​I have learned a lot about myself in recent years.  During adversity, I have found myself to be resourceful and resilient.   I am amenable to criticism. I am adaptable to change.
 
In the past, the change I had to manage was a slow moving type of change.  A new operating system, a new process at work, a new boss with a new set of expectations. You learn the new system, you adapt and change… and then steady as she goes until 6 months from now when the operating system is updated.
 
Then come toddlers.  Now I am learning the true meaning of adapting to change.  Just when you have a routine that works.  BANG. Growth spurt, new development.  Time to change and adapt again.  The new routine you set only lasts 2 weeks.  BANG.  They change; you have to change with it.
 
I have been reading Thomas Friedman’s Thank You For Being Late.  I have loved this author since I read The Earth is Flat, which completely changed my view on globalization.    Friedman’s book talks about rapidly changing technology and how other institutions, such as companies and governments are trying to keep up.  He uses an interesting analogy about whitewater rafting.  “Keep your paddle in the water.” A novice might think it means keep the paddle in the water to create an anchor to slow you down.  But an experienced whitewater rafter knows this means keep paddling.  You want to go as fast, if not faster than the water.
 
I take this analogy  to heart.  The Linskey Boys are fast mutating viruses, constantly changing and growing.  Being “good at change” is not good enough.  I have to excel at it. I have to move as fast or faster than their development. 
 
In conclusion, Richard and Timothy have transitioned to toddler beds.  [It took them a little while longer than expected to realize they were capable of jumping out of their crib].  AND they both got ear infections during said transition.   I haven’t slept in two weeks. 

​Not in the hospital.  Not while breastfeeding.  Not while changing dirty diapers.
 
Today.  Today,  I feel like a “mom.”   And not Timothy & Richard’s mom, specifically.  No, today I am “Snack Mom.”  Actually, I think the politically correct term is  “Snack Parent.” [insert political rant of your choosing here]
 
Timothy is now 3 (and potty-trained). He is starting Building Blocks, a pre-K program, offered through the City of Chandler.  During the Parent Meet & Greet, volunteers were asked to bring snacks for the kids.  Not homemade snacks, but pre-packaged-store-bought-snacks.  Nothing with nuts.
 
Being the go-getter that I am, I signed up for the first day of class.   I am excited to walk into this world of Mommyhood where my Type A personality will be appreciated.  Yes, my plan is to be that mom.   I have started already.  Why just bring snacks for the kids, when I can bring homemade fruit yogurt parfaits and coffee drinks for the teachers.  And while I’m at it, why not bake banana bread for the staff break room.  [Note:  It’s just banana bread, I didn’t add any nuts] 

I haven’t made tamales in 15 years.  Let me rephrase that…. I have only made tamales once in my life in 2001.  Sure, when I was young, I would assist in the preparations.  But being young and inept in the kitchen, my job was to wash the hojas.  Maybe, I would be put in the assembly line, adding the olive.  That was my tamale-making experience.
 
It was in 2001, a girlfriend of mine and I decided to undertake tamale making. I was in Central Illinois. We were both ‘low man on the corporate totem pole,’ neither of us would be going home for Christmas that year.
 
My Abuela, mom and aunts would take a whole day making the tamales.  But we were young, efficient, modern women.  It shouldn’t take us more than a couple of hours, right? So my friend Maria came over after work and we got started. We had a lot of nuanced debates. Beef? We are making them with beef?!  No you have to put more masa in that.  An Olive?! What do you mean you put an olive?!
 
We were done at 3 a.m.  And I learned a very important lesson.  I don’t remember the lesson because I was so exhausted, but I had gotten the cockiness kicked out of me.
 
The tamales were good but different from what I was used to. (Which is bound to happen when you try to meld your family receipt with someone else’s.) Maria eventually took some to her mother who was so very proud of her.  I ended up giving most of mine away to unsuspecting white folks who had never seen such a thing, but seemed to enjoy them.
 
Fast forward to 2016, and I feel this need to make Tamales. Now I have kids of my own, and it just seems like the responsible thing to do.
 
But I am not feeding a tribu of family members, so emerges my hipster-melding-with –traditional-culture.
 
