Holiday Donuts

Did you know that one of the traditional foods of Hanukkah is donuts? Yep, who'd have guessed?! Turns out that it's all about the oil.

I am trying to perfect my donut technique - got a thermometer last year in order to properly measure the oil temperature (375 degrees). Have a pastry tube in order to fill the donuts with raspberry jam. And now I've even got fancy bags in order to make lovely gifts. Almost looks too lovely to eat! Almost...

What Do You Do?

When your bush pilot in Africa is reading...



Heart of Darkness?

"Not to worry" I told my husband, "he's only on page 23."

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Read this short classic or another one on:

Nothing

After a year of being semi-employed and a few expensive trips to the vet (what vet trip isn't expensive?) you'd think our Christmas/Hanukkah list would be long. It's not. We want for nothing.

Yes, a flat panel TV would be nice. But we have a perfectly functioning 27" Sony TV that gets great reception. And we don't really watch it anyway - except Jon Stewart and I'm not so sure seeing him in hi-def is really worth $1000. Seeing him in person, now that's worth something!

New work clothes would be nice. As I'll be starting a new job and being in an office for the first time in 3 years, a little update might be in order. And my husband could use some new suits - he just gave away 6 old ones to our housekeeper's husband (who is now a pretty dapper electrician). But work clothes for Christmas almost seems like a cruel joke. Remember when you were a kid and would run downstairs on Christmas morning and delight in the hope that Santa brought you that XT Racer set? And it was .... corduroys.

Books would be nice. We can always use books. And there are books that we want. But what we really need right now is a bookshelf. Built-ins to be specific. I guess what we're asking for is a carpenter. Jesus, you free in the new year?

So to all you family and friends who might be reading this, we'll take gifts. We're not ones to say no! But don't stress about it. We're just happy we have a healthy cat, a warm home to read and watch TV in, and jobs to pay for tasty dinners and fun travel. Come visit, we'll find a spot on the couch for you.

She Lives!

Lucy is on the mend! She is eating and eating lots which just fills my heart with joy. I don't know if it's the liquid medicine I shoot into her mouth twice a day or the threat of such dosings that has her chowing down - and I don't care. I doubt it's the tiny appetite stimulant pill since I have yet to actually get that into her mouth. Lucy is quite the fighter - just to give you an idea how much fun it is to pill a cat I give you this story (alas I cannot claim it as my own):


How To Pill a Cat

1. Pick up cat and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on each side of cat's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As cat opens mouth, pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.


2. Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat gently in left arm and repeat process.


3. Retrieve cat from bedroom, pick up and throw soggy pill away.


4. Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle cat in left arm, holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut for count of ten.


5. Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe. Call spouse in from garden.


6. Kneel on floor with cat wedged firmly between knees, hold front and rear paws. Ignore low growls emitted by cat. Get spouse to hold head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into cat's mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat's throat vigorously.


7. Retrieve cat from curtain rail, get another pill out of foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep up shattered figurines and vases from hearth and set on one side for gluing later.


8. Wrap cat in large towel and get spouse to lie on cat with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in end of drinking straw, force mouth open with a pencil and blow into drinking straw.


9. Check label to make sure pill not harmful to humans, drink glass of water to take taste away. Apply Band-Aid to spouse's forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.


10. Retrieve cat from neighbor’s shed. Get another pill. Place cat in cupboard and close door just enough so that head is showing. Force mouth open with dessert spoon. Flick pill down throat with plastic band.


11. Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus shot. Throw t-shirt away and fetch new one from bedroom.


12. Call fire department to retrieve cat from tree across road. Apologize to neighbor who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid cat. Take last pill from foil wrap.


13. Tie cat's front paws to rear paws with garden twine and bind tightly to leg of dining table. Find heavy duty pruning gloves from shed. Push pill into mouth followed by a large piece of fillet steak. Hold head vertically and pour 2 pints of water down throat to wash pill down.


14. Get spouse to drive you to emergency room. Sit quietly while doctor stitches fingers and forearms and removes pill from right eye. Call furniture shop on way home and order new dining table.


15. Arrange for ASPCA to collect cat and contact local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.
    

How To Pill a Dog
Wrap it in bacon.

Would You Trust This Man?

I just got a new job (yay!) - sort of. As with any number of jobs in DC, you first have to go through a security clearance. I've been through this before as has my husband so it's no big deal - I'll pass. Unfortunately, I can't even enter the building until the temporary clearance comes through - it will be several weeks. Ugh.

Here's the thing - they want info on my family - particularly my stepfather (the dashing guy above) and his children. My stepmother is of little interest, if any. What makes the man in the kilt so fascinating is that he's a foreign national. British citizen. Allegiance to the Queen and all.

They're probably checking this blog so be careful what you say. I tend to think if I send them a photo of the kilt they'll speed up my clearance. I bet Gunfighter would back me up on this.

Mixin' It Up

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory (some are freakin' hilarious!).

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It's funny how a song can take you to a moment so clearly. I was never really one for music - I listened to the radio, sometimes bought tapes, but nothing like my friends who would camp out for concert tickets or blow their allowance at the record store (remember those places?). And yet, music still has the ability to bring me back to a time and place.

I received and made a fair number of mix tapes in my life. I remember two boyfriends who gave me mix tapes and if I could find them today I would play them (the tapes, not the boys) - on what, I don't know. They were given to me when I went away - first for the summer, and then later to college. I can't recall every song on them but when I hear something from either playlist I immediately remember those tapes - and where I was when I first heard them.

I don't recall any CD mixes copied onto tapes. I tend to think that's because there wasn't a boyfriend to make them for me and I didn't have a car. It's funny how a whole period of your life can be forgotten because you weren't driving around listening to your car stereo.

As I got older the technology has improved to where mixes are easy to make - no synching of different machines so you avoid that gap or maximize the number of songs you get on one cassette. Just burn some CDs while you're drinking coffee. Rearrange the music to suit your tastes.

For my sister's birthday a few years ago, we all chipped in and got her the latest iPod. We each added our own playlist - my husband did arias, her friend did jazz and blues, I did 80's music, my brother did Charlie Brown Christmas, and my other brother did Tom Jones. It was our extra gift to her - from each of us, to her.

My friends have also given me mixes - to encourage me to run, to commemorate a birthday, to provide background music to a brunch. And I love every CD. (Still not sure about that Hilary Duff song, Aparna).

It is with this feeling that I especially applaud SMID's birthday CD project. The technology may change and the CDs might get lost - but just maybe, hopefully, those kids will come upon that CD someday and say "I remember being 7!"

Lucy

I was going to post this story just as a regular post and then realized it was a soap opera. Complete with screaming, a trip to the emergency room, and lots of sobbing.

Want to know what newlyweds do on a Saturday night? Oy.

