Our (successful) attempt at adventure: Chicken Pesto Pizza

Since our family is comprised of picky--super picky--eaters, we tend to get in a rut at dinner time. I went out on a limb trying this recipe--it contains artichoke hearts-- and... I'm glad I did. It was great. You can't tell it has artichoke on it. 4 out of 5 Lasaters liked it (with the youngest being the only dissenting vote and he hates anything that isn't in the waffle/pancake/oatmeal family.) I promise, this was easy and yum, yum, yummy!

Pesto Chicken Pizza
Ingredients:
1 (8 ounce) jar basil pesto (Look near the spaghetti sauce. At my grocery super center, it's on the top shelf where short people can barely reach it. By the way, thanks to the tall stranger that grabbed the jar for me!)
1 refrigerated pizza crust
2 cups cooked chicken breast strips (You can buy these pre-cooked if you're short on time. Look in the sandwich meat area at the store.)
1 (6 ounce) jar artichoke hearts, drained (I found these in the vegetable aisle for a couple dollars.)
1/2 cup shredded mozerella cheese (I may have used a little more to disguise the atichokes.)

Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F (230 degrees C).
2. Spread pesto sauce over the pizza crust. Arrange chicken pieces and artichoke hearts over the sauce, and sprinkle with cheese. (I only used the thin pieces of the artichoke hearts and I seperated them so they'd be less noticeable--hey, my adventurousness has limits.)
3. Bake for 10-15 minutes in the preheated oven, until cheese is melted and crust is lightly browned at the edges.

The Gift You're Given

Word has begun to circulate that I’m in the process of writing a book. Because of that, I hear three recurring themes from curious friends and family. First: Is it a children’s book? Second: What’s it about? Third: How do you find the time?

To answer the first, I am writing a novel, not a children’s book. I would love to write a children’s book that focuses on a strong boy character (hard to find if you don’t count the animals that happen to also be males –Frog and Toad, Franklin, Clifford, Little Bear, etc.) because I know how hard it can be to find a book I’d like my boys to read. However, I’ve had a story rolling around in my head (for years now) about God’s power to restore. One that I felt needed to be told. So, at my husband’s urging, I started with it.

The book is Christian, fiction, and finished. Well, sort of. Although I did end the book, I feel some areas are not complete and so I am going back and revising where necessary. I feel thrilled to have enlisted the help of a talented woman who has agreed to act as my editor. As it stands today, my book has approximately 71,000 words, 40 chapters, and 200 pages. (This, by the way, is on the shorter side where books are concerned.) While I’m editing, my goal is to add another 4,000 words, which would give me a high enough word count to enter the book into a writing contest. (The contest deadline is October first. I’m sweating over it a little. Okay, a lot.)

In an effort to address the second question, I have to say, “It’s a secret.” While I’d love to divulge the plot of my book, I can’t. Imagine what would happen if my plot trickled down to someone who could write my book better. Exactly.

Thirdly, people ask, “How do you do that?” The implication is that writing a book in the midst of home schooling a second and third grader while keeping dibs on our three year old might be an impossible task. I’ll suffice it to say that I ignore things I shouldn’t (dishes, laundry, vacuuming) to focus on something I like more. After all, everyone finds time–even if it isn’t much time–to do what they enjoy. (Be honest, haven’t you ever sat down with a good book when you should’ve been doing something else? Well, me too. Only I write it.)

Personally, I think there is a greater question that how I find time to write. For me, the mystery lies in how a book gets written. Any writer will tell you that some things will not be written. Will not. No matter how much you want to write it. It’s almost as if the words, the stories, take on their own persona and on occasion refuse to be manipulated. At other times, the words begin to flow and there’s no stopping it. The writer feels the rightness of what is spilling on the page. It is a, this-is-good-stuff-really-good-stuff kind of experience. Like going shopping, plucking something from the rack, hitting the dressing room, and slipping into the best fitting outfit of your life. It looks good. It feels good. You know it’s good.

The secular writing world refers to this as a “muse.” A muse is a near-magical being that moves on the writer and lends inspiration. I doubt writers believe an angel or the like is hanging over their shoulder, but they do recognize the instance of receiving inspiration and believe it comes from somewhere.

I find the process amazing. Even now, I look at the 71,000 words and wonder how they happened. How is it possible to come up with 200 pages worth of creative writing? Personally, I see this as evidence of the Creator. All creative processes must come from somewhere. Doesn’t the Creator just make sense?

Before the words hit the page, I feel them in my mind. As if they were given to me. Then, I use a process I refer to as “stewing.” I stew over them. Then, I sit in front of a blank screen and type. This isn’t a thing that can be forced.

Vessel. Aren’t all Christians called to be vessels with an ear to heaven and hands toward the world? Whether or not writing is your forte, the key is to do what you must with what you’ve been given.

Girl's baby calendar

Finally! A girl to make things for. My mom and I teamed up on this one. It's a gift for a sweet expectant couple at her church. We took the pink, brown, paisleys, and monkey ideas from a photo of the baby's nursery.

Caprese recipe

This is our favorite recipe. (And a rip off from Olive Garden) It's super easy. 5 out of 5 Lasaters like it. (That's unheard of at our house. Usually 3 out of 5 is doing good!)


Steak Caprese
Ingredients
Marinated Tomatoes:
1 1/2 lbs Roma tomatoes, cored* and cut into 1” pieces
20 medium fresh basil leaves, stems removed and cut into smallish pieces (FRESH BASIL is important! Find it next to the lettuce at the grocery store.)
2 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1 Tbsp garlic, minced
1 tsp Italian seasoning
Salt to taste

2 Tbsp butter
1/2 cup white wine
11/2 cups heavy cream
1 block Frigo Parmesan cheese, grated (We've tried different Parmesans, but this works best. It's in a triangle shape in the refrigerator cheese section at Walmart.)
1 lb capellini (angel hair) pasta, cooked according to package directions (we use thin spaghetti)
Steak (I try to buy something that I think'll be tender and just enough to feed our family.)

