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The full Manti

February 16, 2011 by Beth Shepherd

Armenian mantiThe last time I was in Armenia, I ate Manti with Maribeth. We were dining at The Club, a lovely subterranean restaurant with delicious food, located in the center of Yerevan, Armenia’s capitol.

Maribeth and I were there to celebrate. We’d each just registered our adoption (formally accepted our referral). We were in the same room at the same time (Big Papa didn’t make this trip – a story for another post) and a bond was formed between us after sharing this life-changing, emotional experience.

Amazingly, Maribeth is also originally from Seattle (though she now resides on the east coast). The irony isn’t lost on me: Beth and Maribeth, both from Seattle.

Here we were, breaking bread together – and toasting with a shot of Armenian brandy –  to honor this momentous occasion, in a restaurant half-way around the world from the place we call home. How crazy is that?

The meal was stupendous. We ordered a sampler platter filled with dolma, hummus, baba-ganoush, and a host of amazing Armenian dishes.

Then the Manti was served. Honestly, for the next few minutes, the only sound you could hear was Maribeth and I swooning over our Manti.

“Mmmm,” she murmured.

“Wow,” I concurred.

If there is a mantra for Manti, Maribeth and I have been meditating on it ever since. We both dream about Manti.

Manti are dumplings. Divine dumplings. Slightly crisped on the outside, melt-in-your-mouth incredible on the inside, and bathed in a savory yogurt sauce. It was so good. I wanted to dive right into that bowl. Of course, first I would have had to arm-wrestle Maribeth.

When it comes to Manti, there are actually two kinds:  baked manti and also a version cooked in broth as a soup. They are each prepared the same general way, but are shaped differently. Baked Manti are baked in the oven whereas soup manti are cooked in broth. Although Manti is not exclusive to Armenia, and I’ve seen a few variations on a theme, they are typically served topped with a yogurt-garlic sauce and sumac, that interesting, sour, Middle-Eastern spice.

Aside from its heavenly flavor, Manti is notable for being a time consuming dish to prepare. I have seen a few recipes that call themselves “short-cuts” and use wonton wrappers for the dough, but come on people, that’s cheating. Yes, it takes a long time to make them, but as Maribeth and I will tell you: when it comes to Manti (and adoption) the wait and the effort is worth it!

This weekend, Manti is on the menu (and it’s a safe bet that our bottle of Armenian brandy won’t be far away). Another celebration is in order. In three weeks, Maribeth is going to Armenia to become a mom! And hopefully, it won’t be long before I’m once again following in her footsteps.

Congratulations, dear friend: this one’s for you!

pre-cooked mantiManti

Makes About 100: Serves 4 to 5

Each of these tiny dumplings is about the size of your fingertip, so you can easily serve 20 to 25 to each person.  It’s traditional to invite friends to help fill and seal the Manti; after all, many hands make light work.  They can be frozen for up to 1 month.

For the Dough:

  • 1 cup all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
  • 1/2 teaspoon course salt
  • 1 large egg, lightly beaten
  • 3 tablespoons cold water

For the filling:

  • 8 ounces ground lamb
  • 1 medium yellow onion, grated on the large holes of a box grater (1/2 cup)
  • 2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
  • 1 teaspoon course salt
  • 1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

For Cooking and Serving:

