I was driving through Aberdeen the other day and I saw this yellow sign mounted on an electrical pole. It said NO PANHANDLING. I wanted to take a picture of it, it was so wonderful, but I was trying to drive and fiddle (illegally) with my phone/camera, and the end result was not productive. The sign went on to say something about "keep your money because it will just go to alcohol and/or drugs". Not the exact words, but the general idea. I loved it!
When my brother and sister were little, eons ago, they saw the first panhandler in our area. They were on their way to the store with my mom, and there was the man on the side of the road with a sign that said something about being homeless and hungry. They were horrified. At the store, they convinced Mom to buy a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter for the guy. Needless to say, the guy was not overjoyed upon receipt of the donation.
I have seen a man at my intersection several times, and each time he has a sign that says something like "Just Need Gas". At first you would think that he is a stranded motorist, but I have seen him multiple times. It would be quite coincidental if he indeed has run out of gas in this area several times in the last month and has no money. The thing about this guy, and most of the other ones, is that they don't look hungry and they have decent clothes. My gas beggar - he has a really nice red and black jacket that he wears, and it looks clean. He also has a pot belly, doubtful the kind that is indicative of someone starving to death. The guy I saw this morning had some camo pants on. I have looked at camo pants in catalogs and stores, and they aren't cheap! He also had a haircut and was also quite filled out; he did not look gaunt or weak from hunger.
It's a sad thing that we don't help people any more because of these posing scam artists. They have lots of gimmicks, from sitting in a wheelchair (generally motorized), to having a dog with them, to a sign that talks about raising children. All different ways to get to your pocketbook via your emotions.
What do you do when you're the first one in the line at the stoplight and there is a panhandler standing there? Do you talk to your passenger, pretend to talk on the phone (hoping a cop won't come by), blow your nose for a long time, look interestedly at the cars going by??? Stare the person in the eye grimly? Do you give the person money?
Lost and Found
So I have this new favorite website, it is http://www.loseit.com/. Basically it is a tool to help a person lose weight. You enter your height and current weight, and your birthdate, and how much you want to lose. It sets up a calorie budget for you and you enter all the food you eat and the exercise that you do. I love keeping track of things, making lists and checking them twice, so this is right up my alley.
I was briskly striding along through the woods this morning, thinking proudly about how I was going to enter my exercise minutes, and this led to thinking about how people talk about losing and gaining weight. Funny, when a person doesn't have something, and then it shows up, she says that she "found" it. But we don't ever say, "Oh, I found two pounds last week!" "Finding" sounds like you were intentionally looking for it, and I know that is not the case with me and my pounds.
The word "gain", when used with a unit of weight, doesn't sound like a person made any effort in the acquisition of the poundage. I was pondering that as I swiped at the cobwebs in my path, and I thought of how to say "gain" in other languages. GANAR, in Spanish, commonly means to win or to earn, as does GAGNER in French, and GUADAGNARE in Italian. To "earn" pounds is a much more appropriate term, as you actually have to do something to get them. For example, I ate all the Pad Thai on my plate the other night and earned 1.5 pounds. It makes it sound like I deserved them, which I probably did.
Let's look at losing pounds. To lose sounds careless, or accidental. Let me tell you, I do not accidentally lose pounds. I work my rear off (pun intended). I would like to find a more appropriate word - one that indicates that I made an effort. After my 50 minutes of brisk walking, I sat down at the computer and read through various entries of the online Merriam-Webster dictionary, and moved on to the thesaurus. I passed up mislay, forfeit, scrap, cast off, abandon, abdicate.... none convey the hard work it takes to get rid of the pounds. I haven't found the right word yet, but when it surfaces, I'll be sure to let you know.
I was briskly striding along through the woods this morning, thinking proudly about how I was going to enter my exercise minutes, and this led to thinking about how people talk about losing and gaining weight. Funny, when a person doesn't have something, and then it shows up, she says that she "found" it. But we don't ever say, "Oh, I found two pounds last week!" "Finding" sounds like you were intentionally looking for it, and I know that is not the case with me and my pounds.
