Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Saturday, October 06, 2012
The rest of us
Emily has been taking a lot of pictures this month, ~ 400. Good thing it is a digital camera, that would be a lot of film to develop. Kodak employees everywhere are a little sad to hear that. She took this great picture of the Huxley water tower.
I also brought home two bushels of apples. Prices are high this year because of a late freeze that killed most of the blossoms this spring. The local overpriced U-pick place had some for 34 dollars/bushel, but strangely only 15/half bushel. The teller was confused why I wanted multiple half bushels instead of two full bushels. Even more when two half bushels overflowed the bushel box. Ahh, math. It's a beautiful thing.
Colleen has been a great help and happy to have half day kindergarten.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Baby!!!!
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Kind flight attendants from AirFrance
The first time I flew I was 19. I was leaving the MTC and going to my mission in Nicaragua. The MTC rounded us up at like 3 or 4 in the morning to go to the airport and I was giddy from sleep deprivation and excitement. I remember asking if I could trade seats for a window, fumbling with the seat belts, and the rush as the plane took off. The flight attendant gave her safety schpeel and no one paid much attention. I noticed they didn't pay much attention to take off either, or the view from the air. I thought to myself - why, they could be on a bus on the ground, and they wouldn't notice the difference. The flight attendant asked me about my upcoming mission and gave me a whole can of pop. It was awesome.
I have flown enough that I could give the safety talk in my sleep. I no longer look out the window, much. And there is so much about flying that is annoying and frustrating. I hate security and getting to the airport early and then waiting for the flight. Taking off my shoes makes me irate. Airline employees have become surly and impatient. They don't feed you anymore and I swear the seats are getting closer together. People try to shove their over-sized carry-ons to avoid paying over-priced baggage fees. A TSA employee once confiscated my bike lock and my bicycle patch kit -". . because those two ounces of glue are flammable and I could hit someone with that lock," he said.
Flying with AirFrance was actually enjoyable. They served nice meals - I had pasta with chicken on the flight to France with brie and a cup custard. On the return flight, I had beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, Camembert, and chocolate cake. The flight attendant saw that I had finished my cheese and still had bread, so he brought me another sliver of cheese - so it could all come out even. On the way back I felt quite ill - the first time I have thrown up on a flight. The plane didn't have turbulence, but seemed to roll like it was at sea and not 30,000 ft. They were kind enough to let me stand in the back near the restrooms most of the flight and patted me sympathetically and never asked me to sit down, just if there was anything they could get me to help me feel better.
The highlight was on the flight from Clermont-Ferrand to Paris. Two young sisters were flying alone to Paris. The oldest seemed to be around 10 years old and was terrified. She gripped the seat and cried as the plane started to take off. One of the flight attendants sat in the aisle next to her and held her hand. He joked with her and wiped her tears. When the drink cart came by he asked the woman across the aisle to hold her hand for him. What what impressive was how this act of kindness changed the rest of the flight. Other passengers patted the attendant on the back as we got off the plane and thanked him. It made me think.
I usually talk to the people I sit next to on a plane, but this time I really met some interesting people and had fascinating conversations:
Claire - Ex-Pat from Halifax - 10 yrs in Clermont. Husband researches health and safety of chemicals used in tire production. She doesn't speak much french, most friends are expats. Two children, back in Halifax. They will retire back in Canada. She told me about so many people react to her because of Anne of Green Gables. She met a Japanese woman once on a plane that wept with joy as she talked about Anne of Green Gables.
Lebanese biologist/investor. Startups with genomics data. Has lived in Detroit most of his life.
Fatima - Sick woman from Palestine, scared and worried about the trip and treatment. Doctors were meeting her at the airport.
Alaia - Financial grad. First new job at Dubai Aluminum going to visit sister in US. Loves rural Ohio, the nature. Compared Dubai and Abu Dhabi. Dubai is apparently way more fun.
Math professor - conference in Germany on kernel density estimations. People often tell him about how hard proofs are. His son is very americanized.
