alabra-cadabra

Something Old, Something New...

2010-08-15T07:50:00.000-07:00

J and I have launched into our homemade/handmade lifestyle quite a bit this summer. First, we joined a CSA farm and purchased a farm share for the season. We enjoy this particular share because it's a mix of harvested produce (which we pick up on Thursdays) and pick-your-own crops (which we pick whenever it's convenient). Yesterday, for instance, we picked flowers and basil. We could have picked tomatoes but we're having a hard time keeping up as it is (the tomatoes this season are super sweet and abundant - to make up for last year's blight!).

We made salads for lunch yesterday from fresh, local ingredients: greens, beets, onions, carrots, and tomatoes from the share. Eggs were fresh from J's parents' "farmette" in Brimfield. The dressing (not pictured) I mixed using homemade mayo (surprisingly easy). And the beer (in Mom's glasses) was brewed in house - a wildflower wheat with chamomile and honey.

I also got back into baking bread yesterday. I had made a resolution at New Years to not buy any more bread (after receiving my KitchenAid mixer for Christmas). And I had made good on the resolution until the incredibly oppressive weather we've had this summer hit. With no AC, there was no way I was going to turn an oven on to further roast us. But, we finally got a lull in the hot weather this week and J roasted beets (his new favorite) and I threw some loaves in the oven. Here you can see my molasses graham bread. I typically make this bread or whole wheat honey for our sandwich loaves. They're basically the same recipe except for the two named ingredients. I follow recipes in this book, which I have found easy to follow and has really built my confidence in what I always considered some bizarre alchemy. Now I don't even measure my flour anymore - I can tell from texture whether the dough is ready to be kneaded.

So, besides cooking, baking, and brewing, we've also taken on handwashing our laundry, which is a whole new endeavor taken on because our options for doing laundry are all taxing in different ways (and would take too long to lay out in this post). After much discussion, we decided that we valued spending time together and at home over all our options. And so began our journey into old-timey laundry solutions. I researched the subject on various homesteading blogs, which convinced us that a) this is doable, and b) this is a great mini-experiment to see what things we are willing to do by hand if we do homestead in the future on our own land.

We purchased various pieces of equipment and also refurbished others. Our three "specialty" tools are our Rapid Washer, our glass washboard, and our wringer. The first two we bought from Lehman's, which is an online Amish catalog (admittedly oxymoronic upon first reading), and the second we got for cheap off of eBay since wringers can run pretty expensive. We then added our bathtub, 3 tupperware containers, 1 galvanized steel tub, and a new hose (from our existing washer hookups) to the mix. Here's a breakdown of how it's working...

First, we throw the clothes in the tub to soak with a capful of Myers Baby laundry soap (I love the scent, it's low-sudsing, and it's gentle on my hands). I treat any stains with a biodegradable stain remover. We use the rapid washer to plunge the water and soap through the clothes. I do this at the beginning and end of the soak (and anytime in between if I happen to go into the bathroom).

Then the clothes get lightly wrung and brought to the washtub, which has a bit of soapy water in it and the glass washboard. I've become convinced that washing clothes on a washboard can get stains and dirt out much better than a washing machine. Case in point (and get ready for TMI): J has a pair of white boxers that he wears to work. Since he's an archaeologist and digs all day, the upper part of his boxers (along with ALL his clothes) typically get covered with silt. We've washed these in a machine before and the slit stains haven't come out. I washed them yesterday at the board and rubbed almost all of it out. I was super excited, which probably just means I should get out more.

The clothes then go through 2 cold water rinses (which we use the rapid washer with too as seen here). This is where our process needs a bit of work, as depending upon the clothing and how soapy things were to begin with, the soap doesn't always rinse out. I think I just need to give it more plunging time and replenish water halfway through the load. (Our loads are about a medium-large in a regular washing machine.)

Finally, the clothes are run through the wringer, which we have set over a basin with a drain (the hose of which goes back into a rinse basin below). J is much better at the wringer than me - it's really hard for me to tighten or loosen the wingnuts (to adjust for different types of fabric), and if you're impatient like me, you risk getting your fingers pinched or rubbing rubber onto the seams of your clothes. The clothes then get hung up to line dry the rest of the way.

Here's most of the setup. It's not really pretty, but it does the job and only takes up the footprint of the treadmill (when it's unfolded).

Well, even with all this homemade work being done, I did make a recent furniture purchase, which probably took major points off my sustainable living credibility. For 10 years or so I've had a chenille loveseat from the 1940s that I just adored. Unfortunately, after 70 years and a fully clawed cat, the sofa was on its deathbed. First, it stunk. Second, the cat spent tons of time on it and under it, which made me nervous that a mouse had died in it or something (see, "it stunk"). Third, the chenille had rubbed off on the seat cushion. Fourth, the frame was broken, which meant we were sitting on the floor. I did a lot of shopping around and fell in love with the Corona loveseat at Macy's. I thought it particularly apt since my 1940s loveseat was also from Macy's. I picked out the color "stone" since it was a neutral that seemed like I could include it in future digs most easily and, while it was clean and bright looking, was also drab enough to hide basic wear. It's now the nicest piece of furniture in my secondhanded living room. Regardless, watching the delivery guys sweat to bring it up the stairs just makes me dread moving out of here all the more...

January Projects

2008-02-01T09:28:00.000-08:00

Now that it's February I better recap some of the projects that I finished in January.

First, I sewed a curtain to cover the eggfoam that I nailed into the doorway between my apartment and the upstairs apartment. Although listening in on people's conversations is something I feel completely comfortable doing at, say, the coffee shop, it's rather intrusive and disquieting when it happens in one's home. So, since eggfoam isn't necessarily aesthetically pleasing and I don't care to have any associations with padded rooms in my flat, I figured that a curtain was the way to go.

I found some great Amy Butler fabric online at fabric.com. I've never had any trouble with the company before and there are great perks for buying from fabric.com, but this time they sent me the wrong color way of the fabric (I wanted a white and light blue scheme but received a cream and olive). However, once I unpacked it, I realized that the olive green was better with the deep rose wallpaper - much more of arts and crafts color scheme than the red and blue would have been. I also insulated the drape with a heavy cotton backing. Best thing was that I didn't have to cut anything (I'm a big fan of the opulent extra fabric at the bottom)! I just pinned everything together and hemmed. Please take note of how straight the pattern turned out (*pat on back).

Next up would be my second knitting project ever: a "kettle" handbag. I used Lambs Pride worsted gray wool that I knit on circular needles and then felted. The bag itself is rather lopsided, which I think was a matter of post-felting blocking issues and not doing even increases/decreases (I always slanted to one side of the bag instead of doing opposing slants). Siobhlogger sent me a link to MJTrim's website where I found loads of awesome lucite-ish handles. I picked out the faux horn handles and sewed them in. I then took the purse on a test run down to Anthropologie in South Windsor, CT, and found that it leant me that certain je ne sais quoi that made me feel like, although I can't afford anything at that store, I still belonged. And in fact, even with its asymmetry I could feel like I was not a poseur but the real deal - I AM artsy and don't need to pay $68 for a tshirt to prove it. I'd rather spend $68 on yarn and spend too many weeks toiling away over some stupid wooden sticks and probably ruin my eyesight in the process. I mean, what's art without a little suffering, right?

Finally, I got my bread on. I made the Italian Rosemary Raisin bread on Farmgirl Fare's blog. Two Januarys ago, my resolution was to work on being more patient, and I thought that learning to bake bread would be a great way to practice said virtue. I think it's safe to say that I've failed or at least have significantly faltered in that endeavor since I always do a cost benefit analysis at the grocery store in front of the artisanal bread display and throw a loaf in my basket.

However, I was inspired by the recipe and by a visit to H & J's house in Otis, Mass. where I was treated to homemade French rolls and was reminded that a) homemade bread is really far superior to storebought and b) if H can be baking her own bread while managing a household with two youngins', what excuse did I have? (Sure, my cat can get needy for attention, but I mean, really...)

So, the boule didn't rise as well as I would have liked. Perhaps a baking stone is in order. But, first, I think I'll try putting a cast iron skillet with water in it on the rack beneath my baking sheet next time. I should have also pulled the bread out of the oven perhaps 5 minutes before I did since it was a bit dry. And I wonder if using skim milk for my starter was a less than ideal choice (although you'd think there's just as much sugar in skim milk as whole milk, right? and that's what the yeast really cares about, right? hmm, I'll have to check out Alton Brown's website). But, anyway, it makes a great piece of toast for my afternoon tea break with a bit of goat cheese and honey, plain olive oil, or just butter and agave nectar (I've really got to get back to honey as I'm not a fan of the agave except in tequila form, and even then we're on shaky ground).

For February I have a jersey dress (fabric not state, although what would make a jersey dress a Jersey dress? discuss amongst yourselves) and a jersey wrap shirt (see a trend?) to sew, and a chocolate brown cardigan to knit. The first two would be an experiment in a more economical new clothes procurement strategy whilst the latter is miserably failing in that endeavor (although NOT having Malaysian children being forced to do my labor is certainly preferable). So, stay tuned to see what comes of it.

Call it Lazy

2008-01-12T06:10:00.001-08:00

Or, call it half a year in pictures so that I can assuage all guilt for not keeping up with this blog in 2007. We'll do it in reverse chronological order...

Okay, current state of affairs with an oil painting I've been working on for M's apartment. It's of a scene from when we were sailing in an incoming storm (the marina even sent out a boat to check on us). The yellow orb in the foreground is an archaeological diving buoy - Lake Champlain has an underwater archaeology park. I forget what wreck was underneath us at the time, but that's a pretty neat feeling - sailing on top of a shipwreck. Or, is that a scary feeling? Anyway, Adirondacks in the background, some Canadian sail rental coming toward us (blue stripe on white sail) and cliffs coming out of North Beach (I think?) on left. First time playing with water, reflections and sky in oils.

Okay, these two pics were my attempts to break through some writer's block using a Chilton mode of brainstorming. This was in preparation for an hour long public lecture at Historic Deerfield (in October), and represented the only public presentation of my Simon's Rock thesis work (New England stone chambers, New Age, memory, etc.) after graduating. The topic is somewhat controversial and enjoying a revival, so I was really nervous. So, the left picture is me writing out all my ideas on post its. The right is my organization of those ideas. Horizontal rows followed some organizing logic as did the vertical columns. Groups that were separated were harder to work into the paper and so were dropped. This actually worked quite well! Thanks to Siobhlogger for the tips.

So, this was me making an apple sheet tart for our Department's picnic back in December. I had decided to follow a recipe that called for 16 apples. But, I didn't have a peeler! I ran around everywhere looking for one, but to no avail. That night when I came home, there was a ups package from Ohio - my mom had sent me one out of the blue! Very very weird. So this is me gleefully peeling, slicing and coring my way through the apples. The tart was awesome, although messy (not so good for picnics). And I had a lot of leftovers (good for me).

This was M's birthday cake that I baked back in August. All summer he was on a big mojito kick, so I put together a few different recipes with my own twists to come up with this. I used two layers of vanilla cake that I soaked for many hours in a vanilla rum syrup (hence the glistening). I made a 7 minute vanilla frosting with a hint of mint and lime juice and applied generously. I then shaved lime zest (using the awesome microplane Mom got me) and topped with some mint leaves from my front mint garden. I had a lot of leftovers of this too.

Careful mojito mixing going on at my family's well-stocked poolside bar back in July. Big difference between M and me - I rarely measure.

That's my cousin, Nicole, doing some serious Little Mermaid hair adjusting. Looks like the Barbie boat is a bit landlocked. And then Nicole, Dad, Aunt Marilyn and Christina (in her Gwen Stefani sunglasses) hanging out on the deck. My Mom, who was probably inside doing dishes or something, is represented by all the beautiful flowers and gardening all around.

And now we're totally caught up!!

Road Trip Part Two: Birthday Jaunt

2007-08-07T06:13:00.000-07:00

I almost titled this the wine leg but then realized that every leg of my trip involved wine. In fact, most days involve wine, so that's not even a trip-related feature. But for my birthday, wineries featured rather prominently. Because Capt Mac and I stayed at one. We had the room on the bottom floor to the far right - once the Music Room in the 19th century manor house called White Springs Manor.

Our room was two floors - we had a spiral staircase descending to a basement room with a bathroom and corner jacuzzi tub. Interestingly enough, there was no door on the bathroom. I suppose if you stay at the White Springs, you better be very comfortable with your roommate - or deaf and blind (although the stairs would be rather dangerous). There was also a full length mirror positioned rather surprisingly so as to give the spiral staircase descendant a full length view of the toilet dweller, and vice versa, but really, only one person comes out on top of that peepshow, um, maybe. In fact that sounds like it could be a lose lose. But I digress.

