you've gotten somewhere good without a sore bottom.

Our most recent trip a couple of weeks ago allowed us to check out the famed Portland Farmer's Market; a refurbished (and pretty hip) Marriott; Lodekka, a second-hand shop in a double decker bus and (not our usual sight-seeing fare) the Ultrazone in Milwaukee. Oh, and the girls and I gawked at the long line of people waiting for Voodoo Donuts while Doug changed our flat tire.


We began our first day in town at The Original, a diner Doug found on Yelp. Which we discovered (after walking down the block in the opposite direction) was connected to our hotel. The food was tasty, with healthier twists on regular diner fare. I fell hard for the steel cut oats.

A funky naugahyde wall at The Original diner.

Cool artwork at the diner by 'Panhandle Slim,' featuring quotes from famous folks. 

I particularly loved this one of Cesar Chavez.

Although we are fanatically regular patrons of our beloved Ballard Farmer's Market, we relish opportunities to check out farmer's markets in other cities. I'd heard about PDX's market, but it exceeded all my expectations. First of all, I appreciate that there are no dogs allowed. I love dogs, but not where I'm tasting and buying food. Nor do I enjoy having parrots or ferrets at the market, either, both of which I have seen while perusing the produce.

The range of hot food booths was amazing: burritos, biscuits, vegan pastries, sweet and savory pies. Then from produce to baked goods to tea to pasta salads - it was fantastic. We'll have to go back in the summer when harvests are booming because if this was a sample of their market in the early days of the season, I can't imagine what goodness awaits in the warmer months. We bought kimchi, bread, cheese and jam, all of which made a delicious hotel room snack.

That afternoon was spent at a laser tag party at Ultrazone, which was our primary reason for the visit. Dear friends of ours were having a birthday party for their son there, so Doug and Em got their laser on while Phee and I played arcade games.

Em in front of the Lodekka double decker.

Not yet ready to hunker down in the hotel room, we meandered over to Williams Avenue to check the scene. Lodekka, a dress shop housed in a refurbished double decker bus, brought on the nostalgia with red and black plaid thermoses, retro hats and floral handkerchiefs. Down the street, Tasty n Sons was just opening their doors for dinner, and we were very happy with their small plates, especially the "Pretty Damn Good Chicken Strips" and the Bouillabaisse with mussels, octopus, prawns and rockfish. A pretty well-rounded day, really.

Naturally, any trip to Portland wouldn't be complete for us without a trip to Powell's Books. We read a little, attempt to explore a new room in the gargantuan store, stock up and hit the road back to Washington. It's usually very quiet between Powell's and Vancouver because the girls are digging in to their books.

On our way home we stopped for lunch in Olympia. We usually break in Tacoma, but we were pretty hungry at this point. We found The Bread Peddler on Yelp and Urbanspoon, and we were glad we got to try it! The cafe boasted a number beautiful sweet treats and the sandwiches looked great. Incidentally, I just want to tip my hat to the fair city of Olympia, our state capital. I found it charming and completely delightful. We're already planning to spend more time there on future day trips.

Down But Not Out

Our family is finally coming out of our latest phase of illness. As many of you parents know, our little darlings run out into the world only to bring back the meanest, baddest germs you can imagine and gleefully goo them at us. My children are excellent germ disseminators. So excellent that both Doug and I were completely knocked down for a few days, trying to juggle work, parenting duties and our respective training schedules at the same time.

During these "down" times, we attempt a zen-like outlook where we declare that "the bridge is up." We live in a city divided by water, with a number of bridges that go up at some inopportune moments. Late to an appointment? Traffic is backed up because a boat with an incredibly tall mast is going through. Cars are stopped with engines off, their passengers leaving car doors open to lean against the edge of the bridge for a better look at the boat or to muse at the sun dancing on the water. There is nowhere to go and nothing to do but turn off your engine and wait, too. The bridge is up. Take a load off.

I love when the bridge is up - when I am appointment-free and the kids have already gone to the restroom. But I admit, as a lover of crossing off the To Do list, "bridge up" days are difficult. I beat myself up for failing to complete whatever tasks deemed important. I feel guilty for taking a nap.

When I shared these concerns with one of my trainers for the Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon, he encouraged me to rest up so I'll be totally ready to begin training again. When I returned, I was able to keep up with other runners who are usually in front of me. It felt great!

I'll continue to work on enjoying the "bridge up" days,  perhaps even working a few more into our schedule to maintain a little more up and down balance.

I'm Up! I'm Up!

Yes, it's not quite 7 a.m. on a Saturday and I am awake. As you may have guessed, I am not typically an early riser.

But this is the second official week of my half-marathon training, and dang it, I've got to get across town to meet my bright-eyed trainers. 

Before I head off into the cold, dark morning (yeah, I know it's Daylight Savings now, but this is the Pacific Northwest. It won't be spring until, well, until it's spring.) I'm gathering my water bottle and dried fruit, making sure my iPod is charged and donning my reflective hat. 

It's five mile run today. Hooray! (right?)

Girl Power. Oh, and books, too.

I spent most of last weekend on Whidbey Island, one of the San Juans here in Puget Sound. Each year the gal pals from my book club take a night away to stay at the family home of one of our members. It's less than an hour to drive to the ferry dock and less than 30 minutes on the ferry to Whidbey, so it's the perfect distance from the city to feel like we've escaped without schlepping too far from home.

We meet for lunch at The Braeburn,  a restaurant in the heart of Langley, then saunter around town to shop and browse. Langley is a sweet spot, with bookstores, galleries and a few unusual shops in converted houses. We finish out our shopping at The Star Store, where we gather whatever remaining food supplies we need for our shared dinner and next morning's breakfast. It's an ideal time to bond with fellow bookclubbers. Ordinarily we meet on a weeknight to discuss that month's book. Although we do our fair share of time off topic, it feels decadent to have no time limits, no expectant kids or spouses, no preparation for early mornings.

After our Langley stroll, we head to the house to settle in, then take a walk on the beach. In the past we've seen eagles above and whales spouting. Thankfully the rains stopped so we could enjoy the still blue waters and the snowy mountains in the distance.

Most of the year I feel obligated to these women. Yes, we are friendly and I see a few of them socially outside of book club. But we're together once a month to delve deeper into the book, which I truly believe, allows a greater understanding of ourselves. This may sound like I'm laying heavy hands on the book club, but since I've been a stay-at-home parent, my reading and the discussions around that reading are often my greatest intellectual stimulation. I ask a lot of these discussions, so I try to be as prepared as I can be in order to offer something of value in return. I'm challenged each month to ask more than, 'What did you like about the book?' because I deserve more than that - and so do these women.

So our Whidbey weekends feel a little like spring break. We shop, take walks, cook, eat, drink, analyze the best and worst dressed lists from the Oscars and maybe watch a movie based on a book we've read. Sometimes we talk about the book. This is also the time I remember to enjoy just being around these women. To forget what's on the page and remember how to connect on a personal level. I remember the power of a room full of women, all with our own histories, experiences, dreams, disappointments and plans for over coming those challenges. Each time a gal pal told a story to the group someone would counter with, "That could be a novel," or "That would make a good short story." And we meant it.

I love being among these women. I love that each year I get to know them in a different way. They are more inspiring than any of the characters we read about because they're real. And I'm lucky to know them.