Victoria - Argentine. Her father helped discover Mal de Rio Cuarto Virus and I am pretty sure that I spoke with him when we were planning our trials in Sampacho. He helps with the trials each year. She works for IA state finishing masters in public health at vet school. Came back from visiting her sister in EU.
Shaimaa - Egypt. Research Associate for Pioneer- Dupont in France. Daughter is 4, beautiful curly hair. She came for training at headquarters.
Patrick - South Africa. son Sean, divorced. His wife is a vice president for a company in Des Moines. He had begged her to have a family, but she never was comfortable with it. Sean was a hoot, playing video games on his iPhone. 6 yrs old. Computer programmer that used to work for Monsanto as a contractor.
I have flown enough that I could give the safety talk in my sleep. I no longer look out the window, much. And there is so much about flying that is annoying and frustrating. I hate security and getting to the airport early and then waiting for the flight. Taking off my shoes makes me irate. Airline employees have become surly and impatient. They don't feed you anymore and I swear the seats are getting closer together. People try to shove their over-sized carry-ons to avoid paying over-priced baggage fees. A TSA employee once confiscated my bike lock and my bicycle patch kit -". . because those two ounces of glue are flammable and I could hit someone with that lock," he said.
Flying with AirFrance was actually enjoyable. They served nice meals - I had pasta with chicken on the flight to France with brie and a cup custard. On the return flight, I had beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, Camembert, and chocolate cake. The flight attendant saw that I had finished my cheese and still had bread, so he brought me another sliver of cheese - so it could all come out even. On the way back I felt quite ill - the first time I have thrown up on a flight. The plane didn't have turbulence, but seemed to roll like it was at sea and not 30,000 ft. They were kind enough to let me stand in the back near the restrooms most of the flight and patted me sympathetically and never asked me to sit down, just if there was anything they could get me to help me feel better.
The highlight was on the flight from Clermont-Ferrand to Paris. Two young sisters were flying alone to Paris. The oldest seemed to be around 10 years old and was terrified. She gripped the seat and cried as the plane started to take off. One of the flight attendants sat in the aisle next to her and held her hand. He joked with her and wiped her tears. When the drink cart came by he asked the woman across the aisle to hold her hand for him. What what impressive was how this act of kindness changed the rest of the flight. Other passengers patted the attendant on the back as we got off the plane and thanked him. It made me think.
I usually talk to the people I sit next to on a plane, but this time I really met some interesting people and had fascinating conversations:
Claire - Ex-Pat from Halifax - 10 yrs in Clermont. Husband researches health and safety of chemicals used in tire production. She doesn't speak much french, most friends are expats. Two children, back in Halifax. They will retire back in Canada. She told me about so many people react to her because of Anne of Green Gables. She met a Japanese woman once on a plane that wept with joy as she talked about Anne of Green Gables.
Lebanese biologist/investor. Startups with genomics data. Has lived in Detroit most of his life.
Fatima - Sick woman from Palestine, scared and worried about the trip and treatment. Doctors were meeting her at the airport.
Alaia - Financial grad. First new job at Dubai Aluminum going to visit sister in US. Loves rural Ohio, the nature. Compared Dubai and Abu Dhabi. Dubai is apparently way more fun.
Math professor - conference in Germany on kernel density estimations. People often tell him about how hard proofs are. His son is very americanized.
Victoria - Argentine. Her father helped discover Mal de Rio Cuarto Virus and I am pretty sure that I spoke with him when we were planning our trials in Sampacho. He helps with the trials each year. She works for IA state finishing masters in public health at vet school. Came back from visiting her sister in EU.
Shaimaa - Egypt. Research Associate for Pioneer- Dupont in France. Daughter is 4, beautiful curly hair. She came for training at headquarters.
Patrick - South Africa. son Sean, divorced. His wife is a vice president for a company in Des Moines. He had begged her to have a family, but she never was comfortable with it. Sean was a hoot, playing video games on his iPhone. 6 yrs old. Computer programmer that used to work for Monsanto as a contractor.