Before we even got to the manor though, we stopped at Ventosa Vineyard on the northeast tip of Seneca Lake for lunch. It just so happened that my birthday was the hottest day yet that summer (is that some kind of omen?), but we found that the Tuscan-style terrace overlooking the vineyard and the lake was breezy enough to be enjoyable. After tasting some wines, I settled for a glass (and then a bottle to take home) of the Tocai Friulano to have with my amazingly satisfying panini.

Official tasting notes for the wine: The first and only Finger Lakes grown Tocai Friulano is smooth, well-rounded and exciting. This premiere vintage expresses ruby red grapefruit and honeydew melon, with complex aroma of wildflower and citrus. My tasting notes: good on a hot day and fun to say.

After lunch we tried to visit the town of Geneva, but the bank sign said that it was over 100 degrees and the place was deserted - and rightfully so. We did the only thing that made sense - tasted more wines. This time we went to the winery we were staying at - Belhurst. Since we were guests of the hotel, we could taste as many wines as we wanted for free. Don't mind if I do...I can't quite remember how many I tasted - but I didn't spit any of them out. I even had a blush that tasted like watermelons. Capt Mac tasted a wine that warranted, to quote, "I never knew what they meant when they said an aroma like cat piss until now." To which the woman serving us suggested "grassy" as another qualifier. You say tomato...

I settled on a 2004 chardonnay that has made me completely rethink chardonnay. Granted, it is out of my usual price range, but wow, was it good. Here are their fancy notes:

Les Mange-Cailloux, the second wine from our Legends range which presents the finest wines, available only from exceptional harvests, means “The Stone Eaters.” The name honors vineyard workers who clear the many glacial rocks from our Finger Lakes vineyards. The color of this Chardonnay is bright golden, testimony of the long oak aging. The nose is stunning; very complex with some ripe fruit notes such as peaches, pineapples, figs and dates combined with the delicious aromas of cedar, almonds, vanilla, caramel and spices including cinnamon, cloves and white pepper. The complete dryness of the finish reveals the cream, nuts, smoke and spice characters. Pair this wine with your favorite creamy cheeses to emphasize the oak and
vanilla, or stronger, blue cheeses to reveal the dryness and richness of the fruit.
Any dish with nuts or cream will be a perfect companion.

I have to say, the finish of this wine is really incredible. Capt Mac and I both have bottles being saved for a special occasion. Since then I've been doing my own chardonnay tastings, and have really enjoyed a Clois du Bois, but so far nothing has really blown my mind.

All right, so wine, food, pretty surroundings - oh and jewelry. That was my birthday. Plus a Tim Horton's hangover brunch the next morning = classy with a K.

We then walked off all the wine calories at Niagara Falls, which Capt Mac had never visited. We parked on the US side and walked over to Canada, where Capt Mac (ever the shipman) pointed out the Scow barge that has been stuck at the top of the Horseshoe Falls since 1918 (it's the dot in the very center of the pic).

Now, take a look at how close that barge is to the falls - there were 2 men on board with 2 very different approaches to life:

While awaiting rescue, Loftberg, thinking safety tied himself to the barge. Harris, on the other hand tied a rope around himself with the other end tied to a barrel. Harris thought that if the barge broke free, he could jump clear and hope that the barrel got caught up on more rocks.

I wonder, am I a tie-myself-to-the-barge person or a f**k-it-I'm-going-over-in-a-barrel person? The Falls leads one to such reveries...

Either way - 1918 - pre-helicopter rescue! And damn if another rescue boat would get that close to the falls. The men were eventually rescued - a rescue involving ropes shot to the barge from guns mounted on the Toronto Power House and a famous daredevil who climbed the ropes to get to the men. Here's the story.

After making our way back to Checkpoint Rainbow Bridge (just doesn't have the same gravitas as Checkpoint Charlie...) - we prepared to be interrogated by INS. Surprisingly, he was more suspicious of me than Capt Mac! That would have never happened if the Capt still had his pirate dreads. I think the "grad student" label is what triggered the alert. But, it was quickly followed by a fun little, "I bet you get people making jokes about 'can you dig it?' all the time" to my explanation that archaeology was my field of study. At least he didn't ask whether I dig dinosaurs.

Which I don't for anyone still wondering.

Road Trip Part One: Labrador Leg

2007-07-24T06:18:00.000-07:00

I trekked up to Vermont to visit with the Labrador side of the family on the Fourth of July. Typical Vermont, the weather was colder than usual - it rained and was in the 50s-60s all week if I remember correctly. Not quite summertime bbq heaven.

But, that didn't stop us from eating too much - in addition to all the rotisseried animal, black beans, and fresh bread (which, by the way, we were all taught how to make during a filmed lesson by Grandma L. aka Paula Deen's biggest fan) we ate - a fabulous delivery from North Babylon arrived of 3 NY pizzas, 2 cheesecakes, dozens of hot dogs and 2 huge foil containers of steak. It was a big city delivery - one we had to keep secret from the neighboring Vermonters up on Woodchuck Hollow Road (does that road sound paved to you, dear reader?) lest we be seen as ostentatious - or worse yet, made out to be flatlanders!

On Friday, while the youngin's were at camp (2 as campers and 1 now as a counselor!), the [supposed] adults stole away to Franconia Notch in New Hampshire to hike up The Flume Gorge. Franconia Notch used to be home to the Old Man of the Mountain whose face fell off in 2003. But, you can still see him today on the NH State quarter, on all the road signs in NH, and pretty much anywhere else that mentions NH.

Speaking of coins, on our way to The Flume, we stopped at the Littleton Coin Company where the men could get us back for being dragged to the East Barre Antique Mall. Luckily, the showroom was tiny. I looked at the case of ancient coins for awhile - but, you know what they [should] say - once you've seen one denarius, you've seen them all.

Okay, so The Flume. In addition to being a beautiful natural site, it was also the only part of my trip that I took any pictures of. Why? Well, I'm not really much for taking pictures - I always feel intrusive and obtrusive when carrying a camera around and clicking pictures. Plus, I was surrounded by shutterbugs all week. The Labrador side of my family must have a genetic susceptibility for photography that somehow jumped my generation. If you look closely, the two figures in the left photo are taking pictures - Dad had his camera and Ken had his video camera. Up ahead of me was Aunt Cindy, Creative Memories mogul, who had her camera as well.

Aunt Cindy told me she took something like 1600 photos when visiting Italy. I can't even imagine. I think I took 300 when in Nicaragua - and that was spread out over 6 weeks (about 7 pics a day). Photos are afterthoughts for me - like, oh, I guess I should take a photo of this now, kind of an obligation. And hence the obligatory couple of photos of The Flume you see here.

But, the flume was beautiful and did offer a neat geologic lesson for me. I tried to identify the basalt dikes that had cooled against the granite before reaching the surface as lava. There was also the historic lesson about how the gorge was "discovered" (read, found by a white person) in 1808 by a 93 year old woman named Aunt Jess that I pictured as Granny from Beverly Hillbillies. The story of Aunt Jess finding the site while fishing and then trying to convince her family of its importance is also kind of like that story about a poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed. Then one day he went shootin' for some food and up through the ground came some bubbling crude. Oil that is, Black gold, Texas tea.

But, alas, no Labrador discovery of oil out in Franconia Notch that day. And although it was raining too hard to go see the covered bridge, I did learn about some covered bridge trivia. Like, why the heck are bridges covered anyway? Because Clint Eastwood looks sexier against a backdrop of barnlike bridges? Perhaps, but also because animals were easily fooled into thinking they were entering a barn rather than crossing a rushing river. Sneaky.

The first leg of my trip was great fun. I especially liked our meager fireworks show that consisted of one firework - one of those spinning triangles that you mount on a post. The show was made ever more exciting since teenaged Cousin Nick mounted the device on Aunt Cindy's birdfeeder tree, and due to circumstances beyond his control, when the device failed to spin, we found that it was aimed directly at the suet bag. And so, the one firework, which did not spin, but did shoot off lots of flames in 3 stationary directions, offered an opportunity for all of us to hold our breaths as we waited for the rope of the suet bag to burn through and fall to the ground triumphantly (as cheers marked the fall). That kind of reminded me of watching those carnival games with the water gun, the clown head and the balloon being blown to popping. But I, characteristically, digress.

Sailing is not really a breeze

2007-06-24T09:53:00.000-07:00

Growing up in Ohio, even in close proximity of Lake Erie, did not offer me a marine-friendly lifestyle. Trolling around on a motor boat was the closest I came to communing with the waves and fishes. But when M said he was getting a season pass to the Burlington Community Sailing Center on Lake Champlain and that he could take me out sailing one day, I of course jumped at the chance.

Romantic images of sailing boats, yachts and yacht clubs crossed my mind. Finally, I would have a suitable place to wear my Ralph Lauren navy blue dock shoes (so what if they were on sale at Marshalls). Oh, I imagined myself being able to lay out on the deck of the boat, getting some sun while Captain MacIntyre directed us gently over the waves and prevented too much spray from hitting me. My Jackie O fantasies were about to come true.

But, wait. What's this about flipping? Friday, Capt. Mac. and yours truly made our way up to the lakeshore only to find a red flag waving. Oh, so what, a little wind, boo hoo. But, alas, they were not letting anyone out on the lake. So, the good Capt. showed me what boat we would have sailed. Behold the 14' dinky vessel to the right. Oh, wait, I meant "dinghy." While pointing out all the little components and doo-hickeys onboard (a tour I half retained since we couldn't go out on the water anyway), he said of the weird plastic thing on top of the mast, "that's to prevent the boat from turtling." Huh?

Oh, Wikipedia, had I been automatically connected to you as soon as Capt. Mac. mentioned the term I would have learned: "Turtling is also a dinghy sailing term referring to when the boat is fully inverted ie the mast is pointing down to the seabed. This usually happens if a capsize is not righted fast enough."

Wait, I know that word capsize. That is not a good word. No one told me that word was part of sailing. And what of my dreams of laying out in the sun? Fat chance. I'd be working - not relaxing. Well, okay. How nice. I was relieved to be leaving the marina - and not so secretly happy that the red flag was flying. Oh, but time is a fast duller of fear, and the next day we decided that ditching out on Capt's highschool reunion and going sailing would be a better idea.

We arrived at the marina to find a yellow flag waving. Yes, like traffic lights, yellow is that weird inbetween stage of safety and disaster. Micum waved some little red book in front of their faces, which somehow is like the passport of sailing under windy conditions. While he got all the sails and whatnot together, I noticed one of the workers put up a green flag. Oh, thank goodness. This must mean calm water, right?

While the Capt. rigged the dinghy, I mustered up all my first (and only) mate prowess. Unfortunately, the only mate I know of is Bob Denver's Gilligan character. And we all know how helpful Gilligan was. And you know what, the Skipper was kind of a buffoon too. My morale was sinking somewhat quickly as the boat was towed down to the launch. I think it was sinking as quickly as the wind was blowing - which was surprisingly fast. The waves were also a little larger than I had expected for that nice green flag to be up.

Okay, but no backing down now. I was about to be the second in command on a two-person crew, and it looked as though it took 2 people to sail this contraption, so I better know what to do. Oh, but wait, what was I supposed to do. Hmmm, something about colored threads on the jib (that's the little front sail) and pulling on either side of the jib line. Wha? Oh, wait, we're off? Already?

The wind had filled both sails and we were rushing out into the breakwater fast. Like really fast. Like, I didn't know sailboats went this fast. And then the tipping began. WTF. It is counterintuitive to have one's dinky dinghy rolling so far over in the water and have that be a good thing. I of course, reasonably, may I add, presumed it was a bad thing and panicked. But, for the most part I panicked inwardly, because if I learned anything from Gilligan, it was to hide all the bad stuff going on until the very end of the episode - and especially hide it from the Skipper, who was always on the brink of a massive coronary and so any upsetting news, sounds, actions, or text might push him over (and then who would get us back to shore!?).

Meanwhile, Capt. Mac. who had uttered quite a few expletives while trying to dodge ships and the breakwater, seemed to be getting the hang of things even if I heard him saying things like, "Oh, shit, who has right of way? I can't remember!" We had a few scary tacks at first (that's where you turn the boat and catch the wind on the other side of your sails) followed by some rather scary moments where I remembered the word "capsize" but instead uttered the slang term for cow manure a couple of times.

But, then we were out in the open water and not around any boats or docks or large rocks (I was considering when we were barreling down on the restaurant dock how if we hit it I'd jump out and concoct a kidnapping story whilst ordering a rum, leaving the good Capt. on the rocks). Now, it was just us and the waves. Which were rather large. And, well, wet. I was soaked by this point and the boat had some water in it (don't worry, the marina supplies a nifty little Skymall worthy hand-powered bailing pump that looked a lot like a Tide detergent bottle with the bottom cut off). However, we were in open water and things felt much calmer.