  • 8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
  • 3 cups homemade or low-sodium store-bought chicken stock
  • 1 cinnamon stick
  • 2 bay leaves
  • Course salt
  • 1 1/2 cups plain Greek yogurt or labneh
  • 2 garlic cloves, minced and mashed to a paste with a pinch of salt
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons dried mint
  • 3/4 teaspoon red pepper (or papikra)
  • a sprinkle of Sumac (found in grocery stores or spice shops that specialize in Middle Eastern foods)
  1. Make the dough: Sift together flour and salt in a large bowl.  Make a well in the center and add egg. Using your hands, gently draw flour mixture into egg.  Gradually add the cold water, and continue to work dough with your hands or a spoon until it forms a smooth paste.
  2. Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface. Kneed until dough is smooth and springs back when pressed, 5 to 8 minutes.  Divide dough into 2 balls, cover with a damp kitchen towel and let rest at room temperature for 30 minutes.
  3. Make the filling: Gently combine lamb, onion, parsley, salt and pepper.  (Filling can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 2 days.)
  4. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out 1 portion of dough into a 16-by-10 inch oblong about 1/16 inch think.  Using a ruler, cut dough into 1 1/4 inch squares with a pizza wheel or a paring knife.  Keep remaining dough covered with a damp kitchen towel while you work.
  5. Spoon 1/4 teaspoon filing in center of 1 dough square.  Gently pull 2 opposite corners outward to stretch dough slightly, then pull up to meet in center, and pinch to seal.  Repeat with remaining 2 corners, making sure all air has been pressed out.  Pinch together all 4 corners to form a point, then pinch along all 4 seams to seal.  Place on a parchment lined baking sheet, and cover with a damp kitchen towel.  repeat.  Remove towel, and cover with a piece of parchment. (Dumplings can be refrigerated on baking sheets, wrapped in plastic, for up to 1 day.  Alternatively, freeze on baking sheets, uncovered, for 2 hours, then transfer to an airtight container and freeze for up to 1 month.)
  6. For cooking and serving: Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Coat a 13-by-9-inch baking dish with 1 tablespoon butter.  Arrange Manti in a single snug layer in the dish.  Bake until fragrant and tops and corners are golden brown, about 25 minutes.
  7. Meanwhile, bring stock, cinnamon, bay leaves and 1 teaspoon salt to a boil in a saucepan.  Remove baking dish from oven, and add enough stock to dish so that all but the tops of the Manti are submerged.  Cover tightly with parchment and then foil, and bake until soft, about 2 minutes more.
  8. Meanwhile, stir together yogurt or labneh and garlic paste in a medium bowl.  When Manti have finished cooking, tile baking dish, collect about 1/4 cup liquid with a ladle, and stir into yogurt sauce (sauce should be spoonable).
  9. Melt remaining 7 tablespoons butter in a small saucepan over medium-high heat.  Reduce heat to medium, and cook until amber, about 7 minutes.
  10. Divide Manti among shallow serving bowls.  Spoon yogurt sauce over top, drizzle with browned butter, and sprinkle with mint, red pepper and sumac.

manti close upDying for more dumplings? Check out Wanderfood Wednesday!

Filed Under: Adoption, Food, Friendship Tagged With: Armenia, manti, The Club, Yerevan

Come on a My House

December 29, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

Just as holiday celebrations are winding down in the west, New Year and Christmas celebrations are ramping up in Armenia. Most Armenian Christians (Armenian Apostolic Church) follow the Julian calendar and Christmas is celebrated on January 6.

During the week between New Year’s and Christmas, most Armenian homes have an “open door” policy: “Ari im toon,” or “Come on to our house” is an invitation extended to anyone and everyone. Welcoming family, friends and neighbors into one’s home and filling their bellies with delicious food, is a tradition that has been honored for generations.

So it’s no surprise that food is a big part of the deal and the seasonal table for Armenians overflows with generosity: dried and fresh fruits, nuts and seeds, cheese, fish (meats are not eaten on Christmas), and Armenian pastries like gata and pakhlava. It is common to see prices soar on precious supplies as the holiday draws year. This year many newspapers even reported shortages in eggs.

So Come on a My House, as Rosemary Clooney (yes, George Clooney’s aunt) sings it. Enjoy the goodness of the season: family, friendship and food.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vyCNNrc8F_s?fs=1]

Come on-a my house my house,
I´m gonna give you candy
Come on-a my house, my house,
I´m gonna give a you apple a plum and apricot-a too eh
Come on-a my house, my house ,
I´m gonna give a you figs and dates and grapes and cakes eh
Come on-a my house my house,
I´m gonna give you Christmas tree
Come on-a my house, my house,
I´m gonna give you marriage ring and a pomegranate too ah
Come on-a my house, my house,
I´m gonna give you everything – everything – everything

Shnorhavor Nor Tari…Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Note: The 1951 hit song, Come on a My House, was written by two Armenian-Americans, Ross Bagdasarian (who later created Alvin and the Chipmunks under his stage name, David Seville) and his cousin, the author William Saroyan. It was Saroyan’s sole popular songwriting venture for an off-Broadway musical titled The Son. Rosemary Clooney very reluctantly recorded it and, ironically, it became one of her biggest hits.