Saturday, September 01, 2012
Plant Biomechanics Conference and visit to France
This was the view from my hotel room in Clermont-Ferrand. It is a relatively small town in the center of France.
The even older Basilica had great stained glass windows and downspouts that looked like crying people.
The building across from the Basilica was built in the 1200s also and had the original fresco of an elephant still on the outside. It is faded and the back half of the elephant appears to be missing, but for something 800 years old, on the outside of a building, amazing.
Here are some of the people I met at the conference. It was on plant biomechanics and had a diverse mix of engineers, physicists, and botanists. I was the only plant breeder and Doug and I were the only ones working on corn - or even grasses. There were a lot of tree biologists and some Arabidopsis folks looking at cell wall mechanics or specific mutants. It was very international - French, German, Austrian, Russian, Finnish, Chinese, Japanese, Argentine, and American researchers. One guy joked that at least his research wasn't funded by an evil corporation like Monsanto - on his first slide. The guy on the right in this photo is Dmitri - a Russian scientist that kind of latched onto Doug and I. I think we ate every meal together. He was full of stories about the Russian and Belgian research organizations. Doug brought two potential post docs to the meeting and the French woman knew the town and took us to a tiny restaurant called "Le Petit Grille" that was probably the best food I ate in France.
The last few days I rented a car and drove to Peyrehorade where there is a Monsanto breeding station. It was a six hour drive through the mountains to get there and the rental place gave me a GPS that only worked in French. It was an adventure, especially before I figured out the french words for right and left. (A la gauche - to the left, A la doite - to the right). I got very lost close to Peyrehorade because they were repairing the bridge and I had to ask at a farmhouse for directions. I mimed where I wanted to go and she drew me a confusing map with lots of handwaving to explain where to go at each landmark. But I got there. My colleagues were mostly on vacation, but Romain and Pierre came in from vacation to meet with me. Both were Basque and were excited to show me the Basque country. Romain took me to San Sebastian in Spain for tapas for dinner and drove me all over the French basque country.
Monday, August 13, 2012
The world from Kate's perspective.
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| "See my tongue" |
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| The 4-H booth at the fair. |
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| Apparently I don't have a head |
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| Kate begged me to take these pictures of her "Crazy Dance" |
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| More Crazy Dance Goodness. |
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Once I read this book and I need your help to find it.
I have started this post a few times over the years. Each time I get into it and then I drop it, not because it is overly personal or risky, but because it seems like such a long shot. I am looking for a book, a specific book, but I can't remember what the title was, the author, or the character's names. I can remember a lot of plot. Or what I imagine to be the plot.
I thought of it again when I was listening to "This American Life". For my birthday, the Cooks bought me wireless headphones and I have gotten into the habit of streaming NPR while I get ready into my headphones.
I went through a phase when I was about 15 where I read a lot of Piers Anthony myself. I used to stop by the library or the comic book store and read a book before coming home some days. I never bought any of his novels, because they usually had scantily clad heroines on the cover. So, the comic book store owner must have hated me because I would come in, read a novel, a stack of comic books, and go home without spending a penny.
During this time, I remember one day that I missed my bus. It was raining. The next bus was an hour away and I didn't want to walk home in the rain so I stopped in the library. I saw the book sitting on a shelf, I remember the dust jacket had a picture of a computer. The title may have been "Press Enter. . .", but it isn't the Hugo award winning story with that name. I read it in one sitting, which meant that I missed the next bus and was very late getting home.
The story begins with a deep space astronaut waking up. He had been in suspended animation, alone, on a deep space mission that would take almost a hundred years. He had a splitting headache, and a fading memory of bad dreams - voices in deep space calling to him. The ship's computer beeped at him to pay attention to landing his spaceship. To his utter surprise he isn't looking at an alien world, but Earth. He tries to make radio contact, but the planet is silent. The only radio signal is from a small town in California.
He lands just outside of town, and finds everything to be empty - no people anywhere. There is a radio signal from the town center. He finds the source to be a computer blinking, "Press Enter. . . " The computer then tells him the story of a Boy. This is the book within the book. The rest of the book alternated between the Astronaut's story and the computer's account of this Boy.