Last night we spent our evening at the animal hospital. My sweet adorable cat Lucy had not been eating for days, and anyone who owns a pet knows, this is not good. Very not good. She continued to scream for food but would not eat it. We tried everything - pureeing food (that was soooooo unappetizing), switching flavors, hand feeding her kibbles. Nothing worked.

At about 5:30pm we arrived at the vet hospital. Lucy was weighed and checked out by a tech and then we waited for a doctor. My poor Lucy was so quiet which is unusual for a cat trapped in a bag at the vet. At about 6:30 we got into see the doctor and it's at the same time that my husband had to return the car - so he left and said he would come back later to pick us up or I would get a cab (yes, cabs take pets - I've driven in one with my dog Wilma which is a pretty funny sight).

Anyway, the vet takes Lucy to get her blood drawn and then comes back to talk to me. She says that it's one of a few things - her teeth are old and hurt, she has liver failure, or she has kidney failure (keep in mind my cat is 19 years old). The latter two things don't sit well with me - I've been there for two animals for those reasons and it ended sadly. I immediately start bawling. The poor vet is so upset that she has upset me - "no, no, it's me" I say "I just have a bad experience with this". I stop bawling enough for her to tell me that the bloodwork will be back in 2 hours and it might indicate Lucy has to stay overnight. So we agree that I will go get some dinner and she'll call me. I phone my husband. The bawling continues. He gets in the car to come meet me.

In the meantime, I go across the street to a Whole Foods and start wandering around looking for food. Crying. People stared. Finally managing to get some food I go to the dining area and wait for my husband. I calm down. I breathe. He arrives. I bawl.

The vet calls and announces it is good news! Lucy's bloodwork is fine. Not perfect, but for 19 years old we are happy. They can't clean her teeth due to her age but they do send me home with medicine and appetite stimulant to make her feel better and get her eating. Oh yeah, and a big fat bill.

So much for that TV we were getting for Christmas. Instead we get a cat with a million dollar smile. And we are ever so much happier for it.

A Pessimist Turns Silver

The following post is from Vicky - as part of the Blog Exchange this month - "Silver and Gold"

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When I think of silver these are just a few of the items that come to mind.

Sterling first then, robin’s egg blue boxes tied up with white satin bows. Glitter encrusted tips of angel wings that float on top of Christmas trees. Shining twinkling ornaments that dangle precariously off tree branches. Silver is a perfect gift. Gleaming bright it shines beautifully as a candlestick or a charm on a delicate bracelet. It is the bright lining in an otherwise cloudy day. Born with a silver spoon in your mouth and you have the world at your feet or so they say.

Lastly I think of this-

Always look for the silver lining (didn’t you just hear a bell chime? I did)

When I was young and I heard people say, “Look for the silver lining”, I would cringe. Immediately I wanted to not look for the silver lining. I wanted to look at the less than sterling aspects of my day, my current situation or my life. I guess you could count me as a pessimist of sorts. The silver lining was something I only saw on the edge of my cereal bowl when I had to use skim milk. I wasn’t a fan of skim milk back then either.

Older now and married to a glass half full sort of guy I’ve come to view life in a new way. Having dealt with some serious issues and situations as my life progressed I realize that I have much to be thankful for. Looking at the silver lining isn’t such a bad thing after all. In fact, it is exactly what I want to teach my daughter as she grows. I want her to be an optimist. The world has enough pessimists and dooms dayers. I want her to see not just the dark edges of life but to come to appreciate those beautiful silver moments where one can see what that sterling lining can highlight. That the ability to see the good in a bad moment can be a lifesaver and sometimes it is all you have to cling to in that single desperate time.

I choose to see that gleaming silver as a light in the dark. That out of every dark passage there is indeed a reason for it and a blessing in it. It is this ability that my strength has grown from and shaped me into the strong woman that I am often (amazingly enough) described as today. I no longer snort with disgust when I hear the phrase, “Look for the silver lining”. Instead I smile and I do look. It is always right where you least expected it.


Hear ‘Silver Lining’, by the incredibly awesome group Rilo Kiley here.

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Vicky can be found at The Mummy Chronicles, doing what else but chronicling the daily life of a work at home mother to one tiny dictator, a crazy dog, and a slowly burgeoning freelance writing career. She just loves it when people pay her to write by the way. She can also be found posting numerous reviews at her site, Mummy’s Product Reviews .

Looking for Flower Child? She's over at Vicky's place this week going on about Gold.

World AIDS Day

In advance of World AIDS Day (I'll be doing Blog Exchange on December 1st) I wanted to write a post about where the epidemic stands.

There's loads of statistics - and some are looking better these days. Then I got bored. I deal with faceless numbers all the time (HIV numbers to be specific, but still really just numbers I'd be stealing from the UNAIDS website).

I have a dictionary that I got for my high school graduation. In the front of it is this inscription:

May this represent a new beginning
- Dennis, 5 June 1986

He died of AIDS about a year later. I often look at this dictionary and think, have things changed for the better? Yes, in many ways they have. And in many ways, we have a long way to go. Thanks, Dennis, for setting me out on a path. Hope to do you proud.

Books Are Free

"Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing." - Scout Finch, To Kill A Mockingbird

In our house, full of many children and limited funds (all spent on education), there was one thing that was always free. Books.

You could beg beg beg for clothes or records or toys and pray your hardest that Santa, the Easter Bunny, or the Birthday Fairy would bring them. And they might. You could beg beg beg mom and dad every time you went into a store - "oh please please please can I have it". And you might get it.

The one place you never had to beg was the bookstore. Books were free. They didn't fall under any limit. They were "extra-budgetary" as the federal bean counters might say.

Summer evenings on Cape Cod in a house with no TV we listened to baseball games on the radio and read. Our favorite bookstore - The Compass Rose - kept us in good supply. I miss that place. It had a feel to it that no other place had.

When I went in there with my parents it was FREE.



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This is part of the DAY TO READ campaign:

January 10, 2008 has been designated as the DAY TO READ.

On that day we join the collective challenge to spend some time with our noses stuck in it. A book that is. If you are a blogger, join us by stepping away from the keyboard for all or part of the day and spend that time reading something you enjoy.

Next, report to us (check out Jenn in Holland or Gunfighter - this guy reads EVERYTHING) and others what you've read. You can do this in a dedicated post or a comment at Allison's blog--Soccer Mom in Denial--after the DAY TO READ has passed.

Post the DAY TO READ button at your blog. Pass it on! The button, the news about the day, the challenge to others to read, read, read, read, read!

Leave me your suggestions for books to read - not sure what I'm interested in? Check here and here.

That's it. Make DAY TO READ a Happily Ever After kind of event.

What I'm Getting My Husband for Christmas

Multi-tasking on a Wordless Wednesday

Sometimes you just need a good editor

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Cheney Has Irregular Heartbeat

By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published: November 26, 2007
Filed at 9:11 p.m. ET

WASHINGTON (AP) -- Doctors administered an electrical shock to Vice President Dick Cheney's heart and restored it to a normal rhythm during a 2 1/2 hour hospital visit Monday. The procedure was described as a low-risk, standard practice. Cheney, 66, went home from George Washington University Hospital and was expected back at work on Tuesday.

