Die Welt von Heidelfinc

2012-02-19T17:53:00.000-08:00

It's been busy around here, again a week passed and I feel like I have nothing to show for it.
Perhaps a little clean laundry, but that hardly counts.

I've read a few good books and one clunker, chicklit piece of fluff.
The devil all the time by Donald Ray Pollock was so intense it gave me nightmares.
The characters are brutal and brutalized and I get shivers just thinking of the story. Well written but not for the weak stomached.
The Outlaw Album oddly enough was right along the same lines, a collection of stories, some riveting some just so, so.
If you are like me and you like to get into people's heads and see what makes them tick, and are fascinated by dysfunction, then these are good choices.

Town House by Tish Cohen, was the fluffy one. The writing is painfully contrived, but the idea of the story is ok. I kept reading, hoping the phoniness of the author would wear off.

My cat has developed the habit of chewing the spines of hardbound books, which is disturbing. Most of my nice cookbooks now bear the marks of her wrath. I have no idea how to make her stop. I wonder if it has something to do with the presence of the new dog? She did it a little all along, but has taken it to a whole new level recently, wiping out Martha Stewart and Laurel's Kitchen almost completely. She spared Julia Child, only because Julia is in paperback.

We started watching an absurd, comic series called Delocated which made me laugh out loud.

So lots of links here and not much substance. That is what I seem to have time for.

Freyja is calling me from the bath, needing something that is out of reach, no doubt.

2012-02-12T21:32:00.000-08:00

did I post this last year or the one before?
Thinking of my dear friend that died in 1985, but lives in my heart.

I loved you

more than all the sleep and Goodwill bins in the world

too.

Thank you.

Java Jive

2012-02-11T17:01:00.000-08:00

We drink a fair amount of coffee around here and have burned through a number of coffee makers over the year. Recently we've had two die in a row, after lasting about six weeks, which makes me think that things are just not made as well as they used to be.
It is not possible to purchase and American made coffee maker, I've tried. You can take your pick between really cheap American brands like Mr Coffee and Black and Decker, or the fancier European brands like Krups but they are all made in China and I haven't found one that lasts more than a year yet.

I am not staunchly opposed to buying yet another cheap coffee machine and have gone back to what I used to do in my 20's, which is make espresso in a stainless steel pot, the kind you boil on the stovetop.

The coffee tends toward unevenness in strength, but at least I know the pot will work every time.

2012-02-07T16:24:00.000-08:00

My mother is moving back to town.

I am her house shopping assistant.

Her husband wants to be urban.

My mother hates urban, and has demanded a hippie free dwelling.

No hippies, no homeless, which pretty much eliminates most of Portland.

My husband told her,

In Portland you will either live with actual homeless people, or hipsters that look homeless.

She would like to move back to the suburban house I grew up in, but her husband won't go for it. He says he can stay in California for that.

It has been a bit stressful.

I was sent to look at a "townhome" yesterday.

I laughed out loud and offended the real estate lady.

The real estate lady thought that I wasn't fancy enough for the townhome, I could tell.

I cannot imagine my mother in this place in a million years.

I told the real estate lady,

My mother will not get marmoleum & cork. She will think it looks dirty and old fashioned.

I suspect there are a lot more viewings in my immediate future.

On Friday evening I went out to coffee with an old friend. His father had passed away and he was in town for the funeral.

He is the second friend of mine to lose his father in four weeks.

It was the second dessert and coffee I had, had out in a month.

I told him about the house hunting, and the hippies, and the moving thing. About my grandfather's frailty and my mother's recent illness and hospitalization.

He told me about his mother's decline and his father's decline and death.

It was a very strange conversation, but I was happy to have it, to offer my hand and what little comfort I had in me. There is something deeply humanizing about a common experience, I suppose.

2012-01-29T15:16:00.000-08:00

I had to get new sneakers for Freyja today, the old ones were too small. I hadn't really noticed, which makes me feel like a rotten mother.
I don't usually buy her shoes. Rolf and she have a shoe purchasing ritual, where they ride the bus downtown together a couple times each year, to get new shoes at Nordstorm. I can only imagine what the shoe lady must think of Rolf with his scruffy gray beard and the faded jeans he wears to the lab, with acid burns in them.

Freyja wanted to get running shoes, like her father's, so that is what we got.

This is the first pair of shoes with ties, so we had to spend a little time practicing, but she learned in a snap.

I remember my grandfather teaching me to tie my shoes when I was four. I was on a trip to Idaho with my grandparents to see their mothers and I remember sitting in the spare living-room of my great-grandmother's house in Fruitland, with her Boston Bulldog darting around, carefully making the rabbit run around the hole, to tie my saddle shoes.

Freyja thought it was funny, when I told her that when I was a child people didn't wear tennis shoes for everyday, the way they do now.
I told her that I only had tennis shoes for gym, and they were called gymshoes.
I remember that it became quite commonplace to wear gym shoes all the time around the time I was in 6th grade, which coincided with a move from a small blue collar town, to a affluent suburb. My mother had landed a big, real job, after being a student for a long time, our lives were changing quickly.
I felt like I had landed on a different planet. A planet where people wore Nike tennis shoes all day and demanded to know where I shopped, which felt like the most bizarre and rude thing anyone could have asked me. I was brought up to be discreet and to overlook things that might embarrass people, and it was as if the girls in my new school had been taught just the reverse; rudeness and cruelty reigned.

The spring I was in 7th grade my mother had done extremely well at her job as a stock broker, and she took me on a trip with her to New York and we did a lot of shopping, because my mother knew that it had been a long old year, as my grandmother would say, not having the right shoes, and not being a skilled shopper.
When I returned to my Jr. High from that trip, I saw those girls through a very different lens and I almost felt confident in my new shoes and my New York clothes.

at the base of the statue of liberty 7th grade

adjusting to the new puppy

2012-01-27T16:35:00.000-08:00

a new dog

2012-01-26T15:25:00.000-08:00

We have a new dog.

A small black mutt called Rose, that my mother brought for Freyja's birthday.

She is a sweet dog, but young and a little yappy.

I am not really that bothered by yappy, but most people are, so it makes me nervous.

I really didn't need another thing to make me nervous, but there you go, someone gives your child a dog, and you pretty much have to go with it.

snow day!

two dogs

You don't want to be the one that sent the puppy back, or at least I don't.

The thing is, that I don't really like dogs.

I like small white poodles and the occasional apricot or maybe a chocolate poodle.

Aesthetically I can appreciate a wire haired terrier or a Airedale, but I don't want one in my kitchen.

This dog isn't so bad, she doesn't shed.

Shedding is a deal breaker for me.

I can't do hair, ever, for any reason, not even human.

I just can not abide having stray hair floating around.

So as far as the hair factor goes this dog is really pretty ok.

She is just not cute, to me.

My mother kept exclaiming "isn't she cute?!"

Well, no, she isn't really cute to me.

I have pretty static taste, I don't find all children cute and I don't find most dogs cute.

I might be impaired, my ability to sense cuteness might be all fouled up or something, but my idea of cute is just very narrow, and this dog doesn't land on the continuum.

She is sweet, and charming.

I will give her that much.

Freyja loves her already, which is the point. So I guess I will learn to love her too.

Rest in peace

2012-01-17T17:54:00.000-08:00

I turned 44 this week and I think it will be fine.

I am vain about a lot of things, but my age isn't one of them.

I read of the death on another person I went to high school with, over the weekend.
She makes the third in as many months.

It wasn't anyone I knew well or was friendly with, or even thought highly of, but it feels strange to know that people of my relative age are dying, here and there, and that it will happen with greater regularity in the future. Naturally I felt sad that someone with only about half their life lived had passed on, but the first thing I think of these days is the mother.

Oh, dear, her poor mother.

How on earth would you ever recover from losing your child?

That is what I think of, not the dead person, but rather, the mother.

In early December we got the news that Mark was ill. That he would be ok, but that he was ill and he would require treatments and tests and waiting, and poking and that he might get sick again, and all I could think of is that it would be so much easier if I could just do this myself, because the worry and grief I felt was so overwhelming, that I would have preferred to just be sick.

Which is how I imagine a mother to a dead child feels, if only I could just do this for you...

2012-01-05T16:33:00.000-08:00

I finally threw the towel in and quit my old yoga class, after faithfully attending twice a week for two years.

For the past month I have been sampling classes at the Eastside community center, which is kind of far to travel; the facility is nice and new and makes up for the drive.

I like the Monday night yoga a lot, and the Tuesday night yoga class is ok- the teacher has a weird voice, but no one is perfect, right?

This past Tuesday I arrived to find the studio crammed with athletic looking women (and one man) dressed in sneakers.

Not a good sign.

It seems that the class had been changed to "belly fit" some kind of hybrid of belly dancing and pilates, which sounded sort of doable, so I decided to stay.

I didn't have sneakers, so I hid barefoot in the back with two other women from the yoga class.

The bellyfit class turned out to be heavy leaning toward the dance element and very light on pilates, which I am good at, it figures, right?

I don't dance.

I lack even the slightest bit of rhythm and have only enough coordination in my body to walk and chew gum at the same time, most of the time.

I frequently run into walls, trip over cracks in the pavement and fall up stairs.

I am super flexible and very strong, that is why yoga is my friend.

Dance on the other hand is like a cruel Jr. High girl, out to make me look like a fool and feel terrible about myself.

To add insult to injury, there were wall to ceiling mirrors, so my humiliation was on display for me and the whole class to enjoy.

It was like a cross between Elaine dancing on Seinfeld and and exorcism.

Have I mentioned that I don't really know my right from left?

Well I don't, I always have to look. Long before I was married I wore a ring on my left hand so I would look less like a dumb-ass when occasions to know your left and right came up.

North and south?

No problem!

I can give excellent directions and almost never get lost, I just need someone giving me directions in the car, to tap on the window, or gesticulate wildly so I know which way to turn.

Anyway, I made it through the class, and I may go back for another round tonight.

2012-01-04T20:10:00.000-08:00

Mark and I had dinner out at Broder on the 22nd, to take advantage of having my mom in town to provide childcare.
This was our second meal, we had breakfast there last summer.
Both times have been really lovely.
It happens to be in a cute little neighborhood right next to where I work. I like cute, charming and quaint. I was happy to be in a quiet place.
The space used to one of my favorite restaurants, which went out of business, so I was glad that something nice went in, instead of just another hipster bar, or pub.

A cocktail with beet juice and caraway seed!

Smorgasbord, carrot soup, and more BEETS!

pretty entrance

I'm a little tired, but that's ok, it's pretty dark and no one was very fancy or good looking.

Sparkly vintage dresses across the street.

Christmas 2011

2012-01-04T19:55:00.000-08:00

Swedish Christmas dinner, "just like eating at Ikea, but better" says Maxwell.

On the way to grandmother's house!

Stockings!

New blazer, cords and an Edgar Allan Poe T-shirt- going for a certain look, if you know what I mean.

The veleveteen woman

2011-12-22T19:16:00.000-08:00

I have told my husband often over the years that he makes me real.

Much of my life I have felt like I would blow away, that my grasp of what it takes to exist, much less succeed was too shaky, too limited.

I wake up every day with a house and a car and a real life that never ceases to astonish me.

Really? He says to me, with limited patience for drama.