Small Batch Artisan Tamales
I present to you Small Batch Artisan Tamales.  In my last year of learning to cook, a couple of times I have found myself thinking…. This would be good in a tamale.  So here was my tamale selection:

• Traditional pork:  I dug out the instructions I got from my Abuela.  They are very cryptic, “Now add the chile” but it doesn’t say how much.  There is always an element to winging it in old receipts, but they turn out good.
• Pot Roast: Making a traditional pot roast, and then stuffing it into the masa.  It would be the same as taking a pot roast and serving on a bed of polenta.  Except now I have found a way to make pot roast portable!
• BBQ pork:  hmmm… Why not!  My brother and I did the taste test.  It was surprisingly delicious.  But something was missing.  This is not a tamale that you can eat by itself.  It really begs to be served on a bed of baked beans.

 
For dessert – Sweet Tamales
The standard with Abuela was adding sugar to the masa and a can of crushed pineapple and raisins.  I worked on making it fancier.

• Caramelized Pineapple:  I ditched the can and opted for the real thing.  But first, I caramelized the pineapple, which made them super tasty with a freshness and crunch.
• Banana Nut Bread:  Adding mashed bananas and pecans.  They tasted like a stockier version of Banana Nut Bread.
• Peanut Butter & Jelly:  I did these at Tim’s suggestion.  I made two small samples, one using peanut powered, one using creamy peanut butter.   Then I filled them with store-bought strawberry jam.    The ones with the peanut powder where a fail.  Not enough peanut taste.  The ones with peanut butter where better, but no quite right.   I think the key may be to use all natural peanut butter and homemade jam.

So now I am hooked on this cultural blending.  Besides perfecting the PB&J, my next challenge will be to figure out how to make Corned Beef Tamales work.  

Mountain View, Austin and Chandler. These are cities where you can spot the fleet of Google self-driving cars. At a recent open house, I was surprised at how unassuming these vehicles look. They have a small sticker stating they are self-driving cars. Oh, and they have a huge black orb on top, along with a myriad of sensors.
Transportation trends are showing that Americans are starting to fall out of love with the automobile. Millennials are not getting driver’s licenses at the same rate as previous generations. Older citizens are looking for alternatives beyond driving.
Google is aware of this trend, but they are more focused on the issue of safety.
“It’s all about safety,” said Lauren Whalley, a consultant working with Google. “Look at the statistics, last year more than 35,000 people were killed in car crashes.”
The open house was a way to let the community know about their project. With 8 to 12 cars on the road, each car has sensors, lasers and cameras that provide the vehicle a 360 view. There are also test drivers in every car monitoring the system, at any time, the test driver could take control of the system.

“Chandler is a great location for our test. It is on the cutting edge of technology and it is very welcoming. Luckily, everyone has been great to work with,” said Jennifer Haroon, Head of Business Operations for Google’s Self-Driving Car. 
Besides the vehicle itself, the open house also showcased videos on display about what the car sees. Haroon said a favorite of younger guests is the laser room. Unlike a camera, the lasers are able to understand what items they are facing by the shape.
Her favorite part of the exhibit is the “talk back board.
“Guests were welcomed to put down ideas on how they would use a self-driving car,” Haroon said. “Kid’s put down really fun stuff, and we hope they will be able to benefit from this technology.”
Even with more than 1.8 million miles driven autonomously, some are still weary of the new technology.
“Some people have anxiety and I am amazed is how quickly that is over come,” said Haroon. “They are amazed at all the aspects that the car sees. Then they find the ride is pretty boring, the car just drives itself. I am surprised by how quickly they start to trust the technology, within 30 seconds they are relaxed.”
So is there a day when driving will be obsolete?
“I don’t see a future where there are no drivers, driving can be a fun experience,” she said. “I equate it to an elevator, at first, we needed an individual to take us up and down buildings. As the technology advance, people got comfortable with stepping into an elevator and pushing a button.”
Learn more about Google’s self-driving project at www.google.com/selfdrivingcar/
​

TW asks for an apple.  He has already eaten breakfast, but my guess is he saw something red.  Apples are Red.  I want an apple. 
 
Step 1.  Confirm he really wants an apple.
            “You want an apple?”
            “Yes.”
            “You are hungry, you want to eat an apple?”
            “Yes.”
            “Okay, let me get you an apple.”
 
Step 2.  Go to the kitchen, get the apple, start washing the apple.
 