Others' Ears

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory (some are freakin' hilarious!).

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I am a terrible singer. I know this. I've learned to love my voice. Alas, others have not been so fortunate. These are their tales.

A few years ago, my then-boyfriend/now-husband spent Christmas with my family and me in NYC. He's Jewish but not so much practicing so the holiday was fine with him - except the church part, understandably. It was Christmas eve and I wanted to go the midnight candlelight service. My dad and brother wanted to go to sleep. I was prepared to head over to the church by myself but my boyfriend insisted on going with me as it was so late. The service involved a lot of singing as is typical and each time he stood up with everyone else - just didn't sing. After a few hymns I noticed that he began to move closer towards me. Thinking he wanted to read the words in the hymnal I moved my arms over so that he could see better. He edged nearer but his eyes didn't go to the page. I thought it was sweet that he just wanted to be closer to me. He later said that what he really wanted was to hear my voice - it was so bad he just couldn't believe it.

I had a wonderful dog, Wilma whom I adored and took with me everywhere. We went on lots of road trips together all over the northeast. She was a very sweet and sensitive black lab - she adored everyone and they adored her. As with any driving, there were less than great moments - idiot drivers (never me) cutting you off or any other numerous infractions. Typically I would curse them out and yell, overtaken by road rage. Anytime I cursed out another driver Wilma would shake and cower and try and hide underneath the seat (keep in mind she weighed 70lbs.) I learned to control my rage and Wilma calmed down. But then I noticed whenever I sang to the radio she had the same reaction. She liked the radio just fine - I could turn the volume all the way up playing hardcore rap music and she was content. Except when I opened my mouth. Back under the seat.

Oh My God She's Dead?

I've mentioned in earlier posts my rather large extended family. For this Soap Opera Sunday I will be focusing on my closest family member, my sister Jennifer.

Back when I was a bit younger - maybe 8 or 9 - I begged my parents for a hamster. I so badly wanted that furry little thing. I had dreams of a Habitrail running through my head. Finally, my parents relented and for my birthday I received not one, but two hamsters. Seeing as they were sisters I named them Jennie and Jessica (that being my sister and me).

I was a pretty decent caretaker for awhile. The whole cage cleaning thing was a bit of a bore. And there were the few times one of them escaped and my parents and I would scramble around my room trying to catch the furry little thing. My best friend Alison and I would play with them all the time - let them run around our hands. They were so soft.

One tragic day Alison called and the conversation went something like this:

Al: Hi, what's up?
Me: [audible sobs]
Al: What's wrong, why are you crying?
Me: Jennie's dead [sob, sob]
Al: Oh my god, she's dead?! What happened?!
Me: I don't know, I just found her there [sob, sob]
Al: Found her where?
Me: Hanging from her cage! [sob, sob]
Al: OH MY GOD! SHE WAS IN A CAGE? SHE WAS HANGING?
Me: I'll be okay [sob, sob]
Al: [dawning realization that this is the hamster, not my sister]. Oh right, well you've still got the other one.

Please, whoever you are out there. For heaven's sake, do not ever name your pet after your sister or any other family member. (ahem, Jenn in Holland)

The Batting Cage

Yesterday I mentioned the myriad of toys at our relatives house. Today's entry is dedicated to the batting cage. I LOVE the batting cage.

They have a large basement which is actually another garage - the previous owners had several cars and since the house sits on a slope they were able to create these additional long rooms downstairs. Rooms that would not be used as a garage but which had the wonderful quality of being long with cement walls. One side is a workshop and the other is a glorious batting cage.

When we first arrived and heard there was a batting cage downstairs we figured it was really just a backstop like the one in the backyard. Oh no, it's a *real* batting cage, complete with an automatic pitching machine. It has a large net surrounding the area - so when you hit the ball it doesn't fly off the walls.

I screamed and jumped and then quickly ran into the cage (with a helmet of course) and proceeded to warm up. In heels. It was heaven. I hit nearly every ball too. Of course, I couldn't tell you if they were doubles or triples, but they felt like homeruns. Oh joy.

My husband was up next. Can't say he did as well. Our 8-year old phenom niece knocked it out of the park. She's headed for the major leagues next week.

Failed?

Yesterday we went to relatives for Thanksgiving dinner. Expecting the usual dull 4-hour wait for a 5-minute meal we were pleasantly surprised to have arrived at what can best be described as Playland. Seriously, a batting cage in the basement, foosball table and Xbox. Dinner was a minor distraction.

Today's blog entry will be about one of these wonderful toys, the Xbox. We are by no means video game fans. The last time I remember playing one, Space Invaders was considered revolutionary. A big step up from Pong. My husband played some Star Wars game with our nieces for about an hour or so, until he finally beat one of them - the 6-year old I think.

Later on in the evening the girls pulled out Xbox Karaoke. Sounded like fun but nothing more exciting than you and bunch of drunk friends at a bar in NY. Oh no, this was more. This was competitive karaoke. Somehow this karaoke (which can place you at a country fair or a seaside concert with any number of "personalities") could also rate your performance. Something about hitting the right note at the right time. If you know me, you know this is impossible. I've been asked to stop singing in church. In church. By my family.

After watching the girls do a few of these songs my husband and I tried for a duet of sorts. Our character looked liked Elvis. Elvis in the 70's. Right before he overdosed. We sang Madonna's "Material Girl". We failed. Yes, we "failed". Our audience rating was so low the needle couldn't get any lower. Our character collapsed on stage at the end of the show. The audience had cleared out. Other people in the room thought we were trying to sing badly.

Next we switched to a character who looked something like a cross between Britney Spears (post-two babies, think MTV awards) and Foxy Brown. Our song - "Brick House". Have you actually heard these lyrics? Oh goodness. Needless to say we bombed that one too.

Who knew you could fail at karaoke?

I Am Thankful For

A family I both love and like.

Most days.

Holiday Travel

Oh, the joy. Ugh. I live in the heavily congested Northeast Corridor. You know, that lovely stretch from Washington, DC to Boston, MA which on a light weekend resembles a parking lot? I have lived here most of my life (a short stay on the West Coast) and have faithfully traveled during Thanksgiving. I went to college in Baltimore and grad school in Boston and never missed a Thanksgiving in Connecticut. My adherence to this travel nightmare was only outdone by my stupidity.

However, a few years ago, that all changed. I love my home state (Go Nutmeggers!) but it's not the easiest place to get to. Invariably I would go via NYC - stand on an overcrowded Amtrak train or take a very expensive flight (and then a bus and train - don't get me started on the inaccessiblity of NYC airports).

