Thundersnow.

Honestly, we had the worst commute ever yesterday. Jason says to call it "harrowing," and I think that, as the person who had to drive the worst parts of it, it's more than fair to let him decide how to describe it. Let's just call this a collaborative entry. You'd think after Snowpocalypse (or Snowmaggedon, the names are interchangeable now) that this city might have figured something out about handling a snow storm. But no. They have not.

We all knew the snow was coming--we woke up to icy slush, and all the warnings pointed to a brief respite during the afternoon before 5-10 inches descended on us. The East Coast has been pummeled with bad storms this winter, but somehow Washington had escaped them all until yesterday. Right on time at 3:00 p.m., the rain started, and right on time at 3:00 p.m., the government announced a two-hour early release, and right on time at 3:00 p.m., every worker in the Washington, DC, metropolitan area spilled out into their cars and onto the streets. Rush hour turned into rush minute.

We ventured out right into the middle of it. Due to a last-minute meeting (people who were “had to get to the airport,” ha), I didn’t spill out into my car at 4:00 p.m. to go pick him up two miles away. I finally got to him at about 5:10 p.m. I thought we’d hit the worst of it until we got onto I-66 for the last few miles and what is usually the easiest part of our commute. My relief at finally being out of DC (and giving Jason the wheel) was short-lived, however. I-66 was a string of brake lights, and as the rain turned to snow and the snow turned to ice, that string started to blink a bit as cars began to fishtail down the road. An oversized commuter-bus jack-knifed across both lanes of traffic, slowing the mind-numbing crawl to a complete stop for a while, and finally we discovered that up ahead it had snowed so much that they'd already shut down lanes so that only one was still open. Lovely.

We’d only had to go one exit on I-66, so when we finally reached it after an hour and a half (note: total drive time at this point is 2:30), we were feeling a bit reckless, so Jason bravely gunned it up the off-ramp. We cheered…and then realized that, no matter how we came at it, another steep hill stood between us and our house.

Our first plan was thwarted when two power lines came down right in front of us. Our second plan forced us back into painful traffic where we sat for another hour, just a mile and a half from our house. People had already started abandoning their cars in the middle of the road, having run out of gas or just simply given up and walked home—and don't think we didn't consider it. Finally we reached the road that goes to our condo, and we decided to make a break for it.

Jason seriously deserves a medal for Gutsiest Driving, 2011. We watched as at least three cars ahead of us started up the hill and slid backwards, but when there was a space, he gunned it and maneuvered his way past them, doing everything he could to keep the wheels spinning. At the top he let out a shakey breath and we braced ourselves for the last hill. The snow was wet and thick and landed like a sheet of slushy ice, and when we turned onto the last street an abandoned van sat in the middle of the road, having run out of gas. Jason took a deep breath, laid on the horn, and picked up speed down the hill before gunning it again to go up the last slope. All of my dad's lessons about what to do when the car starts fishtailing came flying back to me as we careened this way and that, narrowly missing one car and a fire hydrant as the wheels threatened to spin out of control. When we finally reached the top of the hill, he laid on the horn again and we flew through the yellow light.

We turned onto our street at 8:15 p.m. Over four hours after I left work.

Jason has this uncanny gift for being able to fall asleep whenever, wherever…something that sort of annoys me when I lay tossing and turning in bed. But last night he was still flush with adrenaline, and plagued by recurring flashes of the horrific drive, it was he who tossed and turned. The only saving grace was that we were together. It would have been terrible to have lived through those hours separated, constantly wondering if the other would survive the night and without means to attempt any sort of rescue.

We took full advantage of the offered delay on coming in this morning, waiting until the ice had turned back into slush before venturing out again. We definitely had a story to tell when we got in to work, but it turns out lots of people had it way worse off—someone was stuck on the GW Parkway for twelve hours, for example, and someone else took a grueling bus ride from the airport to the metro, only to have the metro closed and the bus turn around and go back to the airport. So all in all, only a little room to complain. Besides, we have a sunny getaway only a couple of days away, and we wouldn’t be able to truly appreciate it without miserable weather here, right?!?

