Another year gone by

Make new friends, but keep the old

One is silver and the other is gold.

Do you know this song? As a young Girl Scout we sang it all the time as a round. Some would say the tune is old and worn out, but I've never fallen out of love with it's simplicity and straightforward message.

Today I broke a beautiful new mug that I purchased only last Sunday. It was a porcelain travel mug with blue swirls and brown dragonflies. Sitting on the shelf of the kitchen shop it sparkled, it called to me, I was instantly enamored and smitten and head over heels. It was expensive, but resistance was futile and the purchase was made.

But today, after using it twice, I dropped it on the sidewalk outside my office. The pretty mug shattered into a jillion buhzillion little pieces.

I'm sitting here now, in front of my computer at home, drinking a mug of tea. This mug is old. It's practically from another lifetime. It was one of two that my dear friend Bet (Hi Bet!) sent as part of a care package when my first husband came out of remission from cancer. This mug isn't pretty, but it's solid. I've had it and used it excessively for nearly twenty years. I love this mug.

Today Mr. Boom and I looked at a house. I'm pretty sure the house was designed and built by Mr. Brady. Planters are built into the stairs on the inside of the house. The wallpaper in the laundry room is bright! and yellow! with flowers! and ribbons! that blind! It's kinda like this.

We're making an offer on the house, and I hope we get it. At the same time, a brick sided split level is quite a change from a 1910 Victorian. But who can argue with acres, and a pond, and a pasture, and a totally huge woodshop? Be still my heart, but there are ducks on the pond that the realtor assured me would come with the house. Did I mention the realtor has known me since I was eight years old? She patted me on the arm as she assured me the wild mallards would definitely want to live with me! Of course, she winked at Mr. Boom at the same time...

All day long I've been racking my brain, looking for something to say or do to celebrate another blog-o-versary--our 2nd! I might come up with something later on in the week, but don't hold your breath since we have all kinds of ducks to get in a row (get it?) to make the offer and get things straight with the bank.

All I have is this: thanks friends, old and new. Some are near, some are far, but I think of all of you as gold. True gold.

Update

Okay, starting now…?

Funny how hard it is to just pick this blog-thang back up. Writing is a habit, I guess, and like any (good) habit not practiced, the ease with which it’s practiced can be totally lost. Engulfed. Desolately twinkling on the ocean floor.

I’ve fallen out of many good habits recently, and I’m sorry to say I can’t say the same about any of my bad habits. Why can’t those two be self-balancing? I’d like to complain to the management about that one. Someone should really write a letter. Of course, I could write the letter myself, except I’m out of practice, you see.

I think the dust has settled, finally, from the seemingly-endless turmoil I’ve been bashing my way through. This spring, we had five hens and four cats. Due to this death and that disappearance, we were down to one hen and two kitties. Hardest of all was the death of Cirrus, my big fat blue-eyed Siamese wonderboy of love. He was poisoned. Why??????? But now we have two new hens, and the missing kitty (Pablano) returned home after a week gone. He was in good health, but reeked of axle grease and garage. He didn’t stop meowing for days, and still wanders around crying at times. There’s lots more, of course, but stuff I can’t share (to protect the innocent, the not-so-innocent, and the just plain kooky elderly folks in my life).

Cherries.

We have tons and tons of cherries. I’ve frozen up five gallon bags full of cherries. My mother-in-law has picked cherries, my neighbor ahs picked cherries. The birds are eating the cherries. Still, you can’t even tell that a single cherry is missing from the ever-loving ever-fruitful tree. I don’t know what kind of cherries they are. They’re bright red—cherry red if I might say so—and sweet enough to eat off the tree, tart enough to cook with. Turns out it’s really easy to freeze cherries. Just pit the suckers, throw ‘em on a cookie sheet, and then roll the little fruit marbles into a bad after a night in the freezer.

I made a cherry clafouti with some of the crop. Clafoutis are so pretty, and spoken so well of—and of course they’re French—so how could it not be wonderful? It wasn’t. Bleh. I will NOT be posting that recipe!

I think I’m going to make wine with however many more I pick. Sweet cherry wine? Like the song? That should be good, right? There’s a joke in there about judging a book by a cover song, but it’s probably a really bad joke, so I’ll not look for it any further.

Josh Ritter. Oh, Josh Ritter.

Met him at his recent book reading, music playing, and book signing. Mr. Boom snapped a photo of Josh Ritter and me hugging. Dorkeist photo ever. I don’t care. Josh spoke a bit about the process of writing. He likened the first draft of a book to building a block of marble. Editing is the process of sculpting the statue out of the marble. I laughed when he said you edit and edit, sculpt and sculpt, and hope that at the end, when you whip off the sheet, you’ve got enough arms. I’m not putting quotes around that because I didn’t get it quite right. But you get the idea.