Step 3.  Stop washing the apple, get Richard off the kitchen table, because apparently he decided to climb up the table the minute you stepped away.
 
Step 4.  Finish washing the apple, find peeler.
 
Step 5.  “Bad Baby!” yells Timothy.  Go back to the kids, ask Richard to give the book back to Timothy that he was reading.  This may take some time.  Find another book that may interest Richard.  Once Richard has his new book, return the debated book back to Timothy.
 
Step 6.  Start peeling apple.
 
Step 7.  “Purple, Purple, Purple, Purple.”  First Timothy starts asking, then demanding, then yelling.  His brother joins in unison.
            “Do you want the apple or do you want purple?”  (Purple is the code word for Gatorade.)
            “Purple.”
            “Can you say please?”
            “Please purple.”
            Pour two cups of Gatorade, water them down.  Give them to the kids.
 
Step 8. Continue peeling apple.
 
Step 9.  Take towels, lots and lots of towels to the play room to clean up split Gatorade, since Richard didn’t really want “purple”  he just wanted to open up the cup so he could make splashy sounds against the floor.
 
Step 10.  Continue peeling apple.
 
Step 11.  Get Richard off the furniture again, so he doesn’t fall off and die.
 
Step 12.  Continue peeling apple.

Step 13.  Find apple cutter.
 
Step 14.  “BAD DOG!”  Go back to the kid’s play area, to rescue Bunny Foo from the dog.  Timothy never plays with the stuffed bunny, but for some reason, he decided to play with it right now and the dog decided he wanted it too.  
 
Step 15.  Get a dog treat for dog to cajole him outside of the kid’s play area.
 
Step 16.  Ask Timothy if he would like to help cutting the apple.  Timothy comes into the kitchen.  He really likes when the little green gizmo slices apples into 6 perfect wedges.
 
Step 17.  Ask timothy to wait, while you get Richard off the furniture again.
 
Step 18.  Dice the apples.
 
Step 19.   “Apples, Apples Apples.”  Richard has decided he wants apples too.
 
Step 20.  Get two bowls and divide the apples slices evenly for the two cave-babies.
 
Step 21.  Timothy takes his bowl and dumps the apples into his garbage truck and starts using them as a prop.  Richard dumps them on the floor and the dog runs up and gobbles them up.
 
The whole process should take around 30 minutes.  Now, just sit back and wait for them to ask for something else they don’t really want.

SRP sent us a proposal at the beginning of the summer.  Choose 3 hours to cut down on energy use during peak times and get a reduction on you bill.
We looked at the fine print. We had nothing to lose.  If we didn’t see savings (or more importantly, couldn’t go without AC for three hours) then we could opt out.
Let me begin by saying – that yes, we are saving on our electric bill.  We have saved an average of $95 a month.   Holding out AC for three hours has tested our resolve.  We often find ourselves counting down to 6 p.m. with the anticipation of the first space launch.
When I struggle to make the sacrifice, I remind myself that beyond saving money this is an altruistic endeavor.  I am cutting down on my family’s consumption so my elderly neighbor with health issues can run her AC. I am cutting down usage so that the power grid isn’t overly taxed.  It’s my little part to help the environment (still doing penance for the VW Jetta TDI).

And here’s how we did it:
☐ Get a Nest.  Or purchase any other programmable thermostat and then program it. We like the Nest because we can manage the home thermostat from our phone.  It is incredibly user friendly and learns your habits.  It’s also aesthetically pleasing.
☐ Tweak your routine.  The laundry and dishes don’t have to be done as soon as you get home.  The dishwasher and laundry get done at night at our house now. Dinner got pushed back by an hour.
 ☐ Institute quiet time.  If we were in other country, we might have a siesta.  But the kids are adamant against a napping policy.  Instead we try to do quiet activities, such as reading books while munching on cold popsicles.
Salt River Project also has some great tips on how to manage your energy use during peak times.  http://www.srpnet.com/prices/home/ez3.aspx
I encourage all of those who can to sign up.  If you are in Arizona, you shouldn’t be afraid to sweat it out a couple of hours a day.