A Sad Goodbye

We took an unexpected trip to Ohio this past weekend to celebrate the life of Jason's grandma Small, who passed away last week. A sad event, but not an unexpected one, as Grammy had been very sick over recent months and fell and broke her leg right after the New Year. Sometimes when someone is in pain and suffering, the sadness co-mingles with the joy that they are in a better place, you know? That Grammy is now at the feet of the King makes me smile. We were very happy that we'd been able to see her and have such a good time at Christmas, which we recognized at the time as a big blessing.

It was absolutely frigid in Mount Vernon while we were there--Saturday morning it was below zero when we left the house, and I think the high was about 15 degrees F for the weekend! It was nice to get an extra chance to spend time with the family again. We enjoyed the chance to visit with Justin and his girlfriend April briefly, we went to see True Grit (v. good), and on Sunday afternoon we drove a couple of hours to have lunch with some good friends from when the family lived in Pennsylvania when Jason was young. That was a real treat.

Sad moments like these, when they come, remind me of what Jesus has done for me, how He died so that I could be reconciled with Him. We've been talking a lot about reconciliation lately, about God's amazing powers to restore us to the people He created us to be, to restore the world, to restore our relationships with each other. When I have a God who can make things right again, I feel foolish that I don't always trust Him to do so. What a relief to live in His power instead of my own!

Routine

When a new year rolls around, I always, always hear my mom’s voice in my head talking about getting “back into the routine” and getting with a “new program.” These phrases always accompanied any occasion where a shift in mentality was called for—the beginning of the school year, January, coming home from a vacation, what have you. Granted, her “new programs” almost always came with some sort of chart for divvying up the household chores, but while that was never fun, there was always something sort of calming about getting back into the routine. I distinctly remember my mom’s set of index cards laying out what tasks belonged to what days—I imagine there were times that without that sense of structure, she might have gone crazy. It must have profoundly influenced me, as I still look for my bearings in the comfort of routine.

Anyway, January is a good time to both "get back into the routine" and start "new programs," and I’m learning that the lynch-pin for many of those programs (i.e. eating healthy, taking lunches to work, getting control of spending) is the same: meal planning. I am heavily dependent on meal planning, and I’ve mentioned in a few blog entries the ambitious four-week menus that have kept me sane during particularly busy times. I suspect that there are a lot of us out there who have latched onto meal planning as either a good new program or a way to get back into the routine for 2011. I don’t claim to have the best solutions to menu planning (I am NOT good with coupons, for example, which I realize completely influences how you plan meals), and I think there are lots of ways to do this (I love Becca's idea from way back here), but if, as Andrea has suggested, you’re looking for some tips, here's how I do it.

My menu planning has two levels of intensity. Ever since Jason and I got married and I discovered that you cannot actually live on love alone, I have planned my meals on a weekly basis, writing out the entire menu on a white board on our fridge. A couple of things I consider:

• Weeknight meals need to come together in 30 minutes or less. If I have a recipe that takes longer, it needs to be scheduled for the weekend.
• We don’t usually get home from church until shortly before 1:00 on Sundays, so I try to plan meals that can either go in an oven set on a timer (roasted veggies are particularly good) or in the crockpot—especially dishes that can only cook for 3 or 4 hours (as opposed to the 10 hours required for weeknight meals).
• Speaking of crockpots, Wednesdays are usually the longest days at work, so I try to plan a long-cooking crockpot meal, like this, for that night so that we can walk in, dejected and worn out, and smell dinner ready to spoon into our bellies.
• I try to choose meals early in the week that provide leftovers to take for lunches during the rest of the week. For example, we almost always have soup on Sunday nights, and I occasionally make four servings of a dish on Monday instead of two.
• Figuring out what to make is always a challenge—easier if you’re only doing it once a week instead of every night, but a challenge nonetheless—so I’ve put together a list of meals that we like to eat. I can then just look at the list rather than sort through all my recipes and cookbooks.
• I know this seems to go without saying, but once I’ve chosen the menu, I pull every recipe out to see what ingredients I need to buy at the store. If I don’t do this, I inevitably forget that I need green onions for black bean tacos or didn’t realized I’d run out of the cashews I need for curry.
• Perhaps this also goes without saying, but I plan out the entire meal—main dish, sides, veggies—and mark where to find the recipe. This enables Jason to make the meal if he gets home first, which is key to the success of both our meal plan and our marriage.