Want more deliciousness to sing about? Check out Wanderfood Wednesday!

Filed Under: Family, Food, Friendship Tagged With: Come on a my house, Rosemary Clooney, Ross Bagdasarian, William Saroyan

The light of friendship

December 7, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

The light of friendship is like the light of phosphorus, seen plainest when all around is dark.
~Robert Crowell

pink candle

I was wracking my brain for something to write about when I read that Elizabeth Edwards had just died. It was only a few days ago that announcements of her “gravely ill” status began circulating in the news. I don’t know Elizabeth and I’m not writing this post to comment on her life, her marriage to John Edwards or anything else about her.

Except that she died from breast cancer. And breast cancer is what my closest friend, Dee, died from two years ago, December 20.  Dee is often in my thoughts. There are many days when I ask myself, “What would Dee do?” if I find myself confronted with one of life’s challenging moments.

I’ve been thinking about Dee a lot lately. Not just because this is the month when she died, but because there have been a few dark days when I’ve really longed to talk with her.  Her soul-deep knowledge of who I am gleaned from a friendship that spanned 44 years, gave me solace when nothing else could. There were so many parts of my life that I didn’t need to explain, and she had a gift for straight-forward wisdom and words of comfort when they were needed most.

I miss my friend like nobody’s business, so I curse the disease that took her from me and from her wonderful husband and family and her many friends who miss her as deeply as I do. Selfishly, I want her back, even though I know that in her 50 years on this earth, she was a shining star. No, she never made the front page of the New York Times. You won’t find her on a “Who’s who?” list, and she never acquired fame or great fortune, unless you count her friendships. In those she was rich indeed.

Today, a friend of Elizabeth Edwards was quoted as saying, “”Elizabeth did not want people to say she lost her battle with cancer.  The battle was about living a good life and that she won.”

My friend Dee lived a good life hands down. She was an integral member of a loving family. Her marriage was one of the strongest I know. She wasn’t a saint but she was generous, caring and kind. Those of us who were her in her intimate circle of friends were truly blessed.

Even though I feel a profound sense of loss that she is no longer in the world, I try to do my best to honor her memory by being the best partner I can be to my husband. I truly appreciate sitting down for a delicious meal, wandering through our neighborhood farmer’s market and hunting for a good find at a yard sale.  These simple pleasures brought joy and satisfaction to Dee, and to me.

And, I make an effort to keep in touch with my friends and remember the small details and important milestones in their lives. In being a good friend, I keep the essence of Dee – and my memories of our friendship – burning bright.

Filed Under: Family, Friendship Tagged With: breast cancer, Elizabeth Edwards, Friendship, Robert Crowell

Happy things

November 25, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

Eleven months ago, Big Papa and I started a new habit. Every night, before we go to sleep, we take turns and share a few “happy things” from our day. Then we offer an “appreciation,” something about each other that we are grateful for.

I came up with this idea to counterbalance the frustration, fears and stress in our lives: aging parents, work, home improvement projects, illness (ours or others), aches and pains, insecurities, and the bumps along the road in our journey to adopt. Sometimes it seems like it is so much easier to focus on problems and negativity in life, or all the things we want rather than everything we have.

This might sound Pollyannaish, but I have to tell you, it works! We’ve kept the nightly ritual going and now, nearly a year later, I can honestly say that going to sleep at night with happy thoughts in my brain, has made me a happier person.

Sure, I still fret about our adoption, wish I could buy jeans a size smaller, and feel sad to see my father slip away bit by bit. Careless drivers make me angry and I continue to miss my friend Dee, who passed away two years ago (and who I always called on Thanksgiving Day to tell her how grateful I was for her friendship).

Red Finch in FallThat said, I feel much more aware of the little things that bring me joy each and every day. Maybe it’s a morning when the Cascade Mountains are so clear it feels like I could reach out and touch them. Or a cold afternoon spent watching the birds enjoy the new suet feeder. I don’t feel like I’m bragging when I cite accomplishments from my day that I am proud of: a good work out, two articles written for my writing group, an organized closet or a tasty meal that I made using herbs from our garden.