An island loomed in the distance. "Oh, that's the island I was shipwrecked on!" cried the Capt. excitedly. Did I just hear him right? Did he just wait until we were out here to tell me about shipwrecking? Because I know that word too. And although Gilligan's Island was pretty cool, the prospects of spending the rest of my days on some island in Lake Champlain without the Professor, coconuts, or amazing lagoons, just did not sound appealing to me. After some later research, I've since learned that was Juniper Island, which has an old lighthouse on it (where the Capt. stayed overnight, wrapped in sails, whilst marooned as a child).

Suddenly, I had the urge to sing. The words that came to me..."So hoist up the john b's sail, See how the mainsail sets, Call for the captain ashore, Let me go home, let me go home, I wanna go home, yeah yeah, Well I feel so broke up, I wanna go home." Strangely, I couldn't remember the other verses except for something about someone eating all of my corn. So, I stuck with the "I wanna go home" refrain.

After tacking a few more times, we were able to head back to the marina, and after a botched attempt and a couple more expletives later, we literally crashed into the boat launch while managing to pin one of the land crew between our boat and the dock (he fell in while trying to stop us from crashing). Amazingly, the guy was totally nice about it. I marveled at how nice actually.

Sailing has always struck me as a hoity toity sport. I blame that stereotype on John Candy's Summer Rental, the 1980s story of a blue-collar father who just wants to give his family the best summer ever, but failing miserably in slapstick manner until he has the chance to redeem himself in the annual regatta, sailing the local fish shack's sloop that has sat moored in harbour, serving as a fish stick freezer chest for decades. A motley crew, John Candy was Skipper of (as pictured), and yet, they were able to beat the preppies and bring in a win. Oh, look, there's a Scotsman on John Candy's crew too!

Once in the car I realized how sore I was. I had lost all ability to grip anything, as I had been holding onto the jib's line for the couple hours we were out on the water - afraid to use the mechanical catch because what if I couldn't release it fast enough to slow us or tack. My legs were sore from bracing myself against opposite sides of the boat, and my back was sore from ducking beneath the boom the whole time. I can't believe people do this for pleasure and relaxation. Crazies!

But, I'm totally going out again next time I get the chance! The Capt. informs me that I'm a good first mate, and besides, when else can I really work on my sailor's mouth and feel so proud?

Whale Tales

2007-06-14T06:54:00.001-07:00

Well, back again, and I bet you thought I'd lead off my Sea World story with pictures of whales. Oh no. How else could I start off this story except with the Baywatch water ski show?? The Hoff and Pam had nothing on Ohio's version. Geauga Lake, a glacial lake about 50 feet deep, is always host of all kinds of lifeguard related crises. Come to think of it, only the Baywatch skiers ever went in the lake...hmm...

Speaking of the lake, I might as well relay the stupidest question that I got as a narrator at Sea World ever. I was working at the killer whale tank - oh, I mean "habitat,"
and a woman came up to me and asked where the tunnel was. Upon asking what tunnel she referred to, she looked at me like I was from Mars and said, well the one that connects this pool to the lake! Wha?! I'm not sure how I maintained composure, but I calmly explained to her things like freshwater versus saltwater, controlled environments, etc. It was amazing.

So, narrating. It was basically the best job in the park below the animal care and training staff. Oh, and the pearl divers, who were pretty much beautiful casino workers, collecting the buckets guests paid for and retrieving oysters from the bottom of their 30' deep pool. Supposedly 30' deep. How deep was that pool anyway?

Oh, right, narrating. While everyone else in the park got to wear polo shirts, we had to wear really crazy button down safari shirts that never did lose any of its starch for the whole summer. We each had our own microphone and traveled around the park to 8 different exhibits with 30min shifts at each exhibit. We were supposed to 1) lecture, 2) answer questions, and 3) babysit the visitors. For instance, take a look at this pic of the Bottlenose dolphin touch pool - good ol' Dolphin Cove. We had 2 stations here - one up on the rocks far away from the people, and another walking around among the guests. Each narrator had a microphone, and commonly we would play the audience like Sally Jesse Raphael (this was the 90s people - none of that crazy midget love triangles yet on tv) - asking and answering questions and commentating like we were hosting the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Anyway, take note of that photo - see all those arms extending out over the pool, I mean habitat? See sunglasses and hats and cameras about to fall into the water? Yup. See the dolphins' blowholes? Why the childhood penchant for wanting to always stick fingers in blowholes? Didn't the kids just listen to me talking about how that's how the dolphins breathe!? Would you want someone sticking their fingers up your nose, kid?

Oh, sorry, getting carried away. Well, in addition to fingers in blowholes, hands near teeth, and personal objects being snatched away by the dolphins, I learned that midwesterners sure love to throw pennies into pools of water. Every day a new penny would appear in the pool, and sure enough, Bailey, our favorite ADD afflicted dolphin troublemaker would pick that penny up, spot one of us (remember, crazy safari shirts=narrators and dolphins=smart), show us the penny on his tongue, make his cute little dolphin squeak and then jump back out of reach. Ah, the fun penny game. But, it had nothing on the early morning Star Spangled Banner game.

If you were lucky enough to be opening Dolphin Cove and got there before the park opened (which always opened right after playing the national anthem for some reason), you were in for a treat - a special game of hide and seek. You'd saunter over to the far edge of the pool where all the dolphins would be waiting, then you'd duck down and run across to the other end and pop back up - the dolphins would do the same (but, you know, swimming) and then splash you. Such fun!

In addition to killer whales (the largest member of the dolphin family) and bottlenose dolphins (who are trained by the military to seek out underwater mines and have worked, untrained, with fisherman for centuries to net fish), we also narrated the sea lion and seal tank, er, habitat. While the seals and sea lions were all rescue animals from Cali and Boston (and who we could hear barking back at our house), the stars of the Pirates of Pinniped show, Clyde and Seymour, make for a better picture. Even though Baywatch was up there, the sea lion, walrus and otter show was always my favorite.

Then there was the Penguin Encounter - a glassed in Antarctic environment with a people mover (yes, that's the proper word for those flat escalators at airports) and insane clown music. The penguins always prompted such thoughtful questions like, "Are they alive?" yes. "Are those robots?" no. "Why is it so dark in there?" because penguins live in the southern hemisphere, which means that it's winter when it's summer in Ohio, and because they're so close to the pole, the days are very short, and thus, the whole exhibit is in a night winter for our entire summer.

There were also temperate weather penguins (Galapagos) at the Patagonia Passage exhibit. Those always threw people for a loop: "Why are those penguins out here in the 80 degree heat?!"

The sharks were my favorite though. My absolute favorite. Why? Because people are captivated by sharks, don't know much about them but think they do, and because the exhibit was indoors and air conditioned. Here you can see one of the sharks in the exhibit. You can tell it's a fast moving shark because its second dorsal fin is much smaller than its first. Schools of fish were also in the tank and people were always curious why the sharks wouldn't eat the fish. Once, after I finished explaining why the sharks wouldn't eat the fish for the zillionth time, I looked behind me and saw one of the lemon sharks swipe a grouper and look right at me. Grrr.

Well, Sea World Ohio is no more, but fun times were definitely had - lots of drama among the narrators and between departments with brilliant summer love triangles and parties out in Kent. And some trainer swooning thrown in for good measure. It was my first taste of public education, and I want to thank Anheuser Busch for giving me that opportunity. Beer + whales + learning + embarrassing safari shirts = fun summers.

Summer is not for work

2007-06-12T06:10:00.000-07:00

I remember when summer meant walking over to Geauga Lake with my season pass in hand and riding on the old wooden Big Dipper all day (seriously, we're talking at least a dozen times in a row). Today, let's just say no amusement parks for me. Well, I thought I'd dedicate this post to good ol' Geauga Lake - summertime playground for middle schoolers - and summer workplace for highschoolers.

Although Geauga Lake opened as a park in 1888, the Big Dipper (see pic), its first roller coaster, wasn't built until 1925. With a first hill of 65' and 2800' of track, it was the largest roller coaster of its time. A couple years later the park opened an Olympic sized swimming pool on the lake, followed by Willie Stribling's boxing camp and a race track (now home to Target and Home Depot!). Speaking of depots - this is a pic of the Geauga Lake depot that would bring wealthy Clevelanders out to the countryside for their holiday.

In 1926, a handcarved wooden carousel by MC Illions - the same one I would ride in my summers - replaced the steam powered carousel from 1889. Strangely enough there are only a few carousels of Illions remaining - and another one is located at the Six Flags here in Springfield, Mass. Hearkening back to my American folk art gallery days, during which I was introduced to the carousel enthusiasts' world, Illions was the famous master carver of Coney Island - and his horses were always detailed in lots of gold leaf and tons of rhinestones. A Liberace of carousel makers if you will.

During the Big Band era, Geauga Lake's ballroom hosted Guy Lombardo and Shep Fields, who I didn't know when I was in 6th grade, and still don't have any appreciation for. I guess at some point a bowling alley and skating rink was built too. But, it wasn't until the 1970s that the park started transforming into what I could recognize as my playground. The Merry Oldies car ride - basically Model Ts on a little concrete track with a center rail and come to think of it no brakes! Now, that couldn't have been historically correct. Oh, and the Gold Rush log ride. Nothing like riding around in a giant acrylic log and barreling down into a vat of water and leaving the ride looking like you just wet yourself.

I remember in the '80s a big addition being the Wave, which was a really sketchy pool with huge sides that would release a giant 6 foot wave every 5 minutes. No one left that pool with skin still attached to their shins. I think that the designers forgot that at the beach, soft, sandy ocean bottoms made riding waves fun. Chlorinated waves attacking 100s of swimmers in an enclosed box with a concrete bottom only spelled disaster. I was scared shitless of the Wave. I remember Turtle Beach was where the fun was at for my little sis - little wading pools with weird toadstools spitting water and coconuts dumping water on your head as you tubed around. That was cute and definitely more my speed. Oh, and what of the Stingray - the giant waterslide that broke peoples ankles and whatnot. I noticed that's not listed on Six Flag's timeline.

Well, my last trips to the park were at Octoberfest years ago - right when the Texas Twister was introduced. What's better than eating Bavarian treats and then going on a ride that marries the action of a back and forth swing with a rolling log that you sit in! Hilarity and vomit would no doubt ensue.

Today I don't recognize the park at all what with all the newfangled colored steel contraptions. But, the trip down memory lane sure was fun. I promise that a recalling of my days working across the lake at Sea World will soon follow - dolphins, hot male divers, sea lions dressed up as pirates, Capuchin monkeys, and awesome Safari shirts defined my later summers. Who knew Ohio would be home to such surreal summers. And now, back to the real world....

Front Porch Season

2007-05-23T14:29:00.000-07:00

After doing a little reading, I've come to the conclusion that my questionable green thumb may be to blame for the flowering of the giant wisteria on my porch. That is, it hasn't bloomed until I got here. Since I surely haven't done anything to help it, I've concluded that this is the wisteria's death march. That is, the plant knows it has met its match with me - and thus, it's now or never to propagate. Spread seed now, or die under the watch of your new guardian.

Regardless of what made the wisteria bloom this season, this is only the beginning as many more shoots and buds have appeared along the upper reaches of the vines. I wonder if the vines are contemporary to the original owners/builders of the house. This is Chinese wisteria, which was popularized in the 1830s in US gardens, and as the Oriental craze grew during the Victorian period, it would become a mainstay in Victorian gardens before taking to the wild as an invasive species. Older plants will have a gnarled trunk several inches in diameter (a plant in Japan was once measured at 32 feet circumference!) - and this trunk is definitely at least 8" in diameter.

The blooms helped me make up my mind about the porch's color scheme and what to do with the adjacent flowerbed that is overrun with daffodils and ostrich plumes. I splurged on some hostas (purple blooms), a white bleeding heart, and a purple Jacob's ladder to break up the front bed. I transplanted some of the ostrich plumes to fill in some holes and then weeded out the trailers among the daffodils. Hopefully that will keep things a little neater. The porch containers are now going to be full of white and coral impatiens, deep purple and coral salvia, coral gerbera daisies, and various shady green/purple leafy things. I'm even considering a hanging fuschia, but haven't decided yet. Oh, and I finally transplanted my jade to a large pot because somehow I've managed to not kill it after all these years.
More documentation of the backyard gardens will follow - plus pictures of the chicks and their new coop!

May Day Celebration in Montague

2007-05-06T09:06:00.000-07:00

The town common was buzzing this morning, and I arrived as the entire town was joining in song around the maypole. Face painting, flower bedecking, and Morris dancing preceded the maypole dance. Although I couldn't spend all day out on the green (and indeed should be working on my independent study right this moment), I was able to take a few pictures of the annual event (now in its 23rd year).