I put one foot in front of the other and I fake it until, one day hopefully, I will make being feel totally normal.

Cake

2011-12-17T12:18:00.000-08:00

Meyerlemon cupcakes VEGAN for a work holiday party. A friend sent me a giant box of lemons and I made lemoncake.

Vegan devil's food bunt cake for the work party too. I have one employee that likes this cake a lot, so I try to butter him up with it at least once a year, the least I can do, for a job well done.

Yule log roll, for Mark's family Christmas party today. I am not fancy enough to make the meringue mushrooms the way you are supposed to, I just made some out of marzipan, like a lazybone.

Another Saint

2011-12-15T18:52:00.000-08:00

I had very little to do with it, but St. Lucia Day was celebrated.
I had to be at work, so Rolf and his girlfriend did the saintly duty. I provided the child and the tableware.
Freyja was delighted.
As far as I know there is no tradition of including poodles.

it doesn't make it alright

2011-12-10T20:14:00.000-08:00

Listening to this

and this

with Miss F. She loves to get her dance on with some social justice on the side.

More Merry Merry

2011-12-09T20:28:00.000-08:00

a wee little scene on top of the tv stand.

hung on the mantel with care...

There really IS no accounting for taste.

2011-12-09T20:22:00.000-08:00

I spent a good deal of the afternoon on the sofa feeling moderately heart broken over something that I shouldn't really care about.

Someone was critical about a project that I had worked on and felt good about. The comment was completely subjective, completely a matter of taste, no right, no wrong, just personal opinion, but it cut me deeply and I'm not sure why.

Surely symbolic of something bigger, but why now, why today?

The worst part was that I allowed it to get my goat and became defensive.

I am never clever when I am defensive and I regret not having a pithier come back prepared.

My mother would say

"why on earth do you care what those people think?"

and I would say that I have no idea, but I do, at least I do in the moment.

Having spent most of my life walking around like an open wound, you would think I'd have learned to scab over.

A few weeks ago a dear friend brought me this trophy.

It is a bird that we are pretending is a finch and she had it engraved just for me.

I am placing it right next to me on the sofa this evening to bolster my spirits.

St Nicholas Day

2011-12-06T15:42:00.000-08:00

Catermera

Apple cranberry tartlets with an acorn & Oak leaf motif

Hexhaus

Gretel, aka Freyja, the child that ate the roof off the haus, requiring a tootsie roll to be inserted to hide the damage, and create a chimney.

I got my tall skinny Noble HA!

We awoke to find treats in our shoes... or some of us did, some of us found only lint.

Hanna the movie

2011-11-25T22:36:00.000-08:00

We watched Hanna this evening and I loved it.

I am a sucker for a good spy film with a revenge angle.

I also loved, loved, loved the professional so perhaps it is a bit of a fetish?

Thanksgiving

2011-11-25T17:05:00.001-08:00

Freyja making the mirepoix for the stuffing

The mirepoix for the stuffing (but we call it dressing , because we don't stuff it inside anything.)

the ubiquitous relish tray

Rolf's mashed potatoes

Blast my camera, it makes photos so blurry! Mark's phone takes better photos!

Mark's new ap, that makes everyone look better than they do in real life

Freyja designed the children's table, and did a darn good job.

Lily gave us this amazing salt and pepper set- I used tiny apples for place cards

Freyja making pumpkin pie, even though "she hates it"

My beloved persimmon Fiesta-ware mug at the end of the day

Our friends brought THREE blueberry pies, and there were only ten of us!

Rolf took a photo with my camera, which makes people look worse than they do in real life.

Someone should remove all red lipstick from my possession. I look like my father in drag, in this photo. Why on earth am I smiling? The kitchen witch looks cuter than I do.

In the absence of a loving extended family, I cook. Does 19 dishes indicate my state of mind?

Two very rowdy girls dismantling my living room

Mark with his mom and a vintage paper turkey, also a gift from Lily

Freyja, after getting busted for being too wild. "Who me? I am just an innocent waif with a poodle"

We had a sort of weird Thanksgiving. I didn't invite anyone (other than the people that are always around for our holidays) because I was thinking of just going out to dinner.
Things have been so intensely shitty for so long around here, and Tuesday I woke up to a fairly brisk leak in the dining-room.
I called Felipe from Eagle Roofing and he came right out and fixed the problem, and informed us that the sunroom needs a new roof.
Earlier in the month He came the school and repaired a big leak there. He is certainly the first person I call for any roofing issues.
I had spoken to our friend M a few weeks earlier and told him that he could join us, since prior to getting married he always celebrated holidays with Rolf and me, but since had not. At the last moment he confirmed that he would indeed come with his children and wife, so then it was set. I had to pull myself out of the funk and make something happen.
Then Karen called and said she was sick and depressed and didn't feel like a holiday. I told her I felt the same way and we should get together later when we were feeling better, without expectations of FUN.
Then another close friend called and said he had to do what the mom of his daughter wanted, so he could see the daughter, so the numbers were seriously dwindling.
Perhaps my idea of eating out wasn't so bad after all?
Wednesday I cooked and cleaned like crazy, while Freyja ran around helping me and tearing things apart, alternately. Thursday she woke up at 6:00am and Rolf and I took her to "Little T" on Division for a pretzel roll.
We cooked a little and killed time until 5:00pm, when I had to get serious about the food. For some reason the sweet potatoes were still crunchy at 5:30, so I had to microwave them, which is not something I would normally ever do.
Everything got done, and we sat down to eat at 6:00, with my friend's wife out sick.
There were ten of us, the tiniest group I have had in 22 years.

Scaring, fighting the nation Shooting, shooting their guns and ammunition

2011-11-19T20:41:00.000-08:00

seeing photos of police macing students at UC Davis, along with the riot gear in PDX made me think of this old thing. I love me some Joe Strummer, but who doesn't?
Let me just say that I am not anti-police, in fact I am a pretty straight arrow when it comes to following the rules, but I think we all know some change has got to come, and perhaps most of us don't want to be represented by some stinky, tofu eating slacker, but the bottom line is the country is going to shit and it does my middle aged heart good to see some young folks in the streets. I for one will move my meager stash of dough into a community owned bank, and I will continue to shop resale and avoid purchasing shoddily made stuff from big box stores. I will support unions, and fair wages when and how I can, and I will say so early and often.

the anatomy of an apple pie, and decorating for fall

2011-11-19T14:06:00.000-08:00

People keep giving me things

2011-11-13T17:14:00.001-08:00

The past few weeks I have been the recipient of many things great and small, and all very nice.
I always feel quite awkward when people give me things, as I have pretty much made it a life long policy to neither a lender nor a borrower be, which serves me pretty well.

My mother has been sending me some of her vast collection of china, the Spode Christmas tree china above arrived with three broken bread and butter plates and four broken salad plates, which made me pretty sad, but I am happy that the dinner plates are all in one piece, and I am hoping that UPS will honor their insurance on the package, even though I threw away the really crushed plates before I realized they were insured.
She also sent me a chafing dish, which I was pretty sure I would never use, but then I had this inspiration on Saturday to make Tea poached pears in chocolate sauce, so I could use it.

Chafing dish in action!

the sample, just to make sure it was fit for company.

cranberry and quince sauce

Another set of china, which is just my style.

creamed spinach, yams & apples, dill potatoes

Quinces from my tree, for the sauce

a boned, stuffed, bacon wrapped chicken for my husband- stuffed with feta, red pepper, raisins, and olives

Candlelight

poached pears, chocolate sauce and lady fingers

getting to play with my stacking dolls

You take the bad with the good

2011-11-10T20:31:00.001-08:00

On Tuesday the condenser pump on our furnace died.
Which involved a lot of loud, scary noises.

In spring of 2005 we replaced our 100 year old furnace with a very expensive gas model.

It was a huge, dirty, mess, which I cleaned up after with my six week old in a sling.

Mop, nurse, sweep, nurse, scrub, vacuum, nurse the baby, make the guy raise the duct work up so I can walk underneath... nurse the baby.

The model we took out had originally burned wood or shavings, then was rigged up by some clever person to burn heating oil.

I was very anti-gas, as I am from a family of woodcutting people that shun the feeble and capricious nature of gas heat.

If I had a nickel for every time I heard "gas heat just isn't as warm as wood heat", why I could by a new wood stove!

Sure it comes on as soon as you flip the switch, but it is just not a heavy warm heat, and it goes away as fast as it comes on.

I am pro quilt, pro wood stove, pro oil and anti gas.

Mark is all about gas heat and he won out in the end.

To me six years may as well be six minutes.

So you can imagine how annoyed I was when I phoned the people that put the gas furnace in.

The fellow on the service line was a total ass.

Hands down the most assholeish of assholes that I have had to deal with in ages.
He seemed to think that six years is a perfectly fine amount of time for a $8000 machine to run.
In the end he said

"Maybe you should go on the internet and order the part YOURSELF, then install it.

You seem like the type of person that is into saving money."

Who me?

No, I HATE saving money.

I LOVE IT when stuff breaks!

In the end I could not abide paying Sunset fuel another penny and instead got on the phone (not the internet, you smug SOB!) and asked my friend Brian to fix it, which he did for $50 and the price of the part.

Brian is handy and he hates "Ikea culture" as much as I do.

HA!

2011-11-06T10:21:00.000-08:00

You know what makes me furious (aside from the long list I go on and on about here.), makes me crazy angry?

When people tell me that adversity will make me stronger, or that I am being strong, but in that smug way that implies that I was weak or that I have a history of weakness.

Man, that just gets me riled up like nothing else.

For me that sentiment usually come in the form of spiritual or religious people, which may be why I hate religion and spirituality so much, all that self righteousness oozing out all over the place, any time someone has a problem.

One of the best thing I took away from my work with domestic abuse survivors, was the excellent training, the model the organization I was working with used was progressive and I swear I got more out of that training than I did in four years of university and many attempts at therapy.

Anyway, I think the most significant thing for me was the notion of not telling the victim how they should feel, but rather listening, allowing them to have a voice and giving support not advice, which is pretty much counter to any of the religious or spiritual smarty pants that think they have the one true answer.

2011-11-05T20:18:00.000-07:00

The computer died last week and required resurrecting by the fellows at fix my dead pc
these fellows recovered all my bookkeeping records when my work computer died suddenly and they fixed a friend's laptop.
They are nice and close and good people.
There is something very comforting about their dusty, dirty and unkempt shop and their rumpled staff.
The head fellow looks a lot like a less nice looking version of my father, despite our propensity for zaftigness, we Lawlers are a good looking bunch on the whole.

The downside of having the computer die is losing all of my bookmarks. I had a ton and dig dang if I can remember most of them, yet I miss knowing what they were.

I did manage to pull enough brain cells together to remember the name of this site which I will purchase a skirt from any year now and this graphics site, which I use ALL THE TIME, oh, and this one which I create my fantasy date nights from.

Otherwise I am pretty SOL for now. I assume some of the names will come back to me.

I plan to use this graphic for my Thanksgiving food labels.

cute don't you think?

or maybe this one

or even this.
I haven't made up my mind yet.

2011-11-05T18:48:00.000-07:00

I put my mother on a plane for home this morning, after many fits and starts to spring her from the hospital last night.