It is so energizing to share these happy moments with Big Papa along with one appreciation for something he did or said or just for being the wonderful person he is.  Hearing the things that make him happy puts a smile in my heart. And, when he tells me what he appreciates about me, I feel noticed, acknowledged, and loved. Sharing our ‘happy things’ and ‘appreciations’ has been one of the best things we’ve done for our relationship…and for ourselves.

Most of us living in the U.S. have a lot to be thankful for. There is great abundance in our lives, yet we often fail to appreciate what we have in the midst of harried days, and the perceived pressure to be more, do more and have more.

In honor of this year’s Thanksgiving holiday, I celebrate the happiness in my life. There is so much I appreciate:

  • Big Papa: many hours of listening, his steadiness and love, and a big hug every day
  • A healthy, strong and fit body
  • My home: a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, good food to eat
  • Friends: old, new, near and far
  • Maggie, our cat, who makes me smile and laugh
  • The beautiful northwest that I am so lucky to call home
  • Being able to write my thoughts and put them out there for the world to see
  • That my family members are all still alive and able to see the  happiness in my life
  • My own backyard: the garden, the birds
  • Mamas with Cameras, my writing group and Mom’s Night Out
  • Trips around the Sound, around the state and over the seas
  • …and a few wondrous things – that for now – I’ll keep close inside my heart

To my friends and family, and to anyone who reads this post, may a day of thanks be yours.  Between running here and there, cleaning the house or cooking up a storm, take some time to remind yourself of the beauty in your life, and of the people, places and moments that make you happy. Close your eyes and think deeply about someone who touches your life, someone you appreciate. Better yet, pick up the phone or take them in your arms and tell them.

Filed Under: Adoption, Family, Food, Friendship, Garden, Travel Tagged With: appreciation, happy things, Thanksgiving

Memories of Thanksgiving feasts gone by

November 24, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

This past weekend, I made a recipe that got me to reminiscing about Thanksgiving dinners from years gone by. As a single gal for many years who lived 3,000 miles from her family, I got invited to a number of (as I liked to call them) “orphan feasts.” These were dinners where a family took me in or where a group of friends, who were without (or who were avoiding) their own families, joined forces to create a feast and celebrate the holiday.

One of my favorite potluck Thanksgivings revolved around a “Kentucky” themed meal. Let’s just say that bourbon figured prominently in most of the recipes (and on its own). The turkey was brined and smoked on a grill with cherry wood chips and then the skin was glazed with maple syrup. I told people it was the best darn turkey I ever had and I fantasized about it for many years until finally, one Thanksgiving when both our moms came to visit, Big Papa and I made it. Big Papa, who was never a turkey aficionado, said: That was the best darn turkey I ever had.

Then there was an out –of-state Thanksgiving with a boyfriend who was filming a movie. The family of his friend, lived in the Santa Cruz Mountains, and that meal fulfilled every stereotype you might have of a “hippie” holiday. Everyone was smoking pot around the table, including grandma, who told me quirky stories about the days when she owned two Wallabies that she paraded around the streets just to get a rise out of her neighbors. Forget about having to decide whether you wanted apple or pumpkin pie. They didn’t serve either. Brownies were the sole dessert option and given the pot-filled haze in the air, I wasn’t sure what “special spices” might be in them, so I said: Uh, thanks, I’ll pass.

The recipe I made was one that predates these celebrations, because it is a recipe from college days. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, I was a vegetarian for roughly seven years. Although my food “lifestyle,” was not unheard of, it wasn’t as universally accepted as it is some thirty years later. These days, I can easily name five or six vegetarian restaurants in Seattle, and one or two vegan spots. But back in the day, Moosewood Restaurant was one of the first and one of the only.

I started making this recipe for stuffed squash, from the Moosewood Cookbook, when I came home to visit my family for the Thanksgiving holiday. Skipping the main event, turkey, was disconcerting for my mother, that I’m sure. The fact that she still makes this recipe (and likes it!) is a testament to how good it is. It’s a Thanksgiving classic, in its own way.

Since Big Papa and I are celebrating one of our (now nearly annual) traditions of painting a room this holiday weekend, my cookbooks are tucked away in a spot where I can’t get to them and, amazingly, I couldn’t find this recipe online. So, I made it from memory. I can say with complete confidence, it’s still as tasty as I remember.