The Boy has bad dreams, remarkably like the Astronauts: voices among the stars. There is one woman in particular that he talks with in his dreams. She was a settler on a colony ship, but the ship she says hit a meteor and they spilled out, still in stasis, out of the belly of the ship into the cold vacuum. As a boy he tells his mother, his teacher, his friends, everyone about his friend - the frozen woman in space. He becomes obsessed with her. His mother was worried about him and took him to a counselor. One day government men come and set up equipment in his room, tell him it will be OK, they would take the bad dreams away.
The Boy forgot about his dreams. As a Teen, he is awkward, does not fit in. He meets a man in the park that is growing vegetables in a large garden. The man is a veteran of the last war, treated for PTSD with a new method to remove painful memories, but it leaves the veterans somewhat broken in new ways. They find comfort in repetitive motion and struggle to fit into the modern society. The city set aside a portion of the park where they farm. The Boy joins them everyday, and feels at home with them, they have many of the same tics and needs. One of them teaches him Tai Chi and as he matures he masters and adapts it.
Pretty soon he has a local following doing exercises and philosophy. This grows into a movement like Falun Gong. As he matures, he meditates often, and begins to have dreams again about the woman in the dark out in the stars. She missed him. Why did he stop talking to her, she asks him. She is lonely. She worries the other settlers are dead. He weaves these dreams into his teaching and writing on the net and to his group. As he does, he finds that the Government tries to shut him down. He is imprisoned for a short time.
While on parole he decides to escape to Antarctica. It had been settled by genetically engineered Chilean miners and had declared its independence along with a handful of US and Russian scientists. It is the new frontier, and the only requirement for citizenship is painful genetic engineering for adaption to the cold. He is introduced to an Antarctic contact that puts him in a shipping crate full of medical equipment. As the door shuts, the contact tells him he must be very quiet, and he is sorry, because the trip would be very, very unpleasant. It is a transformative experience. Through the pain and itching he clings to his dream woman in the cold of space.
This is getting very long for a blog post and I have been wordy enough lately. If you have read this book, please let me know. It is like an itch I can't reach. I really would like to know what it is called or who wrote it. I used to think about it when I was hoeing cotton fields in grad school, or once and a while when I am walking corn plots now.
I thought of it again when I was listening to "This American Life". For my birthday, the Cooks bought me wireless headphones and I have gotten into the habit of streaming NPR while I get ready into my headphones.
I went through a phase when I was about 15 where I read a lot of Piers Anthony myself. I used to stop by the library or the comic book store and read a book before coming home some days. I never bought any of his novels, because they usually had scantily clad heroines on the cover. So, the comic book store owner must have hated me because I would come in, read a novel, a stack of comic books, and go home without spending a penny.
During this time, I remember one day that I missed my bus. It was raining. The next bus was an hour away and I didn't want to walk home in the rain so I stopped in the library. I saw the book sitting on a shelf, I remember the dust jacket had a picture of a computer. The title may have been "Press Enter. . .", but it isn't the Hugo award winning story with that name. I read it in one sitting, which meant that I missed the next bus and was very late getting home.
The story begins with a deep space astronaut waking up. He had been in suspended animation, alone, on a deep space mission that would take almost a hundred years. He had a splitting headache, and a fading memory of bad dreams - voices in deep space calling to him. The ship's computer beeped at him to pay attention to landing his spaceship. To his utter surprise he isn't looking at an alien world, but Earth. He tries to make radio contact, but the planet is silent. The only radio signal is from a small town in California.
He lands just outside of town, and finds everything to be empty - no people anywhere. There is a radio signal from the town center. He finds the source to be a computer blinking, "Press Enter. . . " The computer then tells him the story of a Boy. This is the book within the book. The rest of the book alternated between the Astronaut's story and the computer's account of this Boy.