Okay, I’m saving the rest for another post. I can’t wait to tell you about the gardens, how well the trellises are working (I haven’t forgotten that I need to post the plans for them, Tanya!!), and a bee update.

All right. Off to work on reestablishing the good habits, and scaring some of the bad back into their corners,

Kat

Shock

Mr. Boom's uncle died of a sudden massive heart attack Thursday morning.  He was 55, and in seemingly good health.  We're reeling.  Two of his brothers (including Mr. Boom's father) aren't mentally able to make plans.  His uncle is schizophrenic, and his father is deep in the midst of the mist of Alzheimer's disease. Another brother, whom I've never met, is supposedly coming to town.  He's a couple of states and a lot of bad weather away.  There's a sister, too. We don't know if she's been reached yet, or if she's coming.  The sheriff of the last county she was known to be in is trying to track her down. It was another sheriff who reached the uncle a few states away.  It was yet another sheriff who contacted the brother who lives in our town.  We didn't know about it until a man we don't know called us up in the middle of the night to make sure we'd heard.  We originally thought it was a joke.  The local sheriff had asked the local uncle to contact us--we can't figure out why they thought that would work?

This is what happens when three of the four remaining siblings don't have e~mail, phones, or even physical addresses.  It's not what you might call a tight-knit family. 

Mr. Boom's uncle was a great guy, the only sane relative I think Mr. Boom had (besides his brother). He smiled ALL the time.  He would help anyone at the drop of a hat.  He conquered alcoholism long after anyone would have thought he had a chance to do so.  He was the best mechanic in town, was the mascot/coach/lacer-upper for the fledgling roller derby team, and was the one who could make anyone feel good no matter how glum they were.  He really wasn't anything at all like his siblings. 

In my family, there's a definite line of authority.  I could tell you in my sleep exactly who would be in charge of what if any single member needed help, or a funeral, or whatever.  This family doesn't have that.  I'm at such a loss. 

So is our whole community.

I'll be back when I can.

Floating on air

We spent the weekend helping Mr. Boom's bother and family move into their palatial new digs. Wow. Bathroom chandeliers, people. Bathroom chandeliers. Teensy kitchen, though. I wonder what's up with that?

The freestanding "Lego Room" (What? Doesn't everyone have an extra building on their property to hold all their Legos??) was locked, and the realtor didn't have a key to give them. Should I be proud that I was able to use my little plastic free-hunting-license-holder-cum-wallet-that-fits-my-back-pocket to break in?

Skillz baby. Redneck skillzzzzz.

Anyway, they have the palace, but I have all the happiness in the world. Tomorrow night, Mr. Boom and I are celebrating our 16th wedding anniversary in style...at Jost Ritter concert. The incurable grin is already creeping across my face.

There will be no sleep tonight. And tomorrow? First day of Master Gardener classes, and a big ol' board meeting at work tomorrow. No way those guys can bring me down at this meeting. No way at all!

I'm a bit too old to be giddy, but that's why I totally love Josh Ritter and his band. These guys will gidd-ify you, too.

Please watch this video. Or this one, with Joan Baez. I know you'll smile. Just like me!

CRAP!!!!! up to 14 inches of snow are predicted for the mountain pass we have to cross to get to the concert! I'll ski there if I have to, but this is not good news!

FFwD: Green beans with Pancetta and other things

Maybe I'm missing something, because all the other kids on the French Fridays with Dorie block loved this dish.  They raved about this dish.  They drrrrrrroooooooooled over this dish.

They should just marry this dish.

Me?  Meh.  I didn't even take a picture of the completed dish.  I still have leftovers from Valentine's Day in the fridge.  I could very easily get up at take a picture.  It just wouldn't be worth it.

This "recipe" consisted of blanching green beans, frying up pancetta, combining the two with a bit of butter, and serving up.  I like pancetta, I like beans.  I do not like pancetta and beans.  My tongue wanted more.  It felt like drinking orange-spice tea without the little pinch of sugar.  It felt like an English muffin without the butter.  It was the Sunday Times without the funnies or crossword puzzles.

Dorie has so many great recipes up her sleeves.  I wish this big glossy page of the cookbook had one of those printed on it, instead.  Anyone want my leftovers?

Meanwhile, back at the ranch....

