Bionic Mamas

you're not losing a vagina, you're gaining a son


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Come And Eat

My mother’s favorite verse in the Bible is John 21:12. It’s after the resurrection, and the disciples are fishing. A man on the shore calls out to them, hears that they are not catching much, and gives them some advice — Try putting the nets on the other side of the boat. The nets fill up, the disciples realize the man is Jesus, and they begin to shout and carry on. Peter jumps into the water to swim to him. And Jesus says to them, “Come and eat breakfast.”

Don’t worry, my non-Bible-thumping ones. I’m not going to start sermonizing regularly. (For one thing, Sugar would have a fit. For another, I’m an Episcopalian, and we know our limits. Ours is not to preach but to polish old wood pews, to wring our hands over “tradition”, and to try not to spill our martinis on the needlepoint pillows….) Take comfort: the Bible-thumpers are clucking their tongues over my lowercase “him” above — I like Jesus better as a son of man than as a son of God, sometimes. I am an equal-opportunity offender.

Come to it, that verse might be my favorite, too. It gets to the heart of my beliefs about human connection: that the best way to show (and to build) our love for each other is to break bread. This idea is hardly unique to Christianity, I realize, nor to religion.

So, please: come and eat with me.

I’d like to invite you to last Sunday’s dinner. It was a quiet affair, at home in our cluttered apartment. I’d rather cook and drink wine and talk to you than wipe down the backsplash; I hope you don’t mind. I started cooking a little later than I meant to, so we’ll all have to sit around and talk while the food finishes. Sugar made a pie, whose crust she almost wouldn’t let me take pictures of, because the weather is damp and the dough was testy and she was afraid you’d disapprove. But I know you’ll see that pie as more perfect because of the fingerprints left from her mending the dough. (And I assure you, it tastes just fine.) The pie is made of rhubarb — which always makes me think of Sugar’s grandmother, who grows stalks taller than she is — and strawberries for the coming of summer and peaches from the freezer, a last-minute improvisation when the strawberries and rhubarb didn’t fill the shell.

imperfection

summer is coming

filled in with peaches

You’ll meet my most long-standing friend, who sat on my mother’s pregnant belly as a baby and started crying when I kicked her. She’s still threatening to get me back for that, but I say it was fairly dealt: she SAT on me, after all. Our mothers were close during their pregnancies and her mother watched us both as babies, so we are built of some of the same food. (These days, I take some comfort in the knowledge that none of that would have happened if my mother had been able to get pregnant when she’d first wanted to. No Bug in my life? Impossible.) I can’t believe that after being separated as young children, we’ve ended up living three blocks from each other, hundreds of miles from our various early homes. Womb Buddy’s talking about moving away, and we’re trying to talk her out of it but mostly trying to feed her well while she’s here, make sure the bonds of shared food stay strong.

RIMG0597
Israeli couscous with broccoli rabe — I don’t know how this is supposed to be cooked, but this is how I cook it.

And now, if you’d like, it’s your turn. I’ve read some beautiful posts about food and eating together on your blogs recently (to say nothing of my ongoing delight in starhillgirl’s requests to log my lunch) which inspired this attempted meme. Add your name and blog to the Mr. Linky list, and write a post about a meal this week. The ways food bonds us are multifarious, so your post can be pictures of a meal you made, a favorite or new recipe, a shared croissant with an old friend at a coffee shop. It can be wordy or just a picture.

I’ll write one of these every week and invite you to do the same, like an edible version of Mel’s (late, lamented) Show and Tell. Visit each other’s posts, please, and write comments to let folks know you’ve come to the table. If you’re writing about kids or babies — and I hope you will, because I believe feeding children is about much, much more than just making sure they don’t starve to death — put a * after your name, in case ALI (adoption/loss/infertility) folks aren’t in a good place for that. (Tip o’ the cursor to Calliope’s excellent suggestion at her Photo Friday project.)

(This is my first time using Mr. Linky, so maybe leave a comment, too, in case I didn’t do it right.)


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Show and Tell: More Stamps

Hey gang. Must say, I’m feeling a bit quiet these few days. But I hate to miss a Show and Tell.

Here are a couple of the dog stamps I’ve finished recently:

Dear Little Dog

and

Oskie

Next up: a three-legged dachshund.