I spotted some giant puppets on the green and new immediately that my landlord/housemate, Gabe, was behind such creations. Sure enough, I tracked her and Al down as well as some of the smaller puppets.

I learned a bit about English folk dancing including Rapper dancing - here performed by 5 women with musical accompaniment. The women are holding rapper swords, which have 2 handles and are flexible. The women maintain a single chain the entire dance, which is a fairly fast-paced jig.

The dance itself originates from the northeast section of England in the villages of Northumberland and Durham, which were major coal mining towns during the 19th century. Working and living conditions were harsh and the dance is thought to be an expression of the solidarity among the working class. Traditionally, these dances were performed by men. Montague, of course, is very progressively minded.

After the first maypole dance, a high-energy group of Morris dancers took the green. One of you may even be able to spot a husband of one of our newly minted PhD's (congrats, Marge!).

Many believe that Morris dancing has pagan roots, and maypole festivals often feature Morris dancing. According to a website on the subject: "The dancers who wear mostly white and skip a lot are dancing the original Cotswold (the hills where the River Thames in London springs from) Morris Dance, but there are other styles where the followers where black, different colour sashes and stomp around more rather than skip."

A single concertina accompanied the men's bells strapped to their calves. The Morris dancing websites I visited insisted that such dancing was never done within a quick walking distance of a pub. It's unsurprising then that I received a flyer advertising free music and continued dancing at the Lady Killigrew cafe and pub just down the street. Unfortunately, I do need to be getting back to work, although the "Food! Beer!" promised on the flyer does sound good...Happy May!

We came, we saw, we did not conquer

2007-05-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

Well, the Ethics Bowl team made it to Austin and had a great time competing - even if we lost to Brown. The experience was fun and the preparation was the most enriching part. We were able to tease apart some really sticky ethical dilemmas and think our way through and around them - which was the important part. Here's team ethics to the left: Katie, moi, Kimberly, and Siobhan. Not pictured is Coach Wobst - who was an integral part of getting us there and preparing. More Austin stories will be coming soon...

Submitted!

2007-03-14T08:22:00.000-07:00

Behold: the finished Masters Portfolio. Check out those snazzy tabs on the side - here's a closeup:
Today, I'll be handing this little baby over to the department following the submission of the remaining pieces to my committee last night via email. Let's just hope I can get a meeting scheduled soon and move on to PhD land!

Quaintness becomes me

2007-03-06T16:00:00.000-08:00

For Christmas I indulged in a few different magazine subscriptions. When, pray tell, would I have the time to read magazines? Well, I made a deal with myself - I could only read my magazines if I got up first thing in the morning and walked on my treadmill. This was my capitulation to the warring internal factions that had pretty much thrown a coup and declared that running sucked. Granted, when spring arrives and that wonderfully damp, musty, springy smell creeps in through my windows (that hopefully will still open), I'm sure the pro-running faction will regain ground. But, for now, in the dead of negative whatever degree windchill, [fast] walking first thing in the morning is the best I can do. Um, while I'm reading magazines.

Okay, so what's with the crazy golden picture? Well, my 1 faithful reader from Ohio (hi mom! and maybe fristina?) will recognize that instantly as the West Side Market in Cleveland. This morning while working out the kinks in my calves (global warming trivia: did you know that "calf" is also the term for a chunk of ice that has separated from a larger iceberg? as in, "Oh look, honey, that iceberg just had another calf!"), I was flipping through Cottage Living (hey, I figure that living in a third of an 1865 farmhouse constitutes cottage living) stumbled upon a write up on Ohio City (the near-west side of Cleveland). I had no idea that Ohio City had gentrified itself (as the article described). Anywho, you can read it online. But, I loved the picture of the West Side Market - a place that is always a treat to go to with my Mom around the holidays to pick up Russian deli meats, Amish dairy, fresh fish (yes, Cleveland does get fish!), and Polish baked goods. I love that the market, built in the early 20th century, is still standing and still serves food from independent stands.

Which brings me to a sad bit of news: Table & Vine is closing. This will only mean anything to those who are from Noho and appreciate fine wine, sausage, olive oil, and chocolate with earl grey mixed in. They do have a couple bottles left of 1968 Boal Madeira (a 2005 Christmas present from M - or was it birthday? I dunno anymore) - so, if anyone feels like dropping me a couple Franklins, I'd be happy to help with the inventory closeout.

Ah, but a good bit of wine-related news: as a thank you for the work I've done as the Society for American Archaeology's 2007 Program Coordinator/Sidekick to the Chair, E gifted me a very exciting bottle of real champagne. I'm really really grateful, as champagne has got to be my ultimate spirit indulgence (you have to finish it all in one "sitting" although about halfway through I'm typically prancing around the house giggling). This is a bottle of Egly-Ouriet champagne - well known in the region of Ambonnay, and also one of the few growers that doesn't filter the wine. Each bottle is stamped with the amount of time spent "en cave" (on their yeasts) - mine says "42 mois." The grapes come from vines 40+ years old, and are 100% pinot meunier. I read one description that said "spicy, meaty and extremely vinous." I'll let you know what "vinous" tastes like once I've indulged.

Common Man Woos Successfully

2007-02-20T15:11:00.000-08:00

Saturday night M treated me to a lovely dinner at The Common Man in Warren, VT. Heady from having received a bouquet of roses earlier (red and white with pink tips), it didn't take much to send me over the edge of smitten - but The Common Man exceeded expectations in various ways.

First, the atmosphere was amazing - old post and beam barn with fieldstone fireplace. Luckily, we got a fireside table (and it was a real wood burning fireplace - no electric or gas). Benches wrapped the perimeter of the barn with a ring a bistro tables. Everything was very cozy. Second, we stayed for three hours - and never once felt rushed. In fact, the overall pace of the restaurant seemed quite relaxed, and yet we never felt like we were waiting for food or drink. Third, their wine menu was much to our liking. M picked out an Owen Roe something or other, which he and the waitress talked about for a bit. I was lost in cold medicine haze. The wine was very good - smoky and peppery, but not overpowering. Fourth, the food was amazing. The flavors cut through the sick taste that's been hanging out in my mouth for the past week.
Here's our menu:

Wild Cape Cod Mussels with tomato, chorizo and applewood smoked bacon (these mussels were HUGE!)
Red and golden beet salad with field greens, red onion and goat cheese
M's entree: sauteed VT quail, goat cheese beignets, whipped gold potatoes, and butter basted root veggies
mine: pan seared day boat scallops, savory bacon chive spoon bread, crispy shoestring potatoes and fresh herb nage

We had after dinner drinks (I had brandy and he had port), but no dessert. I do admit that the dessert offerings were a bit lacking - lemon tart in winter? Is that typical? I could have gone for a deep dish apple something or other. M followed up with french silk ice cream when we got home a few hours later. I don't know where he fit it...

Snow, hyper-domestication, and SkyMall

2007-02-19T05:58:00.000-08:00

It's about time winter arrived. Here's a view of my street upon waking and learning we had a snow day (the best way to kick start winter). People proceeded to X-country ski and snowshoe down the streets all day. I stayed in and finished my two freezer-ready chicken pot pies (latest Cook's Country recipe) and a huge batch of slow-cooked beef stew (also Cook's Country) with Guinness and chocolate.

Unfortunately, I was so sick that the intense smell of the beef stew made me really nauseous and I couldn't eat any of it. I had a banana for dinner instead.

On Friday I drove up to Montpelier where they had twice as much snow as us if not more. Skiers were happy - 4' of new powder in Stowe. M and I stayed at the Jay St. house since his folks are in the Bahamas (they will have fun digging out their car and garbage can when they get home - karma for the tropical fun?). Streets were basically single lanes with huge snow piles everywhere. I was still suffering from a major head cold/bronchial horribleness, so no winter sports for me (happily). Instead, I stayed in watching TV that I don't have in Mass. and grading papers.

I love the Jay St. home. It's a sweet Victorian with the original maple woodwork everywhere - now chock full of antiques and quilts handmade by C. However, there are two new fixtures in the house that I can't help but comment upon. Apologies to M who is glad that these items are relegated to bedrooms upstairs and away from the public eye.

First, the electric woodstove. Oxymoronic to a fault? Perhaps. The fact that it has a separate "heat" function from its "ambiance" function is testimony to the state of home decor needs in this country. I don't even understand how it works, other than with light and mirrors. But, it is a sweet addition to the reading room upstairs, so I can somewhat understand its presence.

However, I cannot understand this one.

This is the Brookstone iGallop. I find it really troubling. Of all the weird, gimmicky exercise equipment pieces out there shown on late night tv, I think this takes the obscenity award. I especially like how the speed controls are in the form of pictures of horses trotting, galloping, and cantering. I think C should auction this off to a UVM frat house as an electric riding bull for their keg parties. I was tempted to make a garland for its neck so C could come home to a Belmont Stakes winner.

You say goodbye and I say hello

2007-02-08T15:12:00.000-08:00

I will certainly miss the ol' subaru...
But my new Honda has an awesome engrishy slogan that must have hailed directly from Japan: Fit is go!

Proving my domestic worth

2007-02-07T06:21:00.000-08:00

Does this picture even need describing? Obviously this is a successful baking attempt at white bread. Look at the perfect crust glistening in the 60 watt reveal lightbulb on my microwave. Behold the interior of the loaf - dense, yet fluffy with enough air pockets - but not too many so as to prevent the bread from being the perfect vehicle for butter.

This was my Monday afternoon/night activity - 2 loaves of milk bread made by hand. Yes, 6 cups of flour mixed with milk and yeast by hand until the carpal tunnel pains set in. I decided to freeze the more perfectly (is that even possible?) formed loaf so that I can bring it out when next I have company. But, for this loaf, its fate is destined for sopping up the homemade split pea soup I made on Sunday (which I took pictures of but there's no way to take an appetizing photo of puke green food).

Land of Milk and Honey

2007-01-25T06:31:00.000-08:00

I finally got around to making my first batch of yogurt. I have been convinced for awhile that grocery store brands have gotten progressively worse over time. The plain yogurts are too tangy in a chemically way, and the flavored yogurts are so fake tasting - most are too sweet and they all coat the tongue in a freaky way. Stonyfield used to make a fairly decent yogurt until they were bought by Dannon, after which they just tasted like Dannon. There used to be really good plain yogurt served with fruit on the bottom - but I don't know what happened to those varieties. Yogurt certainly is not the same thing that it was when I was growing up.

Hence my desire for a yogurt maker for Christmas - which my parents got me (thanks!). Strangely, the instructions are fairly sparse for something that seems to rely upon a modicum of precision (as this is a sciencey type of thing that needs to happen - you're fermenting milk here...). You have some basic decisions to make about your recipe: what milk to use, what starter to use, and whether to include powdered milk and/or flavoring. For my first batch I decided to try organic 1% milk and 6oz of Fage 2% Greek yogurt. Before I started experimenting with texture (powdered milk) or flavor (honey, etc.), I wanted to get a base that was dependable, low in fat, and yet really really good.

Well, yogurt takes a lot longer to make than I had realized. I learned that Fage has the least variety of probiotics, and thus takes the longest to culture. It took me two 8 hr sessions to achieve yogurt. Oh, but the yogurt! It's amazing. It's creamy and mild without any weird chemical sting or texture - just pure dairy and bacteria. I've been having it for lunch with honey, walnuts and banana (as shown) - and yes, that is a tasting sheet under the bowl - I want to record my experiments (scientific method, you know?).

One of the great things about the yogurt maker is that it makes 7 6oz servings in little glass jars that you can cap and put in your fridge. Because they're already divided up into single servings, there's no need to worry about portion control - just grab a jar and a spoon and you're good to go. I think I'll stick with the 1% organic milk for the next batch but now use the plain water buffalo yogurt that is my ultimate favorite dairy product in the entire grocery store (Edy's slow churned light ice cream may be next...).

Recent Bakes

2007-01-17T06:36:00.000-08:00

True to my spoken to self new years word, I've been baking much more. Here is a photo of my most recent three attempts.

To the far left you can see a piece of naan that I made following a recipe in the new Indian cookbook I got for cheap at Ross's down in NC. I had no idea, but naan is a leavened bread, which meant that I was back to real bread baking. The starter for this bread was yeast in milk with sugar.

I made my first batch, carefully measuring the temperature of my milk (the cookbook is sadly devoid of details such as how warm "warm" means - but, you can basically count on 105 - 115 degrees). After 10 minutes my starter wasn't as frothy as I would have liked it. In fact there was maybe one bubble. Now, the old me would have thought "Eh, it will be fine!" but the new, reformed baking me knew better. Yeast is cheap enough. Out went that batch and a new batch, started in a smaller vessel for easier dissolving and slower cooling was used. The second batch was perfect! A foamy head of beer-smelling yeast in milk was awaiting.