Stuffed Squash (as I remember it from the Moosewood Cookbook)

Ingredients:

  • 1 Squash (acorn, butternut or your fav)
  • Cottage cheese, roughly ½-1 cup
  • Cheddar (or other sharp cheese – I used Gouda this time), roughly ½-1 cup
  • ½ Yellow onion, chopped
  • Crimini or button mushrooms, 5-10 sliced
  • 1 Apple (I used a Honey Crisp, but any variety will work), cored and chopped
  • Cinnamon, 1 teaspoon
  • Canola or olive oil

How to:

  1. Split an acorn (or butternut) squash lengthwise down the middle.
  2. Remove seeds and bake (face down on a baking sheet with a little oil) at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
  3. Saute onions in oil and then add apple and mushrooms. Saute until a tad soft but not fully cooked.
  4. Combine the onions, mushrooms and apples with the cottage cheese and cheddar cheese and add about a teaspoon of cinnamon (or a bit of nutmeg, or both – I also added some fresh thyme)
  5. Take the squash halves out of the oven, flip them over and fill the cavity with the cheese filling.
  6. Bake for another 30 minutes at 350-375 or until the squash is tender and pulls away from the skin.

Want to find more food to be thankful for? Check out Wanderfood Wednesday!

Filed Under: Family, Food, Friendship Tagged With: Moosewood Cookbook, Moosewood Restaurant, Stuffed Squash

Pumpkin Dip

November 10, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

My friend Susan S. first introduced me to Pumpkin Dip about seven years ago when the recipe first came out. Susan had a subscription to ‘Cooking Light’ magazine and it was featured the fall holiday season issue. Susan was a Pumpkin Dip pusher if there ever was one, although once you try this dip, you’ll understand why she didn’t have to push too hard. Be forewarned: this stuff is addicting. I promise you that as soon as you’ve chowed through your pumpkin dip coated apples, you’ll be wondering how else you could use this incredibly yummy dip. Spread on top of oatmeal raisin cookies or gingersnaps? Slathered on pancakes or waffles? Add a dollop to top off a bowl of vanilla ice cream? I once made a loaf of gingerbread to accompany the pumpkin dip and it was a divine match.

This would be perfect for a party alongside a tray of apples and assorted fruits to dip with (I am very fond of it with pears). Better yet, it is kid friendly, a Cooking Light recipe and oh-so-seasonal to boot!

Pumpkin Dip
12 Servings

  • 3/4 cup (6 oz.) 1/3 less-fat cream cheese (Neufchatel)
  • 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1/2 cup canned pumpkin
  • 2 tsp. maple syrup
  • 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
  • 24 apple slices

Place first three ingredients in a medium bowl; beat with a mixer at medium speed until well blended. (I whipped or about 2-3 minutes, to get it nice and fluffy) Add syrup and cinnamon, and beat until smooth. Cover dip, and chill 30 minutes. Serve with apple slices.

Note: Because I can’t leave well enough alone, I have a tendency to reduce the brown sugar and increase the maple syrup and cinnamon because I like that maple-cinnamon flavor).

~Recipe courtesy of Cooking Light Annual Recipes 2004

(Thanks across the miles and years to Susan S. who introduced me to this scrumdiddlyumptious dip)

Want to dip into more deliciousness? Check out Wanderfood Wednesday!

Filed Under: Food, Friendship Tagged With: Cooking Light Magazine, Pumpkin Dip

Deux cafe sil vous plait

October 6, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

There’s nothing like a cup of fresh espresso, particularly if one is fortunate enough to drink it in the city of light. Sitting at a sidewalk café and sipping from our demitasse, Big Papa and I watched the world go by, Parisian style.

Across the street at a butcher’s shop, two little girls stood outside waiting for their mother. Dressed in pink and red they coordinated with the colors of the shop to a ‘t.’ Small dogs sat on the laps of doting owners. Cigarettes hung between fingertips of passersby. The white noise buzz of cars and conversation played in the background.

This scene was repeated over and over on street after street. Cafés spilled out along avenues as large as rivers and sandwiched themselves into corners on the tiniest of crooked side streets. Friends, lovers, parents, and students nestled two by two at petite tables, hands holding warm porcelain cups, musing about life.