The word "gain", when used with a unit of weight, doesn't sound like a person made any effort in the acquisition of the poundage. I was pondering that as I swiped at the cobwebs in my path, and I thought of how to say "gain" in other languages. GANAR, in Spanish, commonly means to win or to earn, as does GAGNER in French, and GUADAGNARE in Italian. To "earn" pounds is a much more appropriate term, as you actually have to do something to get them. For example, I ate all the Pad Thai on my plate the other night and earned 1.5 pounds. It makes it sound like I deserved them, which I probably did.
Let's look at losing pounds. To lose sounds careless, or accidental. Let me tell you, I do not accidentally lose pounds. I work my rear off (pun intended). I would like to find a more appropriate word - one that indicates that I made an effort. After my 50 minutes of brisk walking, I sat down at the computer and read through various entries of the online Merriam-Webster dictionary, and moved on to the thesaurus. I passed up mislay, forfeit, scrap, cast off, abandon, abdicate.... none convey the hard work it takes to get rid of the pounds. I haven't found the right word yet, but when it surfaces, I'll be sure to let you know.
Hey Presto, It's Pesto!
I made pesto last night for the second time in my life. It was relatively uneventful and quite easy. I used the recipe I found on another blog, Towards Sustainability (see link below).
PESTO
4 cups basil leaves
1/2 cup freshly shredded Parmesan
1/2 slightly toasted nuts (I used almonds)
3 cloves garlic, minced (I put in lots)
3 TBSP extra virgin olive oil
Rinse and pat dry the leaves. In a food processor or blender, combine cheese and nuts. Add the garlic and mix again. Dribble in the olive oil and blend some more. Finally, add in the leaves and blend away. I put it in 3 little jam jars. Not a bounty, but it's a good start! You can freeze these jars, but on other sites people talk about not adding the cheese if you are going to freeze it.
What to do with the pesto? I think I will add it to any kind of noodles, and it is good spread on baguettes, or toast. The Food Network website has 50 Things to Make With Pesto. I do like the idea of putting it on a BLT, or a grilled cheese sandwich, and I think it sounds good to make pizza and put pesto on the crust before the other goodies. I am not wild about mixing it in to potato salad, or with green beans, or making pesto meatballs or fritters. Then I found another website, seriouseats.com, and they had some ideas like spread pesto on crackers, use any time in place of butter, spread on chicken before baking. I can't wait to start eating!!!
Helpful links mentioned in this post: Food Network and Serious Eats
PESTO
4 cups basil leaves
1/2 cup freshly shredded Parmesan
1/2 slightly toasted nuts (I used almonds)
3 cloves garlic, minced (I put in lots)
3 TBSP extra virgin olive oil
Rinse and pat dry the leaves. In a food processor or blender, combine cheese and nuts. Add the garlic and mix again. Dribble in the olive oil and blend some more. Finally, add in the leaves and blend away. I put it in 3 little jam jars. Not a bounty, but it's a good start! You can freeze these jars, but on other sites people talk about not adding the cheese if you are going to freeze it.
What to do with the pesto? I think I will add it to any kind of noodles, and it is good spread on baguettes, or toast. The Food Network website has 50 Things to Make With Pesto. I do like the idea of putting it on a BLT, or a grilled cheese sandwich, and I think it sounds good to make pizza and put pesto on the crust before the other goodies. I am not wild about mixing it in to potato salad, or with green beans, or making pesto meatballs or fritters. Then I found another website, seriouseats.com, and they had some ideas like spread pesto on crackers, use any time in place of butter, spread on chicken before baking. I can't wait to start eating!!!
Helpful links mentioned in this post: Food Network and Serious Eats
The Possum Tale
This true tale is from November 2010.
Monday was a rainy, cold afternoon. Sofia and I arrived home at 5:15 and it was already dark. We nervously scanned the garage, looking for clues that would tell us if the possum was still on the premises. We saw no scat, nothing where it shouldn't be. I poked around with a broom and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Relieved, we went into the house, happy that the possum had gone home to its family through the crack we had left in the garage door all day. We closed the garage and were proud that we had not let any cats in the garage, it was free of animals.