Over the years, the holiday crowd got thinner. Everyone was stressed from travel and the traditional dinner became a smorgasbord of anxiety. How long will my drive take - 5 hours or 12 hours? I spent my the entire week anxious about the trip up and the entire Thanksgiving day anxious about the trip down. And then there was my sweet sweet dog who had gotten too old to kennel and finding a sitter was impossible over a holiday weekend. So I finally threw in the towel and called Dad.

Me: How about this year I stay here in DC and we get together the next weekend in NYC. We can have a great meal and not be stressed the whole time. We can reallly ENJOY ourselves. How does that sound?

Dad: Fantastic! Thanks for not making me go to get you at the airport. This is the best gift ever!

Aaaaaah, the relief. I wrote into an online chat at the Washington Post and won a prize for that story - would you believe it was luggage?

Safe travels everyone!

Dryer Lint

This posting every day for the month of November is tough. I can find the time but finding the topic is getting tougher.

The other night while out with some other bloggers I mentioned to Gunfighter that I'm going to resort to writing about dryer lint.

Well here it is, my dryer lint blog entry:

One reader of Real Simple magazine wrote in about her most unusual holiday gift,

My Aunt Hallie gave me a beautifully wrapped package of dryer lint. It was supposed to include the instructions for making dryer-lint fire starters, but she had misplaced them.

Fire starter? Hmmmm....never thought of that. Can you do the same with navel lint?

Here are some other handy uses for dryer lint:
1. Stuffing toys
2. Nesting material for birds
3. Worms or compost
4. Insulation
5. Make paper
6. Artwork

Gee, with all these options, don't think I need to go Christmas shopping this year!

Happy Holidays everyone!

Sold!

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory (some are freakin' hilarious!).

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About a year and a half ago I got married and, as with any wedding, there was much planning beforehand. We were two pretty laid back fiance(e)s not caring too much about a lot of details and really focusing our efforts on certain specifics that really mattered to us.

One of these specifics was music. As I mentioned before my husband is a HUGE classical music fan. We negotiated that he would have control over the ceremony (with a string quartet) and I would have control over the reception. We had been planning a Beethoven-heavy ceremony - about 4 music pieces - and some readings. The reception, as you might imagine was a bit different - we had a band who was basically going to play rock-type music - the stuff you dance to at weddings.

My mom and stepdad were in town several months before the wedding and we took them out to lunch. The subject of "YMCA" came up. You can imagine the look on my Beethoven/Wagner/Mahler loving fiance's face when he heard mention of this song. I explained to him that it's sort of a tradition in our family that when one of the women gets married that we play this song at the reception. It all stems from my cousin Kristen's wedding where my newly divorced mother is captured on film desperately waving her arms around trying to figure out the letters. It's a happy memory for all of us. We subsequently played it at my cousin Kathy's wedding and later my mother's wedding (in an English manorhouse no less!).

He was mortified. The conversation moved on.

My mom said how much she loved Mozart and how much she would just love to have a little Mozart at the wedding ceremony. I gently told her that my fiance was in charge of music and he would choose. She kept pushing. My stepdad and I just kept saying to her "point taken". She kept pushing. My fiance, ever the gentleman who didn't want to piss off his future mother-in-law, kept quiet. She kept pushing. Finally, she pulls out the wild card - "I'll offer you YMCA" she yells, he responds "SOLD!"

I sat there stunned and then reminded everyone present "I am the bride and at the end of the day, I control EVERYTHING." Nuff said.

So what happened? Fiance and I negotiated no YMCA - he had issues with our crazy family maybe overwhelming his. And I didn't need it so bad that I was willing to fall on that sword. The ceremony music would be all Beethoven and it would be lovely.

Months later at the wedding reception, the band starts playing YMCA. My husband, my mother, my stepdad and I look at each other - we're a bit stunned. We didn't count on my sister doing an end run around all of us.

Everyone piled onto the dance floor and we had a blast. It truly takes a Village People to raise a family.

Mi Familia

I couldn't think of any soapy stories this week that:

a) I was willing to put in print for my friends and family to read (and therefore hate me for) or;
b) I was sufficently embarassed by (must be repressing the memories)

So I'm going to take this opportunity to describe a family who could easily end up in a place like Port Charles (that's for you General Hospital fans out there!).

There are two children who each got married, each had four kids and then each got divorced, and then each remarried into families with more kids. Of the second generation there are eight original children with three added on at a later date through a second marriage, and then even more inherited. Did you follow that?

Remember when you were in grade school and you learned all the different parts of a family - sister, brother, mother, father, aunt, uncle, grandfather, grandmother? And you had a pretty clear sense of who was older than the other?

This family has a niece 10 years older than an aunt, a grandfather who is only 38 years old, and a daughter only 11 years younger than a mother. A grandchild 7 years younger than a great-grandchild and a great-grandfather who has not yet reached retirement age.

Sound confusing? Welcome to my world.

Maybe next week I'll work up the nerve to tell an embarassing story about them.

It's That Little Pink Nose

"I Love Lucy" - part of the weekly Photo Hunters

Product I Could Never Endorse

Duncan Hines Oven-Ready Homestyle Brownies - No prep and no clean up! In my home we do the dishes, so what makes this "homestyle"? This product has sunk to a new low. You don't even need to provide the pan. Seriously folks, pull out the mix if you have to, add the oil and eggs, and stir. The exercise will do you good and you might enjoy the process of baking. If you want the smell of brownies in the oven then put some vanilla over a heat source. Same effect, fewer chemicals.

Praying for Rain

Life around here lately has been a bit odd. It's been raining. Nearly every day or so it seems. When you go several months without rain and your poor plants are endlessly thirsty despite your constant watering, you really notice it when it rains. I'm not sure I could live in Seattle, but I sure am appreciating all this water, albeit a bit late.

It got me thinking about other people who have had issues with water lately. The Governor of Georgia recently led a public prayer session for rain. Maybe he should pray for this administration to do something about climate change.

Here's one of my favorite Sesame Street episodes on the virtues of rain according to Oscar the Grouch and Bob:

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For a story about too much water check out my sister's website -- she has a stirring video from Aceh, Indonesia, a place which suffered horribly from the tsunami of December 26, 2004.

Madeleines

Warm memories on a Wordless Wednesday

Dear John

This is a post about my hairdresser John whom I am visiting today. I love my hairdresser.

Let me tell you why:

1. When I was debating whether or not to go on a first date with this guy he said I should do it - and give it several dates. Told me to give it a chance because you never know. Yep, I married the guy.

2. When he saw my mom for the first time after she finished radiation therapy (she flies transatlantic for his haircuts) and found out she had cancer, he just about fell on the floor. Then picked himself up and said to her, "you've got so much hair, we've got nothing to worry about."

3. When he and his partner wanted to adopt a child from John's home country of Vietnam, they adopted twins - because twins are harder to place together. He wheels them around Capitol Hill wearing onesies that say "Bush is Poopy".