They just couldn't seem to coordinate the care to get her discharge moving along.
She was a bit wrecked mentally by the whole experience- who wouldn't be?

Grandpa has been transferred to a nursing home, which had to be handled by my aunt, not even a blood relative, but a daughter in law. Grandpa is lucky to have such a good one. She did a stand up job of taking on both grandpa and helping with my mom, so I didn't have to take off work.

My cold is lingering on and on and making me wonder if my nose will fall off.

I went to the doctor yesterday to see what they could do about my hands, which are raw from the harsh hospital soap.

I wash my hands a million times a day at work, so dealing with hospital soap on top of it really created a skin nightmare.

I really should be at a Hoedown fundraiser for work right this moment, but I am coughing like a smoker, and my nose and hands are very unattractively chapped and I generally feel like shit, so I am defiantly skipping it.

Sorry folks, I wish you well, but I need my sofa.

My auntie called me yesterday, terribly upset by a number of cruddy things in her life and I felt totally unprepared to help, not a pep talk, no sunny advice to be had from me.

I am pretty tapped out this week, call me Monday and see how it goes.

I need a bit of time to recover, from among other things having two children have accidents at work that left them injured enough to scare me.

Just kid accidents, that happen when you are two, or four and go up the slide, or trip on a ball and fall on bricks, but I never fail to feel it, even when it is ordinary and people are all fixed up, cast applied, cleaned and doctored and attended to.

I continue to be shaken.

I am easily shaken, I suppose, but I am also fairly good in an emergency, so I guess that evens it out a little.

The problem with being the boss, or the mom, or the strong one, is that no one ever asks you how you are, or checks on you are follows up.

it started with a little cold

2011-11-01T21:03:00.000-07:00

it's walnut season, so we have a giant bag of walnuts, picked at Sauvie Island, and some walnut boats.

Freyja & Rolf playing with playdough

She dressed herself all up to go out to dinner!

Freinds preparing for trick or treating in our kitchen

a little cat

and a cowboy

I bought candy to hand out that isn't tempting to me.

Last week I developed a cold, and it sort of escalated until I was fairly sick by Friday evening at the Lantern Walk, for work.

There I was with about 200 children and parents, feeling quite sick, so I left a little early to go home to bed.

Fat chance.

My mother called me at 11:00 to say that my grandfather was in ICU, very ill and not expected to live.

She was coming in at 10:30 and I should meet her and go to the hospital.

I met my brother & cousin at the airport and we picked up mom and went to the hospital to see grandpa, who was indeed on his last legs.

His blood pressure was crazy low, like 23 on the bottom and he was very listless and weak.

Over the course of the day and over night, he improved, with the help of steroids and other meds.

My mother continued to be a mess, which is fairly uncharacteristic.

Sunday evening I suggested we go to dinner, and took her by the elbow to usher her out and she shrieked. Apparently she had been in excrutiating pain since Friday night, with an injured elbow.

I seems that in her haste to find her suitcase Friday night she tripped and fell in her garage and banged her elbow on the concrete floor. When I looked at it Sunday, it was very swollen and had a deep gash that looked pretty bad.

Off to ER we headed, to have it looked at.

The infection in her arm wouldn't respond to antibiotics, so they wound up admitting her to the hospital, for at least two days, so now I have both her and my grandfather in separate hospitals!

He seems to be improving, but will need to go into some kind of intermediate care facility, which he is so far refusing to do, he just wants to go home.

This has all been a lot of stress to deal with, all the while attending to my children, trick or treating and going to work. My cold hasn't improved one iota and I wonder if I will ever feel better?

2011-10-25T16:05:00.000-07:00

Miss F. with cat whiskers leftover from a party earlier in the the day.

After sort of dragassing through most of last week, I pulled myself together enough to carve exactly one pumpkin on Sunday.

I did the heavy lifting of scooping out the guts, before I was interrupted by a phone call from my mother regarding plates.

I handed the design and carving work over to Mark and Freyja and they did me proud with a traditional jackO'lantern, nothing fancy here no special tools required.

Maxwell refused to participate this year, so there you are.

We have one carved pumpkin and that may well be it.

My friend Lily told me about someone that died from sleep apnea at 34, which made me think twice about getting my sleep/snoring/gaspingforbreath issue checked out, but our stupid insurance had a clause about anything to do with sleep being uncovered, so that made me think thrice.

I figure I am getting about three hours a night with the waking up, the insomnia and the axiety associated with it all.

Doesn't make for a really festive mood.

I put out some of my nicer Halloween decorations, things I haven't put out since having Freyja and the cat.

I figure they are both old enough now not to tear shit up, but who knows.

I have become positively Zen about my stuff getting broken since having both of them come to live with me.

The little girl dressed as a bat, in the bowl, I myself broke the last time I put her out. I had hung her on a willow branch and she sort of glanced off and crashed against the vase before I could catch her.

She is that super delicate imitation mercury glass, from Germany, that I am so partial to.

If I had a lot of money and no cat, I would have a lot of birds made from that material, but instead I have one, that I treat like a museum piece.

2011-10-23T11:31:00.000-07:00

For some reason this song was in my head when I woke up this morning.

Rainy days and Sunday

2011-10-23T11:20:00.000-07:00

So many wild mushrooms, so little inspiration. My wildcrafting friends are over achievers!

The poodle is captured and secured.

Occupy Heidi's Living-room; a pink tent city is erected


transporting the poodle to a more secure location, the bedroom!

driven batty

2011-10-19T16:20:00.000-07:00

The finished product, vegan, organic and pretty damn good, if I say so myself. The bat picks aren't too shabby either, I may have to go back to the Decorette shop for more.
Truth be told, unless you want to make a replica of those really trashy grocery store sheet cakes, the Decorette Shop isn't that hot, it is the the height of kitsch, so if you enjoy that sort of thing it is a like a little slice of heaven right on SE Foster!
And every now and again you can find something really cool like these bats.
I also picked up some owl, acorns and leaves sculpted out of sugar and some Arthur Rackhamesque owl picks, which I was too selfish to put on these cupcakes, which I am sending along with Freyja to a Fairy club meeting.
Those fairy loving girls just wouldn't get how special those owls are.
I need a really good, special occasion to bust them out.

muffins and cupcakes are almost the same things

2011-10-19T14:35:00.000-07:00

Vegan Ginger, pear, applesauce muffins
2 cups flour
1 cup applesauce
1/2 cup oil
1 teaspoon soda
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 molasas
1 cup chopped ripe pair
1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
1teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 chopped candied ginger
top with chopped nuts
bake at 325 until done- 35 minutes ish

Cat not necessary for good outcome, but it may help

Vegan chocolate, pumpkin cupcakes with chocolate icing
makes 14
2 cups flour
1 cup pumpkin puree
1/2 cocopowder
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 molasas
1/2 cup oil
bake in muffin tin for 35 minutes or until done

ice with frosting of your choice

2011-10-19T14:27:00.000-07:00

My yoga teacher quit teaching the class I take.

She took a new full time job at a fancy westside club.

I hate the new teacher.

I suppose the teacher is fine enough, but I hate the class and the way it is going now.

Nope, I hate the teacher.

Something about her just pisses me off.

I mean I was already pissed off when I discovered that the old teacher was gone for good, after straggling along with substitutes all summer.
Lame substitutes, like that skinny, newagey one with the super straight hair, and the bouncy one with the baby voice.
The babytalker wasn't too bad when she was silent, but each time she gave directions I just felt like punching her in the face.
The skeletal, unnaturally, straight-haired one, just seemed not to care, she was doing her own thing, students be damned, so her, I could relate to, or at least respect the bravado, the other one was too earnest and chipper for my taste.

This new one is just young and self righteous, and lacks the moxie to really pull it off. She gives terrible directions and her pacing is way off.
She's got no rhythm.

I too lack rhythm and flow, and that is exactly why I go to a class.

If I wanted to fumble around and stop and start, I would stay at home and do it in my living-room.

did I mention the part about the Wild West?

2011-10-13T21:20:00.000-07:00

I force my children to eat outside to justify the covered deck! Bwahahahaha!

Beetgreens are GOOD!

a whole lot of cabbage going on

the making of the dumplings

mushroom nutballs with onion gravy!

helping Mommy with Friday night dinner!

spinach stuffed mushrooms!

apple, onion dressing

Allowing Mommy to photograph me with my hair neat and tidy

Insisting on my bangs pulled back to make Mommy crazy.

Yes, you are taller than me, but NO, you can't avoid family functions!

Telling Mommy that you need a "wild west" themed costume at the 11th hour and counting on her sewing skills!

mumbo jumbo

2011-10-06T21:36:00.000-07:00

I had a interesting experience last evening.

I went to a hypnotist for the 4th time in my life.

I keep thinking that a good reset might do the trick, if you know what I mean, but alas, I was once again unable to be hypnotized.

Mind like a steel trap
and all that good stuff.

Hypnotherapists are not at all what you would think, or not at all what I would think you might think.

No snakeoil insight, no swirling images or pocket watches.

They are terribly earnest and kind people, from my experience. People that want to help other people get over all their internalized fuckedupnessness.

They always preface things by trying to assure me that they will not control my mind.

Why the hell not? I am not doing a real bang up job, perhaps a proxy is in order!

I always feel badly for people that want me to relax.

I am most certainly not relaxed.

I have had massage therapists say "you may fall asleep."

HA!

Fat chance.

The chance of me falling asleep while someone touches me, is akin to me taking up mathematics for fun.

Nil, Nada, Zilch!

So this lady was pretty good.

I sort of nodded off, but then I had that napjerk thing... you know, where you start to fall asleep on a bus, but you snap back to consciousness?
THAT.
Then I was all hyper aware and cynical and it pretty much blew the whole evening.
We were done.
She was very kind, and her chair was very comfy.
I will give her that much, she deserves gold star for working with the world' least relaxed person.
Prior to the whole hypnotizing part of the treatment, she did Reiki, which usually just really pisses me off, but this was not so bad.
I found it almost relaxing.
When she touched my clavicle she said "you don't really trust, do you?"
Ding, ding, ding, give the lady a prize.

No, not much.
then she said
"I sense a lot of anger from your back" well wait till you see my front!
but yes, my back was angry and stiff and sore.

I felt very at ease and happy with the Reiki, not angry and not wishing for deeper massage.
I felt heartbroken not to be hypnotized, I had such high hopes.

a labor of love- love of onions

2011-10-02T13:27:00.000-07:00

Me promising Mark that I will stop checking work e-mail.

Freyja lost her front tooth, and this time the Toothfairy got her act together enough to come through with some dough, and a crystal and a pretty little rock.
The Toothfairy was feeling like a real dirtbag, so she over compensated.

We had a party to attend Saturday evening and I was so caught up in my aches and pains I didn't even get nervous about it.
I was positively calm and it went fine.
Fine enough for me and a party, I am just not very good with people I don't know, but I know that about myself, so I have this new thing where I don't get too upset over my social anxiety.

So far it's working fairly well.

