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Bad company

I spent the weekend hanging with a pretty rough crowd. You just never knew when a wrestling match would break out.

I will almost certainly come to regret this

I have a strong fondness for Queen Anne's Lace. It's mostly considered a weed, growing wild along roadsides and ditches. It's this roadside habit, however, that makes me love it so. It makes me think of hot summer days and driving to Door County to spend the day at the beach. It makes me think of blue skies and sweet-smelling fields and lazy days with nothing to do but soak up the sun.

I love all of those tough little roadside plants-- Queen Anne's Lace, hawkweed, chicory, daylillies, even bindweed--for being tenacious enough to grow where they can. I love them for being beautiful in a ragged and overlooked way.

So when I saw some Queen Anne's Lace growing in my neighbor's yard a few years ago, I snagged a dried flower head and threw the seeds into one of my flower beds. It's a kind of ordinary bed--full of ferns and daylilies and now QAL--things that are tough and strong and survive (or even thrive) without much attention. And I'm glad to have them there.

Some people

So I was at Bed, Bath & Beyond today buying this fabulous closet organizer. Seriously, it's fabulous; you should look into getting one. While I was waiting to pay, I got a real eyeful of the babe in line ahead of me. She was:

somewhere around 30 years old

blonde, with her hair pulled back in a messy bun

wearing stiletto-heeled mules

had a MAJOR pedicure

wearing tight tight black leggings

wearing a tight black sweater than went past her hips. (with the leggings, at first glance, I thought she was wearing a full bodysuit)

carrying a Michael Kors handbag

about six months pregnant

And she never stopped talking on her cell phone THE ENTIRE TIME, even while she was paying for her ugly wastebasket or whatever the hell it was.

After she left, both the salesclerk and I agreed that we cannot stand it when people keep talking on their phones while they are paying for something. Unless you are talking to a brain surgeon or the man in charge of the White House nuclear football, there is no phone call so important that you can't stop talking for five minutes to acknowledge the human being standing in front of you trying to do his/her job. It's called manners, people.

As I walked out of the store, I saw Miss Babe driving away in a white Cadillac CTS. I can't help but wonder, what kind of pregnant 30-year-old dresses like that and drives a Cadillac? Is she some CEO's trophy wife? A Packer girlfriend? Whoever she is, I bet she doesn't have a library card. Thank goodness.

Not such good news

A couple of weeks ago, I was watching TV one night, when Polly, who was sleeping nearby, went into a full-on seizure. With no warning, she went rigid, convulsing and drooling; the scariest part was that she stopped breathing. I had no idea what to do or what caused it, but after a few minutes (that felt like an eternity), she came out of it, gasping for breath and disoriented.

I had hoped it was a one-off sort of thing, but a week later, she had another one. Less scary this time, because even though she stopped breathing, I knew it wouldn’t last for long. Still, seizures are not to be ignored, so I took her in to see the vet.

The vet was very straight forward, saying that in dogs this age, seizures are usually caused by brain tumors. We ran some blood tests to rule out other things, and they all came back fine. Which means, in all likelihood, that Polly has some kind of tumor. To be sure, I’d have to take her to the university vet clinic for an MRI, and if I chose to treat her, it would mean radiation treatments there as well.

I’ve chosen not to pursue the MRI/radiation route. Polly is 12 years old, and I just can’t put her through that, especially if it would mean her being away from home for an extended period. Instead, we’ll focus on keeping her seizures under control. She’s started on Phenobarbital and for now, that seems to be working. She hasn’t had a seizure in that last week.

Polly is such a lively dog, full of contradictions. She makes me laugh every single day, but she can also exasperate me to no end. She follows me from room to room, but outside, completely ignores me. Sweet and loving, she can also be very bossy and domineering around other dogs. I don’t know if I’ve ever met another creature who so fully embraces life as she does. Every new activity is greeted with excitement and joy…we’re going outside? Awesome! A car ride? Oh boy! Nap time? ZZZzzzzzzzz

While she has moments where she is Horrible, they are pretty few and far between. She teaches me every day to be grateful and happy for every moment in life. I love her fiercely for that.