Remember the momma cow who'd given up trying to birth her baby?  I talked to the rancher the next day about some unrelated business and he let me know the little calf survived!  It was breach, and "twisted-a-turvy," and each time the cow pushed, the calf's feet (which were caught up on top of the pelvic bone) sprung the baby backward again.  One of the cowboys got in there, though, and managed to free everything up and the baby was born just fine.  Less than ten minutes later momma and baby were back out in the pasture with the rest of the herd.  Made me happy.

Meanwhile, back here in town...

A blizzard.  We received a few inches of snow in about as many hours on Wednesday, and it still hasn't all melted off.  Snow tends to fall straight down, here in my valley.  We just don't get wind in the winter.  So the snow "falling" just about parallel to the ground was really interesting to sit and watch. All the tension that had been building up on Wednesday simply released while watching the snow. 

The chooks are not impressed, however.  And frankly, I'm really ready for spring myself!  Have a good weekend, everyone.  And really, if you'd like some pancetta green beans, there's a big bowl in the fridge.  Just help yourself!

Midweek ramblings

This week, more so than a lot of weeks, I’m looking forward to the downhill slide of Thursday and Friday. It hasn’t been a bad week so far, just a week full of waiting for the poo to hit the fan. I’ve felt like I’ve been ducking all week, and all the while wondering if I’m even ducking in the right direction. The sword of Damocles has been held high all week, but I’m not confident that the thread from which it dangles is all that trustworthy!

Valentine’s Day was on Monday. I hate that I expect anything on this day, but deep down I do. I always go into that day mentally propped up for the worst, just in case, you know, and this year was no different. Of course, all that worry was for naught. Oh how I do love Mr. Boom!

Monday was also The Day That Chirp chirp Got Braces. She’s nearly 14, but has only lost a few baby teeth. Her four canines were pulled two years ago and still haven’t come through. Her mouth is tiny, but she’s definitely got her dad’s twisty curvy oversized teeth. This poor child hasn’t lost a single tooth without hours of trauma and buckets of tears. For her, the pain of a dentist visit begins when the dentist first gingerly puts a finger in her mouth. The numbing gel makes her cry. She’s very---sensitive.

Miracle of miracles, though, she was an absolute dream patient during the procedure to put the braces on. I was so incredibly proud of her, as well as really gobsmacked at how much mature she’s become over the past year. I thought about singing from the rooftops, but that might have embarrassed her….

Monday was also the day I took my grandma in for surgery. She was clearly suffering from a case of the nerves, and decided to take it out on me. I let her go on for a few minutes, then offered her the chance to get her own freaking ride to the hospital and find someone else to take the day off work to care for her afterwards…but maybe not in quite those exact same words. Maybe a little closer than they should have been, but anyway…

Her surgery went fine; I got her home, fed, tucked into bed, and then faced the daunting task of making a wonderful and memorable meal for my dear husband—who needed to eat in 25 minutes. After all he did for me, he got a measly 25 minute meal. I really should do something nice for him…

Tuesday: back to the hospital with grandma; back to the orthodontist with Chirp-chirp; back to work to handle some “situations” that came up while I was gone. Success on all three accounts, but still!

Tuesday also had me helping a rancher I’d just met search a creek for a little calf that may or may not have been born to a nearby cow in distress. There was a sort of “please find it, please don’t find it” track repeatedly running through my head. He called a hand in to take care of the cow (and the unborn calf?) while we continued our stream survey. I wonder how it turned out. Last I saw, the hand was pulling and pulling and pulling, trying to get the calf out.

Today I’m going to try to make pita bread for the first time. I *could* put it off for another day, but I guess I’m getting used to that sword over my head. Would a sword be an accessory? Does it make me look fat? What the heck is a fashion accessory anyway?

And is it Friday yet?

I'm nervous!

I have an interview in one hour.

The Master Gardener program in our area is top notch. Over the years I’ve received incredible amounts of help from their volunteers. They offer a weekly diagnostics clinic, to which you can bring your plants for help with all manner of problems such as pests, diseases, nutritional deficiencies, or just to find out what the heck the plant that your neighbor dug up and shared with you is called. The volunteers almost always know the answer, and when they don’t know it right off they find out and get back to you. Invariably. Reliably. Promptly.

Want to know what type of grapes grow best in your part of town? Ask a Master Gardener. They’ll tell you which is best for eating, which is best for wine, and which is best for jelly. They’ll tell you what to plant next to it, when to prune it, and when you’ll need to be prepared for the glut of fruit. They also show up at the health department when you bring down the berries your toddler ate off a plant that you can’t identify* while you’re on hold with poison control…

How do they know all this stuff? They get trained! Lots and lots of training goes into the making of each and every Master Gardener. Just think about how mind-blowing the trainings must be. I love learning new things, and I really want to do better in my own garden, and I want to start paying back my debt to the community for all the help I’ve previously received.

