September 5, 2010
Dear ones –
Last month at this time we were enjoying a tranquil anniversary and a busy weekend with lots of Madsen/Kimball folderol. This time we are digging our way out of packed boxes in our lovely new townhouse at 2767 Prairie in Evanston. It is like squeezing a toothpaste tube. We get one place reasonably organized, and the adjacent space suffers with the splat of the first room’s excess.
I believe we have made progress, but the place still looks chaotic. We have about 8 more bags or boxes to give to Salvation Army…and counting. I also have a large stack of big empty plastic bins. I am loath to part with them. They seemed essential for so many years, and you can never tell when a need may arise. Maybe we’ll need them when we get around to organizing the garage? Just yesterday Dad asked for a particular sized box he could use to put in our walk-in closet to hold his sox. The box I gave him was one from back in our Flossmoor days, and it fit perfectly (unlike the more recent boxes which are too big by and inch or so). I think it had been the happy repository of Playmobile guys for years.
I got requests from both Peter and Chase for my Swedish pancake recipe. I have unearthed the recipe box and here it is. This one is tried and true:
To try it out, make just a single batch. If you want more, double it but with 5 not 6 eggs.
2 cups milk
3 eggs
pinch of salt (1/8 tsp for double batch)
1/3 cup sugar
(optional – a little dash of vanilla extract)
Mix well (with mixer) until sugar is fully dissolved.
Add 1 cup flour
Mix more.
Melt 1/3 stick of butter
Pour in melted butter and mix again.
This part takes some practice with your own equipment and preference):
Pour onto a hot, buttered flat pan (water drops should “hop” when tried on the surface; be careful that the butter doesn’t burn to brown/black).
When the glossy sheen turns matte on the upside, it’s time to flip. And/or when the bottom side is browned to your liking, flip the pancake.
Roll up (or serve flat). Tasty with gobs of butter, lingonberries, maple syrup, fresh strawberries or any other combination of accents you like.
In other news, on September 1st I got a ticket on my windshield for having an expired license plate sticker. Not being able to locate (or recall receiving) our new one, I took time out of my precious unpacking time for a visit to the DMV. There I paid $99 for a new sticker and, since I was there and needed to change my address anyway, got a new driver’s license with our Illinois address and which will be valid until 2015. Dad will probably get a Utah driver’s license.
The guy at the counter asked if I wore glasses. I answered that I only wear them to drive. He said I should either get them from my car or pass the vision test. Since the machine was right there, I gave it a whirl and passed easily. (That’s unnerving, actually. If I who knows I need glasses to drive confidently can pass the test without a problem, whom are they letting squeak by?) At the camera area someone had taped a hand drawn smiley face by the place you’re supposed to look. It struck me as a great touch of whimsy in this place of drudgery, bureaucracy and the very common man so my smile in my new photo is pretty whimsical, too.
The folks at the DMV said that the cops in Evanston are out on the prowl on the last day of every month waiting to attach at a tick past midnight for those expired tickets. Apparently no other town is quite as aggressive in that way as E-town.
I have been listening to The Pillars of the Earth and now World Without End while I unpack and organize. I like being caught in the sweep of these sprawling, well-told stories. It certainly makes the work go by pleasantly, even if Dad has scared me to death by sneaking stealthily up behind me and poking me.
I haven’t heard anything back from the editor to whom Rick Walton sent some of my picture book stories. That could take a while. He also sent a glowing referral to an agent with a California agency whom he knows well. I then sent her one of my latest offerings. That was almost a month ago now and no word from her either. At least no news is not rejection. I feel like an old brood hen sitting on suspect eggs.
Susan and I are getting back into the swing of Jazzercise. My jiggly self is grateful to be back to the cool music and the sweating. (It's the only kind of sweating I like.) Dad is in process at setting up his intimidating “jaws of life” weight machine in his man cave. When he gets that set up, he’ll position the elliptical, and he’ll be in hunk-heaven down there. This is his work-out room/study/media space combo which is just steps from a full bathroom.
It’s good to be back in the North Shore 1st Ward with my familiar peeps there. There are LOTS of unfamiliar people there, too. We have had over 40 new people arrive in the last month or so. Most of them are young families so you can imagine the Amazon Jungle sound effects during sacrament meeting. These days, for some reason, I keep staring at all the adorable babies and wondering about just who is preparing to come join the ranks with Britta and Evan.
To accommodate (or stimulate?) church growth in the Chicago area, two wards in our stake have been split as of today. Thankfully no changes were made to our ward. There are now two Logan Square Wards and two wards that used to be Chicago 1st. The ward that shares our building, North Shore 2nd, had its boundaries changed with those moves and is now somewhat smaller geographically.
Dad and I are heading back to Aspenhof in a couple weeks. Dad will be out there Sept. 21 – in time for Grandpa’s 80th birthday (Sept. 23rd). I’ll fly out after my temple shift on Friday, Sept. 24 and we’ll enjoy the elk bugling festivities at Wolf Creek Ranch as well as the tranquility of “our home mountain home so dear.” (There’s a hymn with that title in the LDS hymnal which is rarely sung in Illinois congregations.) We’ll be back on the 28th since I’ve got some obligations back here on the 29th.
It would delightful if you sent Grandpa birthday greetings. Their address is 2277 N. 1450 E., Provo, UT 84604. Or called him at 801-377-0742.
The weekend after that I’ll be attending another weekend writing workshop at Ragdale in Lake Forest. This one is on novel writing (for adults) with Jane Hamilton (Carleton alum and extremely talented author of Map of the World and The Book of Ruth, two of the most disturbing books out there). Your assignment is to pitch me plot ideas in the next couple of weeks so I can start something before I go to that. I’m serious.
I’m thrilled with all the good news coming from your various quarters – Chase’s publication (touted on facebook by Dialogue’s editor, no less); Peter’s notification of being a finalist for the SlamDance Film festival; Britta & Evan’s safe return to life & work & pre-parenthood in Belmont. It isn’t really good news that one of Anne’s fellow residents quit the program, but it is more amazing and impressive evidence to me of her skills and talent that she flourishes so well under the demands on her time and energies. Go Team Anne & Peter! I loved hearing about the family-sans-parents gatherings in DC over the summer. I’m waiting for my turn to be served Peter’s Eggplant Parmesan and to get a personal tour of the capitol!
Any and all are welcome to come here for Thanksgiving. Do we have any takers?
I love you all and love to hear from you or about you through any media! (Well, maybe not police reports.)
XOXO-
MamaL/ MutL/Mutti/LHK
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