Reconsidering my vocation

If I didn't have my own livestock to deal with, I would TOTALLY consider doing this:

Apprentice Wanted
August 18th, 2010

Juniper Moon Farm is fixing to go through a growth spurt and it seems like the right time to take on a new apprentice. We’re looking for a someone willing to commit to at least a six-month stay, although a year would be better.
What you’ll get: In addition to room and board, plus a small stipend, you will gain experience and proficiency in all aspects of the yarn business. You’ll learn to give vaccinations, pull out a stuck lamb, fix a broken fence and trim hooves. You’ll watch lambs and kids come into the world and take their first shaky steps, something that still leaves me speechless after seeing it a hundred times. You’ll get to know the personalities on the farm and will be able to tell when something is wrong, just by looking.
If you want to learn to shear, we’ll send you to shearing school. And after the sheep are shorn, you’ll learn to wash fleeces and dye the yarn.
You’ll leave JMF with confidence in your abilities to run a farm- your own or someone else’s- and with the knowledge of exactly what you are capable of.
What you’ll give: Some days are ridiculously easy. Some days are so hard that every muscle in your body will ache. Most days are somewhere in between. You’ll average about 8 hours a day, including some weekends. Many nights you’ll go to bed exhausted, but it will be that good kind of exhausted, when you know you’ve done a hard day’s work and kicked some ass.
What you’ll need: Experience isn’t necessary. Just a strong work ethic, a desire to learn and a healthy curiosity. You’ll also need a good pair of boots, rain gear and warm clothes for winter, sunscreen and a hat for summer. A good pair of work gloves is highly recommended. A car in not a necessity but would make your life a lot easier when you want to get off the farm.
If you’d like to apply, please send a resume and cover letter to susie AT fiberfarm DOT com with Apprentice in the subject line. All applications will be carefully considered and telephone interviews scheduled with likely candidates. Please pass this post along to anyone you think might be interested.

Change of address

My mother has become a homeowner again. After several years of apartment living, she just purchased a brand new condo at a bargain price. She’s having the best time planning her move, buying furniture, and thinking how she’s going to decorate it.

When she and I were discussing her new home, she pointed out that for almost all her adult life, she’s always lived in new houses. With one exception (an old apartment complex in St. Paul, MN), she and my father always bought (or once built) new houses. Even the apartment she’s currently living in was new construction. I wonder how many people can claim that?

I was relating this to a co-worker who said, “Hmmm, she sounds spunky.” Yeeeeaaaahhh, that’s not really a word I would apply to my mother. Not really.

Mom, when it comes time (and it won’t be anytime soon) to write your obituary, I hereby promise the following:

I will be sure to mention that you were Engineering Queen and a member of KKG. It’s up to you if you want to include PEO.

I promise not to use the photo of you with the napkin ring in your eye.

I promise not to say that you liked to bake and play cards.

And I sincerely promise to never, ever refer to you as “spunky”.

You’re welcome.

Again with the new?

Do you know the expression "Your eyes were bigger than your stomach"? Meaning, you take more food than you can possibly eat? I have this problem all the time at the grocery store, especially in the produce section. Especially during the summer, when there are so many wonderful fruits and vegetables available. I see something on display and think, "Oh, that would be great!", bring it home, put it in the refrigerator, and then promptly forget about it.

Such was the case with a big wedge of watermelon that was ticking away in the fridge. I could have just cut it up, but there was no way I could eat it all before it went bad. Then I stumbled on the idea of making a granita with it. A granita is like a slushy sorbet, only lighter and more melty.

I adapted this recipe from the Food Network, switching lime juice for lemon (because I had a lime in the house. Also, I used a blender instead of a food processor). It was very easy to make, and tastes wonderful too!