Rolf and decided to make kaseSpätzle (hmm more formatting problems)
for dinner tonight, which requires cooking a large volume of onions in large volume of butter, slowly, for a long time, which stinks the place up something fierce, so I am experimenting with cooking them outside in a crockpot, which is highly unconventional and makes Rolf nervous.
Since he makes me nervous all the time, I am ignoring his concerns and just doing it.
So there.
Perhaps that knocking around has unleashed a new fierceness in me, where I go to parties and not worry AND do things without considering the feelings of others?
I am making green cabbage sauteed with green apples and dill.
The traditional accompaniment is sweet and sour red cabbage, but I seem to be on a roll here, and will go with it.
I am part of a food team, for a couple that just had a new baby, so for them I made Persian lentils, with basmati rice, with raisins and walnuts, and steamed vegetables. The new mother is allergic to wheat, which pretty much made my plan for the spatzle dead in the water. It was a good occasion to cook ahead a little, so now Mark is all set for lunches Monday and Tuesday.

We watched Win Win with Paul Giamatti, which I enjoyed. I really like most things he does and this was another good film, not mind blowing, but good. We watched Barney's Version a few weeks ago and I liked it too, of course Dustin Hoffman is always good in my book, so that helped.
It sort of falls apart at the very end, but worth renting, I would say, if you like small films.
This may indeed be my most disjointed post ever.
Wow!

Another lost tooth

me having second thoughts about leaving this little wolf, who seems to always have mischief in her heart.

Can I mention my love of sun through yellow curtains, again?

You try cutting up ten onions and see how good you look.

looking very punk rock, with my onion induced tear, and dirty hair.

Freyja asked me "are you ready to be MAZED?"

the amazing color job, and equally amazing is the fact that I had not thrown the Disney Princess book away!

Like getting run over by a (hand) truck

2011-10-01T15:10:00.000-07:00

My Friday didn't start off great.
I had way too much coffee for one thing (I know, who knew?) and no breakfast and I felt like I was beginning to get a cold, which makes me angry.
I hate being sickly.
So I was walking around work feeling pretty cruddy.

I noticed a child that had been giving us a hard time all week was acting out pretty significantly during circle time, so I sat in to try to support the teacher, which made things even worse, since there was already a sub in the classroom.
At some point taking the child out of the classroom seemed like a better idea, let him have a little space to calm down, and all of that.
As I picked him up to leave, he tried to throw himself backward, and in my attempt to prevent him from falling, my walkie talkie went flying across the room.
It was pretty loud, and sort of blew my cool.
I mean, my intention was not to make a huge ruckus, but there you are, a ruckus was made.
Then to top it all off, the child did the floundering around move again, this time kicking over a playstand, which is a fancy Waldorf furniture thing, that makes a loud noise when you kick it over.
The playstand smashed my hand, which made me wonder if wearing rings at work is such a great idea.
I also thought my ring finger might be broken.
I thought quite a few things, as a matter of fact, but my biggest thought was how do I not drop this child, that just really hurt me?
When you work with children, you sometimes get hit, or kicked or from time to time, your hair pulled out, but this was a whopper!
I made it back to the office, with the child in my arms, and without swearing or screaming, which made me feel very accomplished.
My wrist and fingers were killing me, so after about 15 minutes I had to return the child to his class.
We wrote out a contract, which he signed, promising not to make mischief any more.
I went back to the office and picked up a phone call informing me that our bulk order was being delivered right then, the driver was calling me from the street.
I opened the door for him and he set to work unpacking giant bags of beans and rice and oatmeal, without his usual helper.
The helper, it seems had gone back to school, so the driver had to unload everything all by himself, which is a big job.
As I headed back to the kitchen to check in the food, the driver burst through the curtained off doorway, at a fast clip, pushing a handtruck that was about as tall as me.
He ran smack into me, and like I said, he was going fast, not running, but fast.
My foot got stuck under the metal plate thing that hold stuff on, and the handle hit my injured hand, that I guess I stuck out in a sort of defensive move, to prevent it from hitting my face.
I had the wind knocked out of me pretty good, and my ankle felt like I had sprained it.
I burst into tears, because it really hurt, but it also scared me.
One of the teachers heard the crash and came running in with ice.
I didn't want to alarm the children so I limped into a meeting room and sobbed for a few minutes and iced my wrist and ankle, drank a protein shake, then limped back to the kitchen to help put things away.

a play stand sort of like this thing pictured here, but not as large!

Driving that train

2011-09-28T16:45:00.000-07:00

When the cat is away at a meeting, the mouse will build a train out of chairs and cardboard, for her pet tiger Bianca, and Bianca's children Leona, Leontyne, and Leopolda.

The the signage Freyja is working on here says "Bathroom for tigers and lions and all cats".
She is a practical girl.

Saturday

2011-09-28T16:38:00.000-07:00

We broke with tradition and headed to early morning coffee at Little T bakery, rather than the Pearl, which has fabulous baked goods and terrible atmosphere. Very minimalist and stainless steel, and edgy, all things I hate. They also serve Stumptown coffee, which most people adore, but I find too acid and strong and oily. We came for the pretzel roll, and Freyja said it was good, so there you go. I will put up with overly strong coffee for Miss F, any day.

They also have these INSANELY rich chocolate "donuts" which are like chocolate bread, dipped in ganache.

I buy coffee here before work almost everyday, and the staff are always very nice. They were nice to Freyja too, which goes a long way with me. I will forgive minimalist decor, if it comes with good service. In addition to the pretzel rolls we purchased a big loaf of olive, rosemary bread for a dinner party we were having later in the day.

A dear friend is leaving town indefinitely, so we were doing a little thing, as a send off.

I imagined a lot of cheese, and some fig dishes.

autumnal fruit chutney over cream cheese.

and that lentil pate that tastes just like chopped liver, that is pretty good too. And lots of candles.

candle light

back to school night

2011-09-28T16:21:00.000-07:00

Like so many things in our parenting lives, back to school night turned into a divide and conquer affair, with me taking Freyja to her thing, and Mark going with Maxwell to the band orientation. I never know quite what to do at these things, it isn't like you can really talk to the teacher and the other parents are always busy herding their own children around, so talking to them is out too. I wound up talking to a parent from my preschool. Thank goodness she was there, or I would have been lost.

2011-09-28T16:06:00.000-07:00

I read in a Facebook post by a woman I went to high school with, that a boy that we went to school with died Saturday.
He was a man of course, not a boy, but I think of him as the bespectacled, freckled boy that was the consummate nerd.
A boy I sometimes talked with on the excruciating ride to school on the bus, when I started my new school in 6th grade.
There was no sensitivity training then, no anti-bullying campaign, no Dan Savage to tell us it would, or might get better.
I have no idea how he died. She didn't say, perhaps even made a point not to say, but I may be reading too much into it.
I do that.

cupcake envy

2011-09-18T21:33:00.000-07:00

I am in awe of this lady, and I covet her miniatures.

This woman is much more highbrow, and I want to be her when I grow up and have a serious cupcake business.
Oddly enough I am totally unmoved by all of the cupcake shops here in town.
I have no desire to eat cupcakes, only to bake and decorate them.
Mostly.

2011-09-18T18:26:00.000-07:00

I'm reading reading my father and loving it, as I tend to do with memoirs dealing with dysfunctional families. Ms. Stryon manages to convey the otherworldly privilege her family enjoyed due to her mother's family wealth and her father's celebrity, while remaining grounded and approachable. You don't feel like she is a poor little rich girl a type I loathe, but rather someone you can relate to if you have ever had a holiday spoiled by an alcoholic or mentally ill person in your life.

Homework marathon

2011-09-18T18:15:00.000-07:00

Maxwell had homework in three classes, all due Monday.

We did some Saturday and a fair bit today.

I am not a huge help with the science and math, but two of the project included making big collages... thank goodness for arts magnet school!

I can make a pretty mean collage (HA! Mark! for once I get to be the homework resource!) , so we had a gay old time cutting and pasting, while Freyja ransacked the joint with a friend.

Mexican cookery

2011-09-18T18:08:00.000-07:00

Freyja chopping nuts (I scored this old fashioned nut chopper, just like the one my Grandma Betty used to have, at Goodwill!) for the mole, first thing in the morning. Moles are kind of a pain in the ass to make, but you get that smug sense of satisfaction from all the work, so I suppose it is worth it.

I soaked these beans the night before, so they only took about an hour to cook, again with the smug satisfaction, if you don't crave that kind of attention, use canned. I marinated them with lime and oil, onion and peppers.

Spinach enchiladas with verde sauce (more chopping and blending and mixing), Salty Mexican cheese on top.

my go to raw salsa

mashed yams with chile and lime

jicama salad, black beans, salsa chickpea salad

candlelight in the rain, under our covered deck.

Careful man there's a beverage here

2011-09-18T17:57:00.000-07:00

I went a little crazy at the specialty import store, purchasing beverages on Saturday.

I have no idea why, but the notion of a big bucket of colorful drinks really appealed to me.

The whole thing started when I saw the tiny bottle of bright red Sanbitter on the shelf. I love that stuff, but never buy it for myself. My ex used to show up every once in a while with it tucked into his pocket, as a sort consolation prize for his usual bad behavior, so I tend to associate it with that, or with Rome, neither of which really go with my current life. It tastes just like Campari, except it is alcohol free, so you can drink it in the middle of the day. Most people hate it, because it is bitter as hell, but I like it a lot, even the freakish color appeals to me. I also like that it comes in a small bottle, which makes it seem more special, somehow. Then there were the Mexican sodas, which I just like because of the color and the glass bottles. You really can't go wrong with those sodas, they pretty much scream- P A R T Y!


While I was rooting around the fancy soda section I found this fermented Elderberry soda, which I had to get for Rolf, naturally. He is the Elderberry King after all!

Earworm

2011-09-18T12:12:00.001-07:00

Can't stop hearing this in my head.

Nuestra Cocina

2011-09-17T09:13:00.000-07:00

It felt like it had been ages since Mark and I had spent any time together, so I suggested we go out to dinner Friday evening.
We went to a place neither of us had been before, which is something of a crapshoot, but this time we won, with Nuestra Cocina and upscale Mexican place, with a sweet outdoor seating area, close to home, not to noisy, good service and a pretty interesting menu. Mark's mother was good enough to watch Freyja for a couple of hours, so there was no pressure to find something she would eat, and no cutting up to do. Maxwell was off at a friend's house for the night, so we were feeling pretty lucky.

Finishing up at work for the week

changing, but refusing to iron, thus looking like an unmade bed. Tired and a little piggy faced by 6:00pm.

Keeping things modest with a sweet, little horseshoe pin from Lily.

How lucky am I? To find orange, Dansko sandals at Goodwill!

refusing to drive.

so, so margaritas, excellent atmosphere.

soup for Mark

Salad for me, with mango, avocado, pumkin seeds, and jicama

I needed some salt. Mark said "I hope this isn't one of those places that brings salt in a little dish." Sure enough it was. "You just never know who's been touching that salt." Look at me, picking out the tomato skins like a three year old! I really hate skins in my food. YUCK!

black bean, squash and cactus thing with avacado and fried tortillas. We both would have been happier with them unfried, but it was good.

nice outdoor seating, that makes you forget you are right on Division!

Mark being very Portlandia, and going to dinner at a fancy place, dressed like a lumber jack, he lacks only a chain dangling from his pocket to hold his wallet in, and an ironic mustache to be totally to type.