Procedures

1. COMBINE tomatoes, basil, olive oil, garlic, Italian seasoning and salt in a large bowl and blend thoroughly. Cover, set aside and marinate for at least 1 hour. (Don't skip the marinating time!)
   
2. HEAT a large, nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add butter and let melt. Stir in white wine and bring to a boil. Add heavy cream and bring to a simmer. Let sauce reduce to desired consistency.
   
3. ADD cooked, drained pasta and marinated tomatoes to skillet. Stir to thoroughly coat pasta with sauce. (We simmer our tomatoes a while to make them cook down and being tender)
   
4. Top with steak and serve.

More poems?

Dear friends who patiently muddle through my poetic scratchings, here is one more. (I can't promise it will be the last.)

Untitled
Lump of clay
on the Potter's wheel
slick,
slippery,
marred am I.

Gathered again
in the Potter’s hand
patient,
unrelenting,
great is He.

Dainty vase
on the Potter’s sill
lovely, loved,
all can see.

Patient,
unrelenting,
great is He.

Poem shaped scribblings of the non-poet

So, I'm definitely not a poet. This is one assignment that my Creative Writing classmates weren't fond of, but I like it. Please, read with a kind eye, these are my heart-thoughts and mustn't be judged too critically from a literary standpoint! :)

Brittni Lasater

Stair Steps

Blond-haired, blue-eyed stair steps.

My boys.

Eight instants ago,

No, years ago, You honored me

With the title Mom

And I began letting go.

These moments are

Sacred,

Precious,

Few.

I’m afraid I’ll regret

The things that I did

Or didn’t do

When it’s too late

To change them.

Can’t I hold them

Just a little longer?

Instead, like sugary, white sand,

Through my outstretched fingers

Pour.

When today is done, is it lost

Forever?

Living only in my

Flawed memory

Like diamonds flung into a void?

You who number my days,

Do You keep a holy record?

Holding each moment past

Like tiny beads, precious.

Ancient of Days,

Guard my every moment.

For one day

I’ll turn around

And they’ll

Be gone.

*This is a reposting from earlier, but I couldn't help but revisit it. You'll see why when you read the update at the bottom! I am so proud.


Ever wondered what might convince a mostly sane mother of three energetic boys to home school? Especially when two of them are ensconced in the best school in town and she’s well on her way to school-provided semi-quiet? Well, here’s my attempt at answer.

My oldest son breezed through kindergarten at our zoned public school. The next year, my two oldest were drawn in a lottery for a charter school. So we started the 2008-2009 school year with high hopes! Just after the school’s open house, my first grader’s teacher called. I suspected there was trouble. I had no idea.

My little guy was struggling. Terribly. He could barely read. She showed me his classmate’s work. They were writing legible sentences, while he strung letters together randomly. I was devastated.

This is him during first grade with his class bear.

She immediately began interventions, which are required by the No Child Left Behind Act before a child can begin assessments to determine if there are learning disabilities. We hired a reading tutor and started occupational therapy. In the end, he was meeting with a math coach, reading coach, reading tutor, and getting extra help from his teacher when class time allowed. Still, he wasn’t progressing.

Near the end of his first semester, his progress card filled with N’s and U’s, which is first grade language for BAD, he began to undergo assessments. To my dismay, we found out this process would take months. And already, his teachers and counselor began preparing us for him to likely repeat first grade.

In the mean time, my son hated school. He struggled through a couple hours of homework, which shouldn’t have taken us nearly that long. But he cried and raged and I wanted to also. He’d have every spelling word memorized and still flunk his test. Or at home, we’d go over the questions he’d missed on a test and he got them all right.

I prayed and agonized the whole semester. I hated the haunted look in his eyes. When his teacher said he never smiled in class, my heart broke. When the dentist pointed out our son had been grinding his teeth enough to wear them down to bits, probably due to stress, I got desperate.

My husband and I decided to pull him out and return him to the regular public school. We thought that the pace of the charter school must be too much. He was only there a week. While volunteering in his class, I looked in his eyes and realized he was hopelessly lost. He had no idea what the class was doing.

We had tried everything. I’d visited classed throughout our district, including ESE, looking for the right answer for our son. I realized, some children don’t fit the public school model.

The answer came to us quickly. Home school. While, I felt this was God’s direct answer, I was afraid to take so much responsibility for his education. What if I messed him up? But my husband reminded me that nothing else was working. Plus, we had the support of family and help of other home schooling friends.

So we pulled him out of school and started at the beginning of first grade. During the first few weeks, my little boy said, “I can’t do this Mom. I’m not smart.” I felt sick. For months he’d been sitting next to kids who knew exactly what they were doing and he didn’t. His only rational was that he was stupid. My bright, funny, athletic little boy!

We worked through a lot those first few months. And we plowed through summer, too -much to his dismay, since his little brother didn’t have to! At the beginning of the 2009-2010 school year, he was read to start second grade.

Now, my 2nd grader is reading a little ahead of grade level. He’s making A’s and B’s. He loves to laugh. His adult teeth are in and looking good. Last month, he said to me, “Mom, I think I can learn anything!”

This home school road can be difficult. Not all of his learning challenges were solved by the switch. Plus, I’m not terribly organized or self-motivated. Sometimes my patience wears thin. But to see my son change from seeing himself as “not smart” to believing he can “learn anything” makes it worth it.

2010 field trip to a grocery store
with our home school group.

UPDATE! 4/19/10
He got straight A's this semester! Yippee!