The Boy has bad dreams, remarkably like the Astronauts: voices among the stars. There is one woman in particular that he talks with in his dreams. She was a settler on a colony ship, but the ship she says hit a meteor and they spilled out, still in stasis, out of the belly of the ship into the cold vacuum. As a boy he tells his mother, his teacher, his friends, everyone about his friend - the frozen woman in space. He becomes obsessed with her. His mother was worried about him and took him to a counselor. One day government men come and set up equipment in his room, tell him it will be OK, they would take the bad dreams away.
The Boy forgot about his dreams. As a Teen, he is awkward, does not fit in. He meets a man in the park that is growing vegetables in a large garden. The man is a veteran of the last war, treated for PTSD with a new method to remove painful memories, but it leaves the veterans somewhat broken in new ways. They find comfort in repetitive motion and struggle to fit into the modern society. The city set aside a portion of the park where they farm. The Boy joins them everyday, and feels at home with them, they have many of the same tics and needs. One of them teaches him Tai Chi and as he matures he masters and adapts it.
Pretty soon he has a local following doing exercises and philosophy. This grows into a movement like Falun Gong. As he matures, he meditates often, and begins to have dreams again about the woman in the dark out in the stars. She missed him. Why did he stop talking to her, she asks him. She is lonely. She worries the other settlers are dead. He weaves these dreams into his teaching and writing on the net and to his group. As he does, he finds that the Government tries to shut him down. He is imprisoned for a short time.
While on parole he decides to escape to Antarctica. It had been settled by genetically engineered Chilean miners and had declared its independence along with a handful of US and Russian scientists. It is the new frontier, and the only requirement for citizenship is painful genetic engineering for adaption to the cold. He is introduced to an Antarctic contact that puts him in a shipping crate full of medical equipment. As the door shuts, the contact tells him he must be very quiet, and he is sorry, because the trip would be very, very unpleasant. It is a transformative experience. Through the pain and itching he clings to his dream woman in the cold of space.
. . . .
Saturday, July 14, 2012
No more chickens
I don't know what I will say to them. The last few days when I am alone with my thoughts - usually early in the morning when the sun is up, but I know I don't have to be, I imagine what our next conversation will be like. Sometimes I pretend that Dick and Helen, our neighbors, are apologetic and bring us kringla cookies because they feel bad about making us get rid of our chickens. Then I am grand and forgiving. Sometimes I am rude and angry and I swear at them and tell them about my crying children. Sometimes, in the twilight between awake and asleep, between dream and imagining, we pass in the street and we say nothing to each other and that breaks my heart too.
Tuesday the Huxley City Council asked us to come to their meeting to discuss renewal of our license to have chickens in the city limits. Two years ago we went to the city and got a special dispensation to have chickens in the city limits on the conditions that all of our neighbors agreed and that we kept the chickens contained. I went, dreading the meeting. I knew that our neighbors across the fence were not happy about it because we had let the chickens roam and they went in their yard. They are our friends, really, and we had talked about it before. We were third or fourth on the agenda. The meeting wasn't going well - Mr Quick was angry about the development the city wasted millions of our tax dollars on. That is another story. Dick and Helen were both there when I sat down. I jokingly asked them if they were there to testify against me. They said they weren't there to testify against anyone, but I knew that wasn't true.
When it was our turn, one of the council members asked why this was on the agenda. The city clerk said that they had received a letter from Dick and Helen complaining about the chickens and that our yearly permission was up. Most of the council members were skeptical about us getting chickens the first two times I had been there, but we had covered most of their concerns by having a letter signed by all the neighbors agreeing to have chickens, plans for a fancy coop, and a limit on the number of chickens. I knew how it was going to end once Helen and Dick started talking. In their defense, they did say they didn't want to be there, but the clerk had asked them to come. But, they said they didn't think we should have chickens. The chickens had got out and come in their yard. Dick and slipped on the crap. Helen had expensive hostas. They chickens have digging feet of hosta death.