If I were bald I would still go to him every 6 weeks. Just so we could visit.

Wretched

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory (some are freakin' hilarious!). Also participating this week is Jenn from Holland.

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A few years ago my then-boyfriend/eventual-husband and I went to Paris for a romantic vacation. On our first night there we went for a stroll by the Seine. I kept complaining that my feet hurt so we headed back to our hotel, passing by the Louvre. We stopped in front of the Arc de Carrousel and he proposed to me. I of course said yes - or something to that effect.

The next night, all gleeful and newly engaged, we went to a concert at the IRCAM Center. I've mentioned before that he's a classical music fan - and this was going to be a classical music concert. But contemporary classical music (I myself have never really understood that term). He said he didn't think I'd like it but that this was a very unique venue and that the musicians were very well known. I, of course, agreed to go - I've been to any number of concerts that were less than thrilling - and I'm always open to try something once.

Oh boy! I don't even know how to describe the sounds that came out of these instruments - some violins, a trumpet, I don't even remember. I suppose somewhere in there was a tune or something linking these notes together but for the life of me I couldn't figure it out. Pipes clanging with the onset of winter have more melody to them. I tried desperately to latch onto something in this concert. No luck.

When it was over, my fiance turned to me and said, "What did you think?"

I replied, "Wretched".

Good thing he proposed the night BEFORE...

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Click here to listen to Howard Stern mock a similar sound

Clueless

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent and mostly stupid*


Back in grad school I became close friends with a classmate of mine, Mary*. Along with everyone else in our program we were all embarking on 2 years of a master's program. Mary and I hung out all the time - taking many of the same classes and living in the same neighborhood. We got to know many of our new classmates, including SMID, and two other women, Jane* and Jill*. It was an exciting and chaotic first year for all of us. About halfway through the first year, Jane, who had been living in school housing, moved in with Jill who had a big apartment in a great neighborhood. By the end of the first year everyone had gotten to know one another and we all went home for the summer.

In the second year when got back to school, I stayed in my fabulous apartment and my friend Mary moved into much better digs in town. Jane and Jill moved into an even better apartment, also in our neighborhood. As Mary, Jane, Jill and I were in the same program and lived in the same neighborhood we spent a lot of time together both studying and socializing.

Sometime in the spring Jane and Jill had a party at their place and invited Mary and me. We invited SMID to join us. It was a lot of fun - both Jane and Jill being great cooks with a well-stocked kitchen and fabulous taste in wine.

Later on in the evening J & J were opening cards from other guests. Anniversary cards. Mary and I thought this was so great - that we too should have a party celebrating our friendship! SMID had a quizzical look on her face. Later on, we all took a tour of the apartment and SMID whispered in my ear, "there's only one bed". Mary and I thought nothing of this - there was also a futon in the living room. Don't many students bunk up?

It must have been about 2 months later by the time Mary and I finally caught on. Yep, our friends were more than friends. Not that anyone cared. To this day we like to think it's because we are so open-minded that it just never entered our minds that there was something more romantic going on. Our friends like to think it's because we're as stupid as we look.

Flexible

Fat Henry being Flexible - part of the weekly Photo Hunters

It's Hammer Time!

The Washington Post had a story in the Style section about a woman who took a hammer to Comcast (our local cable provider).

Note that it was in the *Style* section, not the police blotter. She's a folk hero. Not that I condone violence, but I can truly understand her frustration.

I have spent the better part of the past 2 months fighting with the cable company over a few channels with terrible reception. You might say, "it's just a few channels" but when your team is in the playoffs on one of those channels and you can't see what's happening it can be enormously painful!

Six inside visits, three outside visits (there are two different teams requiring separate visits) and 2 months later my problem is finally resolved. Turns out all it required was replacing about 10 feet of cable inside. It's enough to make you want to go and take a hammer to someone.

Not that I condone violence.

If I had a hammer,
I'd hammer in the morning,
I'd hammer in the evening,
All over this land.

I'd hammer out danger,
I'd hammer out a warning,
I'd hammer out love between my brothers and my sisters,
All over this land.

Which Of These Stories Came From The Onion?

In a Surprise, Pat Robertson Backs Giuliani

Toy Containing Date-Rape Drug Pulled

Baggage-Handling Mix-Up Sends Dirty Bomb To St. Louis


Just another day in paradise...

Mother Nature Has A Sense of Humor

Speechless on a Wordless Wednesday

Star F**king

My husband often accuses me of Star F**king - when you stalk someone who is famous (in this town that's usually a politician) just to get a glance or better yet, a photo-op. The walls of some offices are just full of these treasured moments captured on film - complete with a clever personal note from the star him/herself!

Yes, I confess, that at times I am enamored of certain famous people - but in my defense, let me say that I am very discriminating (in a good way). I do not stalk known conservatives and have turned down opportunities to meet people with whom I don't feel a certain connection. Not "connection" like in my head I think we're best friends - "connection" like I agree with them on certain issues. Please, give me some credit, I have standards!

In the past few years I've managed to meet a few people and this, more often than not, results in a photo. I won't lie, I like my pictures. Especially the one of me and a famous rock star that my mother so lovingly had plastered on a coffee mug.

Yesterday, was a magical day. Typically, I meet these stars at some event. But yesterday, I was wandering around in the Whole Foods near my house just scrounging for lunch when I saw HER. Naturally, I slipped into stalking mode.

I quickly called my husband at work -"It's HER. I love HER. What should I do?!" He replied "Just say hello and stop Star F**king. People like it when you say hello."

I was so nervous! I couldn't possibly say hello. And interrupt her shopping? How rude!

Then, my moment came! SHE got in the checkout line - I quickly ran with my tuna sandwich (on whole grain, I'm trying to eat better) and got in line behind HER. I gently tapped her arm and said -

"Are you who I think you are?" to which she replied "I think so".

I then said - "I think you're the most intelligent woman on television." Oh my god! I said something smart! And not at all embarassing!

She replied "Well thank you. We're in town doing a piece on lobbyists." I quickly added "My husband works on the Hill. I'll tell him to avoid you." She said goodbye and went on her way.

Wow. What a day. I need a cigarette.

Who is SHE? (SMID is going to love this).

Samantha Bee - Most Senior Correspondent on The Daily Show. Sigh.

The Kennedy Center Has A Veterinarian Backstage

I was struggling with what to post today and thought I would read SMID's blog for some inspiration - and there it was! Music Monday. Here forthwith, my musical Monday.

We attended a children's concert yesterday at the Kennedy Center (my husband does classical music reviews for the Washington Post) - hosted by the visiting conductor Ivan Fischer. He was fantastic - so animated with the kids. My husband offered to cover this concert because, as he told the press person for the National Symphony Orchestra, I'm "more in touch with my inner child than he is." It's true. Anyway, the concert was a series of pieces demonstrating different instruments - violin, viola, contrabassoon, flute, trombone. The conductor interacted wonderfully with the kids - who clapped so hard and shouted out their answers to his questions.