So, in one hour I have an interview with the Master Gardeners. Will they take me on? Will they accept me into their fold?

Most likely, they will. They take almost anyone…

But still, I’m a little bit nervous.

I’ll let you know how it goes!

*Privet. Not lethal to humans, but can result in stomach aches and other gastro-intestinal distress. Provide lots of liquid and a handy receptacle for catching any barf.

Just a few things...

Let's see, there's been just a few things I keep meaning to share, and keep putting off until the time is better. Well, I have a nice adult beverage in hand and I'm kicking back in front of the screen, thinking to myself, "what the heck, self? there's no time like the present."

So.

Item the First: Do you have Netflix? Please watch "dirt! the movie." You can even stream it live to your computer.


Yes, it's a documentary. Yes, it's about dirt. But really? It's about a lot more than that. This movie is all about life. There are even cartoon bits, for those of you who might fear the overly serious sound of the word "documentary."

I was super excited to see Barbara Damrosch a couple times in the film, although for some reason her name was never provided. Why the lack of citation, documentary people? I first fell in love with Barbara and her husband Eliot when Mr. Boom and I lived in a tiny apartment, both in school, both dreaming of someday having our own Real Home, and soaking up her knowledge of gardening through her show Gardening Naturally. Every year I plant Nicotiana in the garden and think fondly of her predilection for this particular plant.

So, yes, please watch this movie, okay?

Thing the Second: Inflatable Fruitcake. All I can say is that I'm totally obsessed with this.

Tidbit the Third: Not as obsessed as I am by this. It's my theme song for the holidays. This particular video cracks me up, for sure, but it's the song I love the most-es-est!

Fact the Fourth: Mr. Boom took the juice of two oranges, one lemon, and one lime, mixed it with the raspberry mush left over from making a raspberry sauce, and added water and a bit of yeast. Essentially, he recreated my ginger-ale recipe without ginger. It's pretty, it's pink, it's fizzy, it's eminently drinkable. Mixed with vodka and homemade vanilla ice-cream it's the perfect drink to hold while prancing around to Gayla Peevey's song above. Maybe not so much the perfect accompaniment for a coherent blog post, but there you go.

Finally the Fifth: My little cousin the Marine is back from his fifth tour of duty in the war (he was actually deployed in the Middle East on 9/11). Merry Christmas to us, one and all. I hope all your family is back, if they've been. And if they're not back, then you are in my thoughts stronger still.

Sad and Sorry fact the Sixth: Tonight, of all nights, Blogger spellcheck is not working....oh well! I'm posting anyway! Here I go!

Sometimes my thought run wild... (by Kat)

Sometimes, I'm just not content with the status quo.

Sometimes, I want to stir things up a little and examine the aftermath. Is it better? Is it worse?

Take bread, for example. I wondered if it really tasted better homemade (okay, no I didn't. I knew it did, but just work with me here, okay)? Would I be able to keep up with the household demand? Was the homemade bread train headed down the tracks in the right direction and I just never knew I needed that ticket? The answer was an overwhelming yes on all accounts.

Take soap, for example. Some people make their own. How weird is that? No, wait, how cool is that? Should I try it too? Could I try it too? Was the happily ever after story of homemade soap a myth? Was it a lye (sorry, couldn't help myself)? Turns out making my own soap totally rocks. Why didn't I try it sooner?

Bees? Same thing!

Fireworks? Sure!! Well, no, Mr. Boom handles the explosives around here, but I watch. Do I get a little bit of credit for that?

So, what else can I shake up?

Welllllll....we're going camping this weekend. I've got a bee in my bonnet to try at least one of the following three adventures: sous-vide steaks, ice cream made with dry ice, or solar cooking. Yes, all three have to do with food. What else is there, right?!

Will it be a habit I keep? Honestly, I don't see any of them sticking around for long. But I'd sure love to try each of them at least once.

Have you tried any of these meal preparation strategies?

Did it work? Do you still do it?

Cook Your Meat in a Beer Cooler: The World's Best (and Cheapest) Sous-Vide Hack from Serious Eats

How to Make Instant Dry Ice Cream from DadLabs.com

Solar cookers from Teong H. Tan

Camping is so much fun!

I can't wait!

I've been accused (yet again!) of procrastination.

Huh.

Gotta go!!!