I tried to defend the chickens. I admitted that we had let them out in the evenings, which two city council members were visibly upset about. We had not said earlier that the chickens would roam free. Sometimes they went along the fence and five months ago, when I was out of town, they had wandered a number of times into the neighbors yard.
Helen called Leila furious and vowed to call the cops. Leila called me upset and when I got back I went to talk to Helen. I told Helen then, if she would apologize that I would kill the chickens. Helen doesn't believe in apologizing. No, really. She doesn't. Leila said she was sorry, but Helen told me, that if she, or anyone, is really sorry, then they wouldn't have done it. If she was sorry, she wouldn't let the chickens out any more. We had been irresponsible and she wasn't going to stand for it. I told Helen that it had really upset Leila, not that the chickens had got out, but how Helen had spoke to her, and that I hoped that she would because they had been our friends. Helen never apologized. I didn't kill the chickens, and was careful that the chickens never went in their yard. That was five months ago.
We discussed it for a half hour. The same council had spent 5 minutes discussing paying an outside firm for a commercial development plan for 20,000 dollars that we didn't have. It passed. Don't get me started. A number of compromises were proposed - building a fence for example. I said I was happy to build a fence. Again they were skeptical about why would even want to have chickens. Again I explained that I liked having them for my kids to have chores to do that were real and that I liked the eggs. They aren't dogs or cats that love you. But we were still attached to them. Finally they voted. It was unanimous against allowing chickens.
So, we could either ignore the rules, which I think are stupid, or we could abide by them. I mean, what could the council have done if we had ignored them? Called us in for another meeting? A fine? Have the cops come and take our chickens by force? I didn't want to kill the chickens. I usually am the chicken butcherer. I am pretty good at stripping the feathers, gutting and cleaning chicken. I don't like plucking, so I usually skin the chicken and cut off the wingtips that have those little pin feathers. But, somehow it is different when I want to kill them. Leila put an add on Craigslist and 20 people called before lunch. By four they were out on someone's farm. I guess that means we would abide by the law/rule. I don't know if that is the honorable thing to do. When I comforted my crying daughters it felt weak, like I had backed down to a bully.
I still don't know what I will say to my neighbors. For now, we haven't talked about it. Maybe we never will. I don't think I have forgiven them or the council members, but I am not sure what the right thing to do is. So instead, I lie awake running scenarios in my head, pretending I know what to say and do to make it right and be the person I imagine myself to be.
Tuesday the Huxley City Council asked us to come to their meeting to discuss renewal of our license to have chickens in the city limits. Two years ago we went to the city and got a special dispensation to have chickens in the city limits on the conditions that all of our neighbors agreed and that we kept the chickens contained. I went, dreading the meeting. I knew that our neighbors across the fence were not happy about it because we had let the chickens roam and they went in their yard. They are our friends, really, and we had talked about it before. We were third or fourth on the agenda. The meeting wasn't going well - Mr Quick was angry about the development the city wasted millions of our tax dollars on. That is another story. Dick and Helen were both there when I sat down. I jokingly asked them if they were there to testify against me. They said they weren't there to testify against anyone, but I knew that wasn't true.
When it was our turn, one of the council members asked why this was on the agenda. The city clerk said that they had received a letter from Dick and Helen complaining about the chickens and that our yearly permission was up. Most of the council members were skeptical about us getting chickens the first two times I had been there, but we had covered most of their concerns by having a letter signed by all the neighbors agreeing to have chickens, plans for a fancy coop, and a limit on the number of chickens. I knew how it was going to end once Helen and Dick started talking. In their defense, they did say they didn't want to be there, but the clerk had asked them to come. But, they said they didn't think we should have chickens. The chickens had got out and come in their yard. Dick and slipped on the crap. Helen had expensive hostas. They chickens have digging feet of hosta death.
I tried to defend the chickens. I admitted that we had let them out in the evenings, which two city council members were visibly upset about. We had not said earlier that the chickens would roam free. Sometimes they went along the fence and five months ago, when I was out of town, they had wandered a number of times into the neighbors yard.