I noticed in the progam that there is an upcoming concert of Peter and the Wolf - the wonderful Prokofiev piece using differerent instruments for the different characters in a story (often narrated by someone famous like Cher, Sharon Stone, Sting, Dame Edna...) about a boy hunting a wolf.

In the story, the wolf (French horns) swallows the duck (oboe) whole. The press person at the NSO told us a funny story about a previous production of the piece (including mimes). At the end of the piece, when all the characters are marching offstage to the zoo, the children in the audience yelled "But the duck is still inside the wolf!" The conductor this day, not knowing how to respond, turned to someone offstage with a look of desperation - to which he received the reply - tell them "we have someone on staff who'll take care of that".

Since then, the NSO includes in its program a note for this concert that says "The Kennedy Center has a veterinarian backstage".

Mazel tov!

In the past two weeks we've attended two naming ceremonies - the first was a Christening and the second a Simchat Bat. All in all they both went along the same lines - infant is blessed and welcomed into the religious community. Followed by brunch.

The Christening, as most are, was performed during a church service so other various things were included such as hymns and news of the church. I have to confess, as I suppose would be appropriate, that I got a horrible case of the giggles. In this tiny, tiny church with all of maybe 20 pews (that's 10 on either side of the aisle) half full, the minister, who was mic-ed, sang like he was Aretha Franklin. Only he wasn't. I felt bad, because this guy clearly felt the love of God, and clearly wanted to share it. But combined with a tiny, horribly off-key choir, it just hit me in my funny bone. Dear God, please forgive me for shaking so uncontrollably.

The Simchat Bat, which is a naming ceremony for a girl in the Jewish faith, was held in our friends' backyard led by a cantor -the same cantor who married this couple. It was a beautiful fall day spent with close friends and family. And the neighbor's kid peering over the fence. He was clearly fascinated by all the "amens" and at the end offered his congratulations - as in "CONGRATULATIONS!". Thanks, neighbor boy.

If I were a food critic - aw heck, I am one -I would say that both receptions were quite delicious. Roast pork tenderloin, braised beef tenderloin, penne with tomato sauce, yellow cake with raspberry filling, bagels with cream cheese and lox, rugelach, and chocolate bundt cake. All scrumptious!

No liquor, but that's usually reserved for wakes.

Classic

The Fall Classic - part of the weekly Photo Hunters

The Onion Couldn't Make This Stuff Up

Hooters Fight Gives City 2 Restaurants
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
February 1, 2007

TROY, Mich. (AP) -- A fight to discourage Hooters restaurant from expanding in this well-to-do Detroit suburb by blocking its liquor license has backfired: Now there are two restaurants just two miles apart.

Troy, a high-income city of just 80,000 people and home to the state's only Neiman Marcus and Saks Fifth Avenue department stores, now has another distinction. It is the only non-resort city of its size to have two Hooters.

''You come directly off the interstate and that's the first thing you come to,'' said Wade Fleming, a councilman who voted in June to reject the transfer of a liquor license from the old restaurant's location to a new one. ''That starts to define Troy, I think, and that's not how we'd like to define Troy.''

Hooters executives want just one restaurant in Troy, but the company won't close the old one until it's allowed to serve alcohol at the new restaurant, which opened Monday on a larger, more visible site.

Critics are concerned that the restaurants' scantily clad servers don't fit the image the city seeks to project in its Big Beaver commercial district. Fleming said officials are trying to make the area a ''world-class corridor.''

Rabbit Rabbit

It's the first of the month and on the first day of the month I say "Rabbit, Rabbit". It's something a friend of mine told me to do years and years ago and just one of those superstitions I've stuck with. Don't ask me why, I honestly have no idea. She told me to say it on the first day of the month and that was it.

Along with my rabbit, rabbit supersition I also won't travel with bananas or pickle. Two other superstitions told to me by friends. The first friend was Hawaiian and the second one Indian. I tend to think their supersitious food choices were partly ethnic. But no matter, to this day I will travel with neither item.

And for good measure I also carry a St. Christopher medal with me. I may not be a practicing Catholic, but I don't need to be the member of any group to use its talismans.

Best of luck to you all for November!

I Love A Drag Race

One of the things I love about my neighborhood is the annual Drag Queen Race. A lot of neighborhoods around the country have Halloween parades involving all sorts of characters. But ours is different - it lasts for 2 minutes and it is run in heels. Pretty impressive!

I heard rumors about lots of Larry Craig costumes this year and hope to see some. But not in this neighborhood. Don't get me wrong, the costumes are often current political figures - First Ladies, Senators, Madames - but they are all female characters.

Happy Halloween Everyone!

For my costume suggestion click here.

What Are You Running To?

I recently took up running. It's hard but I'm getting the hang of it. One foot in front of the other... I am now up to 3 miles 3 times per week! That's a huge accomplishment for someone who a couple of months ago spent far too much time on her couch. In anticipation of someday running outside in the real world I have recently just added hills to my treadmill routine - great for the butt!

To keep me from being utterly bored and also to keep my pace up (can't take 3 hours to run those 3 miles) I put together a playlist on my iPod. Peppy stuff like New Order, The Cure and English Beat. The playlist is good but it needs some work. To support my newfound exercise habit my dear friend Aparna sent me a fantastic mix - everything from Jessica Simpson to Kanye West - truly inspirational (if not a bit cheesy)!

Now it's your turn! In the spirit of the birthday CD I am asking for ideas for songs to add. Stuff that keeps you going, livens you up, makes you feel like you can run forever!

One day perhaps I will even run the Marine Corps Marathon - think I need a lobotomy first.

Books About Food

A recent meme tag got me thinking about food books. Not recipe books per se, but rather books where food is an integral part of the story. Over the years I've devoured (ha ha!) numerous books on the subject and have many more on my nightstand just waiting to be read.

Some of my favorites:

Kitchen Confidential: Anthony Bourdain has an ascerbic wit and an uncanny ability to describe the intricacies of restaurant cooking. Love him or hate him, you have to agree that he has an incredible mastery of the English language. And you'll thank him for warning you never to have seafood at Sunday brunch.

Like Water for Chocolate: In addition to being a wonderful tale of un/requited love, there are some pretty impressive feasts in this book. Very hot book too (and I'm not talking oven temp).

Much Depends on Dinner: I listed this as one of my favorite books - it's a great book but also the precursor to many more books I read about food - where it comes from, what it means to us. I also read her book "The Rituals of Dinner" - not quite as good (less about food) as the first one but interesting nonetheless.

Lemon Swamp and Other Places: I can still taste the lemon pie described in this book. And the fried chicken. Yummy southern food woven into a woman's life story.