The Spy Club

The other day, a couple of our Maintenance guys delivered a storage cubby for the children’s area. A mom and her two boys (about ages 8 & 6, I’d say) were there when all of this was getting set up, and those two curly-headed brothers thought that the big cardboard box the cubby came in was just about the best thing they’d ever seen. The mom asked if they could have the box, and the Maintenance guys said sure, why not. It would save them the trouble of having to break it down and haul it away. Those boys’ eyes lit up and they immediately started making plans for all they adventures they were going to have in this box as part of their Spy Club.

It was raining to beat the band, and the Spy Brothers were a little concerned about hauling their box outside through the rain to the car. I told the mother to drive around to the delivery entrance, and I would meet her there, where we could load the box right inot the back of her van. The boys followed me through the building; when we reached the boiler room (where the delivery entrance is), the younger one took one look at the HVAC equipment and said, “OH COOL!!!”

We loaded the box into the back of the van (with some excellent backing-up direction from the older brother), and off they went. These boys just absolutely tickled me—they were so thrilled with this oversized box, and I just loved the thought of all the hours of play and wonderful imaginative adventures they would have. That was one lucky box.

All in a day's work

Actual conversation from last week:

Customer: I can't find my books that are on hold.

Me [after scanning card]: That's because they are being held for you at the XYZ Branch.

Customer: Isn't this the XYZ Branch?

Me: No, this is the ABC Branch.

Customer: Oh, crap!

You said it, lady. Now keep in mind, there are not one, but TWO signs on the front of the building announcing that this is the ABC Branch.

Lost in translation

Just before closing, a man (who was a non-native speaker of English) came in and asked if we had any movies about Hattie Porter. It took me a few moments to realize he was asking about Harry Potter.

In the details

These are photos of peony blossoms after the petals have fallen off. I'm just fascinated by the pattern of the central disk. It looks like really elaborate fretwork or a plaster medallion to me. Isn't it funny that you can find beauty in the oddest places?

Bitter much?

A couple of days ago, I noticed something strange—every time I ate or drank something, I’d get a mildly nasty bitter aftertaste in my mouth. Not a big deal, but it’s persisted for a couple of days. So, last night I googled “bitter taste”, just in case it was something to be concerned about.

According to one website, there are over 60 diseases that might cause a bitter taste, ranging from dental caries to cadmium poisoning. Cadmium? I haven’t been licking any batteries lately, so that’s probably not it. And my dental hygiene is above par, believe me.

And besides, it’s not a constant bitter taste—it’s only after I eat or drink. So I change my search strategy to say “bitter AFTERtaste”. And there it is. My answer.

Pine nuts.

I made a pasta dish earlier this week and threw a few pine nuts in there. Apparently, in recent years, people have reported developing a bitter taste after eating pine nuts. No one’s really sure why it happens, but it’s not permanent.

Who knew?

Who knew?

My profound lack of interest in most spectator sports is pretty well known among my friends & family. However (HOWEVER!), I find myself mildly interested in this year's FIFA World Cup. I have no idea about teams, or players, or rankings, or anything like that, but if I stumble across a match on TV, I might actually watch it.

Besides, the video is fun:

Update

Consider this blog updated. Happy now?

A house is not a home

One of my neighbors across the street has moved out. Her house has been for sale for months, but from the looks of it, nobody new has moved in. It’s been sitting empty for a couple of weeks now, looking a little lonely.

I never got to know this neighbor very well; we only spoke a few times. She was far from social, closing herself up inside her house, keeping the blinds and shades drawn tight.

This is what I knew about her: She looked to be in her fifties, and she was plain and doughy-looking. It was rumored that she had been married to a doctor, who had divorced her for another woman. The house she used to live in was a big Victorian that was across the street from a charming little park where the City Band plays concerts outside during the summer. The story was that she had gotten a raw deal in the divorce; not only had she lost her husband and her beautiful house, but she hadn’t gotten much money in the settlement. She moved in six or seven years ago. The family that sold her the house had two daughters, big blond girls who did cheerleading routines in the front yard. The parents were both teachers, and they bought a bigger house in the school district where they taught.

