Don't ask me about computer cookies. I kinda sorta know about them, but not enough to text home about. Besides, I don't think there's any sugar involved. But chocolate chip cookies? Feel free to ask me about those! Over the past week, I've discovered two new recipes, alone.
Well, one recipe. The other came from a box at the natural grocer. My kid is allergic to natural - so she claims. Somehow, she thought buying those cookies would help her overcome that aversion. I don't think it helped any, but, darn, they are good!
But the biggest surprise of the week came in the form of wheat-free vegan (yes, vegan!) chocolate chip cookies. I pulled out the cookbook, gave them a whirl, and now my entire family is hooked on them. (You can find the recipe here, thanks to the Post Punk Kitchen.) They are so much easier than the - ahem - "real" thing, I think we've found a cookie for life. So inspired, I even used them as a prop in my latest photo redo.
But then I ran out, and had to use another kind for rest. Hmm...wonder how that happened?
Honestly, these are terrific. They suggest whirling oats in the food processor if you can't find oat flour. I tried that because I found oat flour - and I'm too cheap to buy it. Their suggestion worked beautifully. Let me know if you give them a try!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
I can't believe I'm on twitter
I finally did it, after swearing I never ever would. I took a deep breath, and signed up. Julie Clark Art is now part of the twitterverse.
Heaven help us all...
https://twitter.com/JulieClarkArt
Happy Thursday, everyone!
Heaven help us all...
https://twitter.com/JulieClarkArt
Happy Thursday, everyone!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Apparently, I'm Produce
The other day, after lots of searching and a little more griping, I finally discovered another grocery store to check out. Not that we don’t have plenty around us, it’s just that I’m, well…picky. Throw in a few allergies, and grocery shopping-day seems more like a scavenger hunt than another errand to run, with a dose of “medicinal” chocolate always on hand by the end.
Unfortunately the new to me store didn’t have enough variety to check my entire list off, but it did have many items I hadn’t been able to locate anywhere in the area, as well as many new items that are sure to empty my wallet on the next trip down.
And I mean down, as in far, far away.
I swear, if I start shopping there regularly, it will feel more like a commute. Not to mention that organic” and “natural” doubles the bottom line, throwing that carefully analyzed budget out the window.
Still, it was good. Until the end, when it changed to perplexing. As the cashier scanned my organic this and natural that, she began by referring to me as hon – short for honey. A few scans later, it was pumpkin (guess she noticed those ten pounds I’m still trying to shed.) A little later, I evolved into a sweet pea. By the time the bags were loaded, and I was contemplating a latte, she might as well have referred to me as “dear produce section.”
Well, I guess that’s not too bad. If she starts to referring to me as “canola”, “olive”, or “safflower”, I think I’ll start to worry.
But I’m not giving up my chocolate.
Unfortunately the new to me store didn’t have enough variety to check my entire list off, but it did have many items I hadn’t been able to locate anywhere in the area, as well as many new items that are sure to empty my wallet on the next trip down.
And I mean down, as in far, far away.
I swear, if I start shopping there regularly, it will feel more like a commute. Not to mention that organic” and “natural” doubles the bottom line, throwing that carefully analyzed budget out the window.
Still, it was good. Until the end, when it changed to perplexing. As the cashier scanned my organic this and natural that, she began by referring to me as hon – short for honey. A few scans later, it was pumpkin (guess she noticed those ten pounds I’m still trying to shed.) A little later, I evolved into a sweet pea. By the time the bags were loaded, and I was contemplating a latte, she might as well have referred to me as “dear produce section.”
Well, I guess that’s not too bad. If she starts to referring to me as “canola”, “olive”, or “safflower”, I think I’ll start to worry.
But I’m not giving up my chocolate.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The First Day
The first day of Kindergarten, I cried like a baby. The first day I dropped her off at middle school, pessimism and a busload of anxiety consumed me. On the drive home, I cried – and I cried hard. Today, as I walked home from taking that "first day of school" photo, I’m not quite sure how I feel. She looked so beautiful this morning. Her hair carefully coiffed. Her outfit nothing short of stunning.
God bless whoever invented those jeans that pull on like leggings! No zippers. No buttons. For the first time in her life she wants to wear jeans. And, for the first time – ever – she wore them to school.
To high school.
My baby is in high school.