In Seattle we have many fine restaurants. There are outdoor farmers markets and high end organic grocery stores. But we do not have a café culture like they have in Europe. Starbucks may say they try to create the “third place” and indie cafes might attempt to emulate international coffee culture by placing a few tables outside, but it’s just not the same. Maybe it’s the weather (this year’s non-stop rain isn’t exactly conducive to sipping street-side or maybe (more likely) it’s our social culture – the rush, rush, I need my coffee and I need it now. To go. Or folks sit silently staring at their laptops or texting away madly on their iPhone.

During our recent jaunt to Paris, I also noticed that café goers with an open laptop beside their cuppa java were far and few between. Sure there were iPhones and Paris is hardly anti-technology, but most of the people we saw not only managed to make it through a cup of coffee or two and actually interact with their companions, they even seemed to enjoy it.

I found it refreshing. Taking the time to disconnect electronically and reconnect with one another seems to be rapidly disappearing art in the ‘ole U.S. of A. And while there were many things I was grateful to come back stateside to, a slow cup of espresso and a good long chat shared with someone you care about, was a perk of Europe I was sad to leave behind.

I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee.

~Carly Simon

Want to sip on some more? Check out Wanderfood Wednesday!

Filed Under: Food, Friendship, Travel Tagged With: cafe, coffee, espresso, France, Paris

In the same boat

September 27, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

One of the best things that has happened to me on my adoption adventure, is meeting some amazing adoptive moms-to-be (and now a couple adoptive moms in action!). Our agency has a private online chat group and a few of us have struck up a more personal relationship “off line.”

For me, getting to know women who truly understand what I’m going through has saved my sanity. We trade stories. We support each other and celebrate milestones. We whine and get stressed out and about the same things. Sometimes when I think: “Beth you are just so over the top on this one,” I’ll exchange an email and hear a kindred spirit say they feel the exact same way.

Their stories make me laugh or nod my head across the miles and say: “I hear you sister.” While I am so fortunate to have found Big Papa and truly grateful that he is such a patient and gracious man, there is something unique and so absolutely essential about the common bond women share. Maybe it’s just that moms-to-be are more tolerant of my excesses of emotion, or that we have parallel worries, but there is a quality to our exchange that I simply cannot find anywhere else.

I am particularly thrilled that I have a community of adoptive moms to chat with. While there is something universal about motherhood, no matter how one arrives at the destination, adoptive mothers share a perspective that is impossible to really “get” unless you’ve been aboard our boat.

Being able to write and blog about my experience and seeing the way my thoughts resonate with others, has also been tremendously helpful.  I try to express my experience honestly, and it is one of the best ways for me to process what I’m going through.  There are some aspects I have not been able to write about publicly, or at least not in real time, when I am in the throes of it all. Having a cadre of fellow travelers behind-the-scenes gets me over each hump. When I have significant news to share about our adoption, I share it first with this stalwart group of gals.

With the exception of one of our cohort who lives about fifteen minutes from us, most are on the east coast and we have never met in person. No matter the distance, our bonds to one another provide a safe haven from the storm that is the journey to adopt.

So thank you to each and every one of you magnificent mamas. You know who you are. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, and I look forward to sharing all the excitement in the years to come.

Filed Under: Adoption, Friendship

Serendipity

August 17, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

Putting together a room for our child-to-be and collecting many of the various and sundry things we’ll eventually need has been a bit by bit process. Big Papa and I have resisted doing up the bedroom entirely or purchasing some of the “big ticket” items (crib, stroller) only to sit and stare at them as months pass while we wait. Every now and again, I allow myself a few purchases, sometimes that reinforces the feeling that I’m “doing something” for the adoption and to keep it tangible, literally. On occasion, something pops up at a yard sale or in a store that I know we will need and is at such a good price (or free) that it seems crazy not to get it.

BobA few days ago I saw a used ‘Bob stroller’ on a moms group Yahoo listserv. I know they are decent strollers and costly new. This one was being sold for a great price and would likely disappear quickly, just like the used Stokke high chairs that sell within minutes.  I fired off an “I’m interested” email with my cell phone number and left for the gym, fully expecting to come home only to find a new posting that read: “Bob stroller taken.”