The first thing she did was put in a tall picket fence with rose arbors and painted everything a pale pink. She tore up the front yard and put in a huge flower garden, full of roses and hollyhocks, daffodils and peonies (which she pronounced “pea-YO-nees”). Then she retreated inside, leaving the garden to become overgrown and tangled. From what I could tell, she never opened a window or even pulled up a window blind, but she left lights on all night. She had this nasty-looking cat (named “Miss Kitty”) who she would let out to wander the neighborhood, and in concession to the cat, she cut a square out of her front blinds so Miss Kitty could look out on the world.

I pictured her sitting like Miss Havisham in her house, hidden behind her roses and walls, smoking and brooding about her life. She asked me once about finding a job. She said her money was running out, but her only skill was an outdated beautician’s license. I suggested she go out to the local technical college to take some classes, but I don’t know what she ended up doing, if anything.

This winter, the house went up for sale. Occasionally, people would come and appear to move things out of the house, but the neighbor still lived there. Then, once the snow melted, workers came and tore out the fence and the arbor, pulled out the dead evergreens, but the flowers are still there. The window blinds are all pulled up, but nobody’s home.

She finally moved out, totally, and I find myself wondering where she’s gone. Did she run out of money? Move in with her kids? Did she meet the love of her life and move to Mexico? I think she would be a fascinating character in the novel I’m never going to write.

A royal visit

Princess Surfer Girl paid a visit to the library last week. It's always nice when royalty makes time to mingle with the commoners.

Spring flowers

Frolicking lambs

I'll have to add creating a place like this to my list of career options--an alternative to milking goats, hooray! Alpacas and goats and sheep, oh my!

Spring photos

If I could explain her,

I would. I could also probably fix her.

Spring has sprung

and instead of being grateful for it, I'm thinking about how last year, it wasn't until the first part of May that we had things greening up. Now, last year was awfully cold and damp. So were things just late last year? Or early this year? Is it global warming? If I hack off all my neighbor's vines that threaten to take over my yard, do you think they'll notice? Is there any way to kill lemon balm without killing everything else around it? That stuff should come with a warning--DO NOT PLANT IN THE GROUND!! IT WILL TAKE OVER!!!

Or I could just relax and enjoy the season.

Welcome to the family

The apple

doesn't fall far from the tree...

So proud

It's a good thing they don't have a category for "Horrible Dog", because you KNOW they'd circle Polly on that one.

Cookie Time!

Cookies always taste much, much better when they are delivered by Scouts as cute as this one!

Tales from the stacks

True story #1

GUY: Yeah, I'd like to get a card.

ME: Okay, do you have photo ID and proof of your current address?

GUY: Yeah, I have my passport.

ME: Does your passport have your current address?

GUY: It says "United States of America".


True story #2

WOMAN ON PHONE: Hi, do you have any good movies there?

ME: Well, we have hundreds of movies here. I'm not sure I know what you mean by a "good" movie.

WOMAN: You know, a newer movie.


See, I just had no idea that the only good movies were newer movies, and that all newer movies were good. That's helpful to know for the future.

Just another day

Customer (seemingly intelligent woman in her 50s): Can you tell me the difference between Shakespeare's plays and his poems?


I swear I don't make this stuff up.

File this under "D" for "DUH!!"

ME (answering the phone): Hi, this is the Pleasantview** Branch Library.

CALLER: Hi, is there a library in Pleasantview?

ME (mentally responding): *sigh*


Also seen this week--

Bumper sticker on a car: THE MORE PEOPLE I MEET, THE MORE I LIKE MY DOG.



**Name changed for obvious reasons. DUH!!

I'm honored

So, I got selected to be a Nielsen family for a week. Starting tomorrow, I'm supposed to record everything I watch on TV every 15 minutes. And I got paid five (5) whole dollars to do it!

But will the act of recording my TV watching actually change my TV habits? Will I suddenly start watching a whole lot more PBS or should I admit that I watch silly things like "The Big Bang Theory"?



At least it's not "The Bachelor"!