The Orchard: About a woman who inherits a family apple orchard during the Depression. She ends up eating a LOT of apples. I can still taste them.

Garlic and Sapphires: Former NY Times food critic Ruth Reichl's memoir of her days in disguises eating everything high and low in NY.

Fast Food Nation: You'll never look at a fast-food hamburger the same way. Your thoughts on immigration may change too.

The Food Lover's Guide to Paris: Famed chef/author Patricia Wells talks about the markets, shops, restaurants, and bars of Paris. You want to buy a plane ticket now!

On the To Read list:

The Omnivore's Dilemma: A sort of anthropological look at the foods we eat and where they come from.

Heat: The story of a man who spent 3 years learning to cook in the kitchens of Mario Batali. Great when you're in the mood for Italian food.

American Food Writing edited by Molly O'Neill: Former food writer for the NY Times Magazine and sister of former Yankees' outfielder Paul O'Neill. A variety of writing by different authors on all different American foods.

What Einstein Told His Cook: The science of cooking - fascinating read for those who wonder why their dish didn't come out as expected. Or the differences (if there are any) among table, kosher, and sea salt.

French Women Don't Get Fat: Or how to eat steak frites, drink yourself silly, and fit into a size 4.


A few books where food is a big character but not the star:

A Year in Provence: and subsequent books... the joys of gastronomic discovery for an Englishman.

A Natural History of the Senses: Diane Ackerman does a wonderful job of going over all the senses: smell, touch, hearing, sight, and taste. Her discussion of how we taste bitter, sweet, salty, etc. is fantastic. The other senses are well covered too.

I *Heart* Shortorder.tv

Shortorder.tv is my favorite cooking site. Yes, this probably mostly due to the fact that the chef is one of my best friends. However, in both her and my defense, there are several other reasons to love this site:

1) these meals take 3 minutes! yes, only 3! and that's not about taking the plastic tray out of the box and nuking it.

2) the bulk of the ingredients in the recipes are fresh! only thing preserved is the soy sauce.

3) she wields a very large 10" chef's knife with the grace of a ballet dancer. and doesn't lose any fingers in the process.

But seriously, this site is great because it demonstrates that you can put a delicious and nutritious meal on the table quickly. All the more reason to drive by the drive-thru.

Put Them Together

In previous posts I rambled on about my love of tomatoes and tarts. Put them together and you're in heaven! I present to you the roast tomato tart.

The beauty of this tart is that it takes winter tomatoes which are generally blah and concentrates their flavor so they just sing in your mouth. Oh joy!

The basic recipe uses fresh tomatoes (peeled and seeded - but you can skip this if it's a) too much trouble and/or b) you use a thinner-skinned small tomato like a pomodoro), creme fraiche and mustard. Top that with fresh thyme and voila, France! This recipe is also easily morphed into a more Italian style - ricottta (instead of creme fraiche) and basil (instead of thyme). Even Greek would work - feta with cream cheese/sour cream and oregano and capers.

Yum + Yum!

I'm It!

I've been tagged by Soccer Mom in Denial. Can't say I know exactly what this means but I'll give it a shot. Her meme was about books. Herewith, my answers:

Total Number of Books
Uh, bunches? Honestly, I'm one of those people who treasures certain books and believes that giving a book away (to a friend or charity) is one of the best things you can do. Unless you're going to reread it then let someone else experience the joy. Although I do maintain a collection of my absolute favorites that I turn to again and again. That includes children's books as well. My husband is not quite as good as giving away books as I am but he's getting there :)

Last Book Read
Hmmm....I pick up lots of books and start them. Then put them down because it's not quite the right time for that book. So I guess the last book I finished was "And His Lovely Wife..." by Connie Schultz - the lovely wife of newly-elected US Senator Sherrod Brown, who is the cousin of a my sister's friend from Peace Corps. Convoluted connection but much shorter than it appears. Sherrod was recently voted one of the most beautiful people on Capitol Hill - and his wife is truly lovely inside and out.

Last Book Bought
I guess that would be Connie Schultz's book. Although I do have a stack of books to read when the time is right. And my mother-in-law loves to send me books she thinks I'll like (mostly about food - go figure!)

Five Meaningful Books
Meaningful to ME I presume...the first 5 that come to mind

To Kill A Mockingbird - if only for the line "Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing."

Much Depends On Dinner - Margaret Visser is something of a food anthropologist, tracing several components of a meal from their origins and discussing their significance in society. I have numerous other books about food (I was tempted to list The New Best Recipe here) but I think this is the one that really got me started.

No Ordinary Time - Doris Kearns Goodwin's biography (?) of FDR and Eleanor. At over 700 pages it is a page turner. And I cried so hard when FDR died - as if I didn't see that coming.

Me Talk Pretty One Day - I love David Sedaris. He has a sick sense of humor that I just can't get enough of. MTPOD was the first book of his that I read and I've not stopped devouring his writing (also found in the New Yorker!). His sister Amy is a hoot too!

Eloise - Kay Thompson's wonderful tale about a precocious girl who lives at the Plaza Hotel with her nanny, pug, and turtle. I give this book as a baby gift - even the boys should learn about how much fun, mischievous, and confident girls can be. I have a copy signed by the illustrator, Hilary Knight.

And I would echo Soccer Mom's love of the New Yorker! We've been subscribing since as long as I can remember.

I also have a long list of baseball books and even more food books. So hard to choose amongst them all!

Queen of Tarts

At one point in my recent job woes, my sister suggested that I pursue a career using my true talent. Hmmm....still haven't paid off that Harvard degree.....

I LOVE TARTS.

Something about the way the pan separates, maybe the fluted edge, quick-baking quality? I don't know what it is but I love them. I'll take just about any regular pie-like recipe I have and try it in the tart pan. There's something really cathartic about rolling out a pie crust and creating a visual and gastronomic masterpiece.

Ladies (and gentlemen), let me tell you, if you want to win someone's heart, make them a Gruyere tart. (Maybe I should have gone into advertising). Nutty cheese, eggs, cream, caramelized onions. Something about it just makes people swoon.

Another favorite is the tart made with fresh apricots. I'm not a big fan of the fruit myself but this tart is great - the flavor of the fruit concentrates and provides a wonderful contrast to the mildly sweet crust. And if you really don't like apricots you can substitute any number of other fruits. For those of you wooing someone a bit more artistic or arithmetic, the lattice top is a big hit.





Yum, tarts!

Freshness In A Can!

I'm not a big fan of canned anything - it's soggy, salty, sugary, colorless. However, there is one thing that is VERY good when it comes in a can - TOMATOES!

I know, you're thinking, "how can someone who loves fresh food so much like canned tomatoes?" Here's the deal - canned tomatoes are even better than fresh. How can this be? Fresh tomatoes are bred for looks. Canned tomatoes are bred for taste. They might be ugly on the outside but they are oh so good on the inside. In addition, canned tomatoes have more of the antioxidant lycopene than fresh. I generally keep several cans in my pantry at any time - use them for spaghetti, soup, chicken, fish, chili, etc. Save the fresh tomatoes for salads and sandwiches.

