Monday, November 09, 2009

Back in the Day

When my parents went out to a party or other event, I got to have fishsticks for dinner. And sometimes I got a pot pie. I remember peering in the oven door at the baking pot pie.

We didn't have a microwave until sometime in the late 80s. My parents were more enamored with the toaster oven as I recall. (Who has a toaster oven these days?!) I do remember my Grandma's microwave. It was actually one of the first microwaves I ever saw. I think maybe it was the late 70s?

Now of course everyone has a microwave. You can cook fishsticks AND pot pies in them. Dorm rooms and office break rooms and even my daughter's high school cafeteria have microwaves. My kids grew up making potpies and fishsticks in the microwave.

We joke about my oldest's cooking skills. It's not a lack of cooking skill as much as it is a lack of patience for reading instructions. I have seen the poor dear mess up making instant oatmeal because she can't be bothered to measure the boiling water (love you, Anna!). I once found her friend standing next to the microwave with a concerned look on his face. "Anna said to microwave these?" he said, holding out the box of "Toaster Streudel." I sighed. "I'll show you where the toaster is," I said. "Thank you!" he said in relief.

And then there are the younger two kiddos who love to cook. They make excellent sous chefs helping me prepare dinner and reading recipes - even modifying them successfully. And when it comes to microwaves, their expertise surpasses mine.

I discovered them with food thermometer stuck in a pot pie the other afternoon.

"What are you doing?!" I screeched. All I could think about was the mess and the unnecessary game playing with cooking utensils.

"We're checking the temperature, Mom," they said. And they held out the box to show me that there is indeed a reccomended temperature on the microwave instructions. Internal food temperature needs to reach 165 degrees F as measured by a food thermometer in several spots. It's right on the box. And in fact, after the microwave instructions, there is a reccomended food temperature on most of the frozen food in my freezer. I had no idea.

Back in the day, there was no reccomended food temperature. My mom would put them in the oven while she finished getting ready and when the sitter got there I would be blowing on the steaming hot pot pie insides that would burn your tongue. I never thought to take its temperature when it was cooked in the oven.

Friday, November 06, 2009

First First Friday

I picked Anna up from the Arts and Humanities school during "studio time" last week. When you walk in you're in a giant classroom with multiple open levels and lots of light. There is a kiln in the corner and an honest to goodness darkroom. There are easels and drafting tables covered with art projects. The kids were painting/weaving/cutting or milling around giving feedback to each other. One kid sat at the front desk with his feet on the desk as he played the guitar. Anna was working on a giant canvas that she stretched herself. Not only did she have to put away her paints, she had to pick up her pistachio nut shells.

My kid gets credit for all this? I thought to myself with concern and envy.

They do have traditional classes too - it's not always studio time. She's taking an AP government class and Algebra at Arts. She takes Spanish and biology over at her home school first thing in the morning and then she walks over to "Arts." The "Humanities" part gets dropped by the kids when they refer to the school, but it's part of the curriculum. The classes are in several hour blocks a couple times a week instead of one hour every day of the week. It is a schedule that works better for my kid. She doesn't shift gears very quickly, and frankly, I think it helps her stay organized with just a few classes a day.

Tonight they are part of the First Friday Art Walk. All the Lincoln Art Galleries have a First Friday event on the first Friday of the month - the galleries are open and the artists are at the gallery to talk to patrons. Just like the gallery artists, Anna and her classmates have been picking pieces for their gallery show and cleaning their school. They even have snacks for their guests.

I was laying in bed last night thinking about the art in my house and my favorite artists. I feel fortunate to have been raised by an artist. My dad is on my list. So is my father in law. At the top of my list right now, I have my kid. It is that over the top pride that makes teens roll their eyes and groan, "M-o-m."

I hope that the kids at "Arts" find a way to include art in their lives forever. I am glad that they have this time and place to explore their interests. I hope that they take lessons into the real world about how to use your time and how to complete projects and how to explore ideas and how to relax. It would be easy to walk into Arts and find kids eating and playing the guitar and painting, and then dismiss their work or think that they do nothing. I don't think that's entirely true, but I can see how it would appear that way.