How about an 8 iron?

You can force bulbs, but you can't force spring. Oh, but wait... I live with golfers. And, I live with skiiers. Alas, the mountains have melted: the skiiers are saddened. We redirect with the promise of a lively golf season. Then, some how some way, our Malcolm family of four is on a golf course in early April. Where under the shade of a forest, spring has not sprung nor has the snow melted.

Where Liam is the only one wearing appropriate foot attire: boots called "Bogs."

Where the normally simple operation of a golf cart is not so simple: not too fast...the wheels will spin and sink into the bog, nor too slow... slow wheels will get sucked into that gulping mud.

Where the cold wind howls on the first hole -- a water hole: stirring up the overwhelming aroma of goose poop.

We worked out the kinks on the first hole, zig-zagging golf balls back and forth, and occasionally to another fairway. A half hour later we moved to the second hole. With less wind and fewer geese, our pace quickened.

I chose my three clubs for this season: the driver, 8-iron, and putter. I understand the purpose of open-face vs closed-face heads, that there is meant to be a correlation between club and distance. My body does not, particularly this early in the season. I choose to focus on getting the ball in the air and going straight with the driver and my 8-iron. I patiently listen to the chatter about what irons the three Malcolm boys are using, but I stand firm. About 50% of the time I accomplish my goal: shots that are airborne and straight ahead. Then, some whiz off beyond seasonal hazards. Since I picked up clubs 24 years ago, I have played with bright pink balls. Never were they so useful as this spring 9-hole-3-hour day.

To the question, "What did you get on that hole, Mom?" my consistent answer was, "I'll take ten."

I take great liberties with my game of golf.

Scoring is one thing I choose not to do.

My 8-iron is the iron I choose to use.

That's as serious as the game gets for me.

Plus, every season, I have the one great hope that I don't behead a goose.

Choose Kind or Right?

I ran across a quote while reading the book Wonder that really made me think: "When given the choice between being right and being kind, choose kind." We have a lot of "I'm right & you're wrong!" going on in our house. Over such things as Mom-poured-the-milk-but-then-put-the-glass-out-of-reach. In time for dinner one night last week, I wrote the quote in big letters on a piece of paper and left it on the island where we eat dinner. Bill was in China, so he didn't get to participate. (He misses so many indescribable Malcolm moments.)

I started off saying that I thought it was a great quote but could see a potential problem with it. "Yeah!" Will agreed. "If there's a robber, you don't have to be kind to him!" Yup, when choosing between right and kind, you still have to abide by your conscience.

We had a bit more conversation, Liam mostly listening to this hyperbole. I wrapped up the lesson. "So at the end of the day, like with school friends, it's better to be kind than to be right."

"Well, Mom," Liam responded with a shrug, "at the end of the day we get to go home. So it doesn't really matter."

"Help," croaked I, just before a belly chortle.

Happy Literal Hump Day!

Playing Life with Liam

Liam discovered the game of Life at school with his friends. We dusted off our box and what had been planned as a family game evening became Liam and Mom, playing with Liam’s rules. I must say this made the game much easier to learn. If Liam wasn’t sure of a rule, we read that one little section of the 25-page instructions for the game of Life; then Liam interpreted it and we played accordingly. This style of play would not have bode well for the Malcolm family of four. Did I gain insight or fear during the two rounds of Life with Liam?

First the babies were cute, but as they kept falling out of the car, he decided he wasn’t having any kids. They were too much of a hassle as he drove his car along the path. So, if we landed on “Twins!” or “New Baby!” we had the option of loading up the car or not.

On the first lawsuit square I landed on, I looked at Liam for guidance. He had about $50k, and I was supposed to sue him for $100k. Puzzled only momentarily, he cried out “I know!” and gave me $100k from the bank. We continued to sue the bank for hundreds of thousands of dollars throughout our game of Life.

Liam was adverse to the purchase of homes. “Well, where are you going to live?” He didn’t hesitate, “In my car on the hill.” I envisioned the loft over our barn being converted to an apartment in 15 years.

At the start of the game, there wasn’t a lot of organizing we had to do. We left all the cards face up in the lid and shook them so we could thoughtfully pick a career. A high salary career.

My favorite part was the careful planning on how he would move through Life. He looked ahead and counted the squares necessary to get to the spot where he wanted to land. Then with great finesse, he spun the spinner just so and 99% of the time landed exactly where he had planned. My spinning was a bit more haphazard. Which probably explains the end of both rounds, “I retired before you! TWICE!”

I'm sure his friends will set him straight on the rules when he plays Life with them again at school. But for today, atta boy, Liam!

Horse Haiku

Last Monday's March Haiku was pretty cool! A couple people came up with great haiku for the frosty tree picture. So, for you haiku seekers or horse lovers, how about one for this picture? I took this last spring while walking the gravel roads at Mom and Dad's. The picture reminds me of sitting with my great-grandma as a little girl, looking at pictures of horses and cows in the Wallace Farmer.