Slivercreekfalls state park

2011-09-13T19:09:00.001-07:00

Pretty butch for a girly girl

2011-09-12T21:08:00.000-07:00

I have continued to have long work weeks, and this one was not exception, with an obligation for a big chunk of my Saturday. It was fine. A work thing I knew I had to take care of, tut, tut carry on and all of that, except, I was really tired of everything, of obligations and coming home to a dirty house and feeling like a slave to everything and everyone in my life.
So I decided to take off for the day, early on Sunday.
I put gas in the car, bought food for a picnic and packed sunscreen for Freyja and me, invited a friend to come along (Mark had his own obligation to help his sister move) and off we went to Silverfalls state park which looked really ideal on paper.
I was after a good swimming spot, and the waterfalls felt like a bonus, and extra added feature.
When we arrived, after the hour and half drive, I discovered that the park is very developed, and that the swimming area, contrary to what the lady on the phone told me is very, very shallow.
A wading spot really, only about up to my waist at the deepest part.
I was very annoyed by this, since I had specifically phoned ahead, as this same thing happened to me at Blue Lake Park (are people in Oregon a bunch of sissies when it comes to swimming?) I wanted a deep, cold pool of water that I could swim in damn it, and tow Freyja around in her life vest.
I don't want some wimpy lukewarm mudhole up to my knees.
The waterfall hike was lovely, though.
We did the shorter option that is 2.5 miles, the first half pretty simple and downhill, the second mile is a doozy, up a very steep incline.
The whole loop is 7.5 miles, which was just too much for me and Bootiful Princess.
All and all we had a pretty nice time, although she was hyper as all get out.
We headed home around 5:00pm, stopping in the cute little town of Silverton for dinner at a Mexican place. We had some fine enchiladas and went back to the car, only to discover that it was completely dead.
No lights had been left on, no doors ajar, not apparent reason for the deadness, just dead.
This puts us at 6:15pm in a tiny, little town on a Sunday evening, no gas station in sight.
Luckily there was a tavern across the street with two old men drinking outside, and I went over and asked them for a jump.
They sauntered over and they went off, one to get jumper cables, and the other to bring his truck around.
My car started right up and we were off, for about five miles, before it died, going up a hill.
I was able to coast backward off to the side of the road and out of traffic.
Pretty soon a sweet old guy in a pick up stopped and asked if I needed help, which I did, and he offered to go to his house outside of town and get jumper cables and give me another jump.
He came back about a half hour later and once again the car started up and we were off, this time with no air conditioning or radio.
It was very HOT, and I was pretty freaking stressed out, but the fellow told me that if it stopped again, to call him and he would come and pick us up and we could tow the car to his farm.
He didn't appear to be a serial killer, so I thought it was a good option to have, just in case.
I have no cell phone, and my friend's phone was dying, so the calling part would have been a little tricky, but I liked the notion of options.
We needed to go about 45 miles to get home and we were burning some serious daylight by that point, so I was driving really fast and hoping very hard for no red lights, and that I would not somehow accidentally stall out.
It all went pretty well, with only a tiny bit of nail biting when we got behind a slow moving minivan, going through Mulino, I was driving in second gear, terrified of having to come to a complete stop.

I was praying for enough daylight to NOT have the automatic headlight feature turn the headlights on, but they switched on as we passed through Oregon City.
The freeway was the scariest part, as the sun was really going down fast and the had lights come on, which I knew would use up the battery.
I was praying not to have the car go dead on the freeway, I was really betting on my good luck on that one. Probably foolish, but I had a good feeling we would make it.
We got all the way off 205 and onto the off ramp of Powell and 92nd, about two miles from home, when it died again.
This time a sweet man in a souped up Honda pulled onto the median and gave us another jump and said he was a mechanic and that I should phone him.
I didn't have anything to write with and I had to zip off, to get out of the way of oncoming traffic.
I didn't want to be runover that close to Powell.
This time we made it all the way to 74th, just 22 blocks from home, and I was able to coast into the parking lot of an acupuncture clinic, we couldn't roll up the automatic windows, so Freyja and I stayed with the car and our stuff, and our friend walked home and got Mark to call a tow truck and come back and get us.
I and all the folks that helped me were convinced that it must be the alternator, but the mechanic swears it was just the battery, just completely spent.
It was 6 years old, so I suppose it could happen.
I drove it home reluctantly with only a new battery.
I told him, "if this dies on me, I am going to kill you." and laughed, but I was only sort of joking.

last gasp of summer vacation

2011-09-05T16:36:00.000-07:00

Blueberry picking & freezing

Dog entertaining

picnic food

tired mama, ready for school to start

boys playing video games

Fairy corner

2011-09-05T14:11:00.000-07:00

Now that we have that drumset, the playroom is pretty much filled up, and Freyja is feeling a little displaced. I told her that I would put together a special space for her, which was a little tricky, since space is pretty much spoken for around here, but this is what I came up with... I think she will be pleased.
I had the canopy from when she was a baby. It is silk and cost a bloody fortune, I must have been insane when I purchased it. I had visions of some kind of Zen Waldorf baby, but I had Freyja The Wild, and had to take it down pretty quickly. I was too lazy to iron it, I hope the wrinkles come out over time.

Media blitz

2011-09-05T10:42:00.000-07:00

From the state of my posting you would almost think we had given up reading and watching lately.

Well, that is a false assumption my friends, we have been as slothish as ever.

We are pretty fresh out of anything very highbrow from Netflix and have been watching Dexter, which I like mostly for the concept. I like the idea of the bad guys getting killed. I find the writing pretty mediocre most of the time and the actress that plays Deb gets on my nerves. The Captain, Maria, is one dimensional and awful serving only as distraction. Women don't get great treatment here. I liked the actor that played the animal disposal dude. He played the part well and brought some depth to the episodes he was featured in.

We are also watching Eastward Bound and Down, which is so offensive and over the top, that I can't even find words. I laugh out loud frequently- just make sure no children are around.

I just finished Townie (this review is not at all what I would have written, much harsher, and it is clear the author can't relate to Dubus, but I am much too lazy to come up with something better.) Which I enjoyed, but didn't love. I found the author's rage sort of misplaced, he was busy beating people up for most of his youth, but never got really angry at his father, the source of the family's misfortune. I found him overly generous. He does have a gift for setting mood and scene. He brought me right back to the 70's, it is hard to put into words, but he really evoked the feeling of that time. That feeling of nostalgia kept me engaged and reading through the pages and pages of bar and street fights.

all work and no play

2011-09-04T20:33:00.000-07:00

What an endlessly long week this one was.

I got a lot done, including a bit of continuing education, so I suppose there are worse ways to spend one's time, but geesh.

The new bamboo buffet is installed on the deck, which still requires sealing, which I swear I will attend to next weekend, when I am less tired. The plan is to tile to top, which is pretty damaged. I like that idea and the tile will make it more outdoor stable and I like the notion of a plan and a project. One can never have too many projects, I like to say.

2011-09-03T10:47:00.000-07:00

The dog is howling upstairs, despite the fact that he knows full well that I am down in the basement. Maxwell and I are off to look at a vintage bamboo buffet that a friend has offered for our deck.
The rusty metal thing that we currently use for serving, potting plants and general holding of stuff may be on borrowed time.
Maxwell and I found it on the side of the road a few years ago, while out walking one evening and wheeled it home about 20 blocks.
I don't set out to mortify my children, by pushing cast off furniture through the streets, but sometimes it happens.

it goes something like this

2011-08-28T21:08:00.000-07:00

We have continued to have these crazy busy weeks and weekends and I wonder if they will ever stop?

The rockband, name pending, has taken more form over the past week and had couple practices; I am more impressed than horrified so far.

The kids are keeping the noise level pretty low and working really hard on song writing and only asking me for Dairy Queen money once in a blue moon, and one kid brought a pan of brownies ( I am dazzled by boys with brownies!) and the girl bass player really kicks ass ( I am dazzled by kick ass, girl bass players) ...

WOW!

Mark worked all day on Saturday.

Freyja had two friends over.

I loved having them. They are lovely low maintence children of artists. I was happy for the company.

Working weekends-

That seems to be our new reality.

I went to a housewarming for a dear friend and fixed her faucet.

I felt a tiny bit useful, but got sprayed, by the faucet, sans aerator, which was really annoying and awkward- I walked around the gathering with a wet T-Shirt, not in a good way.

My friend was busy,

I sliced potatoes, I chopped cabbage, because that is what I do- I am useful in a pinch...

I hate parties.

I Ate pie and pretended that is was perfectly normal to be wet.

It was that kind of day, and I am having that kind of life lately.

My friend was happy to have a faucet that worked and called me handy.

I am pretty freaking handy.

Rolf and I and Maxwell made our Saturday dinner.

I am trying to teach Maxwell to be handy, he is a not super apt as a pupil.

I wonder what my parents taught me?

They had other things to attend to, I guess.

I guess?

Don't take any wooden nickles...

Not that many teachable moments,

I guess.

They were young.

I am not young.

I am an old maid an old mama and I want my children to know that I think of them constantly, even when I am working weekends, even when I am fixing someone's faucet.

I never want there to be a shadow of a doubt about what is on my mind.

My Saturday dinner is SACRED.

My children know it.

My husband knows it.

It is hands off, if you know what I mean.

I am naked without my Saturday dinner.

It all worked out.

We didn't have guests, which I hate.

The not having guests, part-

I hate that.

I need my people.

I lack historical. parental guidance, I need my people.

At 7:30, Mark noticed and said

"we need to do something special for Mommy"

All of us, piled into the car and drove to north Portland for Ruby Jewel ice cream, and walked up NE Mississippi St, like a pack of hipsters, Freyja was barefoot, wielding a double chocolate cone while perched upon Rolf's shoulders.

At one point she dripped a lot of ice cream on his head.

No one cared.

We laughed - a lot.

We looked at shops.

We laughed a little more.

Revived, we drove home laughing, and watched "the invention of lying" which was funny, although there was a bit about masturbation, that made me cringe, with Maxwell in the room.

We all needed a break.

It was a very good idea to go OUT.

On Sunday, I had to work.

I grilled veggies for 20 people.

I shopped and I cooked, baked and organized, for an In-Service event at work, Monday.

My kids ate take out pizza...

I am not proud.

In the evening, Rolf came down to the school as worked as my prep cook.

We made eggplant salad, tabbouleh, and some fruit salad.

We cleaned, we chopped and we laughed a little.

I cooked like a MOFO

I made vegan marionberry muffins for my staff for morning.

This is what I do. I make up for... I compensate and I excel.

I asked the teachers to arrive at 8:00 and work 'till 5:00, which will be brutal for some.

Toughen up people, there is a lot more of life to come.

When I came home, Maxwell's best friend was seated on my sofa.

He is like a third child to us.

did you get in on the pizza?

No?

Let me get you a slice.

and as the Great Mr. Vonnetgut said, so it goes...

Moonshadow watching band practice

the band!

the most beautiful, lovely, talented and delightful child in the whole wide world, and I get to spend time with him.

Moonshadow and Ripley watching a movie with us.

Ripley as Eurotrash Starfu&*#$

Mommy, always cleaning, to quote Joni, sort of

Watching the band practice and not being horrified, photo by Miss F. green eyeshadow seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Freyja as photographer makes me look pretty good!


I need my Saturday night dinner and you all better play along!