I should be sitting in my armchair, with a huge cup of coffee and a large box of tissues, bawling my eyes out right about now. I mean, the next “jump” – if she makes it – is college. But I have yet to shed one salty tear. Sure, high school is an emotional roller coaster. No, it wasn’t perfect for me, but it was an incredible part of my childhood. The best part, even. I met people who would forever impact my life – in a positive way. One whom I saw just a few months back. One who is serving as a visual reminder to my daughter that no matter what this road named “high school” lays ahead, there are incredible promises beneath its surface. And I hope she can find them. And I hope she holds onto them. For if she does, when the winds of adulthood blow, she’ll have those memories, and maybe even friends, to cling to.
Sure, a good high school experience is no guarantee. Maybe the lack of tears now will be shed tenfold a few months later. Kids can be cruel.
But for now, I’m choosing to cling to optimism. She has such a bright future ahead of her, and today, more than ever, it truly is within her grasp.
God bless whoever invented those jeans that pull on like leggings! No zippers. No buttons. For the first time in her life she wants to wear jeans. And, for the first time – ever – she wore them to school.
To high school.
My baby is in high school.
I should be sitting in my armchair, with a huge cup of coffee and a large box of tissues, bawling my eyes out right about now. I mean, the next “jump” – if she makes it – is college. But I have yet to shed one salty tear. Sure, high school is an emotional roller coaster. No, it wasn’t perfect for me, but it was an incredible part of my childhood. The best part, even. I met people who would forever impact my life – in a positive way. One whom I saw just a few months back. One who is serving as a visual reminder to my daughter that no matter what this road named “high school” lays ahead, there are incredible promises beneath its surface. And I hope she can find them. And I hope she holds onto them. For if she does, when the winds of adulthood blow, she’ll have those memories, and maybe even friends, to cling to.
Sure, a good high school experience is no guarantee. Maybe the lack of tears now will be shed tenfold a few months later. Kids can be cruel.
But for now, I’m choosing to cling to optimism. She has such a bright future ahead of her, and today, more than ever, it truly is within her grasp.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Explanation Optional?
The other day, in another place, I posted a picture of a spool I had recently painted. As others posted pictures of beautiful pieces of jewelry or other handmade works, I plopped down a photo of my latest vision in pink. Granted, it's a rather odd looking sort of thing, and not the kind of piece a traditional seamstress would envy. (I swear some might refer to it as a “Nightmare in Pink”.) Bold and erratic strokes of rose and white acrylic paint cover the wooden spool, rendering it anything but useful. But post it, I did - along with a brief description of why I created it, and who I was thinking of when I did.
Sure enough, someone commented that she had seen the piece earlier, and was quite puzzled by it. But, thanks to a sentence or two, she now understood it
That got me to thinking a little about art, in general. Sometimes, I'll look at a piece and "get it". Other times, I'll wince at a creation, begging for someone to explain it to me. Then I’ll wonder if art should ever be explained in the first place.
It's not much different with my daughter's form of autism, really. There are days we don't say a word, as it really isn't necessary. But there are other times we take a deep breath and try to explain any given awkward situation. Sometimes, doing just that puts someone at ease, as now they can "get it". Other times, it just seems to add to the confusion. (And, no, we don’t ever excuse poor behavior.)
But most times, I'd rather no explanation be needed - or desired. Just like in art, where viewing a carefully crafted work is often best left unexplained, without any critique. I suppose when it comes to autism, to explain or not, to disclose or not, will be an ongoing question. But, as with the spool, sometimes, an explanation is needed to increase awareness and understanding.
And that explantion need only take a sentence or two.
Sure enough, someone commented that she had seen the piece earlier, and was quite puzzled by it. But, thanks to a sentence or two, she now understood it
That got me to thinking a little about art, in general. Sometimes, I'll look at a piece and "get it". Other times, I'll wince at a creation, begging for someone to explain it to me. Then I’ll wonder if art should ever be explained in the first place.
It's not much different with my daughter's form of autism, really. There are days we don't say a word, as it really isn't necessary. But there are other times we take a deep breath and try to explain any given awkward situation. Sometimes, doing just that puts someone at ease, as now they can "get it". Other times, it just seems to add to the confusion. (And, no, we don’t ever excuse poor behavior.)
But most times, I'd rather no explanation be needed - or desired. Just like in art, where viewing a carefully crafted work is often best left unexplained, without any critique. I suppose when it comes to autism, to explain or not, to disclose or not, will be an ongoing question. But, as with the spool, sometimes, an explanation is needed to increase awareness and understanding.
And that explantion need only take a sentence or two.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Imagining a Better World, Part 1
Every once in a while, I think about all the things that create stress in our lives, and how nice it would be if some things were never ever necessary. (And, please, no disrespect for those who earn a living via any of these things!)