Avoid the canned tomatoes that have other things thrown in such as garlic or herbs. It's always better to season them yourself to your liking once you decide on your recipe.

My favorite (as well as Cook's Illustrated) - Muir Glen. Stock up!

A Change of Scenery if not a Change in the Weather

My friend Allison has been bugging me to post more often which I'm all for - but lately gardening just doesn't have much to offer. Yes, it's 90 degrees in October, but the flowers are fading - the days are getting shorter as we enter autumn, even if it feels like summer.

So, to keep me posting (I joined NaBloPoMo at Allison's urging) I'm going to switch gears for the off-season. There are lots of topics I could explore - politics, my cat, marriage - but for the sake of preserving sanity on all fronts I'm going to refrain from those areas and focus on my other passion - food! And just to keep it interesting and slightly different from all the other food blogs out there I'm going to talk about bringing the outdoors in - the abundance of the farmers' market, eating organic and/or local, etc.

And I'll throw in the occasional Lucy story as warranted - for 23 hours of sleeping every day she does produce some interesting tales.

Lucy Y Sheryl Crow

Papers in my Paprikash?

The garden is in a transitional stage right now - we're somewhere between summer and fall (90 degrees today!) so there's not much to report on. Most of the flowers are doing well and I'm thinking about whether to plant mums or start sowing bulbs for spring.

But today's entry has nothing to do with that.

We have a wonderful sweet housekeeper, Consuelo. She is originally from Guatemala (don't worry INS, she has a green card!) and has been working for us for a few years. Her English is so-so on good days. My Spanish is non-existent. Somehow we manage to communicate. Today she was telling me about her big yard at her new house. The conversation went something like this:

C: I have big yard. Big big yard.

FC: Really, that's great. Do you have a garden?

C: I have big trees. Pine. One died. You need firewood?

FC: Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.

C: I also have papers. Growing in ground.

FC: Papers? Hmmm. (I'm thinking "Astroturf?"). That's nice.

C: I water them everyday. They grow so big (she demonstrates what looks like a foot tall).

FC: So they are short? Must be the drought. Very dry. No rain.

C: I water them all the time. Very good. In Spanish, called "chiles".

FC: AHA! Peppers! Excellent!

So now, in addition to my lovely herb collection and sorry tomato plant I will be receiving fresh chile peppers!

Perhaps I will have peppers in my paprikash.

Friend or Foe?

Recent news reports have discussed the decline of the honeybee. Normally, I'd be glad as I am allergic to bee stings. But as a gardener I have to be concerned with their decline. Aside from stinging people like me, they do have their purpose - *Spreading the Love*. Bees pollinate. And without bees no pollination. And without pollination, no flowers. So can't we all just get along?

king bee

Grow Your Vegetables

I read a disturbing story today about obesity in America. Obesity rates grew in 31 states, and most notably to me, "This year's report, for the first time, looked at rates of overweight children ages 10 to 17. The District of Columbia had the highest percentage _ 22.8 percent." This is horrifying. And sadly, not surprising if you live here.

I could go into the myriad possible reasons for this - nutrition education (or lack thereof), parental influence (or lack thereof), opportunities for outdoor activities (or lack thereof), access to healthy food in supermarkets (or lack thereof)... you get my point.

Instead, I will take this opportunity to talk about the benefits of community gardens. Not only do you get to grow healthy foods, there are other benefits (as my sister would say "externalities") - fresh air, exercise (try pulling weeds and you'll know what I mean), friendships, a sense of community.

So check out a community garden near you or grow something in your backyard and share it with your neighbors - it's a great feeling!

Dirty

Floral Porn - part of the weekly Photo Hunters

credit to my sister

Being There

Way back when, when I was a mere toddler (or something close to that) I saw the movie, "Being There" starring Peter Sellers. This movie stuck with me for several reasons:

1) A simple man mistaken for being profound in Washington

2) Peter Sellers' acting - playing a quiet man who really only utters a few lines and moves very slowly and deliberately is hard

3) It's about a gardener

Mind you, I wasn't a gardener back then but I like to think I had this latent talent (interest?).

In the garden, growth has its seasons. First comes spring and summer, but then we have fall and winter. And then we get spring and summer again.

Deep stuff.

We're Not in Kansas Anymore Because We're Tripping

Remember that scene from the Wizard of Oz - the one where Dorothy and her friends come upon the field of flowers and find themselves falling asleep?

They now came upon more and more of the big scarlet poppies, and fewer and fewer of the other flowers; and soon they found themselves in the midst of a great meadow of poppies. Now it is well known that when there are many of these flowers together their odor is so powerful that anyone who breathes it falls asleep, and if the sleeper is not carried away from the scent of the flowers, he sleeps on and on forever. But Dorothy did not know this, nor could she get away from the bright red flowers that were everywhere about; so presently her eyes grew heavy and she felt she must sit down to rest and to sleep.

Well guess what? Poppy production is at an all time high! In Afghanistan. Where they are responsible for 93% of the world's production. That's agricultural development for you. When the US government gets involved.

*Per SMID's request - not sure if this is like a market in Indiana - widely available drugs but not sure about weapons. And no solicitation for sex, so I suppose it's also not like a men's room at the Minneapolis airport.

I went to a wedding in a garden...

Reading my friend's blog today I was reminded of a trip I took several years ago to New Orleans for a friend's wedding. I had never been there before (and sadly, since) and really had no idea where I was going. Our soon-to-be-married friend had planned his wedding to coincide with Jazz Fest as he is a talented musician - talk about making sure your guests are happy!

The wedding was held in a park whose name I've since forgotten with a beautiful fountain and flowerbeds for decoration. The ceremony was a little informal - no chairs or aisles - but then out of a corner, the bride appeared and a wedding was upon us! In addition to the invited guests, anyone walking by was welcome to share in the moment.

While our short visit was mainly confined to the French Quarter (beignets and coffee at Cafe du Monde everyday was just fine by me!), I did manage to avoid the Bourbon St. image and enjoy some of the legendary food, friendship, music, and yes, the gardens of New Orleans.

Happy

A big bouquet of flowers just smiling up at you

part of the weekly Photo Hunters

My First Tomato

It finally happened! Over the weekend my tomato ripened. Technically speaking, a different tomato ripened and then exploded first - but we'll just ignore that and revel in the beauty of my first tomato (that I picked). It's small. Imperfect skin. A little hard. But I love it unconditionally.

I love it so much I was inspired to write a haiku:

You are my first one
Sun and water made you real
Apple of my eye

Okay, that was a bit hokey and dramatic. Here's something a little more lighthearted:

Three months of water
Like watching a pot boiling
Tell your friends, Ripen!