On Sunday, I started cooking for my staff meal for Monday In-Service, grilling zuch's YO!

a sweet urban farmer donated a giant box of veggies for my In-Service meeting, this is meet cooking like a Mofo, getting ready.

My six pound baby, in his new jacket.


My new favorite wine, that Rolf brought to Saturday's dinner !

Onkel and Riptron

Tall woman wearing clogs

2011-08-25T20:12:00.000-07:00

I sometimes look at the "traffic source" listing for this blog, which is pretty silly, considering I have no idea what all the data means, but today I notice one of the search results which led the viewer here was "tall woman wearing clogs" which sounds like some kooky fetish.

I hope the person wasn't terribly disappointed to only find a short woman wearing clogs.

I wonder if anyone ever googles "short woman wearing clogs in hopes of looking taller." ?
Now that would be a interesting fetish!

If I have my way, I will be purchasing these clogs for fall.

or, perhaps these, a style I favored in the 80's, which those who have known me since high school will remember, if you are weird and remember other people's shoe choices from 25 years ago. They are a reissue, because, clearly they are awesome!

I adore Fluevog shoes, which claim to protect you from Satan, which is really all you can really hope for from a pair of shoes, now isn't it?

Oh, goody a drumset!

2011-08-23T21:08:00.000-07:00

My mother send a drumset home with Maxwell, without asking if it was ok.

I have no idea why they thought it was a good idea, but I now have it set up in Freyja's playroom, which is part of our livingroom.

I am not very excited about it.

It is a big drumset.

It could be bigger! It isn't like as big as say Rush's drummer's kit.

That is what my friend Don said when he came over to set it up.

I phoned him the night before, when the pile of cartons had begun to drive me batty after sitting in the corner for over a week.

Yes, Don is correct.

It is indeed smaller than a 1980's progressive rock band's drum kit.

I will give him an A+ for observation.

Don is a musician, and for him it seems perfectly normal to have a drum kit in your living room.

He also happens to be one of those repulsively upbeat and cheerful types that insists on seeing the bright side of everything, which is the primary reason I phoned him at 11:00pm and begged for assistance, rather than facing the snarlfest that would surely ensue if Mark and I attempted to put the blasted thing together.

You should see us try to put up the Christmas tree! It isn't pretty!

He was the ideal choice, sauntering in almost on time, with his sticky one year old and a bag of groceries, that needed cooling in my fridge.

He gayly poured the whole crew limeaide and set to work screwing things together, while his baby daughter dragged a suitcase around the living room (she and Don found the suitcase in the basement, where he had gone to fetch ice, from the deep freeze.)

And by cricky, within an hour he had the whole thing assembled, backward, to accommodate our left handed player, despite a little setback, when I made the baby cry, by turning on the vacuum cleaner.

Bad Vacuum!

She wailed, and demanded to go outside.

In the end, Maxwell was delighted (he got a basic lesson on how to do a rock beat), his friend was impressed that I was able to conjure up a drum assembly team so nicely, and the baby was happy the vacuuming was over at last.

2011-08-21T21:15:00.000-07:00

I had dinner with old friends on Saturday, which was delightful.

One friend mentioned that a two day weekend made her feel like she hardly had time to rest, or catch up, or get anything done, and I agree... two days is simple not enough to feel rested.

We crammed a lot in though!

Freyja had two, count 'em two action packed play dates with sweet friends.

I got to have my grown up dinner, with Miss F. behaving like a champ.

She and Rolf and I went out for pastry Early, early Saturday morning. My friend Joe came by for a much needed visit.

She and I went shopping like crazy people at three different grocery stores.

We made an appearance at a big neighborhood gathering (but it was too damn hot to stay for the free food provided by local restaurants!) and Lily brought over a ton of cool treasures for our new outdoor living room (aka, the covered deck).

we had to add a second table, then Miss F decided she had to have her own table, so a third was tacked on the end!

I wasn't very cute by 6:30 on a 96 degree day!

loving my new roof!

people trickling in

arugula and tomatoes

beets, eggplant, grilled zucchini

taking photos in the dark, with Joe covering his face.

Lents park on sunday, FREE FOOD, man!

sweet little bird wallet!

AND a big cone of hydrangeas!

and a super beautiful wreath from Lily!

AND a sweet vintage picnic basket, perfect for holding doll clothing.


the dolls are relived that their clothing mess has been attended to!

2011-08-18T19:12:00.000-07:00

I just came to know that my neighbor is poisoning racoons, using catfood as bait.

Delightful.

Our neighborhood is full of nosy, roaming cats, just looking for a snack.

We are keeping Moonshadow inside for the time being, which is no easy feat, restraining a very motivated twenty pound cat takes a lot of maneuvering, let me tell you!

It could all just be a rumor, since the neighbor told me that she was only trapping, the racoons.

She does really hate both the racoons and cats though, so I have a feeling it may be true.

Her persistent hatred, along with the fact that a giant, dead, raccoon toppled from the roof of her deck into our back yard, a few months ago, seems to indicate that she is capable of raccoonacide, or I suppose it could just be a coincidence that a big unwounded raccoon just happened to drop dead after a visit to her garden.

This woman is not very well liked in the neighborhood, although I don't really mind her, except when she smokes and it wafts onto my deck.

She has threatened to shoot our cat in the past, but I always tried to overlook that part in the interest of good relations.

You know, turn the other cheek and all that.

... she didn't know what to do!

2011-08-18T17:43:00.000-07:00

I had a doozy parenting blunder on Tuesday.

It all started Monday night.

I was all flummoxed over that missed e-mailed invitation for Freyja, for a fairy club meeting, and I was all jangled by work and I was all distressed over how I was going find childcare for Freyja while I went to pick Maxwell up at the airport, that I somehow allowed myself to be led astray from my plan.

The plan was a simple one, to have a neighbor stay with Freyja while I went to pick up Maxwell.

Then I started fretting about the e-mail thing and my mind got all woozly with worry.

Then I allowed Mark to interject his opinion, which is never a good idea, because when I deviate from my plan, trouble is sure to follow.

I should know better.

His idea was that he could somehow come home at 4:00pm and care for Freyja, which is about as likely as pigs flying, since he hasn't made it home before 6:30 in ages.

So all of this was floating around in my head, making me very nervous, when a reply came from the mom of the fairy club child and I thought some how that the fairy club was the next day, right at the time I had to be at the airport, and having Mark pick up from there at 6:30 seemed like a pretty good solution.

Problem solved!

E X C E P T !!!

The fairy club was in fact on WEDNESDAY, not Tuesday.

I don't have a cell phone, so I didn't find out that my child was at someone's home on the wrong day, until I walked in the door at 5:55pm, and noticed a message from the daycare center.

"ummm, Heidi Freyja is saying she is supposed to go home with the fairy club, and her carseat is here, but the fairy club is Wednesday!"

Lucky for me the fairy mom was a good sport and took Miss F home with her.

I phoned Mark who informed me that he was still at his office in Milwaukie!!!

Not close to picking Freyja up at all.

A whole town away!

I raced across town and picked her up at 6:15.

I was totally mortified, being someone that is not only, never late, but also most certainly not usually confused!!

They laughed it off and offered to pick her up for the club the next day.

I happened to have an evening meeting so I asked Mark to pick up at 6:30 -and don't be late, I cautioned.

Except, I didn't go back and read the invitation, which said 6:00pm, so Mark was far from delighted with me when I got home at 7:30.

The level of my embarrassment was so high, that I spent the balance of the evening pacing around the deck asking Rolf over and over to assess the lameness factor, and whether baking some kind of apology cake was in order? I briefly considered smoking a cigarette to calm my nerves and in the end I made a card, and some candies and hoped with intensity, that this woman also has the occasional off week.

so many ways to feel like a bad person

2011-08-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

I feel totally overwhelmed by the constant requests for my attention, my time, my presence, my opinion, my expertise, my company...

Today I realized that I had a ton of old e-mails that had been sent to my old address (even though I did tell folks the new address, but I suppose a lot of stuff is just auto piloted out without much thought.) and many of them were invitations for Freyja, which makes me feel even worse, or worser, as Miss F. would say- that is even worser than I thought.

I talk a lot about how odd modern parenting is, where there are so many organized play dates and birthday parties and fairy princess clubs and other things I am behind on keeping up with.

Maxwell was fairly easy to deal with, the preschool was small then, with lots of people with similar lifestyles to ours, so not so much of the keeping up with the Joneses, or just plain keeping up.

With Freyja it feel like a lot of work to make it all fit together.

In fact as I sat here writing this post, I realized that I had not signed her up for her fall session of the circus class, which fills up quickly!

I stopped writing, signed her up, and my heart was racing until the receipt showed up in my in box.

Whew, another disaster averted.

Mark and I talk about how when we were children you were mostly outside, until dinner time. You were playing outside with neighborhood children, then later when you got older, hanging around some central place like a part or school grounds, getting up to no good until dark. There were no play dates and birthday parties were largely family affairs.

I had three phone calls regarding work, tonight, and that was a pretty slow evening, compared to the way things have been lately. Mark spent the lion's share of Sunday at the office. He took Friday off and we spend two hours running errands, it hardly felt like time off.

There is a drum kit sitting, boxed up, in my living room, that Maxwell mailed home from my mother's place- he returns tomorrow with the expectation of a place for a rock band to practice.

I wonder how I will pull that one off?

Every time I turn around more, and more piles on. I haven't picked up a book in days, I haven't slept through the night in weeks. I just keep thinking of all the undone, and half done things I should take care of, all of the appointments I am need to make, the e-mails I need to return.

Block Party

2011-08-13T21:41:00.000-07:00

Today was our annual block party, which always fills me with a little dread, since being around groups of people isn't really my thing.

I also had a birthday cake to bake, for one of my teachers ( I try to make a cake for all the employee birthdays, and simply ran out of steam yesterday and didn't get hers done) and the house to clean, so I had to get up early and face the day with my toughest yoga work out to mentally prepare for what lie ahead- lots of cooking and shopping and delivery of cake!

The block party was started 12 years ago by a couple with lots of enthusiasm for activities and neighborliness, and while we always participate, we are not really model neighbors. This year one of my employees happened to move onto my street (a weird coincidence) and when he mentioned not attending, it felt like a terrible thing to do!

You have to come! We all dread it, but we all do it!

I guilt tripped him enough to have him come over early to help me cook, and move the table, since Mark was helping his sister move, until right when the party started.

We had a pretty nice time cooking and drinking coffee, which is pretty much my favorite thing to do on a Saturday afternoon, anyway.

The party went well, and Freyja had a blast playing with the neighborhood children and eating tons of candy, and wacking the hell out of a pinata.

The families that have taken over the organization of the party the last couple of years have made a point of writing NO ALCOHOL on the invitation, which was a pretty weird thing to do, since prior to them writing that, no one had ever brought alcohol to the block party in the past, that I know of -perhaps they just weren't sharing with me?

This year, many people, in protest, showed up with wine and beer, and one couple brought a giant thermos of Jungle Juice, in a wagon, just to be cute. The winos and jungle juicers had a gay old time playing bingo, which was led by the son of the nonalcohol invitation people, and I don't think anyone was badly offended. I hope not at least. Mark drank a PBR out of a coffee mug, it was all very absurd.