The first thing that came to mind today was keys. Even beautiful, oversized days-of-old keys. There are many reasons we have them, the main one being safety – protection of our home, our cars, our belongings from theft and damage.
But the bigger reason is trust, isn’t it? We don’t have faith that others will exercise respect or self-control. Or, on the flipside, keys may represent something that someone wants locked away, out of sight, out of the light. And keys are virtual as much as they are tangible. It all makes me rather sad when I think about it. But, instead of dwelling on that feeling, I choose to spin it around, and imagine…
Never locking myself out of my own house (trust me – been there, done that)
No safes
No security systems
No security codes to fumble
Never worrying about forgetting my passwords, for they’d never be needed
Never leaving work keys on the dresser at home, especially after a long drive into the office
Never needing to lock my car
Never needing to find my key to turn that very car on
Or seeing it on the driver’s seat, with every single window up, doors locked tight
Stores closing without clearing out registers or sealing the doors for the night
No keys to lose, especially when supervising an overnight field trip (Would you like to know how many times teens can lose multiple keys – for the very same room - in a 2-hour span? I quit counting after the first day. So did the hotel receptionists.)
No locks on luggage, just closures to keep my overstuffed luggage from popping open
No gates
No fears
No crime
No worries
No locks
Just trust.
Isn’t that pleasant to imagine?
The first thing that came to mind today was keys. Even beautiful, oversized days-of-old keys. There are many reasons we have them, the main one being safety – protection of our home, our cars, our belongings from theft and damage.
But the bigger reason is trust, isn’t it? We don’t have faith that others will exercise respect or self-control. Or, on the flipside, keys may represent something that someone wants locked away, out of sight, out of the light. And keys are virtual as much as they are tangible. It all makes me rather sad when I think about it. But, instead of dwelling on that feeling, I choose to spin it around, and imagine…
Never locking myself out of my own house (trust me – been there, done that)
No safes
No security systems
No security codes to fumble
Never worrying about forgetting my passwords, for they’d never be needed
Never leaving work keys on the dresser at home, especially after a long drive into the office
Never needing to lock my car
Never needing to find my key to turn that very car on
Or seeing it on the driver’s seat, with every single window up, doors locked tight
Stores closing without clearing out registers or sealing the doors for the night
No keys to lose, especially when supervising an overnight field trip (Would you like to know how many times teens can lose multiple keys – for the very same room - in a 2-hour span? I quit counting after the first day. So did the hotel receptionists.)
No locks on luggage, just closures to keep my overstuffed luggage from popping open
No gates
No fears
No crime
No worries
No locks
Just trust.
Isn’t that pleasant to imagine?
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Just Stand Up
We did it. We took a quiet day and threw all sorts of spontaneous plans into it. A long car ride. A new ball park. A few other odds and ends in order to appease everyone on a hot July day.
And then we gave the news to our teen.
The teen who doesn’t like anything unexpected. Ever. Especially ballgames.
But she rose out of bed, to the challenge, knowing that we’d buy her the same old “this” at the brand new “that”, adding another ball to her collection, safe in the understanding we’d leave the park if things got to be a bit much. Aside from the loud speakers before the game began (they call them LOUD speakers for a reason, right?), it all went well.
Except for the roaches.
Apparently, one of the promotional games for the kids is to swat humans dressed in cock roach garb.
Ouch.
Ick.
Later came the bumper boats. Somehow, I allowed her to talk me into climbing into one of those things, thinking all the while that at least I know how to swim. Because I was certain I was going to topple over. Then my astute teen pointed out the black on gold letters. The water is only three feet deep. And if I did fall in, I just needed to do what the sign – in bold face type – said.
JUST STAND UP
Something so obvious applies to so many other situations, doesn’t it?
Cheers!
And then we gave the news to our teen.
The teen who doesn’t like anything unexpected. Ever. Especially ballgames.
But she rose out of bed, to the challenge, knowing that we’d buy her the same old “this” at the brand new “that”, adding another ball to her collection, safe in the understanding we’d leave the park if things got to be a bit much. Aside from the loud speakers before the game began (they call them LOUD speakers for a reason, right?), it all went well.
Except for the roaches.
Apparently, one of the promotional games for the kids is to swat humans dressed in cock roach garb.
Ouch.
Ick.
Later came the bumper boats. Somehow, I allowed her to talk me into climbing into one of those things, thinking all the while that at least I know how to swim. Because I was certain I was going to topple over. Then my astute teen pointed out the black on gold letters. The water is only three feet deep. And if I did fall in, I just needed to do what the sign – in bold face type – said.
JUST STAND UP
Something so obvious applies to so many other situations, doesn’t it?
Cheers!
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