Tuscan Bean Stew

I got quite a bit of cooking done yesterday, which was nice. During the week, when I come home from work, I'm often so tired that cooking dinner is just about the last thing I want to do. So if I have the time on the weekend, I like to cook something, like a casserole or soup, that I can reheat later.

This time, I tried this recipe for Tuscan Bean Stew from Cook's Illustrated, and it turned out very good. I had to make a few substitutions, as follows:

--I didn't have any pancetta, so I used three slices of bacon instead.
--My grocery store doesn't sell dried cannellini beans, so I substituted two cans of cannellini beans, which I drained and rinsed.
--Instead of kale, I used escarole, because I like the taste of it. I just roughly chopped the head into pieces. You could probably use spinach or any Swiss chard too.
--I didn't put in a sprig of rosemary.
--I didn't bother with the bread, because I knew I'd be reheating the soup later.

Definitely would make this one again.

Try, try again

Definitely not a resolution...and "goal" sounds too structured. Aim? Maybe. For awhile now, I've made an ongoing effort to try new things. Not crazy things like bungee jumping or body piercing, but just to be on the lookout for opportunities to expand my horizons.

For example, not too long ago, I tried parsnips. I'd never eaten them before; I don't know if I could have even told you what they looked like. But I found them at the grocery store and decided to give them a try. They look like a big, white carrot, and, as it turns out, they have a sweet flavor similar to carrots. Don't know if I feel the need to eat them again, but they were fine.

Next up on the culinary list were blood oranges. When I was in Italy, the hotel offered blood orange juice every day as part of its breakfast buffet. It was so sweet and delicious, so when I saw blood oranges on sale recently, I decided to try a few:



The juice looked beautiful, but the taste was disappointing. Just ordinary orange juice, with some of that bitter pith taste mixed in there. Definitely not as good as the Italian kind.

The most recent experiment subject was pork chops. I grew up eating pork chops (as part of a balanced meal), but somewhere in adulthood, I decided I didn't like the taste of pork. I can't point to a particular incident, but somehow, the idea of eating pork made me a little queasy, although I should point out that this did not apply to sausage or bacon. Well, after many years of avoiding most chops and roasts, it was time to revisit my reluctance. The verdict? Okay, I guess. I didn't feel queasy, but it wasn't really my thing.

To recap:

Parsnips: YES

Blood oranges: FAIL

Pork chops: MEH**

**Edited to update pork chops to FAIL status. Enough said.

Stay tuned for continuing adventures in newness--

A Sure Sign

One of the surest signs of spring each year is the migration of the Bouncy Balls back to Target. Take heart, winter-haters, it won't be long now. Alice is counting the days!

Party in the USA

Apparently, there was a party in my closet the other day. And I wasn't even invited!

Previously on...

Yeah, yeah, I know. I haven't blogged lately. Lots of stuff has been going on, but none of it has been anything I wanted to write about. Lately, less drama = good.

We had our first snowstorm of 2010 today, and I wrestled with the snowblower tonight to clear the driveway. I really have a love/hate relationship with that thing. I love not having to shovel, and I get a little thrill from being able to run a powerful machine.

But I hate the stinky gas engine smell that clings to my clothes afterwards. And I'm just a little bit afraid of the engine--sparks, flammable gas, and all that. When I was a banker, one of our vice-presidents was in a horrible accident when he tried to light a gas range (different kind of gas, I know, but still...flammable), and one of my customers lost her house to a fire when her lawn mower blew up on starting. I always think of them as I stand as far away as possible and reach over to press the starter.

Really, I suppose it's a baseless fear, because I'm not afraid of my car, which is the same kind of gas engine, basically. Maybe it's because the car engine is neatly tucked away under the hood, and I'm not so close to it.

Call me a worrywart, but as the saying goes, feel the fear and do it anyway. Because that driveway isn't going to shovel itself.

But in the Things to Look Forward to Department, just 27 more days until the Season 6 premiere of Lost! (That is, if the State of the Union doesn't preempt it.)