I made 25 devil's food cupcakes, with cayenne pepper dark chocolate ganache, which is pretty nice for adults, but probably not the best thing to serve to children- the hot pepper had already gone in, before I thought of that angle.

buttermilk mashed, garlic potatoes, with dill and chives

a prune and green apple stuffed pork tenderloin for Mark, with sauteed cabbage and green apples

macaroni salad, for something traditionally block partyish

people slowly gathering in the street.

games for the children & the lady with the jungle juice

our little corner!

Mark manning the pinata

a visit from a vintage fire truck

Mark pretending to be a creepy old Bingo lady

a movie on the front lawn of the people that I suspect that Freyja would like to be adopted by (they have nice grass AND a big dog).

Going down on my permanent record.

2011-08-11T20:38:00.000-07:00

I have been on a LOUD music kick lately, when driving in the car, without the children.

Today was all about the Violent Femmes, which I mostly have to listen to when I am alone, due to the lyrics.
Yes, I have gone all Tipper Gore in my old age, sigh.

a roof over our heads

2011-08-11T20:23:00.000-07:00

For years and years we have talked about putting a roof back on our deck (we took the tacky, broken one off when we moved in).

I recently had some work done for the school and really liked the quality and style of the carpenter, so I asked him if he could make us a deck cover that didn't look too hillbilly, yet not break the bank, which is what he did!

Woohoo!

and while all of that hard work was going on outside of the kitchen, I was busy inside, baking some tarts, win/win baby!


I love my new, old oven!

raspberries and dark cherries

Marionberry & peach on an almond, oat shortbread crust, of my own invention.

Blue Lake Park

2011-08-07T17:11:00.000-07:00

I really needed to get away, so I loaded Miss F into the car early Saturday morning and we drove east, along the Columbia river, out of town, away from phones and e-mail and housework.

We stopped off first in Hood River to pick some cherries and to kill some time until the sun showed up. I would have kept on driving right on into Idaho, had Freyja not insisted on a destination. So I made one up.

It was a windy overcast day, and even I needed a sweater!

The farm was sweet and the trees were tiny, the ladders stable, it almost felt like cheating, the ease of picking!

Organic cherries! $2.00 a pound! We wound up picking 15 pounds, which is a lot of cherries!
Whew!

they provided us with lovely buckets and ladders and low hanging fruit.

Then we headed back west toward the dam, and stopped at the fish hatchery to get a peek at Herman the Surgeon, and pick up a coffee at the gift shop.

Dinosaur Fish!

We hit Blue Lake Park at noon, and the water was warm enough for swimming. This is an idea place to go if you have young children, not a great place to go if you hate children and families, because it is packed with them. There is a beautiful piece of the lake that is covered in lilypads and waterlilies, just remarkable to look at, but the action is down by the beach, where the sand bottom and shallow warm water make it easy for parents to let their children play in the water. I blew it by not bringing a friend along form Freyja.

On the way home we stopped off at Sheridan Foods and bought some things to BBQ for dinner. It turned out to be a pretty excellent day, all and all!

toys in the attic

2011-08-07T16:51:00.000-07:00

I made the mistake of mentioning to Freyja that I had a lot of my old toys stored in the attic. She pestered me to show her all morning, so I moved a bookcase out of the way, and pulled out one box of dusty old dolls, which seemed to appease her relentless curiosity.

I also found a vintage suitcase, which I used to use to use to store photos and keepsakes. I had forgotten about most of those photos, so it was fun to see them after 13 years in the attic.

I like looking at photos of my old apartment on Broadway drive, and impress myself with how much work I did with so little money on that old shack.

My mother and I painted every inch of the place, wallpapered extensively and sanded down the floors (which had been painted over for a hundred years) we replaced glass in windows that had been painted black (who needs curtains, right? ) we put a drain board in the kitchen and shelving underneath to create a countertop.... It was a dump when I moved in, and a pretty spiffy dump when I left in 1991. I am pretty impressed with my 19 year old self, and my handywoman skills!

this red futon was the first piece of furniture I ever bought, it cost $200 and I thought I had lost my mind.

The poodle was a gift from an old boyfriend, the poodle stayed with me for 17 years, the boyfriend was gone within two.

My college roommate J, showing off her tough motorcycle burn, and dish washing skills. We had a lot of laughs in that apartment, although she accused me regularly of trying to turn the place into Daisykingdom, and she hated my red wainscoting. I did have then and still do today have a lot of knickknacks, I like my stuff, what can I say.

sometimes you bite the bear and sometimes you watch "the big lebowski"

2011-08-05T22:47:00.000-07:00

The tailend of another long week, left me lazy and tired and ready to have someone else do the cooking, someone that knows how to make steaming hot corn tortillas... we ate at Casa Del Sol, AGAIN, way out in the hood, complete with a toothless lady of the evening marching in and complaining about the Pinesol smell (it was a bit much, in her defense).
I am madly, insanely in LOVE with those tortillas.
What can I say?
They are that good.

We had something stupid arrive from Netflix, and I asked Mark for the big lebowski, which he rummaged around and found in the basement. I love that film, A LOT, even if they didn't play my favorite song at the end, but they do, so I love it a lot more.

2011-08-03T19:18:00.001-07:00

not much of a joiner

2011-08-02T15:46:00.000-07:00

I made the mistake, or misstep of enrolling in this newish program for "childcare professionals" that is designed to recognize all of our unrecognized hard work in a field that no one takes seriously.
There has been a great bit of hay made over this program in the past few years, and as usual I have pretty successfully ignored it, as I am really not much of a joiner and am generally dubious about any organization that might want me for a member.
Last November I was awarded a scholarship for a piece of this program, a sort of distant cousin, and it turned out to be a pretty lovely experience, I even gained a slick certificate to post on my office wall, so I thought what the hell and went forward with my application to be further immersed.

Initially I was told that I was IN, which despite a life long hatred of organized stuff, clubs and committees and the like, felt pretty dang good. So I mailed off a modest stack of stuff to the governmental agency overseeing things, and waited.
The first discouraging letter came about three weeks ago, followed by two more. At first I furnished more information, provided a $10 fee and felt bad inside, for my lack of accumulated certificates and memberships to organizations and affiliations with societies and clubs. Then I became irritated and finally I gave up, but I happened to chat with a woman that works with the program I worked with over winter and she fired up a tiny flame of hope again and I was back to photo copying and begging and pleading my case, just like that.
Today I got a e-mail from a very genuinely nice lady requesting a course description from a sociology class that I took the fall of 1988! I have no memory of the class and no clue as to where I would put my hands on an old catalog, so once again I am letting it all go and trying no to feel too foolish and done in, at not having saved my old syllabuses from the 80's, because clearly, at this point in the game I will never be able to make something of myself, even if I try!

going dental

2011-08-01T17:29:00.000-07:00

So my crown is back on, which is a good thing, but my mouth remains super NUMB after three hours, not such a good thing, considering I need to leave soon for a meeting where I will be expected not to drool.

I scream for ice cream

2011-07-31T12:06:00.000-07:00

After an ass kicking emotional week, I needed some big diversions.

Homemade ice cream and salted chocolate caramels were the thing, but never one to leave well enough alone, some berries would be good too, and perhaps some caramel sauce, and nuts?
Why not a soup?
Oh, and Freyja needs a bath after all that berry picking, and there is vacuuming to be done, and shopping at three stores and, and, and. I just really needed not to think about work any more.
So there was the diversion I needed.
Everything went well, until one of my crowns came off a back tooth. If you know me at all, you know I have a deep fear of losing my teeth, I am a compulsive tooth brusher, so while it didn't hurt, it was a big source of anxiety having a missing crown. My dentist phoned me back at 8:00pm and promised to squeeze me in on Monday. He talked me down very sweetly and I managed not to freak out, too much.

She's baaaack!

Freyja came home from three weeks with grandma in San Francisco with red streaks in her hair.

cooling caramel with sea salt.

The finished and packaged product.

carrot & red pepper soup

Ripley taking liberties with Rolf's loose parenting.

I used the same table setting scheme two weeks in a row. Can you tell I have been stressed out?

Freyja & Rolf's bountiful harvest!

Our very rickety old ice cream maker, doesn't look like much, but works like a charm.

I highly recommend inviting young people to dinner, then forcing them into hard labor.

is it possible to have too much desert?

Mr. Goody two shoes, declines both caramel ice cream and pie, and instead eats melon.

a camera shy guest

the finished product!

sugar coma

a bit of music

Ripley sunning himself inside a hula hoop as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

More Mr. Welsh

2011-07-27T20:43:00.000-07:00

I am back to reading Irvine Welsh again, this time a collection of short stories so brutal that I had to set the book down several times.
Like his other books, most of the stories are written in a Scottish dialect, with unflinching harsh themes of violence and man's inhumanity to man, that creep up and bash you on the head repeatedly.
With the stories written in dialect, one almost has to read aloud to follow along, and the intensity is almost unbearable at time for me. I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing. He does for violence, misogyny, and poverty what Dorothy Allison did for poverty and domestic abuse in Bastard out of Carolina, but without the grace and poetics. All very in your face.

blabbing about bending over backward to make a statement

2011-07-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

After a delightful weekend, where I ventured away from my normal life and literally took some time to smell the roses, stay up late, eat salted Carmel ice cream for dinner at Ruby Jewel, in NoPo ,ignore the laundry and dip my feet in the river and go to bed without washing up, the week came upon me like a lion, with all manner of things big and small and a dose of kickball thrown in for good measure. I think I've done a pretty decent job of balancing things so far. I am due some peace and serenity soon.
This record was on all weekend, a tiny sad tribute to the the sad death of Amy Winehouse.

can't stop listening

2011-07-26T16:20:00.000-07:00

another Saturday night

2011-07-24T13:44:00.000-07:00

the sun finally shone for the first time this summer, and provided a pretty nice backdrop for a little dinner party.

Rolf's girlfriend brought a cake in this box.

I made grilled salmon, cold avocado soup, quinoa with sweet potatoes, green, red and mango salsa, and mild green chilies stuffed with goat cheese mashed potatoes

the cold avocado soup at sunset.

potato stuffed peppers!

some people showed up on time, and some came a bit later.

berries with rum laced whipped cream and Swiss meringues

and a tiny predinner Maitai

pineapple upsidedown cake is good

plumbing the depths

2011-07-18T19:37:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday night Rolf stayed up quit late drinking with a friend of ours and around midnight Mark and I heard a ruckus in the bathroom, then some clanking and banging and cursing coming from the basement.

Friday morning I noticed a flood under the sink, as well as a pipe wrench.

What happened?

It seemed they had a little too much to drink and when he had tucked our friend into the sofa for the night, he went to brush his teeth and one of his crowns came off and went down the sink.

In an attempt to remove the J trap, in his altered state, he discovered that Charlie the shitty plumber we have used for years, due to my insane sense of loyalties, had used a plastic, rather than metal pipe when he put in the new drop trap thingy, when we got a new faucet.

Stupid Charlie!

Long story slightly shorter...
The pipe cracked and the sink was leaking.
I phoned Mike, another plumber I know, but Mike was busy and suggested I call Jake.
Jake couldn't come until Monday afternoon.
So we spent the weekend with a bucket under the sink.
Today both Jake and Laura were to come at 1:30.