Helen called Leila furious and vowed to call the cops. Leila called me upset and when I got back I went to talk to Helen. I told Helen then, if she would apologize that I would kill the chickens. Helen doesn't believe in apologizing. No, really. She doesn't. Leila said she was sorry, but Helen told me, that if she, or anyone, is really sorry, then they wouldn't have done it. If she was sorry, she wouldn't let the chickens out any more. We had been irresponsible and she wasn't going to stand for it. I told Helen that it had really upset Leila, not that the chickens had got out, but how Helen had spoke to her, and that I hoped that she would because they had been our friends. Helen never apologized. I didn't kill the chickens, and was careful that the chickens never went in their yard. That was five months ago.
We discussed it for a half hour. The same council had spent 5 minutes discussing paying an outside firm for a commercial development plan for 20,000 dollars that we didn't have. It passed. Don't get me started. A number of compromises were proposed - building a fence for example. I said I was happy to build a fence. Again they were skeptical about why would even want to have chickens. Again I explained that I liked having them for my kids to have chores to do that were real and that I liked the eggs. They aren't dogs or cats that love you. But we were still attached to them. Finally they voted. It was unanimous against allowing chickens.
So, we could either ignore the rules, which I think are stupid, or we could abide by them. I mean, what could the council have done if we had ignored them? Called us in for another meeting? A fine? Have the cops come and take our chickens by force? I didn't want to kill the chickens. I usually am the chicken butcherer. I am pretty good at stripping the feathers, gutting and cleaning chicken. I don't like plucking, so I usually skin the chicken and cut off the wingtips that have those little pin feathers. But, somehow it is different when I want to kill them. Leila put an add on Craigslist and 20 people called before lunch. By four they were out on someone's farm. I guess that means we would abide by the law/rule. I don't know if that is the honorable thing to do. When I comforted my crying daughters it felt weak, like I had backed down to a bully.
I still don't know what I will say to my neighbors. For now, we haven't talked about it. Maybe we never will. I don't think I have forgiven them or the council members, but I am not sure what the right thing to do is. So instead, I lie awake running scenarios in my head, pretending I know what to say and do to make it right and be the person I imagine myself to be.
Saturday, July 07, 2012
Fourth of July
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| Barbecuing on the porch fire pit. Our cow this year was a fatty one, but had some great steaks. Leila caught me testing which steaks were juiciest. |
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| We had a great meal of barbecue, new potatoes, and roasted cherry tomatoes. |
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| I did finally "finish" Kate's birthday present - a play refrigerator to go with the play stove. I still need to paint them. I am thinking red and white. |
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| Kate is growing quickly, but still is not potty trained. As you can see she still wears two diapers. |
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| Colleen looks skeptical, but ate thirds of the roasted tomatoes. She is my best tomato eater. |
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| Aleah still beams at everyone and is still losing teeth. She wishes that Emily's friends wanted to play with her more often. |
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| Emily is bored, but has lots of friends that always want her to come play with them. But she says she is awesome. She is turning twelve tomorrow! I think that means she can do more chores since she is so grown up. (She is reading over my shoulder.) |
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| We have had continual raccoon visits these last few weeks. There is a mother and four teenage raccoons living near us . This one is under our porch, but I have seen them under the street in the storm drain more often. This one I think had rabies. The neighbor called the cops after it wouldn't get away from his garage in the middle of the day. The teenager ones have been on the back porch a number of times and I have chased them away with a hoe. I hit a couple square, but didn't kill them. Next time. . . |
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Gluten-free for now
A few months back, I decided that I would try a gluten-free diet to see if it would lower my liver enzyme levels and inflammation. This is a bit of a gamble since my blood tests were negative for antibodies associated with celiac disease. It has been a relatively easy, except when I have been travelling or eating at catered work events. A couple of times I ate my sandwich and guiltily loved every bite of bread.