In a particularly busy season, I take my meal planning up a notch and plan for four weeks at a time. There are clear advantages to the four-week plan—obviously, less time figuring out what to have, but also less grocery shopping and less wasting of perishables—but there are disadvantages too, mainly lack of flexibility. I often lament at three food magazines worth of recipes going untested during the four-week plan, but sacrifices must be made. For a four-week plan, I think about:

• What dishes can I double so that half can be eaten the first night and the other half put in the freezer for a quick meal later in the month? Things like this work well.
• In the same vein, what dishes can I make on, say, Monday of one week, and then eat again on Thursday of the next week, so that I use up all of, for example, the shredded cabbage that I only like in black bean tacos?
• In the same vein (again), how many recipes do I have that use plain yogurt? Cilantro? Green onions? What do these ingredients all have in common? 1: I can never, ever use a whole container/bunch of them in one meal, and 2: I have three or four well-loved meals for each ingredient. Solution? Plan meals around ingredients to use them up, rather than throwing away yet another bunch of slimy cilantro or putrid yogurt. For example, cilantro goes in this and this and this.
• What can I use up that’s been in my pantry or freezer for a long time? Somehow the type of planning that involves using up the side of beef we bought from my parents, oh, three years ago goes better with long-term meal planning than short-term, so I like trying to clean out what we have by the end of the month so we can start fresh.
• What simple meals can I plan for nights when I know I won’t have a lot of time? I realize this should be how I think on a daily basis, but meal planning exercise forces me to look at dinner differently—as something that has to be done each night instead of a fun activity to take up an evening. I know, you think I’m looking at this backwards, but honestly, when you have to work until 6:30 and drive home in traffic and then read 300 pages and write a five-page paper before going to bed at a decent time so that you can do it all again the next day, it’s healthy to consider dinner as a means to an end. This summer Andrea (to whom this blog entry is dedicated) impressed upon me the importance of setting realistic expectations in the kitchen—paninis and salad, for example, are a nice meal, as is anything that takes 15 minutes or less (like this or this).
• Also good: leftovers. How have I forgotten this message? My favorite nights all through high school and college were Sunday night leftover nights, which were a smorgasbord of whatever you liked best. Plan one night a week to finish off all the last bits of curry and those last two slices of pork that are not enough for a meal all by themselves but go really well together with a dollop of tapioca salad.
• Grocery shop for a month at a time. Putting together the four-week meal plan is a production—recipes everywhere, scratching out things and moving them to different days, list after list—but go all the way and make your grocery list at the same time. Write down every ingredient you will need for each week, then go through and put all the canned goods, frozen meat, etc., on your grocery list for week one. Your pantry and freezer will be full, but for the next three weeks you will just have to add the list of produce and other perishables you’ve already created for that week to whatever milk and eggs you need to get. If the point of the menu is to save time in the kitchen, save time at the store, too.
• And here is my last tip: If you are planning for longer than two weeks, keep one night free each week. Stuff always comes up—a friend comes into town and you go out to dinner one night unexpectedly, Jason has to work late and we decide to do “dinner on your own” (aka ramen noodles), someone invites you over to dinner for this next Friday—and you can really only guess how the calendar will look four weeks in advance. The four-week meal plan was particularly successful for me during school, since I knew what I was going to be doing at least five nights a week (homework, class, homework, class, falling asleep at 7), but these days I would need to build in for some uncertainty. Maybe I make this my leftovers night, with the recognition that we can have leftovers on Saturday for lunch if we don’t eat them on Thursday. Whatever. It’s a good practice.