Sofia went to bed at 7:30 and I settled in with my book. At 8:30 I heard a suspicious sound. Grumbling, I opened the utility room door to the garage. To my horror, there on the railing sat the possum, looking right at me. I shrieked and slammed the door. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the broom, flung open the door and pushed the button to open the garage door. The possum was scuttling down the railing. I gave it a huge push with the broom, hoping to give it enough momentum to go tumbling out into the night. Instead, it landed on the cement with a splat and then scurried to the other side of the car. I could hear it rustling somewhere. I hesitated around the end of the car, worried that it would spring at me and bite my leg through my flannel pajama pants. It was a narrow spot between the side of the car and the wall, lined with tools, bags of fertilizer, and a potting bench covered with assorted gardening supplies. I couldn't see any sign of the possum. Poking with my broom, I shuffled along next to the car. Seeing nothing, I discouragedly went back into the house.
I decided to use the Hansel and Gretel approach. The possum had been in the garage for 2 days without food, so by all rights it must have been hungry. I took some Almost Alfredo from the refrigerator, inhaling a big whiff of the dinner we had eaten. Surely this would attract a hungry animal! I placed some on the inside of the garage door, and some outside, planning to close the door once the possum had followed the food outside. I stood at the top of the stairs, the garage door opener remote in one hand in my pocket, the other hand holding the broom. After 15 minutes I turned off the light. After 15 more minutes, I turned on the light in disgust. I put a paper bowl of dried cat food outside the garage door to further entice the hungry animal. I decided to move my car out of the garage so that I would be able to see the whole garage. After backing it out, I resumed my post at the top of the stairs. I imagined I could hear tiny squeaks, and I hoped it wasn't the quiet peep of possum babies. After another 30 minutes, I was tired, stiff and cold. I still had neither seen nor heard my enemy. I swept the food out the door, pushed the cat food so that it was outside the door, and closed it. I refused to feed that animal as long as it was hiding in the garage.
Entering the house, I left my flannel pajama pants on the washer, convinced that they had possum germs on the hems. I put on my robe and slippers after thoroughly washing my hands, and sat back down with my book. By now it was nearly 10:00 but I was no longer tired. I dove back into my Victorian mystery, but all the while, thoughts of the possum and its hiding place were in the back of my head.
After a half hour, I took off my glasses and set down the book. In the utility room, I quickly pushed open the door to the garage and flicked on the light. There was my prey, cowering in the front corner. Upon seeing me, it scurried behind the ShopVac. I tightened the belt on my blue fleece robe and quickly looked around for shoes. My tall rubber boots were right inside the door, so I kicked off my down booties and slid my stocking feet into them. Armed with the broom, I crossed the garage, saying, "I see you now! You can't get away from me this time!" I poked the nearby fertilizer bags with the broom. There was a small movement to the left. I pushed the broom hard into the sawhorses, which tipped backward into the soaker hose I had coiled up behind them. I spotted the scaly little tail and black hairy body directly behind the ShopVac. I grabbed one of the accessories that was sticking out of the base and wheeled the unit toward me. The possum huddled in the corner of the wall and the cabinet. I grabbed a long pole, originally designed to extend and assist in the changing of light bulbs, although I couldn't extend it. I poked at the possum and it hissed at me. I held a push broom in front of my feet, feeling safer behind the small barrier that it provided. I poked again at the possum, this time with my pole and my other broom. It bared its teeth at me and snarled. I managed to poke it towards the door, but instead of running out into the cold night, it opted to hide in the corner, only one foot from freedom. Also in the corner were numerous poles of various sizes, tiki torches, belly dance sticks and solar lights on stakes. The possum was hiding in the teepee created by these leaning against the wall. I tried for probably 10 or 15 minutes to encourage that animal to flee; poking, jabbing, thumping, pushing, pulling with every garden tool to which I had access. This included a rake, a hoe, two brooms, a long bamboo pole (which I think had some mystery poop on the handle, I discovered that the smelly way), a snow shovel, and the light bulb changer. The possum growled, hissed, bared its teeth, and snarled, but never played dead. The entire time that I was harassing this animal, I was shouting, "Get out! GET OUT! GET OUT!!" My task was further inhibited by the garage door sensor, which is bolted to the cement wall in the same spot as that foul animal. I could not flail with abandon (as I wished) because I didn't want to break the sensor or its bracket. I am against breaking anything that I can't fix, and I am unable to affix bolts into cement. So all of the poking, jabbing, thumping, pushing and pulling had to be done with a little care and in a confined area. I don't know what finally did it, I think I moved the bucket back towards me so the possum didn't feel so trapped, but it finally came out a little from the corner and I roughly encouraged it out the door. No sooner than it ran out, I shouted, "AND DON'T COME BACK!", I pushed the remote to close the garage door, dropped all of my tools and stomped inside. I kicked off my boots, ripped off my bathrobe and put it in the wash, and went to the sink to wash away every thought of the possum.
