In-between

We have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?

Right now, I'm living in-between. I'm still a city dweller with a husband, two kids, and my non-profit job. But a month from tomorrow, I will be a suburban mom with a husband, two kids, and my non-profit job.

I grew up in the suburbs. This should not be new to me. But I've spent my adult life as a city dweller. Though I never think of myself as a city person.

I am rambling.

We are moving. To a 1908 house with a white picket fence in a lakeside community. It is a foursquare house with a smooth stucco finish. Frank Lloyd Wright fancied stucco finishes.  It it not big but it is perfect and charming. Perfectly charming. That's why Jeremy and I wrote an offer for it in the back of our broker's car the first time we saw it.
This house feels right to us. Since the offer was accepted, we've had a chance to meet the mom of the house. She clasped my hands and told me we were just the family she wanted for this house, and I told her we would take good care of it.

Our new neighborhood is full of children, and there is a park that serves as a community gathering place down the block. We can walk to Jack's school, two different business districts, the library, the grocery store, the commuter train and Northwestern football games on autumn Saturdays. Every time we visit, the realization that this is a very good idea for our family sinks in deeper and deeper.

And back in the city, I think about what we've had here. I think about it a lot and how things will change. Jack at five years old can hail a cab. Our favorite lunchtime spot after Jack's school day is in the seventh tallest building in the U.S. Jeremy and I can be home from work within an $8-cab ride. We can sit on a 4th-floor porch and take in the Chicago skyline. I know to do my errands either on a weeknight after 8 p.m. or on a weekend before 8 a.m. to avoid traffic.

In the city, we can be part of communities - work, school, church - but we can also walk down the sidewalk in the anonymity of the city. Already in our new town, I visited a preschool where the director not only knew the family we were buying from but also knew the family of the house our sellers were buying, if that makes sense.

So this is my toe-touch in May to this beloved blog of mine. More to come; I promise. Happy weekend, friends.

Common good

This week has reminded me of the hurt in our world. There’s a lot of it.

I still believe – I have to believe – that there is more good than bad in our world. Sometimes we just have to look a little harder.

Openlands, where I work, believes there is value in the common species in nature. While the rare is beautiful and important, we do not solely focus on it, which runs counter to conservation thinking. We want to connect people with nature, and nature means many different things to many different people. We recently started a program for 2nd to 5th graders that helps them identify the everyday birds in their backyard. Through the program, it’s our hopes that the schoolchildren gain an appreciation for nature, even through a humble connection to a sparrow, and someday will become conservation stewards themselves. “Common” birds are an important tool to our process.

Processing all of the news of this week, I slipped into Jossie’s room Wednesday night and picked up my sleeping toddler. I brought her back to my bed, and I pulled her close.

This act was not a protective one. It was for me; I needed to feel her good, innocent truth. The sense that I am raising Jossie and Jack in a world where Jeremy and I can keep them safe is not a given.  How can I protect this cherub who looks at me with trust as she warbles, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine”? How do I trust my prayerful requests at night to keep my family safe?

Rare are the heroes of this week – the people who ran into harm’s way to help others.  Common are the good people in our lives every day. For me this morning, it’s the drugstore manager who wears a tie and helps his customers. It’s the engineer in my office building who tries to fix a stuck door. It’s me; at least I hope it is.

Perhaps it’s time to think about how common can do rare things. I feel very blessed in my life to have all I have – a home, food, my faith, and healthy family and friends. I treat people with respect and ask for the same in return. There has to be a place for me to act.  I know in my heart that I need to act by speaking out more for the benefit of children and giving them all they deserve – confidence, a sense of value, and, above all, safety.

That is a tall order for the common. But we must start somewhere.

Lucky

Saturday morning, I tried the trick of warming vanilla extract in the oven to give our condo a welcoming scent for visiting house hunters. It's two tablespoons of vanilla extract in a mug, warmed in the oven at 300 degrees for 30-60 minutes. The results were so-so, in my opinion.

Sunday morning, I came to my senses and perfumed the house with something much more inviting.

Classic blueberry muffins
From Cook's Illustrated

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon table salt
1 large egg
1 cup granulated sugar
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
1 1/4 cups sour cream
1 1/2 cups frozen blueberries, preferably wild

Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees. Spray standard muffin tin with nonstick vegetable cooking spray.

Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt in medium bowl until combined. Whisk egg in second medium bowl until well-combined and light-colored, about 20 seconds. Add sugar and whisk vigorously until thick and homogenous, about 30 seconds; add melted butter in 2 or 3 steps, whisking to combine after each addition. Add sour cream in 2 steps, whisking just to combine.

Add frozen berries to dry ingredients and gently toss to combine. Add sour cream mixture and fold with rubber spatula until batter comes together and berries are evenly distributed, 25 to 30 seconds (small spots of flour may remain and batter will be thick). Do not overmix.

Use ice cream scoop or large spoon to drop batter into greased muffin tin. Bake until light golden brown and toothpick or skewer inserted into center of muffin comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes, rotating pan from front to back halfway through baking time. Invert muffins onto wire rack, stand muffins upright, and cool 5 minutes.

In the afternoon, we drove north with our sights set on a visit to the Chicago Botanic Garden. Jossie fell asleep as we neared the garden, so we traveled farther north instead. We ended up in Lake Bluff, a sleepy (and wealthy) village along the shores of Lake Michigan.  Jack's first school friend - Charlie - and his family had moved to Lake Bluff in the past few months, and I regretted not having their contact information to reach out to them for a last-minute visit.

Jeremy and I love the cafe Wisma, which also has a location nearby his office downtown, so we stopped in for a cup of coffee. If you're ever there, try the butternut squash soup - not a touch of dairy in it but yet so heavenly and creamy.

So - lo and behold - as Jeremy and I are oogling the prepared food and wine selection, Jack looks out the window and nonchalantly says, "Hey...there's Charlie." I wave frantically at Charlie's mom to get her attention and they bound into the little shop. Lots of big reuniting ensues with hugs and laughter. Jossie and Charlie's little brother, both 2, escape us and start making mischief, running their chubby hands against the hanging wine glasses; the glasses twinkle like wind chimes.

Charlie's mom invites us back to their house so the kids can play. We head out together. The kids wreak havoc while the parents drink wine; the waning afternoon sun spills through the windows as we talk.

A writer I admire talks about the "daily surprise." I like the idea of that - opening yourself up to an element of surprise each day. It's liberating, really.

And this was truly ours - our surprising luck in running into dear friends. No telling news yet on any pending sales of our blueberry-scented condo, but if all of our luck had to be expended on this happy reunion and the accompanying good memories this St. Patrick's Day, I'll take it.