Shameless self-promotion: I’d lurve to make you a stamp of your dog, cat, hyena, or Mexican jumping bean. Here’s our Etsy shop, with stamps, nifty jewelry made by Sugar, and the occasional arty drawing of yours truly in stirrups….

Go see what the other, more talkative kids are showing over at Mel’s.


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A Good Day For Scones

Hello, dearies. Is it snowing where you are? It is here, but so far there isn’t enough for sledding yet, which is WRONG. And I’m getting a cold. Maybe.

Mel mentioned her attempts at making scones without heavy cream, and it reminded me of Sugar’s yummy ginger scones, which don’t call for it. I asked for the recipe to share with Mel, and Sugar said she’d make them! Things are certainly looking up around here.

Sugar’s Yogurt Scones

(recipe clipped by Sugar’s mom from…some book on bread, and adjusted a bit here and there. This is half the listed recipe, as it makes too much for us and doesn’t keep all that well. This way makes 8 large scones.)

1 1/2 c flour (or use half whole wheat)
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
4 Tbs butter (1/8 lb, if you buy it in big chunks the way we do)
1 packed Tbs brown sugar
1/2+1/8 c firm yogurt
1 egg
1/4 c …stuff. The recipe calls for raisins or currants, but since raisins are less than awesome and my body treats currants like DEADLY POISON DO NOT TAKE INTERNALLY ALERT POLICE, we use crystallized ginger and nuts, ideally pecans. (We’re out of pecans, though, so today we’re trying flax seed.)

1. Preheat oven to 400. Lightly grease baking sheet.

2. Sift dry ingredients (flour, soda, powder, salt) together. Cut butter into brown sugar (food processor or pastry cutter) until uniformly blended, resembling coarse meal.

3. Beat yogurt with egg. Make a well in the dry ingredients; add yogurt and “stuff.” Mix minimally (“with swift, decisive strokes.” Hot.) until well-blended.

4. Drop by rounded quarter measures onto cookie sheet. [And then it says to brush them with egg, which we never to. When I wheedle, Sugar sprinkles turbinado or other fancy sugar on top. Today, I wheedled.]

5. Bake 12-15 minutes.

Makes 8.

It’s taken me longer to type this than it took Sugar to mix up the batter, that’s how easy we’re talking (or how slow I type). Pictures to come when eating commences! Yay!

ETA:

Here! This photo taken shortly before the scone died a glorious death in my mouth. YumYumYum. Flax seeds are fine — inoffensive, but not a huge flavor addition. But I like how they feel when I bite them with my front teeth.

Sugar's Yogurt Scone


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Is so!

From Sugar Mama’s latest post:

On having a pregnant wife
I’m going to be less inclined to the whole ‘your body is a miracle’ kind of shtick.

EXCUSE ME? My body is too a miracle, woman, and don’t you forget it. Hello — I have TWO VAGINAS. Two of ’em, I tell you. Sounds pretty dang miraculous to me. Are you a lesbian, or what? (see below.)

You see what I have to put up with, Internet? Sheesh.

As it turns out, my body is even more freakish miraculous than I thought. I’ve been doing a little poking around — in medical journals, Internet; get your mind out of the <a style="text-decoration:none;" href="http://www.aluminiumgutteringcompany.co.uk/contact”>gutter — and while there’s a fair amount out there about mullerian anomalies in general (It’s estimated that something like 3-5% of women have one), I’ve only found two examples of someone like me, with duplicated vag and cervix, but a normal uterus. Both are written up as “Hey, check this out,”-type case studies and are fairly recent.

(Plus, Mel, a.k.a. Stirrup Queen, of the inestimable Stirrup Queen’s Completely Anal List of Blogs That Proves That She Really Missed Her Calling as a Personal Organizer, says via email, “I think you just may have the most unique situation on the blogroll.” And let’s face it: this is a woman who knows from hoo-has.)

One of the journal articles pointed out how folks like me seem to contradict the dominant theory of fetal genital development — because the order in which things are thought to fuse should mean that you can have duplication of upstream elements with normal downstream ones, but not the other way around — but then went on to mention that really? We hardly know anything about fetal genital development.

This brings me to another point from Sugar’s post,

Will my answer help you decide which one of us is more gay?

I’m not even going to get into a toolbox arms race or start talking smack about pool-playing skills. All I’m going to say is: I am challenging the hegemonically male-gaze-driven perinatal/OB-gyn orthodoxy with my cooter.

Your move.