As you finish this story, you may expect that I am quite pleased with the outcome, and satisfied that I am done with possum extraction. Note that this was, in fact, the second possum I had discovered in my garage in two days. I believe they both entered on Saturday, when I had left the garage cracked open in the hopes that the cats would exit. When I got home Saturday night, one cat was in and one cat was out. The one who was out meowed at the sliding door, so I put her in the garage. I heard her meowing desperately at one point, but I just thought she wanted in the warm house. Sunday morning when I opened the garage door, one cat quickly escaped and I thought, "as soon as the other comes out, I am shutting this door." When I saw the second cat on the deck, I closed the garage, happy at last to have no more cats in the garage. Imagine my reaction when I went in to the garage and discovered the worst smell imaginable and a possum hiding among the tools! It took about an hour of sweeping and poking and moving tools to get that one out. I happily closed the door on Sunday, not knowing that there was yet another possum trapped inside.
How Do I Start Thee?
Why is starting out so hard? Not just starting the blog, and the questions of what to write, how much to reveal, what to talk about on the first day, but starting anything. Starting a new job, starting back to your job after vacation, starting new projects... Is it the fear of the unknown, fear of failure, or the worry of screwing up so much that it will take more effort to clean up the mess than it did to actually start?
As this is the first entry, consider this a dry run. I'll start by telling you a little about myself.
I am a single parent, learning how to raise a spirited, smart daughter. I say learning because Sofie is my first and only, and every day is a new experience. She's been in drama camp for the past two weeks, I'm slightly suspicious that she's giving out tips on how to Save the Drama for Your Mama.
She is like no one in our family ever was as a child: she is sassy, independent, strong-willed. Not to say that the rest of us were namby-pamby pushovers, but we were the quiet, obedient types that ate all of the dinner on our plates so we could have dessert. My daughter will make a conscious decision about finishing her dinner based on what is for dessert. We'll talk more about spirited later. I love being a mom, I have loved every age, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Being the only adult in the house means that I have to do everything. By "do everything", I mean more than cooking and cleaning (not high on my priority list, by the way). Taking out the garbage, cleaning the gutters, spraying Round Up around the house, chopping wood, hauling wood, bringing wood into the house, chasing wild animals out of the garage (that's a whole other post) - those also fall on to my side of the chore list. Mow the lawn, weed-eat, water the garden that I planted, fix a hole in the wall, oil the garage door, hang pictures and hooks, install water saving devices in the bathroom, paint rooms, fix electronic devices, change the tire on the lawnmower - I have done all of these. Of course after completing an especially challenging job, I do get to race around the house with my arms in the pose of a champion, shouting "who can fix anything? MAMA!!! Who's number ONE??? MAMA!!" This does lead to a problem when there comes along something that I cannot fix. Because then the statement is thrown out there: "But Mama, I thought you could fix anything!" Oh dear. That list is also long, the list of things I cannot fix: hanging cupboards, re-attaching the towel rod after someone hung on it like monkey bars, plumbing is something I refuse to touch, the exploding lawnmower, dull lawnmower blades, cleaning the chimney, repairing the mess under the sink that has something to do with a mystery leak and something to do with a rotting board - culminating in all of the things under the sink sliding back and down towards the wall. Those things I have to hire out for. And that is another thing on my chore list.
I enjoy baking. I do not consider it a chore at all. I enjoy it so much that for the birthdays of certain in-laws, I give them a certain number of cakes for the year (usually 5 is a good number). I keep track of how many they have in their "accounts" and when they feel hungry, they call me up and order a cake. They have lists of my repertoire, and we have marked on the list which cake is the favorite of which person, and which cake can be optionally frosted, etc. I have an old Pillsbury cake cookbook from the 80s (I bought it as an impulse buy near the cash register) which is the one I use the most. It has Dixie Spice Cake with Caramel Frosting, Banana Snack Cake (my signature cake), Anytime Oatmeal Cake, Banana Gingerbread with Cream Cheese Frosting, Orange Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting, Jellybean Cake... it's wonderful. I also have a favorite Martha Stewart recipe: Triple Chocolate Brownie Cupcakes. I wrote it down on scraps of paper one day when I was watching TV. I have practically made a shrine out of those yellow papers, the cupcakes are so good. Last year I found a recipe for Green Tomato Cake. I know it sounds hideous, but WOW it's good! You don't even know there are tomatoes in it! It's basically a spice cake. Just like you might make a carrot cake, or zucchini bread - it's no different. People can never guess the mystery ingredient! Here's the deal about baking, though: I don't bake for myself. I know that I would eat the whole thing and then where would I be? Out of a wardrobe. So I only bake for people who like to eat my wares.