Arizona, like many other states, could use more funding for transportation. ADOT need to spend $260 million a year just to maintain the roads’ current standards, according to a recent audit by the Auditor General’s Office. I am raising my hand to admit my family is not paying its fair share.
My family is a microcosm to the structural failures of funding for infrastructure in Arizona.
Earlier in the year, my husband decided to purchase his new daily driver – an electric Nissan Leaf. (Consider it penance for our VW Diesel Jetta.) We did a lot of research ahead of time focusing on the range of the battery and recharging stations around the valley.
On average, my husband’s work commute is 50 miles round trip. Let’s add a couple more errands and the average miles traveled a year in the Leaf is 14,000. That includes city streets, interstates and 101’s and 202’s. When using a gas-powered vehicle, we would spend approximately $2500 a year on fuel. Eighteen cents of each gallon purchased was going to the HURF fund. (Arizona Highway User Revenue Fund or HURF are the taxes collected at the pump. Along with other sources of revenue they are distributed to cities and counties and to the State Highway Fund. This is the primary source for state for highway construction, improvements and maintenance).
Now, my husband contributes $0 towards that fund. But he is still using the infrastructure.
Many have told me electrical vehicles are inconsequential to the formula. But beyond electric vehicles, let’s add up the hybrid cars and cars with increased gas mileage. Let’s add other modes of transportation – bicycles and pedestrians, who also use the infrastructure.
If you are not gassing up, you’re not paying into the fund. Yet the infrastructure funding is all structured to pay at the pump.
I am happy to raise my hand and say that my family is not paying their fair share. I hope other families will do the same and advocate transportation funding solutions or one of these days the commute into work will not be a pleasant one. Then it won’t matter how your car is powered.
Learn more about transportation needs, funding and recomendations by reading the Arizona Town Hall on Transportation.  http://bit.ly/2arq5p2

​I hate fruit flies.  I go crazy when fruit flies appear in my house.  I have a visceral reaction when I encounter one in the supermarket produce section.  Dr. JoAnne Mowczko is the reason I hate fruit flies.
 
I have known Dr. Mowczko since I was 14.  I was lucky enough to have her as my Honors Biology teacher my freshman year in high school.  I was coming from a parochial school where we dissected the Bible much more so than small critters.  I was a bit over my head.
 
I loved the way Dr. M taught her science class.  I was in awe of how objectively she spoke about subjects, even giving us a blow by blow of a sinus surgery she was about to endure.    We did lots of projects that made me squeamish.  But none was more horrific than “The Fruit Fly Experiment.”  We were studying genetic traits in fruit flies by looking for different eye colors under a microscope.  So not only were fruit flies soaring around precociously during the 6 week experiment throughout the classroom, but there lingered the strong odor of ether used to put the flies to sleep.  Then there was the icky factor of having to stare at these little flying insects in a magnified state.
 
I got an A in Dr. M’s class and went on to become friends with her and her family for the last two decades. 
 
I have detested fruit flies for just as long.  But I love Dr. M and honor her for everything she has done to share her love of science and learning for countless students in Yuma, Ariz.
 
Happy 70th birthday Dr. M.
 

​I took stock of my bruises and cuts – there are a lot.  Apparently, to my children, I am a human jungle gym.  I became most aware of my status of human jungle gym at last week’s Toddler Time hosted at the library. While other children sat patiently for the “teacher” to start the “class,” my kids decided they needed to burn off energy.  At first, they just wandered around the room, while I sat with one eyeball following TW, the other Richard.
 
Then for some strange reason, Richard decided to take a running start and leapt into my arms.  Not to be outdone, his brother decides to do the same thing.  It doesn’t stop there.  TW starts pushing me, I slip and fall on my back.  The boys tumble on top of me. 
 
“Oh, no!” I say making fun of the situation,  “Mommy fell down.”  That was a mistake.  A huge mistake.  Until class starts, they decide they will play the game called: lets see who can make mom fall to the ground first.  Richard is climbing on my back.  Timothy keeps taking running leaps into my arms.  They run circles around me, sometimes stepping over my legs, sometimes stepping on my legs.
 
To the untrained eye, this “playtime” could really be somebody being roughed up by some sort of toddler street gang.  I can sense other mom’s rolling their eyes at my little cave babies and me.  But once class starts, they settle down on my lap an listen to their stories.
 
I take a breath.  This is going to hurt later.  And wouldn’t you know it – it does!