Imagine my surprise when I discovered a message from ‘J.’ on my voice mail when I got out of my spin class. J’s message stated that I had been the first responder to the ad and the stroller was mine for the taking if I wanted it. I immediately polled a couple moms from my spin class who were milling around: “Would you buy a used Bob stroller?” One said yes and one said no. The ‘no’ was followed by: “Too risky. You don’t know the original owner and what the stroller has been through.” Fair enough, but I still wanted to check it out.

I drove over to J’s house and knocked on the door. The door opened and lo and behold, there was my friend, ‘T.’ “What are you doing here?” I asked. “What are you doing here?” he replied. A moment later, J poked her head out the door. T and J have a child together, however they live separately. I’ve never been to J’s house so it never occurred to me that the ‘J’ on the phone was this J just like it never occurred to her I was that Beth.

It’s been a number of years since T and I were close, but we’ve run into each other on occasion. The last time we chatted, Big Papa and I had gone over to T’s house to talk with him and J about parenthood. Their daughter was a couple years old at the time; they were both first-time parents at mid-40something and Big Papa and I were in the stage of our parenthood journey where we were still considering pregnancy using a donor egg. Our decision to head down the adoption fork in the road was still around the corner.

As it turns out one of the reasons they are off-loading kid stuff is J’s impending move to the San Francisco Bay area. Plus their kiddo, ‘N.’ is closing in on the age where she’ll no longer need her stroller (though in fairness N was quite vocal about her reluctance to part with it). J told me that it was bittersweet to be selling off N’s baby gear and it made her feel better to know the much loved (but still in fine condition) ‘Bob’ was going to a “good home.”

Knowing (and trusting) Bob’s former owner gave me greater confidence in the hand-me-down I was about to purchase and the karma surrounding it all put a smile in my heart. I felt like this Bob was meant to be my Bob.

Later that day, J emailed me to let me know eight women had contacted her hoping the Bob stroller might be theirs before she could post ‘Bob sold’ that afternoon. She wrote that if I hadn’t been the first person to respond to her Bob request she may have never known where we were in our parenthood journey. “And now when I think of the future life of some of N’s baby things, I can anticipate a whole other story about to unfold.”

I like to imagine that serendipitous moments, such as this one, are the world’s way of showing me I’m on the right path. And, while there are days when the wait feels like it’s dragging on forever, there will be other days when a door opens and a friend reaches out to lets me know everything’s going to turn out fine.

Filed Under: Adoption, Friendship Tagged With: Adoption, Bob stroller, serendipity

As long as we both shall live

July 28, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

Weddings are momentous occasions. Two people begin their lives together. Sacred vows are shared before a community of loved ones and friends. A commitment is made to honor and care for one another for a lifetime: through sickness or health, for richer or poorer.

wedding vowsBig Papa and I said our vows to each other merely three years ago. At 48, and marrying for the first time, I could hardly be described as young or naïve. I’d been around the block enough times to know that life can throw some serious curveballs that test one’s mettle much less a relationship.

I’d seen my own parents’ marriage dissolve amidst larger-than-life crises: a husband paralyzed by a stroke and a daughter who had cancer twice as a child. Even the best of relationships sometimes break under strain.

Yet I also knew relationships that withstood gale force winds and came through on the other side even stronger than before. So as we prepared for our wedding, we chose two couples, whose relationship we admired, to say a few words and offer wisdom that we could draw on when times got tough.

I asked my closest childhood friend, Dee, and her husband Gaylen. They had been married nineteen years and Dee had been through a first bout and now a recurrence of breast cancer. Big Papa asked Bill and Pat, whom he’d known for six years. Bill had served on the same WWII ship that Big Papa’s father also served on. Bill and Pat had been married for 63 years.

As it turned out, neither couple was able to be there with us as we said “I do.”  Dee and Pat were each struggling with illness and a cross-country trip was out of the question.  But, they were there with us in spirit.

Something borrowedShortly after they each called to let us know they’d be absent, a package arrived from Dee. In it, was a small antique pin that Dee’s mother had given her. Dee told me she wanted me to have it to wear on my wedding day.