Mixing and kneading is not that big of a deal for me. I generally enjoy it unless it's a really sticky dough. This dough was very easy to work with - fairly dry too. Again, the cookbook didn't specify how long I should knead for, so I think I just stopped when I felt like it. I placed the lump in the mixing bowl and covered it for proofing. Dough proofing in winter in New England is fairly difficult. The steam radiators weren't on at that particular moment, so I couldn't set them on there. So, after seeing the lack of progress I was making in my room temp environment, I set my oven to warm and let it proof in there. After forty minutes my dough had doubled and I was ready to roll (literally!).

By this time b-lythe was over for some gossip and tv time. I was gabbing with her while rolling, and I noticed that the dough was quite elastic. I should have worked with it a bit more, but I was afraid of rolling too thin and making it hard to transfer to the baking sheet. I also have no idea what shape you should roll your dough to get 6 slipper shapes. I cut weird half moons instead. The bread came out great - but too thick. Plus, I should have given in and smothered it in ghee to get the nice browned spots that you get in Indian restaurants. B-lythe and I still chowed down with leftover lamb and lentils and basmati rice.

Friday afternoon was spent hanging with J and his new xbox 360 and flat screen tv and formation 34 of his audio system. I decided to bake ginger cookies from Chocolate & Zucchini's site. Oh my, heavenly. So good I saved half the batch for myself.

Sunday I had plans to go to Chez Albert for brunch with M and C. However, budgetary reasons prevented such a trip and instead I was invited over to the loaf. Not wanting to go empty handed, I decided to whip up an apple coffee cake from Simply Recipes. I quickly mixed all the ingredients, sliced my apple, and threw it all together - 25 minutes later and now with my makeup on, I was ready to roll out of the house with a beautiful cake with a crisp crust feeling like quite the baking diva.

Good TV Still Exists

2007-01-13T19:15:00.000-08:00

Just not on your TV.
If only I could get 7 more treadmills and 3 friends together...

Because James Blunt wasn't really saying "Beautiful..."

Passing on the Pierogi Tradition

2007-01-13T14:45:00.000-08:00

While visiting my grandparents after Christmas, my mom and I made it a point to learn how to make pierogies. The recipe is one followed by heart, and when written reflects this (i.e. no directions on how long to knead, how to cook the beef filling - how much filling to make, etc.). So, it was up to us to learn by observing and participating.

Making pierogies with my Grandma is not a leisurely, rainy day activity. Yes, it was rainy, but Grandma was a machine, combining dough, kneading, rolling out and cutting it into perfect circles without nary a wink. I took over as stuffer and pincher. My mom was the boiler. My Grandpa made periodic rounds in the kitchen offering kind words of encouragement like a drill sergeant on the second day of boot camp.

Here I am stuffing one of 200 pierogies we made in all. Yes, that's a huge bowl of shredded beef shank. On the far right edge you can see the pierogi press that we used to seal the pinched edge (that's what makes the perfect ridges). The novelty wore off around pierogi 40, but I was able to persevere and enjoyed in a share of the pierogies (which were divided up among my mom and her sisters).

I'm thinking of making a vegetarian version and having the knitting gals help out in another marathon pierogi session complete with gossip, sour cream, and a skillet going so we can partake as we pinch...

I can do wholesome.

2006-12-28T15:00:00.000-08:00

Christmas with my family in Ohio means that my mother goes crazy making 17 varieties of cookies (the white chocolate macaroons are my favorite this year), that my cat has to try to integrate with my parents' pets (we have a homemade cat door made out of an old Marlboro sign from my parent's store that keeps the dog out of the guest bedroom), that my dad gets really frustrated whenever we need to go anywhere because he's waiting on three women to get ready (at the last minute, I decided I had no clothes for Xmas eve and raided my mom's closet, adding to tension), and that we thoroughly enjoy a spectacular Xmas eve at the Colebrook's complete with games, lotto tickets, and the annual play that features a part for each person attending (rsvp's are esp. important). The Colebrook's is really a great time. Each year we get a family portrait in front of the 12' tree. This year, big sis and bro-n-law were late, so our portrait features the rest of us.

The reading of the play is a definite highlight of the evening. Typically there is some theme, such as last year, which featured Mrs. Colebrook in the role of Mrs. Clause as she was celebrated by the rest of us (she does all the fabulous cooking). This year the play was full of puns on every Xmas song imaginable. To the right you can see Mom, lil' sis, and me gathered around the bar (as usual, I suppose) ready to jump in when it's our turn.

We also had an orchestra this year. Mr. Colebrook had received a package of horns and sheet music. When he asked if anyone wanted to conduct, no one volunteered, but I meekly offered that I read sheet music. So, I was conductor. Turns out it was all done by numbers anyway. Luckily, I was sober enough that I could conduct a couple tunes.

For the brave, the entire family Xmas album is available on my website (click "next" in the top left to move to the next pic).

A Birthday Rug

2006-12-28T14:42:00.000-08:00

It only took me until December to finish my first knitting project, started in March, but finished it is! It's not blocked or pieced properly, but I don't think J would know the difference. I don't have final measurements, but it makes a very nice foot rug for the side of his bed. I'll also have you know that the raspberry yarn matches his duvet perfectly. J is not afraid of a raspberry duvet. That and I think he acknowledges some color blindness.

Club Energy Rocks the Mullet

2006-12-26T06:29:00.000-08:00

Imagine a dive beneath my usual dive haunts in Noho. One at which the bartenders not only looked quizzically at me when I ordered club soda with a dash of bitters (ok, I can forgive them of that) but also didn't recognize "citron" when I finally allowed someone to buy me a drink. The poor guy came back to me four times to get clarification. I eventually got absolut with lots of lemons.

I learned on Friday night that Ohio recently passed a statewide law banning smoking in all public places. However, the law has no teeth yet as there are no punishments for a few more months. Therefore, places choose to enforce based upon audience support, which really amounts to a class-based type of dichotomy. Let us take Friday night as an example...

N and I, after a long day of last minute xmas shopping (an annual tradition with us), xmas gift wrapping, and family gossiping, decided to go out in Chagrin Falls. However, on the way over we made a little stop off at the Patio. The Patio is a little hole in the wall in the middle of Auburn down the street where N's fam used to live. We've always been curious what's inside, so we finally decided to satisfy those curiosities. Lucky for us, it was karaoke night as well.

Whereas the dive bars I (used to) frequent in Noho are clearly bars - they have large bars set into an atmosphere that cries $1.75 pabst (or whatever it is, B-lythe), the Patio felt like someone's basement complete with glass block windows, Nascar light-up wall hangings, and a short (formica was it?) topped bar. Everyone's hair was directly out of the 80s. And we're not talking New Wave or Punk 80s. I'm talking big bangs and feathering that wasn't done by a razor. The bartender (who was briefly flummoxed by my citron and soda request) was wearing a black shirt with a sweetheart neckline (read, heart-shaped with the crevice of the heart mirroring the natural decolletage of the female form. Now, imagine the crevice of the heart extending down to the belly-button, threatening to break the heart asunder if it weren't for the rhinestone chains holding the heart, and consequently, the breasts, together. Classy broad that one.).

Karaoke is always a blast. Whereas I'm used to Karaoke Death Squad and haunts such as the Bishop's Lounge, the Patio offered a different variety of karaoke. One man sang "Maria." You know, "Maria, Maria, Maaaarrrrriiiaaa!" Another sang Bob Seeger. Anyway, point is, there were ashtrays all around, and it was clear one could light one up if interested.

We moved on to Chagrin. Outside of the Raintree a man who looked like he was ready for the golf course (tartan pants was it?) instructed us to go to Hyde Park. We didn't make it. Instead we stopped off at some new place - 89 or something? Anyway, it was a wine, cheese, and martini bar decorated as though from 19th century in France. This was right up N's and my alley, what with my pompous New England lifestyle and his pompous LA film industry lifestyle...But, I digress. It was clear there was to be no smoking inside this joint. Instead, we lazed around on the velvet covered window seats sipping Mourvedre and dreaming up get-rich somewhat quick schemes about internet media. Ah, how much less depressing last call in Chagrin is than in Hugo's.

Okay, so Club Energy. This establishment has three bars located throughout the huge room. There's a sunken dance floor ringed with booths and benches and then, stepped up, another ring of booths. On the outer ring are pool tables and higher bar tables. Everyone and their mother was smoking. And when I use that expression, I'm using it literally. It really looked like mothers were there. In fact, a father-mother couple were dancing during the song "pussy" something and the man was singing along to the whole thing! Wha?

First off, white trash can't dance. It's true (although one girl clearly worked at a strip club and was teaching her girlfriends how to throw their legs over a partner's shoulder and hump them). But, secondly, white trash doesn't care, which makes for some awesome entertainment. Third, white trash females wear some scary outfits that move and reveal certain things when being danced in.

This was sisters' night out as big sis and I were checking out lil' sis's new apartment (very cute) in Cuyahoga Falls (yes, as in the Pretenders' song..."I went back to Ohio..."). Some of her male friends met us at the club. Unfortunately, the music was so loud that conversing was a lost cause. Big sis was not entertained. She sat scowling the whole time until the smoke got too bad and we had to leave. But lil' sis and I were highly amused. We even got up and danced during "Sexy Back," which I've had much practice doing thanks to B-lythe. Unfortunately, no Timberlake look-alikes were there for the taking. Alas, we were easily the classiest girls there, even with me wearing my slut boots with jeans tucked in! I look forward to exploring more of Akron upon my return from NC..."Go head, be gone with it."

End of semester food gluttony

2006-12-24T07:14:00.000-08:00

As I've written before whenever I feel like cooking something complicated, I'll either choose French or Indian food. Typically if I also want my kitchen to smell good, I'll opt for the Indian. Since I needed to get rid of the moldy clementine smell that had suddenly sprouted while I was away at school, I decided to make a big dish of chicken vindaloo.

Vindaloo is my favorite Indian dish - it's traditionally made with pork, but I've only had lamb, fish and chicken at the local restaurants (pork is never offered in Indian restaurants I've been to). Vindaloo is a dish that comes from Goa, a small state on the west coast of India, which was a Portuguese colony for 450 years. The food of that region thus mixes the two cultures in unique ways - usually resulting in rather fiery flavors.

I've seen many vindaloo recipes, but my favorite is definitely in the book 10,000 Indian Recipes, which instructed one to make a paste and a curry powder to begin. Unfortunately, I had to give that book back to the Pelham library a long time ago, so I decided to do some more searching around the web and ended up combining a few different recipes. Although the result was still good - it wasn't nearly as tasty as my favorite.

Common to all vindaloos is a reliance upon vinegar and red chilies for flavoring. After that, a range of spices can be thrown in - cardamon (black and green), allspice, turmeric, curry powder, different marsalas, mustard, etc. The dish is accompanied with a fragrant rice (I prefer making rice with cardamon pods, whole black pepper, and a bit of turmeric), and I like to have naan bread and a bit of yogurt on the side to cut the heat. I'm still experimenting, so in the meantime I'll keep pushing my vindaloos on my friends (both JS and b-lythe sampled this rendition).

For my last weekend in town I wanted to make a field trip to my old stomping grounds in Great Barrington. Yes, I wanted to see the area, but really, I wanted to eat out (the trip also gave JS an excuse to take the sports car out for one last drive before garaging). It was an easy choice because there are so many great options, so you can't really go wrong. I decided upon Helsinki for lunch and The Dreamaway Lodge for dinner.

I spent a lot of time at Helsinki in college because my roommate was manager there for awhile. Their borscht is to die for on a cold winter day. The Helsinki salad is a great vehicle for their tamari basil dressing. I was pleased that there were still some older dishes on the new menu - including the Midnight Train to Moscow, which features apple sausage with a blueberry compote.

The Dreamaway is always a trip - this time they actually had a printed menu (but no bears in the yard)! We went to the early seating (6:15), and got there a little early so we enjoyed a pre-dinner drink next to the fireplace in the music room (sweet vermouth with a twist for me and a ruby red vesper for JS) while chatting with some of the other guests. Dinner was (for me): butternut squash soup, prime rib, salad (AFTER the entree!), and chocolate satin pie. We then waddled into the music room to enjoy some live folk music around the fire. Such fun! I know this is a place that Siobhlogger and Big T would love - esp. on Wednesday night which is open mic - so bring your banjo, T! Oh, and make reservations a few days in advance.

Now I'm back in Ohio, and so catching up on my blogging. Coming up will be a post documenting the sisters' night out last night in Akron. We went to "Club Energy" where we were anticipating a Sharks/Jets dance off between the white hats and the rednecks. But, we had to settle for watching the mullet woman and co. I'm not used to seeing mullets around that AREN'T ironic...Ahhh...fun times!

Wha?

