Yeah, you can pretty much buy anything online

As we approached yesterday's big anniversary, I searched online for a meaningful gift to commemorate the day.

So imagine my delight when I discovered a plastic mold, designed to be used with chocolate, in the shape of...

...a brain.

I put it in my online shopping cart, added chocolate pieces meant for melting, threw in some coconut filling, and eagerly awaited January 2, brain-making day. (If it surprises you that I'd make dessert in the shape of a brain, you haven't been reading this blog very long.)

Yesterday morning, I found online chocolate-molding instructions and got to work.

I didn't have a double boiler for melting the chocolate, so I had to make do with what was in my kitchen. Thank goodness for Google; the search phrase "don't have double boiler" provided me with plenty of ideas for alternatives.


That's a small pot resting on a steamer in a big pot. It did the job.

I then used a pastry brush to paint layers of chocolate into the top and bottom portions of the brain mold, keeping it hollow inside. I ended up totally filling the bottom with chocolate, but I left a good-sized cavity in the top, and then put the coconut filling inside.



After covering the coconut with a layer of melted chocolate, I put the bottom of the brain on the top, let the still-wet layer of chocolate act as a "glue," cleaned up my messy seam, and wondered why, with my obvious neurology expertise, we didn't just save a bunch of money by me doing the actual surgery in the first place.



After freezing it briefly to make sure it was set, I popped it out of the mold, and admired the tasty-looking wrinkles.



We met friends at a restaurant for dinner to celebrate The Engineer's birthday a few days late. When The Engineer was away from the table, I hunted down our server, gave her the brain, and asked her to bring it out for dessert. I suppose it was one of the strangest requests she's gotten, but I briefly told her the reason for the chocolate grey matter, and her response was enthusiastic. "That's awesome," she said.

After dinner, the server brought out the brain with a flourish, and I was thrilled to see that she'd improved greatly on my waxed paper-wrapped presentation.



The Engineer loved his gift, even when our friend Kevin asked him if it was life-sized. He was surprised and thrilled.



When he saw the chocolate brain, Kevin commented that it was good The Engineer's surgery was on his head, not "the other end." I'm glad too--a Google search for "chocolate mold colon" did not provide any relevant results.

We polished off the cookie at the restaurant, and later on at home we each had a slice of chocolate and coconut.  The Engineer pronounced it "one tasty brain," and I'm pretty sure we each gained a couple of IQ points by ingesting it.

Countdown, part 5: Two years ago

O LORD my God, I called to you for help
and you healed me.

O LORD, you brought me up from the grave;
you spared me from going down into the pit.

Sing to the LORD, you saints of his;
praise his holy name.

-Psalm 30:2-4 (NIV)

I really try not to be "preachy" when I write my blog posts, but I'll ask you to indulge me a bit today. As I celebrate having a healthy husband, on the second anniversary of his brain surgery, I find myself wanting to publicly give God thanks for His loving hand of healing. My Father, my God--thank You.

One of my treasured memories of that day is the support from those who came to wait with us at the hospital while the operation was taking place.

Herb and Georgia sat and talked with us, and knowing them, I bet they were praying the whole time too.

Ann was supportive with her sweet presence, and I knew she understood, since her husband had cancer.

Virgil took orders from everyone present for a coffee run, and then sat and talked to me about non-surgery related things like the controversy over whether or not Wal-Mart should build close to his house. The time went quickly as we chatted. I didn't even know Virgil that well, but on that day he established himself in a very special, permanent place in my heart.

My parents were there, loving me, ready to do whatever I needed (including taking care of Chickie, who was almost one),

My sister would have been there, but she'd had a baby the day before--happy birthday, Molly!

I wish everyone would have the opportunity, sometime, to feel the type of love I experienced that day, and on the days before and after the surgery. We experienced true, pure community, and until then I'd had no idea how beautiful of a thing community can be.

I could write a long post with all my other memories of that day, but the medical stuff really isn't that important now. Surgery went well; recovery did too. Physical aftereffects have faded into nothingness.

But our lives still bear the imprint of that time. Two years later, the aftereffects of our most stressful family experience are love and gratitude, toward our family (in the broadest sense of the term) and toward our God. If you were one of those who was there for us through that experience, my heart bursts with thankfulness to you, even two years later.

Secret milestones

Happy New Year!  This post is completely unrelated to New Year's Day.  I'm kind of bored with the whole New Year's topic.  And it's only 12:04 a.m.

*****

Those of us who are parents of small children look forward to so many milestones.  We get excited with the first tooth (even though it may be painful), the first step (despite the challenges of a fully-mobile child), and the first word (trying to convince ourselves that the baby really knows what "dada" means.)

But if you're a parent you know there's also a whole set of secret milestones.  These are the ones mothers and fathers don't want to talk about.  When we do speak of them, it is with other parents, under the cover of night, in terrified whispers.  We know if we let the cat out of the bag, we might scare potential parents, and the world would end at this generation.

So it is with great trepidation that I prepare to reveal five secret milestones that parents wish their children would never reach.  If you dare, list your own in the comments.

1.  Learning to unscrew caps from jars, tubes, and bottles.  Depending on the interests of your child, this terrible milestone leads to toothpaste painting, salad dressing chugging, or hair washing with salsa shampoo.  Or maybe, in particularly horrifying cases, all three.

2.  Figuring out that when an item is dropped, someone picks it up.  Babies who have hit this milestone think it is great fun to drop the same item dozens of times in a row, and delight in watching Mommy or Daddy pick it up every time.  I am currently investigating allegations that this behavior is learned via subliminal messages, placed in PBS cartoons by hospitals for the criminally insane.  They are seeking new patients, and who better than a frazzled parent who has to pick up the teething ring one...more...tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime?!

3.  Learning that toilet paper, when pulled, unrolls from the tube.  Even repeated admonitions of, "You will have NO INHERITANCE if I keep having to buy more Charmin!" seem to have no effect on a child who is anxious to practice the toilet paper unrolling skill.  This is closely related to the milestone of figuring out that it's fun to dip sheets or entire rolls of toilet paper into the potty, in order to play with the wet, soggy paper.

4.  Food-flinging.  For some reason, as yet unexplained by scientists, every developing human brain reaches a point at which suddenly the only rational way to end a meal is to fling every bit of uneaten food onto nearby walls, floors, parents, and pets.  Particularly advanced children also manage to paint their skin, clothing, and hair with pureed food, all before parents can put the leftovers in the trash.  Some children hit this milestone and quickly get past it; others still find food-flinging to be a pleasant diversion well into toddlerhood.

5.  Backtalking.  Parents rejoice to watch their children develop language skills, but around the age of three, they are surprised to see their child suddenly using well-formed retorts.  For instance, a mother may say, "Sit on your bottom," and be shocked to hear her small child respond, "No, you sit on your bah-bahm!"  This leads parents to wonder why no one told them that the teens actually start ten years earlier than they'd expected.

I really do think, if we want future generations to procreate, we should keep these secret milestones to ourselves...don't you?