A few weeks later we received two letters, first one from Pat and then one from Bill. Pat shared letters with us that she’d written to Bill over the years: one from the days when he was away at sea and she was waiting for him to return and another where she wrote to Bill describing some of the challenges they’d been through together over their many years of marriage and how they’d managed to overcome them. Bill’s letter offered wisdom and support, along with a few tips of things he and Pat had done over the years to ‘hold tight’ when their spirits sagged.

On the night before we got married, Dee called me to personally relay her best wishes and ask if she could send an email with a note she and Gaylen had written for us to read during our ceremony. Big Papa and I gathered up these words from our friends to share with each other and our guests on our wedding day.

And what a day it was! We’d already managed to find a new location to hold our ceremony when our original site canceled some six months before. A second B&B was lined up for our first night together as a married couple when the B&B where we’d intended to stay announced they were going out of business, just two months before our day. But when our officiant called Big Papa to say she wouldn’t be there to pronounce us man and wife just three hours before the ceremony…well, you can imagine that we were already putting the “through good times and bad” to the test.

joyIt’s fair to say that in the process of getting married, we ran into a few catastrophes. And yet, miracles happened too, not the least of which was that a post, “Urgent! Officiant needed!” placed on IslandMoms, an internet chat group, turned up Debbi, the just-right-for-us officiant who made it to lovely Morgan Hill Retreat with minutes to spare. Lo and behold Big Papa and I became Mr. and Mrs.

Three years later we’ve experienced our share of trials and tribulations. We moved my elderly disabled father across the country two months before our wedding and overseeing his care (and him) has not been easy. Our adoption journey has been the source of many spirited and dispirited moments along with some pretty significant stress. My dear friend Dee passed away as did my beloved, nearly 18-year-old cat, Madison. We powered through a home remodel where we lived in one room and didn’t have a shower for four months. Our car was totaled in front of our house. And yes, like most couples, we’ve had your typical run-of-the-mill arguments.

In equal measure, we can lay claim to hours of sheer joy and days filled with playfulness, wonder and deep abiding love. Adventures to beautiful places both near and far have been ours: Tibet, Armenia, Willamette Valley and the California coast. Our home, the Urban Cabin, is now filled with light and a peaceful green oasis greets us outside our back door. We have enjoyed many amazing meals – some with food grown by our two hands and wine discovered on trips through the Pacific Northwest. Our understanding of ourselves and each other has improved by leaps and bounds and together we’ve tackled challenges and worked toward achieving our dreams.

Isn’t this what relationships, marriage – and life – are all about? You take the highs with the lows and the good with the bad. Things don’t always go the way you expect or happen in the time frame you might want. Then again, sometimes they do. “Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.”

Truly, it’s the marriage, not the wedding that that those vows are really all about: the day in and day out meandering along in the world, looking out towards the future, remembering the past and enjoying the here and now.

I can almost hear Bill encouraging us to hold hands each night and try not to go to sleep angry with each other. I can see the images described in Pat’s letter: how sweet Bill is when he brings her coffee first thing each morning and how he stood by her during a long bout of depression.

I doLast night Big Papa and I sat together on the antique park bench we bought in honor of our third anniversary. I nestled my head against his shoulder and remembered a story Dee told me about being stuck with Gaylen inside their home for several days during a long snowstorm. Sitting next to each other on the sofa, she said, “It’s a good thing we like each other.”

When we exchanged marriage vows, I hoped that – on the balance – “health” would outweigh “sickness” and “good” would be more prevalent than “bad.” I still do. But no matter where the road may take us, I believe in the vows we said to each other and I believe in us.

…It will not always be smooth sailing; your relationship will be challenged.  But in our experience, the process of weathering these storms will only serve to deepen and enrich the feelings that originally brought you together.

~excerpt from Dee and Gaylen’s wedding blessing

Happy Anniversary Big Papa! How lucky am I to travel through time with you by my side.

Filed Under: Family, Friendship Tagged With: anniversary, IslandMoms, Marriage, Morgan Hill Retreat, relationship, vows, wedding

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Some might fend off a mid-life crisis by leaving the comforts of their corporate salary to jet off to a deserted island. Others might buy a Jaguar. I’ve chosen to dive head-long into my 50s and beyond by becoming a first-time parent. At any given moment you might find me holding a camera, a spade, a spatula or a suitcase. Or my little girl's hand. Adopted from Armenia, she puts the Pampers and Paklava into my life.

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