Jake to plumb and Laura to help me with some sorting and organizing for a garage sale.

1:30 came and went and around 2:15 I had to pee.

Badly.

Which is a real problem, since you can't hear a damn thing in this house, if you are a room away on the first floor. Sound only travels well in a vertical pattern. Lying in bed upstairs I can hear Rolf roll over, but I cannot hear someone knock, if I am in the kitchen.

So I opened the front door, and took the poodle with me to the bathroom (because he likes to escape). When I walked back out, there was a very nice man standing on my front porch with a clipboard.

"Oh, my god! Thank goodness you are here!"

"I'm just here being groovy ma'am"

hmmmm, then I realized that I have a silly little ceramic tile I made years ago that says

"be groovy or leave"

which Bob Dylan said without a hint of irony in his film Don't look back, and I thought it such a preposterous thing to say that I had to make up a bunch of tiles with it on them.

We both had a good laugh and I rushed him into the house.

I thought he looked a little wiry or slim for a plumber, and a bit too clean, but you never know these days, people do all sorts of diagnostic work with computers. It wasn't until he busted out his clipboard and made his pitch about getting prostitutes off the streets, that I realized that the man in my living room was not Jake the plumber, but rather DeShaun, a door to door guy collecting money to help prostitutes and drug addicts!

Oh Dear, DeShaun, I think I mistook you for my plumber, that is why I had the door open,
I was waiting for Jake the plumber!
In fact he should be here ANY MINUTE NOW! I really need to have you leave!

I am doing good work, you can make any contribution, everything helps!

I am sure you are, and I love prostitutes,
I mean I don't love the work they are doing, but you know,
I would love to help, but I am super broke,
I have this broken pipe, and just a couple months ago we had another flood, and the bottom line is that I am tapped out, no money, sorry.

At that point I felt like a super rat for not helping the prostitutes, and I was also worried about what my husband would say if he found a fairly shady looking prostitute's advocate in our living room, or learned that I had left the door standing open, without even the dog to bark to alert me to a stranger at the door.

After a great deal of salesmanship from DeShaun, I was able to get him out the door and lock up behind him, which I am sure was offensive, but what to do? I am constantly being lectured about safety, which I often ignore, but at this point it felt best to error on the side of caution.

Laura never did show up, but Jake did arrive around 4:30, replaced the broken part, reamed out the sink and the tub and now all is well and functioning nicely.

one fish, two fish

2011-07-17T12:06:00.000-07:00

I don't eat fish, and with my picky children around, I don't usually cook it for Mark either, but this week, I decided to make him some special dinners- I made hims a salmon in a white wine sauce with asparagus and fingerling potatoes one day and a Brazilian red snapper dish with a red pepper and coconut sauce another night, with mango salsa and avocado.

Party life

2011-07-17T11:57:00.000-07:00

We went to another party last night. A party thrown by a work friend of Mark's.
I am not very fond of going to parties, especially parties where I don't know anyone, except my husband. For years I would just send him on his merry way and stay home with the kids.
It suited me fine, but it made him feel embarrassed or weird to never have me with him.
I was the ghost wife.
The nervous nelly at home.
Parties really bring out my social anxiety.
I didn't understand why it felt so hard for him to let me be a hermit, but I also didn't want to make him feel like he was living with a mental patient that couldn't handle real life, so I resolved to be better, and I think I have been better lately. Before he married me he used to go out all the time, to parties, to see music, to bars; all things I hate. Noise, smoke, strangers, badly prepared food, dirt.
This is the second party I've gone to with him in two months.
Before I had children I used to throw a lot of parties.
I used to be fairly social and know a lot of people.
Something just changed dramatically in me when I turned 30, like a flip of a switch, I got so I just couldn't be around people anymore.
Very strange.
Now I feel like don't really know many people anymore, which makes sense given over a decade of hiding out.
Back when I used to host parties, I always tried to include the fringe or shy people in conversation, draw them in.

I sat alone last night a good deal of the four hours I was there, and no one really spoke to me.
It was really odd.
I couldn't sit in a room and know someone was sitting there not talking, I would be compelled to rescue her.

With no rescue in sight, and not wanting to cling to Mark, I did the next best thing. I sought out people to talk with and sort of interjected myself into conversations, with mixed success.

There was one tattooed old school punk rock fellow that I had seen at the previous party sitting across from me talking about health insurance with a woman that also didn't know anyone, a neighbor, at some point this fellow said

"if I ever see my Kaiser doctor on the street, I will spit in his fucking face!"

and I thought, now that is someone I can relate to! And sure enough, he turned out to be a delightful conversationalist and the neighbor lady wasn't too bad either. They kept me from feeling like a compete loser until Mark drifted back my way.
Part of the problem was the type of people at the party.
There were tons of publishing and advertising folks, who all knew each other and tended to clump and talk shop; that is where Mark gravitates. They tend to be the hard drinking and smoking set, and I never fit in, because as soon as I answer the question what do you do, they immediately lose interest.
In these situations I tend to look like some kind of idiot clinging to Mark's side not saying a word, at most of these events.
There were also a large group of edgy lesbians with crew cuts and giant skull tattoos, for the most part that type- the shaved headed skull tattoo set, tend to hate me, I have no idea why, but over the years that has always been the case.
Then there was a little group of greasy haired comic book collecting men, I usually have my best luck with them, or with the drunk floozies, that need assistance, say opening a bottle of champagne or retrieving a false eyelash from the onion dip.
So that is who I flowed between. The drunk redhead, that might have been pretty when she was 20, but has had a lot of hard miles on her since then, who likes to get about two inches from your face and then speak in a really loud voice, and the balding Kevin Smith look a like that lives in a basement with 10,0000 comic books, and of course the vulgar and hilarious tattoo guy who hates Kaiser. The art gallery neighbor wasn't bad either, I've taken enough art history to be able to hold my own with art snobs. She had a lovely bob and beautiful blue eyes and she was chatty. She reminded me of a high school friend I have lost track of. Sort of vulnerable yet snooty.
I love chatty people.
I suspect my skirt looked stupid and possibly provincial, but I haven't kept up on the laundry since the kids have been gone, so I wasn't feeling super secure.
I felt like I looked like some homely hayseed.
I brought a quinoa salad and an expensive bottle of wine, Mark bought a case of PBR.
Everyone liked the salad, but that might be because everyone else brought either beer or chips, so there wasn't a lot of real food available, until the host busted out the smoked pork, about two hours into the party.
That is another sign that I am not a good party person. I hate it when I go to someone's house and they don't have the food prepared, when it takes ages to get something to eat, and you wind up drinking way too much because your are waiting around for the damn BBQ or what ever it is they are making.
If I invite people to dinner at 5:00, the food hits the table no later than 5:30, or I put our appetizers, or both.

quinoa with sweet potatoes, green beans, cashews, cilantro, zucchini

with all of that free time

2011-07-11T18:15:00.000-07:00

I am sitting around listening to records, and reading.
That is what I am doing with my childfree time.
I suppose I should be wallpapering the dining-room or gardening, or waxing the floors, but I am not. Mark and I had dinner at a sweet little dive on 82nd (deep in the hood for nonPDXers) Casa Del Sol, very good, fast and HOT & SPICY!
We stayed up too late watching a double feature of "full metal jacket" and "Scarface" which we happen to own, which worked out well because we somehow goofed up on mailing our Netflix things back so nothing new for us in the cinema department, and I look awful and blotchy and dark circled, but there you are, the price of having no children to keep you in line.

TTFN

2011-07-11T18:06:00.000-07:00

The children left on Saturday for my mom's place.
I was dry eye and blase, Rolf was sentimental and Mark was befuddled with all of the airline rules and regulations for 12 year olds traveling alone vs people under 12 traveling alone.
I suppose I am a terrible person, or mother because I don't need my children with me constantly, I don't miss them terribly, if I know they are having fun, and are safely ensconced with someone that will wait on them hand and foot and drag them hither and yon in search of fun and excitement.
I am happy they are happy, rather than hanging around here while I work long hours and snap at them for leaving towels on the floor.

Freyja on her way to the airport

Maxwell with his newly cut hair and giant backpack

Freyja saying a dramatic goodbye to Rolf's girlfriend's dog

The old home place

2011-07-04T18:02:00.000-07:00

My grandparents house for the past 50 years. Mom coming up the driveway.

We met up with my mother, my aunt, my brother and our cousin for a 4th of July picnic at my grandfather's house.
None of us had been there in years, since there has been a big rift within the family over decades of hurt, that eventually resulted in a long estrangement.
My mother called everyone last week and ordered us to come. Grandpa is in his late 80's and no one lasts for ever.

The place is an acre right smack in the middle of a very affluent suburb.
My grandparents are not fancy people and the happened to purchase this house and land at the right time, right price, and went right on living their country way, despite the posh environment all around them. They ran the only emergency foster home in Clackamas county for years, and were not always popular with the neighbors. From the late 1950's into the mid 1980's they cared for over 500 children in this tiny farm house. The house itself is dinky and not much to look at, but my grandfather keeps it clean and neat and his yard is amazing.

The pond

Lilly pads! When I was a child my grandmother made my grandfather keep the pond covered, she was terrified of someone drowning.

Giant sequoia tree- someone gave this to my grandmother as a potted plant in the mid 60's and boy has it grown! Most of my life, off to the left there was a big garden and a potato patch, it looks funny without it. Off to the right there were rows of raspberries and a swing set. My grandmother dried all of the household's clothing on these lines, and in winter on lines in the basement with a wood burning stove. She used a wringer washer well into the 1980's.

"the timber" We weren't allowed to play out there when I was little, just in the backyard. When I was really small they had a little white pony for me, and my mother had a black donkey. My grandfather has a workshop back there and he secretly used to smoke! Which was really shocking... he also had a gigantic pile of wood chips, he would meticulously trim the garden, then chip everything, and eventually the pile grew to be about 10' high, and he had to build this elaborate ramps system to carry the chips to the top. It was very cool and I was disappointed to see it gone today. He gave all of the mulch to neighbors and family members, he said, he just didn't want to mess with it anymore.

My cousin (who was born on my 5th birthday!) and I in the picnic area. In the mid 70's my grandfather planted a big hedgerow, so that we could have gatherings in this shaded area, nice for play and eating out, shaded from the street, and the neighbors and the timber.

My neice

Democrats! Life long Democrats, union people and idealist. Even today grandpa was ranting about how unjust it was that the rich can build up their school, while the poor go without. I am sure his sign in the window rankles a few of his more conservative neighbors.

The front. When grandma was alive there was a giant snowball bush, that was a big pain in the ass to mow around, when she died the bush went with her to the great beyond.

The family in the picnic area. If you can't find something to eat here, you really aren't trying! I made two pies, macaroni salad, potato salad, eggplant salad, cole slaw, and hummus. My cousin brought fruit and drinks and mom made baked beans and a giant cake.

Me and my baby brother! When he was a teen, he used to walk here from school, get a ladder climb up on the roof and crawl into a window. My grandfather would say "what on earth are you doing?"
Jason would always tell him "I wanted something to eat!" I suppose coming in the front door was too boring? My grandparents were just like that, no people to judge if you needed to climb in a window.

Grandpa with the youngest great grandchild

Maxwell, ready to walk down to the lake.