2006-12-14T05:45:00.000-08:00

A good amount of my $30k/year undergraduate education went towards instilling in me an uncanny knack for critiquing culture. I have, for the most part, steered clear of such ramblings on this blog. But, I just can't ignore the latest McDonald's commercials that are playing out here. You know the one - the 2 black guys, the ambiguous brown/Latino? guy, and the Asian guy on the couch playing video games? Yeah, and the one black guy is eating the new McDonald's "Snack Wrap" which somehow prevents him from being a total wuss like the other guys? I just can't let this one go. Why? Because it's so clear that McD's was really trying to zone in on a particular target audience here: hetero male minorities. First, we've got the actual snack - you can almost hear the marketing/food "creators" at McD's sitting around the boardroom table -
"hey guys, but how can we get our African American AND Latino customers in one fell swoop?"
"oh - I know, Bob, how about, fried chicken, wrapped - WAIT FOR IT - in a tortilla!"
"brilliant!"
"and how about some ranch dressing on that!"
"i'm lovin' it!"

Wha? Fried chicken, smothered in cheddar jack (what the hell is cheddar jack anyway?) cheese and ranch dressing with iceburg lettuce shreds wrapped in a tortilla? Um...ok.

Furthermore, I like how they throw the Asian kid playing the video game in the commercial. "But how do we reach our Asian market?"

Watch for the upcoming raw fish hash brown roll that will attempt to get the Japanese and Jewish markets at once.

Gifting

2006-11-30T07:40:00.000-08:00

With the holidays approaching so begins the dual anxieties of trying to finish the semester AND purchasing gifts for friends and family. What do you people want? Why can't you tell me? This is your one time of year to whine to me about what you need - so get to it!

I have happily reciprocated by creating an online wish list. You can view it here on the blog (in the menu on the left side of the screen) as well as by going to The Things I Want website. I encourage you all to start up your own lists - it's sooo much fun. You can browser shop and just by clicking a button it will be added to your wish list - poof! Like magic! My list will grow as I while away more and more time online practicing the refined art of procrastination.

The Wolf's Know Food, Drink, and Art

2006-11-28T06:59:00.000-08:00

I had a great time at the Wolf's for Thanksgiving. In fact, I'm pretty sure I gained about 10 pounds from all the food and sedentariness (let's hear it for real cable!). The festivities were kicked off with a pre-dinner scotch on Wednesday. One of the great things about parents is their penchant for buying in bulk. Not only do they claim they get better values, but that they also have room to store the 200 rolls of toilet paper. Case in point is the handle of Glenlivet that Pa Wolf had in the cabinet. I didn't even know that 12 yr single malt came in a handle (note, "handle" is the technical term for half a gallon of alcohol).

While swirling and sipping our scotches (on the rocks with no water, mind you), Pa Wolf decided to don his Professor hat and grade the exam of a student who had emailed him worried about his grade. We were informed that if the student failed the exam, he failed out of the social work program. Here's a picture of the Prof dashing the student's hopes of ever becoming a social worker (he failed miserably). Ahhh, the sweet smell of academic failure.

Wednesday's dinner was a tasty dish of shrimp and feta (I missed the flan dessert though due to food-induced exhaustion). Gluttony continued the next morning with a fabulously decadent creme brulee french toast and lots of bacon. What's this about fasting before Thanksgiving dinner? bah!

Thursday J and I spent pretty much parked in front of the tv after doing some morning computer work. Evidence of said slothfulness is to the left. Please note that the futon was in the reclined position in order to allow for maximal lounging. J has covered his face so as not to be recognized. Oh, and the Huck Finn pants look is not the latest in Connecticut fashion, but rather, the result of trying to combat a rather nasty flood in his bedroom.

I did manage to spend some time appreciating the art around the Wolf home. First, the entire family had to partake in the continual discussion of what exactly is the woman doing in this picture.Ma Wolf vehemently denies it, but it's fairly clear to J and me that she's flicking us off.

The Wolf house hosts another controversial and similarly risque artwork. Happily, I'm proud to say that I contributed greatly to its execution. Of course I'm talking about the infamous ceiling mural of Mickey Mouse being molested by a pine tree - an image inspired by the Leonard Cohen lyric, "Take the only tree that's left and stuff it up the hole in your culture," from his song "The Future."

Needless to say, this mural is quite popular with Ma and Pa Wolf. In fact, they can't wait for us to finish the porn collage that is to cover Mickey's shorts.

Okay, but of course the real focus of the visit was the food. Thursday's dinner started with a homemade mushroom soup followed by a roasted beet salad with baked goat cheese rounds. Check out that artful presentation.
In addition, we had turkey (duh), gravy, mashed sweet potatoes with bourbon, asparagus, oyster stuffing, Grandma Labrador's stuffing, and cranberry orange relish. For dessert we had an apple crumb pie and a pumpkin pie with fresh whipped cream. I practically rolled down the stairs back to the guest room to watch some Grey's Anatomy.

You know you're in a bachelor pad when...

2006-11-22T12:56:00.000-08:00

So this weekend JS took us out to Max's Downtown in Hartford. Yum! We started with six oysters on the half shell - three from Rhode Island (briney) and three from Oregon (sweeter). I've become quite the raw oyster fan, but I don't think JS is as keen on them (major points for trying though). I then had the roasted duck special with a port wine and cherry jus and he had the osso buco - which was extremely good save the searing of the bone marrow. We finished with an excellent cheese plate - I can't even remember what kind of cheeses were on there, but I remember they were all tasty.

On Sunday I attempted repayment by making a Hungarian beef goulash over at the Bigelow pad (nothing like 5lbs of beef to woo any male). Granted, the slow cooker did most of the work, but I did have about an hour of prep time during which JS had to run out to The Firm (I like to imagine his workplace as a John Grisham novel complete with conspiracy, murder and the like - hey, wasn't there a happy ending to that book that involved running away to Grand Cayman? hmmm....).

Anyway, having the run of the kitchen led me to make several observations concerning bachelor pad kitchens. First, there is no drying rack. Why? Because EVERYTHING can go in the dishwasher. Wooden spoon dirty? No problem! 12" skillet won't fit? lay it flat on the top bin! What, not dishwasher safe? bah! Second, there is no rag and separate counter cleaner. Why? Because Clorox has furthered the baby wipe industry by adding bleach and marketing them as counter wipes. When it comes right down to it, for men, wetting a rag, spraying the cleaner, and then wiping the counter is just too much, clearly (note: back at the Pelham house I placed one of these glorified baby wipes under the bathroom sink and found J was much more likely to clean the bathroom with those than with the sponge and soft scrub I favored (note: J replies that "soft scrub makes my hands scaley") - so, there, a representative sample). Third, certain kitchen gadgets (the rabbit wine corkscrew) take a primary position on the kitchen budget than others (such as the sad 1 cup measuring cup that didn't have a handle, making measuring flour a disaster). Fourth, men seldom take stock of what kitchen utensils they have beyond: corkscrew, bottle opener, and chef's knife. They tend to be surprised when one pulls out some other contraption (such as a wooden spatula).

Okay, okay. I'm being totally unfair considering JS has cooked and baked several things now in my presence, and it's not like he's a kitchen retard at all. Besides, he irons! Wha?
Yes, that's right. And check out that closet. Whoa. Man after my own heart. (Confession: yeah, so what if I organize my clothes in a nested fashion, first by clothing type and then by color (usually warms/cools/neutrals)). Is that a briefcase? Clearly, I'm dealing with a grown up here. So, what does the iron imply as this is the first time I've encountered the appliance in a masculine context? Clearly, JS has a job that requires clothing items that are much more adult than mine. (What, I should be ironing my Forever 21 shirts?) It's all a little intimidating, but mainly endearing when it comes right down to it, luckily for me.

And if I ever see another sherd again...

2006-11-17T14:52:00.000-08:00

Today I finished my lab work on my masters project. This is more than a relief. This is like finishing up a chapter of my life and getting ready to work on the conclusion (er, to my project, not my life - hmm, guess that metaphor can only go so far). I catalogued 1711 Native American ceramic sherds and completed an attribute analysis on over 300 of them (yes, it's sherd with an e - shArds of glass, shErds of ceramics).

Here, you can see the low tech and high tech equipment that I had to use - from clear nailpolish (for labeling) to the lab's new fancy pants microscope (for identifying temper) and G5 (because Macs are teh hawt). These sherds all come from a site called Lighthouse Cove in Saugerties, NY, and are around 2000 years old. There are five basic types of temper in all of the sherds: granite, gabbro, metagabbro, quartz, and other ceramics. Of course the other portion of my project is my computer program that I wrote to try and assist with the manual act of sorting the sherds into vessel lots. Check out the website for more details.

Complication in Mission Whittle Waist

2006-11-17T04:27:00.000-08:00

I've decided to fall back on my own little black dress in favor of buying new accessories and lingerie (because I need 15 denier silk stockings knit on a 60-gauge machine with a sexy black seam and French heel). However, it's going to be very hard to fit into this:

When I'm eating dinners like this:
Yes, those are what you think they are: a Pillsbury and Nathan's hot dog combo that surpasses most bite-sized entree items (ok, maybe sushi has its own appeal...). Siobhlogger made these little heart attack morsels for our knitting night last night, although little knitting seemed to get done. I have finished the knitting on J's rug and now must stitch it together. Yes, so then of course there's the indulgence that is to be had next week at the Wolf's abode (J's mom is such an outstanding cook, I can barely wait). And last night JS says "I want to take you out somewhere nice tomorrow" - well, a girl can't argue with that. But, this girl does foresee a fast in her future if the culinary decadence continues.

Project Haute Dress

2006-11-13T17:36:00.000-08:00

I've recently been given the excuse to buy a new dress. This is very exciting, although always presents a bit of a problem because there is a Murphy's Law at work in shopping: when you're not looking for anything in particular, you can find everything you've always wanted - but when you have a specific item to find, it will remain elusive and cause much distress as deadline nears. But, I think I'm up for the challenge and will begin early.

Now, as my sisters would attest (sometimes with eyes rolling at the same time), I am not one to go straight for the racks at the nearest mall. I tend more toward vintage fashions or vintage aesthetics (Anthropologie or Toast). I'm not going to start justifying my aesthetic sensibilities, but I will offer that finding a vintage dress assures that you won't be wearing what anybody else is wearing.

My understanding of the dress code is somewhat hazy. I believe JS's words were "well, I'm not going to wear my tux, but I will wear a suit." In my inherently bestowed at birth feminine ability to translate such vague sentences into a proper dress code, I believe this would lead one to look for a cocktail dress (that is, if it were to be the tux, then an evening dress would be appropriate, and by leading from tux to suit, one can only assume JS meant a dark suit, which is still fairly formal but does not require floor-length dress to accompany). Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that a knee-length cocktail dress would be perfect.

What better time period to harken back to then THE decade when cocktail dresses were in vogue and the little black dress (lbd) was born. I in fact own a lbd that I picked up at Anthropologie for N&L's wedding, but that was for a summer wedding, and the rayon crepe just doesn't seem right for a holiday party. (Wouldn't you ladies agree?)

Now, there are two main styles of 50's cocktail dresses that I'm aware of: the "wiggle" dress and the a-line or circle skirt dress with a fitted bodice. "Wiggle" dresses are classic dresses with sleek lines and tight pencil skirts, so-called because they highlight what your behind does when you walk in them. A good wiggle dress is hot. However, it's hard to pull off a pencil skirt when you're 5'4", so I know the wiggle is not for me (besides it would mean having every curve, bulge, etc. needing to be tucked into some kind of undergarment all night - although, if bikram really is worth it, maybe that won't be an issue...a girl could hope...). A-line and circle skirts are always flattering, and they're especially good for my shape, which is a basic hourglass.

It's important (to me at least) when shopping for a vintage dress that you don't choose something that does not complement the season's fashion aesthetic as established by the French powers that be. Sadly, the ready to wear collections are full of tulip and bubble skirts, and such shapes are being sold in Nordstrom and other department stores. I refuse to wear either shape. The bubble just looks odd, and in many cases just looks like the seamstress did a shitty finishing job. The tulip has the same problem as the pencil - I'm too short, nor do I want my hips to look any larger than they already are.

If ready to wear wasn't going to give me good inspiration, I had to look elsewhere. Where better than the couture collections themselves? I immediately fell in love with Armani's Prive line. It reminds me of old Hollywood movies from the 40s and 50s. This dress to the left is absolutely gorgeous. It's hard to tell from here, but the color is a very pale peachy pink. If I were the daughter of a Saudi oil sheik, I would totally wear this.

Now, for the other end of the 50s spectrum (that is, late 50s into the 60s) I found some pieces on the Christian Lacroix runway that spoke to me. This would definitely be one of those outfits that my sisters would not be caught dead associating with me if I were to wear it. But, imagine it without the crazy red tights, and perhaps with the little beaded coat hanging in the coat check, and suddenly, we've got another source for inspiration here. This dress has a more delicate feel than the other - whereas the above is like, va va vavoom, this one is more "aw, that's sweet."