Okay, long blog entry, but hopefully interesting? What are your ideas for menu planning? Does it work for you or not? Any tips or advice you want to offer?

The First Few Pages

We have spent the first few pages of 2011 just like this: fire, shared ottoman, books. Sometimes (like now) tea. Nearly every night this week, we have cleaned up the dishes and settled in for at least an hour. It is heavenly. I actually feel like I'm doing something extravagant and probably irresponsible, even though the only things hanging over my head are dinner (and since, inspired by Andrea, we made this recipe for lunch today, we are not at all hungry yet) and a pile of constituent mail that needs editing.

You may notice, by the way, that Jason is reading Harry Potter. I know, I'm completely beside myself but trying not to overreact and thus scare him away. He has committed to reading at least through the Prisoner of Azkaban, which is generally agreed to be the "hooking point." The other day he randomly wove the phrase "house elf" into a conversation about not wanting to empty the dishwasher. My heart leapt.

So far, 2011 is exACTly what I had hoped it would be. There are delicious new recipes (this and this are for dinner tonight). There is working out (oh! THAT'S what's hanging over my head today!). There is a new Congress where my boss is both presiding over the House floor (yay!) and chairman of the approps subcommittee on which I work (double yay!). There is paced organization of everything, starting with a new spreadsheet of the recipes I want to try from my cooking magazines. There are new boots found on clearance on their way. There are long hours with books by the fire. There are twinkle lights, at least until the rest of our neighbors have taken theirs down. There is the tantalizing anticipation of a graduation celebration on the beach.

The only thing missing is chocolate cake.

New Year

Jason started the year toasting it in with friends who came over to play games. I started it in bed with a cold, kept company by Mr. Darcy and good cold meds. We've laid low the past few days, and all in all I'm grateful that the cold came when I was already planning to lay around in sweats and watch obscene amounts of tv, versus finish papers or celebrate Christmas or start new Congress next week.

Today's to-do list started with sleeping in far too long, then:
1. Drinking lots of coffee;
2. Tearing down the Christmas tree in overcaffeinated frenzy, then packing up all the other Christmas decorations (still feel grinch-ish for being so anxious to get everything down);
3. Eating soup leftover from last night's party;
4. Taking a shower;
5. Sitting.

There is still dinner to make, and Jason is organizing his computer games in an effort to pass time until the hockey Winter Classic starts at eight. But this quiet moment, in the clean, uncluttery (love tree, but takes up third of room) living room with tea and fire is my favorite way to start the new year.

I've been anxious to put 2010 behind us--this fall, particularly, felt like being trapped in a deep rut, so I feel relieved that January 1 is finally here. I want something totally new for 2011, something to break the mold. Like moving to London. Or quitting my job and writing a book. Or taking up ballet. Or, at the very least, getting a bold new hair cut.

For today, I've abandoned my Lady Grey for some new white tea and put away my Sara Groves playlist for a long-forgotten Lifehouse album. I feel a bit better, ready for a January where I will:
* organize my house, room by room, starting with the spare room and working my way up to that ridiculous shelf of crap in the utility room;
* write letters (or, okay, emails) to the dear friends whom I have completely and utterly neglected over the past year;
* update my iPod;
* practice the art of meditation, as studied in Celebration of Disciplines last year (perhaps not bad idea to stop for a moment and give God a little space to speak in my life);
* stop eating sugar (must dispose of hundreds of cookies, chocolate candies, etc. in next 24 hours) and get in awesome shape so that I a) look fabulous in a swim suit, b) stop huffing and puffing up the stairs (pretend it is the head cold, but pretty sure it is the lack of working out since before Thanksgiving), and c) fit into the majority of my jeans again;
* write something. Just something.

I am very happy for new beginnings this year...or, at least, I will be once I have polished off this last bag of cookies...