So what will I blog about? Baking, hauling wood, fixing stuff, raising a 7-year old, bird watching, road trips, camping ..... starting is the hardest part!
As this is the first entry, consider this a dry run. I'll start by telling you a little about myself.
I am a single parent, learning how to raise a spirited, smart daughter. I say learning because Sofie is my first and only, and every day is a new experience. She's been in drama camp for the past two weeks, I'm slightly suspicious that she's giving out tips on how to Save the Drama for Your Mama.
She is like no one in our family ever was as a child: she is sassy, independent, strong-willed. Not to say that the rest of us were namby-pamby pushovers, but we were the quiet, obedient types that ate all of the dinner on our plates so we could have dessert. My daughter will make a conscious decision about finishing her dinner based on what is for dessert. We'll talk more about spirited later. I love being a mom, I have loved every age, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Being the only adult in the house means that I have to do everything. By "do everything", I mean more than cooking and cleaning (not high on my priority list, by the way). Taking out the garbage, cleaning the gutters, spraying Round Up around the house, chopping wood, hauling wood, bringing wood into the house, chasing wild animals out of the garage (that's a whole other post) - those also fall on to my side of the chore list. Mow the lawn, weed-eat, water the garden that I planted, fix a hole in the wall, oil the garage door, hang pictures and hooks, install water saving devices in the bathroom, paint rooms, fix electronic devices, change the tire on the lawnmower - I have done all of these. Of course after completing an especially challenging job, I do get to race around the house with my arms in the pose of a champion, shouting "who can fix anything? MAMA!!! Who's number ONE??? MAMA!!" This does lead to a problem when there comes along something that I cannot fix. Because then the statement is thrown out there: "But Mama, I thought you could fix anything!" Oh dear. That list is also long, the list of things I cannot fix: hanging cupboards, re-attaching the towel rod after someone hung on it like monkey bars, plumbing is something I refuse to touch, the exploding lawnmower, dull lawnmower blades, cleaning the chimney, repairing the mess under the sink that has something to do with a mystery leak and something to do with a rotting board - culminating in all of the things under the sink sliding back and down towards the wall. Those things I have to hire out for. And that is another thing on my chore list.
I enjoy baking. I do not consider it a chore at all. I enjoy it so much that for the birthdays of certain in-laws, I give them a certain number of cakes for the year (usually 5 is a good number). I keep track of how many they have in their "accounts" and when they feel hungry, they call me up and order a cake. They have lists of my repertoire, and we have marked on the list which cake is the favorite of which person, and which cake can be optionally frosted, etc. I have an old Pillsbury cake cookbook from the 80s (I bought it as an impulse buy near the cash register) which is the one I use the most. It has Dixie Spice Cake with Caramel Frosting, Banana Snack Cake (my signature cake), Anytime Oatmeal Cake, Banana Gingerbread with Cream Cheese Frosting, Orange Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting, Jellybean Cake... it's wonderful. I also have a favorite Martha Stewart recipe: Triple Chocolate Brownie Cupcakes. I wrote it down on scraps of paper one day when I was watching TV. I have practically made a shrine out of those yellow papers, the cupcakes are so good. Last year I found a recipe for Green Tomato Cake. I know it sounds hideous, but WOW it's good! You don't even know there are tomatoes in it! It's basically a spice cake. Just like you might make a carrot cake, or zucchini bread - it's no different. People can never guess the mystery ingredient! Here's the deal about baking, though: I don't bake for myself. I know that I would eat the whole thing and then where would I be? Out of a wardrobe. So I only bake for people who like to eat my wares.
So what will I blog about? Baking, hauling wood, fixing stuff, raising a 7-year old, bird watching, road trips, camping ..... starting is the hardest part!
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