So, those are my inspirations so far. I've found several candidates so far, which are forcing me to deal with the insane waist sizes that women had in the 50s.

#35 on the list of things that kick my ass

2006-11-08T12:07:00.000-08:00

Bikram yoga. I went to my first class today, and I have to admit that it was intense. The thermostat was set at 118 degrees, and I was dripping sweat. It's been a few years since I've taken a yoga class, so I was worried about my balance - but it wasn't that big of a deal. I kept pretty good form and am still really flexible, so that's nice. The difficulty was in the strength component of the poses. The one-legged balancing poses and hip squats had my legs shaking pretty violently. I also felt like I was going to throw up during camel pose (that's the kneeling backbend one).

So, overall I'm psyched. I've hit a plateau with my running. Whenever I hop off the treadmill I'm too tired to do any kind of toning exercises, and I'm overall pretty lazy when it comes to those types of exercises anyway. I think Bikram is a nice combination of cardio, stretching, and toning that I'll be able to target the areas I'm still pretty unhappy with (stomach, arms, upper thighs...you know the drill). Plus, there are lots of corpse poses that force me to just meditate and focus on my breathing - good for dealing with my high strung nature.

Granted, there is the whole business franchise aspect of Bikram that some people have questioned as being unethical, but whatever. Honestly, I'm not taking yoga for some new agey, hippie dippy spirtual energy-chakra, something or other experience. I'm taking it for physical health and vanity. So, I don't really care if Mr. Bikram drives a Rolls Royce and sleeps with half of LA and then brags about it during his classes. He's not my teacher.

Wholesome Sunday Supper

2006-11-06T07:55:00.000-08:00

Now that Project Runway is over, I miss my weekly visits to the 'Loaf. So, I invited the gang over for Sunday supper. I was really in the mood to tackle a very involved recipe, but I also wanted something that would roast in the oven for several hours to make things extra cozy. I turned to the back of my Mist Grill Cookbook (sadly, this was my favorite restaurant in Vermont for years and is now closed) where they have perfect Sunday supper recipes. I was inexplicably drawn to the pot roast.

I must admit that growing up, my mom would make pot roast from time to time. It was always one of those dishes that smelled and looked better than it tasted (sorry, Mom). Unfortunately, half of our family liked their meat well done, so Mom and I could never have a tender, pink pot roast. So, my memories are of drier cuts with the requisite carrots and potatoes. However, seeing as this is the quintessential Sunday meal, I felt like it was due a revival.

The Mist Grill's recipe calls for some unusual ingredients both in terms of the veggies needed and the base for the jus. You can see the range of ingredients as I laid them out on the butcher block in my kitchen. Veggies included carrots, red potatoes, parsnips, fennel, and celery. The jus called for veal stock, lots of garlic, and chipotles in adobo among other things. I knew that the Greenfield Stop 'n Shop wouldn't have veal stock (and I wasn't about to make my own), so I searched Cook's Illustrated for a substitute. I found their homemade demi-glace substitute and rushed off to the grocery store, list in hand.

The semi-demi-glace fulfilled my desire to tackle something complicated while also lending much more complexity to the pot roast. You start by browning tomato paste and then adding carrots, onions, garlic, and flour. Red wine and beef stock comprise the liquid medium, and lots of peppercorns, fresh thyme, and bay leaves lend more flavor. Here you can see it simmering on my stove (it smelled amazing).

For the pot roast, I started by browning the meat in the roasting pan directly on the stove and then added a whole head of garlic and the chipotles to flavor the fat. Then the semi-demi-glace went in (I didn't bother straining it) followed by all the veggies - which just fit. Here's a pic before I tented with foil (the meat - a 3.5 lb roast - is under all the onions).
With dinner taken care of I turned to the matter of dessert. The night before I had had an amazing gingerbread with fresh whipped cream at the Elbow Room in West Hartford with JS and the most adorable couple in the whole world. I wanted to see if I could emulate the dish for my guests. I started looking around for good gingerbread recipes (note, these aren't gingerbread cookies - but an actual quick bread, a la banana bread or something). I found a recipe for a gingerbread bombe (not frozen) in the Mist Grill cookbook. The recipe involved pastry cream and chocolate sauce, but I wanted something much simpler that would feature the ginger flavors. So, I decided to stick with the basic cake recipe and just ignore the rest. Halfway through mixing all my ingredients I remembered that I still had half a can of pumpkin leftover from the souffle I made. I figured that the pumpkin would add moisture, density, and a bit more complexity without overpowering the gingerbread flavors.

The cake came out even better than I had anticipated - the texture was a cross between pumpkin pie and moist cake. The molasses sunk somewhat down to the bottom of the cake during baking so that there was a bottom layer of richness that was tasty and aesthetically pleasing. I made fresh maple whipped cream to top it off and handed it around. I remembered to take a picture halfway through my piece.

I took some pictures to document the stuffed contentedness for posterity.

Halloween in Montague

2006-11-01T06:52:00.000-08:00

I learned this week that Halloween in Montague is a BIG deal. There's a big gathering on the town common, and people come from all around to trick or treat here because it's so safe and quaint. I got to hand out candy for the first time in my life! It was a lot of fun. Some houses get really into it - including my own. Next door at Gabe's a bunch of women from our block got together and created a Wizard of Oz themed house. Here you can see the good witch, the tin man, and Gabe as Dorothy handing out candy. The walkway was painted with yellow paint too, and next to Gabe was a tv showing the entire movie. Kids were entranced. My favorite costume of the night was Henry the Flying Monkey who proved that all Flying Monkeys are not hideously scary creatures. Follow this link to see all the pics.

Pumpkin Souffle

2006-10-28T14:10:00.000-07:00

I'm a big winter squash fan, so when autumn rolls around, I'm always looking for ways of gorging on the cucurbitas. I was in search for a healthy alternative to pumpkin pie and found a recipe for pumpkin souffle on epicurious that used soy milk as its custard base. Having never made souffle before, but having a new souffle dish that I got at the Pampered Chef (thanks to the GB Rudolf Steiner School for the gift certificate last year!), I decided to get to work. Of course, the recipe was for 8 individual ramekins, and I had a single souffle dish, so math was involved. But, no worries, I was able to work it all out. I did learn that it's really hard to tell when the souffle is done enough - mine was nice and brown on top, but still really moist inside (but firm). Having never done this before, I'm not really sure if that's what's supposed to happen. Doesn't matter in the end because it's damn good.

Halloween at Rocky Hill Rd.

2006-10-28T08:24:00.000-07:00

Well, the 3rd annual Halloween at the Rock was colder and rainier than last year, and I didn't sport any fake blood this time. So, who was I? The quest for the perfect Halloween costume is truly difficult. Although my Halloween costume generator widget had some good suggestions: Drugged-out Robot Farmer on Fire, Horny Five-Assed Boy Scout, Bullfighter having Her Period, Donkey Candy Striper in a Hazmat Suit, Terminally Ill Psychiatrist Model, etc., I ended up taking my idea from JIF who suggested The Baroness from GI Joe. Originally MM was going to accompany me as Destro, but chickened out when it meant he had to shave (he went instead as the gay mafia). So, here's how it ended up. Hopefully the C&MM will send me their prom photos of us that we took before we left the loaf...

B-lythe has some more photos up at her bee-spot blog.

Oh no she didn't...

2006-10-27T10:30:00.001-07:00

Oh yes, I did. I love it when a Halloween costume can provide an excuse to buy a real clothing item or accessory. Check out the new boots I bought with b-lythe Wednesday night. I sported them to school on Thursday with one of my skinny jeans to try them out. They passed - I especially like the lower stiletto heel and the very commanding click-clacks they make as I walk down the halls of Machmer. You might be wondering how these boots fit into the overall Halloween costume. I'll be posting those pics later today as the costume takes shape...

Latin Week

2006-10-01T14:03:00.000-07:00

I started my week by deciding to do something with all the heirloom tomatoes my plant had suddenly proffered. Because it was still warm outside, I decided that an Andalusian gazpacho would be perfect. I'm not sure what is so Andalusian about it, but among some of the usual ingredients, I also added sherry vinegar and hard boiled eggs. You'll notice that the gazpacho isn't quite red. That's because my tomatoes were yellow and red striped. It was still yummy, although a little too virtuous (I mean, there was no fat in the whole thing except the egg and a tiny bit of olive oil!).

A theme started to develop during the week when I went over to Siobhlogger's house for taco knitting night. I think my margarita mix was the reason why not much knitting got done though. Pictures of taco night are up at B-lythe's blog, but I did manage to snap this pic of Siobhlogger's kickass gloves. A girl's gotta protect the digits, especially when they're so knit-productive as hers.

After taco night, margarita night commenced at the loaf during Project Runway. Oh, Jeffrey, what an abomination, but I'm so glad you're continuing.

The week ended with a trip to the Big E - detailed on both B-lythe's and Siobhlogger's sites. While this doesn't have an obvious latin connection, we were there during the crowning of Miss Latina US, but alas, we were looking at the baby alpaca while that was going on. Ok, but for now, it's post-moving celebration time here in Noho...

One blushing bride, two chocolate fountains, five gallons of ice cream, and tons of food

2006-09-19T18:15:00.000-07:00

This past Saturday I attended Antigoni's and Dave's wedding, which was a really beautiful, relaxing, and enjoyable time - so different from the crazy, stressed-out feel that some weddings get. As you can see, the happy couple was all smiles.

B-lythe has some great shots of the chocolate fountains on her blog, but I have to show my shot of the milk chocolate crockpot fountain. Plus, the wedding cake is in that shot - which was amazing. Antigoni, cheers to whatever possessed you to request dark chocolate chunks in your carrot cake - it was fabulously decadent!
Since the celebration was also a potluck, I had a lot of fun picking out a fun, vegetarian dish to try out on the crowds. I was really hankering for some Indian food, so I decided to make a vegetable biryani. One of the great things about Indian food is that you get to buy and experiment with all different types of new fangled spices and ingredients.

Here are some of the ingredients that ended up in the dish: the all-important ghee, saffron, black and green cardamon pods, garam masala, and of course, basmati rice. There were about 20 other ingredients, but these were the ones with the prettiest packaging. The dish was made in 3 stages: first you marinate your veggies, then you make your rice and saute your veggies, then you combine and bake in the oven.

Here are my veggies marinating. That's cauliflower, potatoes, onion, peas, and green beans. The red flecks are dried chiles that I tried to grind with my mortar and pestle (I didn't realize I was out of chili powder!).

The other great thing about this dish was that it gave me an excuse to use my food mill that I picked up at an antique store a few years ago.
Unfortunately, I kind of ran out of time and didn't take any pics of the finished dish. But, you can imagine it looks a lot like the above, but with rice.

After the wedding, B-lythe and I took off for Westfarms where I gave into the skinny jean craze. Then I tried them out in Northampton when we met up with J & the CT crew for C's birthday bash. The reviews that night were favorable, but everyone had had a lot to drink. I've yet to wear them out in daylight - perhaps I'll try them again tomorrow when I have dinner with JIF and then watch Project Runway with M&C. I trust their judgment about fashion sober or drunk.

Day Trippin'

2006-09-06T05:54:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, Siobhlogger and I spent the day touring all the fabric and knitting stores we could find around Greenfield, MA, Brattleboro, VT, and Keene, NH. A few stops at chic bath stores, garden stores, and even a rummaging through old vinyl helped to break up the trip (why didn't I buy that Engleburt Humperdinck album?!). My mission was to continue fabric collecting for my next quilt (for my own bedroom this time). Here's my latest assemblage:
This will be a nine patch pattern out of Kaffee Fasset's Passionate Patchwork called Gypsy Flower Garden. My colors are turquoise/aqua, chocolate brown, and coral. As you can see, I'm a little low on the brown - most browns in quilt stores are drab, Civil War era reproductions, which are nice in their own right, but this quilt needs some more modern prints. The quest shall continue...

Siobhlogger also helped me commit to my second knitting project ever. This will be a felted gray handbag (hopefully). The goal is to make this my winter handbag. So, I better get finishing J's rug. I suppose there's no better time for knitting than Project Runway night over at the 'Loaf with M, C, and JIF.

I helped Siobhlogger pick out her next sewing project, which I'm sure will be documented on her blog once finished. I admire her committment to the newly acquired craft when she didn't even bat an eyelash at the cashier when checking out with yards upon yards of Waverly fabric. Ahh, when homemade items cost more than storebought...