Like last week, share your haiku in the comments under the same picture on Linda Malcolm's Facebook. Remember, haiku are pretty straight forward: 17 syllables, in three lines of 5, 7, & 5 syllables.

Here's mine... April morn leaf buds Iowa Amish horses Strong. Curious. Still.

Fearless with the Flank

Last night a friend and I took a Thai cooking class at Eurostoves in Beverly, MA. Everyone settled on a recipe to work at a station where all the ingredients and a set of Wusthoff knives were at the ready. The smell of lime, lemon grass, cilantro, and garlic unleashed as knives started chopping away. Cooking Thai food is quick. The preparation -- a lot of chopping and staging of ingredients -- can be a little daunting, time consuming. But put a perfectly weighted Wusthoff 8" knife in your hand, and oh my goodness, the chopping angels sing. (They sang so loudly I left the class with a Wusthoff.)

The chef pointed out that Thai dishes are excellent to make for company. All the prep can be done before guests arrive, then the cooking happens in a flash. As part of the evening's entertainment, grab a guest and have her read directions while you toss ingredients into the pan. As you flick ingredients together and a Thai dish materializes... well, pretty impressive.

Chef's first instruction: read the recipe thoroughly before doing anything else. Mine was going to be a quick prep: Thai Beef Salad. Then I shuddered. Flank steak. An oddity in my grilling repertoire. But what better place to learn how to grill that cut than in a cooking class. Chef gave me the "feel the flesh between your thumb and forefinger lesson" to check for medium-rare, but I wanted minutes. That's how I grill. Chicken breast on the grill, close the cover, set timer for 4 minutes, flip chicken, set timer for 4 minutes, take chicken off and let it rest. Chef suggested that I start with 4 minutes each side.

I gave the 10" long steak a little salt and pepper seasoning and then laid it on the massive indoor grill under the ferocious fan. Beep, beep. I flipped the steak and noticed it looked a little strange on the top side. Had I thought to season both sides of the steak before putting it on the grill, I would have realized the steak was 15" long, not 10" long. Yes, I had grilled the steak folded up. I maneuvered the steak for an extra five minutes, eventually got all sides grilled, and removed it from the heat to set for 15 minutes. Lesson learned: In addition to reading the entire recipe, unfold all the ingredients.

Before grilling I had prepped the other salad ingredients and tossed them into a bowl: minced lemon grass, chopped spring onion, sliced red onion, match-sticked cucumber. I kept the dressing -- the juice of two limes and two tablespoons of fish sauce -- in a separate bowl. I laid out the garnishes of mint leaves, cilantro leaves and a tiny chopped beautiful bold red pepper.

Once cooled, I sliced the steak on the diagonal. When I got to the thick bit, it was a little too rare so I tossed it back onto the grill for a couple more minutes each side. Cooled it again, sliced it. Then I tossed all the chopped veg and the beef and the dressing into a bowl to work together until we were ready to eat. The platter of lettuce and the bowl of meat went into the fridge.

Just before serving, I dumped the beef onto the lettuce and spread it out a bit. Sprinkled the cilantro, mint and pepper over the top. Boom. Done. It was delicious!

This is going to be the salad of Summer 2013. All of those goofy grilling errors will happen before company even arrives.

Something for Every One

Sitting for a quiet half hour in the dentist's chair yesterday, I gathered these thoughts for this Hump Day. During February break, the boys and I went to a robotic dinosaur exhibit at the science museum in Manchester, NH. A caution sign hung outside a partially hidden exhibit: "Warning, Carnivore Scene." At the Currier Art Museum across town, the European art gallery with numerous vivid, bloody works depicting Christ on the cross should have had a similar warning. I did not find convincing Easter words to shatter those graphic images etched on a 7-yr-old's mind. The melancholy of Good Friday and the rejoicing of Easter all sat heavily with me this year. I resorted to Cadbury's chocolate eggs.

We went to Portland, Maine for Easter weekend. In the Children's Museum, my sons and I climbed into a life-sized blow-up humpback whale. The guide pointed out body parts from the inside and explained how whales and humans are both mammals: "Where did you grow? Inside your mommy's tummy, right?" Liam glanced at me, opened his mouth, then closed it. I think we both may have been thinking, "Ack, what the heck does she know?" Fleetingly, I thought 'biological birth whale mother?' I let it go.

The weekend started out with something for every one but nothing for everyone. Boutique shopping for me. A brewery for Bill. A swimming pool for Will & Liam. I even thought we all might enjoy a workshop in making tempura paints out of egg yolks. In reality, that was for me. Sunday morning we rose, packed up, and went to Mackworth Island to hike the circular cliff and see the fairy houses in the woods. However, we had a change of plans. A pleasant surprise: Low tide.

Finally, there was the something for everyone. Our first day at the beach this year. Rock climbing, shell seeking, playing football, rock collecting, rock throwing. Even a glance at a fisher cat, apparently a common but mean little creature in New England.

That good dose of sea air blew out the sticky cobwebs that were globbing up the transition between winter and spring. Today, the snowmen are going into the winter storage tub to make room for dafs on the mantel.

Happy Hump Day!