A serendipitous find was made at a wonderful little store in Brattleboro called Delectable Mountain Cloth. She had rolls and rolls of vintage silks and silk brocade fabric along with an amazing collection of wedding dress satins, tulles, etc. As I was gawking at all the gorgeous silks, I realized that I did have a use for some vintage brocade - my headboard! My headboard has two removable wood panels in it that I've been placing fabric into to jazz it up a bit. However, the fabric has just been leftover quilting cotton, and not very interesting. But, a silk brocade in an amazing color would make the headboard really pop. My eyes first rested upon an aqua brocade with chrysanthemums (I think?), and although I wavered between some of the coral pieces, S convinced me the aqua was the way to go. I didn't have any measurements, so I went with my instinct that the width of the fabric would accompany both panels. Boy, was I lucky. I had about a cm on either side when I came home and fit the fabric. I think it looks lovely though.

The aqua will match my aforementioned quilt (it looks a little out of place with Nicholai's favorite fleece blanket right now). All in all it was a successful trip - and a beautiful day to boot. Although all the fabric stores were a treat to check out, it was great to realize that one of the nicer ones is just down the road from me in Greenfield, and as S mentions in her blog, Northampton is home to some wonderful yarn stores. Now, let's just hope school doesn't get in the way of crafting...

The Half-Year Rug

2006-08-31T06:13:00.000-07:00

Is it normal for one's first knitting project to take 6 months +? This is the foot rug I've been working on for J since his birthday in March. It's 4 skeins of Lamb's Pride yarn - 2 in raspberry and 2 in charcoal (matches his room). He was in need of a bedside rug to rest his feet on when getting out of bed (wood floors are cold in the winter), so I thought this would be a great first project. And it really has been - just a simple knit to get my dexterity going. But, it's taken me much longer than I had originally thought. I now understand how Siobhlogger can have 30 different projects going at once. But, so far with both knitting and quilting, I remain a steadfast one project girl, faithful to the end.

House and Garden...

2006-08-28T13:44:00.000-07:00

Finally, digital images of my abode and garden can be found online at my website. Please be aware that I am right now in a Masters Thesis working phase. Therefore, piles of clothes, papers, and books should be ignored. Also, my late Aug. garden aesthetic is to just let everything go and let nature take her course. If you don't think it's pretty then you might as well just be snubbing your nose at Mother Nature!

Why a rest can do wonders...

2006-08-27T06:55:00.000-07:00

I have something to disclose. I did absolutely no work on Friday and Saturday. I had all intentions, but due to extenuating circumstances (not to be disclosed fully - a girl needs some privacy!) I spent the time instead sleeping, going out, and recovering with some captain video and company with JIF (the person, not the peanut butter). I finally gave into sleep and hit the hay last night at 8pm. I slept 12 hours straight, dragged myself out of bed (it was cold this morn!!), made some coffee and hit the computer.

Last week I had made a list of the steps I need to complete for my Masters project computer program. Out of 10 steps, I've completed 1,2, 6, 7, and 8. 4 and 5 were avoided due to difficulties with writing the SQL - until now. In about 25 minutes, I completed step 4 in an elegant, 6 line nugget of code. Ah, beautiful beautiful day. So, now I don't feel quite so bad about my "bender" as L called it Friday night. Brain synapses are firing and I can see all the logic that I need to write in a totally new way. Sometimes I forget that a little time away from my work may actually result in a net gain at the end. Okay, here goes step 5...

Old Home Days

2006-08-19T06:57:00.000-07:00

I have to admit that I didn't really appreciate the precious Old Home Days celebration that was kicked off last night until I went out with B-lythe, Siobhlogger, and J. They were aghast when I revealed that I didn't go to see the dance recital that took place across from my front yard. "But, it's just like Starrs Hollow!" someone cried.

Indeed. The more I thought about it, the more my town came to resemble the idyllic New England town from the Gilmore Girls. We have the adorable town common that I live upon in an old Victorian house (surrounded by other Greek Revival homes). We have a grange that has contra dancing every Sunday. We have the original tiny library next door to me with the original town hall upstairs from it. We have some kind of dance studio somewhere named for some woman (Julie? Judy? Josie?). We have the Lady Killigrew (our form of the town diner) and the Bookmill poised above the waterfall. I'm sure somewhere we even have a Korean girl who likes to play the drums and a mother-daughter duo who engage in sarcastic literary banter all day.

Ah, but Old Home Days - a New England tradition of honoring the history of a particular community - is here in Montague this weekend. Last night the tap-tapping of Julie's Dance School sounded out across the common and then was followed by a country-rock band playing Johnny Cash tunes. The entire common is ringed with colored lights and various booths offer food (ice cream, ice tea, popcorn, fried dough...), games (velcro darts!), and raffle tickets. I didn't wander out last night, deciding instead to stay in and give in to my deep cleaning urges (I think I mopped my bedroom floor to a medley of the Kinks and Little Richard).

However, after the chastising I received last night at Amherst Coffee (which in the evening transforms to a rather elegant wine and single malt bar - they even offer Junipero and tonic and Hendricks with cucumber - my two favorite gins!), I decided to venture out this morning into day two of Old Home Days. I could tell that a crowd was gathering outside the library, so I threw some clothes on, washed my face and walked out the door. A group of runners were bouncing up and down and then BANG! The gun sounded and they were off! I had luckily caught the very beginning of the annual Mug Race (if anyone can tell me the origin of "mug race" I would be just giddy with glee).

Once the runners cleared out I could see several long tables outside the church - ah, the white elephant sale, of course! I wandered among the wares and then found the site of the morning auction and breakfast goods. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the farmers market that was supposed to be at the grange. Luckily there's a farm stand just down the road from me and my own garden has been providing just fine. I found a schedule and learned that there would be more live music, bbq chicken, and fried dough to come tonight! Yee haw!

Here's a pic I found of 1999 Old Home Days (this pic was taken just in front of the town hall):

Isle au what?

2006-08-10T07:31:00.000-07:00

That's 'isle-uh-ho' for you mainlanders out there. My 10 day vacation actually started out with a nice visit with the Swilley's up in Washington, VT. I was treated to a very decadent spa day with the girls that was really fun and relaxing in Stowe. We had a brilliant send off dinner at Sarducci's at which the two peas in a pod told the waitress it was M's birthday and surprised him with a roomful of people singing to him (surprising of course because it was not his birthday after all and he couldn't figure out who they were singing to at first).

On Saturday M and I loaded up the car and headed out for our north-country drive to Stonington where we had to catch the 4:15 ferry. M runs even more late than I do, so it was imperative that I actually got us out the door as early as possible. My whip cracking combined with M's incredible high speed passing capabilities saw us to Stonington nice and early. We even had a chance to see the Victory Chimes schooner sail around the harbor. We had a slightly choppy ride out to the island and a bumpier drive to the house, but finally we arrived at the house on Rich's Cove in time for a drink out on the lovely porch.

The cove was lovely and offered many days and evenings of relaxing vista viewing. The island you see off in the distance is York Island. I managed to actually spend about 15 minutes sitting on a rock with M, staring off at the horizon doing nothing! The rest of the time I knit, read, and painted on the porch.

When I got restless (which was a few times a day) I would bake. The house had quite a few old timey cookbooks with lots of recipes calling for lard. I had fun trying to pull recipes together out of the ingredients we had - although sometimes we would need items from the store. And when I say "the store" I mean "the one and only store on the island." Normally, this would entail getting into a car and driving to the market and picking whatever up. Oh, but Isle au Haut is not your typical place. In our case, this meant a bike ride down to the town landing and foraging through the tiny store for whatever they happened to have at the time (an incredibly odd mix of high end organic and European items). Of course, there were always blueberries, but you couldn't count on much else. Unfortunately, none of the pictures I took came out, so I don't have any evidence of my baking (mainly shots of M licking batter). But, I swear that during the time there I baked popovers, a blueberry/pear tart, butterscotch and peanut brownies, sweet potato pie, and velvet spice cake. Luckily, all the bike riding to the town landing and our 8 mile trip to Long Pond helped make up for all the calorie-heavy baked goods.

Porches, I've come to realize, are excellent spots for sitting around, conversing, and nursing drinks. M turned me onto an alternative to my usual g&t: Mount Gay and tonic (with lime of course). This is such a great new use for all the Nicaraguan rum that my old neighbors got J and me last year! In fact, it has become my new dive bar drink as I ordered it at the Elevens Monday night with B before a partially traumatic rendition of Rocket Man backed by the Karaoke Deathsquad (but that's for another post).

A trip to Maine can't be complete without wild blueberries and lobster (not at the same time of course). We did have a fairly comical dinner involving the latter. In this picture you can see a lobster boat tending to one of the many traps in the waters between Rich's Cove and York Island. And when I say many I mean lots and lots and lots. When the sun passes behind the house in the afternoon, all the little buoys light up as colored dots (each lobsterman has his own color pattern). You can see this best in the full size pic here.

So, one evening we secured fresh lobsters to have for dinner. I sat down before the creature on my plate and tried to summon my courage but to no avail. I looked up and saw C ripping off the legs and sucking on them. V was tearing the torso apart. I tentatively grabbed one of the little legs on my bug, but my stomach flip flopped. Now, I'm not normally tentative when it comes to food or shellfish for that matter. M and I had just had mussels the other night and we had even ordered raw oysters when we went out to Mes Amis this summer. But, there was something about the disassembling of a complicated organism followed directly by ingestion that was unsettling to my stomach. I chickened out and made M dissect while I ate. He's so brave.

All in all, Isle au Haut was extremely relaxing. With none of my usual media to distract me (no radio, tv, phone, newspaper, internet...), I found that the sensory deprivation renewed my interest in my work back home. By Thursday I was looking forward to getting back and diving back into the fray. On Saturday morning we took the ferry back to Stonington and drove back to Montpelier via Center Harbor, NH, (big quilt store!). I humored M and found an old 19th century fort to explore too (gotta balance the quilt store!). Saturday night we had a lovely late night dinner at the Black Door and on Sunday I was back in good ol' Montague with kitty telling me all about his week spent alone in my cushy office chair. It's nice to be back...

First Harvest

2006-07-25T15:31:00.000-07:00

It's fitting that my first post should also announce my first harvest out of le jardin d'Angela. In preparation for my departure, I walked out to my garden to see if things should be picked. I'm nervous that my garden will suddenly peak and then wilt all during the ten days I'll be gone. I found my unruly tomato plants growing outside their cages and probably taller than 4' at this point, but only flowers and the developing buds of future tomatoes. My peppers, however, were a different story. I picked two Sweet Italia peppers while still green to help promote growth, but left my bells to continue ripening (they should take two more weeks to get red).

My zucchini plant is taking over the garden - even starting to climb up some flowers along the west side of the bed. This wouldn't be a problem for the large plot gardener, but my small space didn't have room for rows (or, rather, I splurged at the nursery and didn't have much faith in any of the plants surviving, so I figured that small stepping spaces would do in place of real rows). To my surprise, the garden is pretty much chock full. I wonder if someone in the neighborhood has been spiking my organic hippy goodness with miracle gro.

One of the reasons I had so little faith was that while I was turning over the garden bed (by hand, mind you - double digging 12" down), I found that my garden plot was near to the old dumping ground for the home's heating coal. Now, I did expect some coal, along with the usual finds of a 19th century farmstead - glass, ceramics, brick, and metal. But, the amount of unburnt coal I was turning up was kind of ridiculous. At first I thought, "Oh, this is great! Coal is an organic - this should enrich my soil!" only to be laughed at by the historical archaeologist in our department. O yee of little faith...

Anyway, tucked into the folds of the zucchini is my Magda squash (doing just fine) and my County Fair pickling cucumber plant. I picked a fat cuke from that plant as I've read that if you let them yellow on the vine, the plant won't produce anymore. I also snipped some basil for my tomato salad I'll have for dinner. I forsee lots of pesto in my future. My dill has started to flower (I never use dill - I have no idea why I bought it, so if you have some suggestions, send them along), and my beets and onions still have a ways to go (I think - how do you tell when they're underground!?).

Another reason why there's no room for me to move around in the garden is because I planted flowers alongside all the veggies. Unfortunately, I can't get low enough to the ground anymore to read the cards that tell me what they are. I know I have orange cosmos, red salvia, and yellow and red marigolds. But, I can't remember what the magenta or yellow flowers are. Oh, well. I'll take some pictures when I return from Maine.

Speaking of Maine, I strolled over to my neighborhood bookstore and picked up a few more books for the trip - House of the Seven Gables and The Granite Islands will now join my current read, The Far Field. I also couldn't help but pick up a book on the history of port for M. who might as well give up his sailing dreams and become a sommelier. Alongside the books will be packed my knitting (still working on J.'s bday present even though it was back in March), watercolors, and camera. Unfortunately, in the next compartment of my bookbag will be packed my computer and programming manuals. Ho hum. Vacation - here I come!