There are a lot of gluten free products on the market, and most of them I have avoided. Not because I am against them, but because the pre-prepared stuff is expensive and since we make most things from scratch at home it wasn't necessary. We have a wheat grinder that I appropriated to make rice flour and corn flour. I tried to grind rolled oats in it, but they gummed up the works, but Leila ground them in the blender fine enough to use. Most gluten-free dessert recipes rely on guar gum, tapioca flour, or more exotic chemistry to hold the flours together. I haven't used them, but have relied on extra egg and a mix of different flours to do the trick.
Most days, before I decided to experiment with my diet, I ate sandwiches for lunch. I would pile as much lettuce, swiss or farm cheese, meat - if available, or egg, and mustard and mayo that I could squeeze between two peices of bread. Colleen called them my Shaggy and Scooby sandwiches. I needed to replace them with something that was quick to prepare that I could eat for lunch, but was filling. I tried a number of things, but the fastest and best replacement for a sandwich is this salad:
I will try and load a picture, but it isn't really a beautiful meal, and varies with what is available in the garden and what I have on hand.
Poached egg and rice vinegar salad
1-2 poached eggs
Bowl of salad greens - lettuce, beet greens, cabbage leaves, etc.
Splash of Rice Vinegar
Pinch Salt
Dash of Pepper
Optional ingredients:
Veg:
Carrots
Peas
Onions
Beet greens
Fruit:
Banana slices
Apple slices
Cheese:
Preferably farm cheese or Havarti
The way I learned to poach an egg, is not technically poaching. It is a mix between sunny side up and steamed eggs. I put a bit of oil or butter on the pan and crack 1-2 eggs. Add a pinch of salt and a dash of pepper. Once the edges start to turn white and the pan is really hot, pour 1/2-3/4 c. of water around the egg and cover with a tight lid. Then steam until the water evaporates off. I like the yolk still runny in the middle.
While that is cooking, I wash my lettuce and greens. Depending how much dirt is on them from the garden, this can be fast or slow. We are starting to get cabbage loopers on our lettuce so I try to pick through and find them before I stick in my fork. The salad spinner is great, but won't get the bugs out. Today I found two. One in my bowl at the table. Uggh.
I like the mix of vinegar, egg yolk, and greens. The greens wilt a little with the hot egg, but somehow that improves it to me. Especially if the greens are a little bitter. The banana slices are actually quite good with the mix, even if it sounds strange. I had it in a salad at a conference in Indianapolis at a very swank restaurant. The waiter swore to me that the best thing on the menu was a salad with blackened tuna and bananas. I was very skeptical, but he was right. Amazingly good combination.
One day I was desperate for some whole grains and started trying to make different pancakes. The recipe I settled on is roughly this:
Corn, rice, and bean flour pancakes
1-2 egg
1 c. sticky rice flour
1/2 c. corn flour
1/4 c. white bean flour
1 tsp. baking powder
Dash of salt
Milk
I don't measure my ingredients well. Mostly a dash of this and that, but the ratios are pretty close. I tried single flour versions, but the rice one was kinda gummy and the corn one needed more egg. I didn't try an all bean flour version, but my theory is that it is high protein enough to hold it together. This makes as good of a pancake as I have had. It can be a bit dense, and adding some oil to the batter helps. I sometimes have added savory spices - onions, garlic, or salt and pepper. I have used that instead of a hot dog bun or as a side with my dinner, especially if they are a bit thin they are great.
Leila tried modifying this to make biscuits, but they were grainy. I think they needed less corn meal and more bean flour. I will work on it. Overall, it is a doable. Our attempts at desserts have been mostly successful. Leila made a good oatmeal raisin cookie recipe that doesn't use any wheat flour and I keep some in the freezer for when I get snacky after the kids are in bed. Leila made a great flourless chocolate cake for Kate's Birthday - she is three. Crazy. Emily makes a custardy rice pudding with sticky rice that I really like. I think I will stick with it for another month until I am due for another blood test. If my liver enzyme levels are down, I will probably stay on it, if not I will bake all day long.
There are a lot of gluten free products on the market, and most of them I have avoided. Not because I am against them, but because the pre-prepared stuff is expensive and since we make most things from scratch at home it wasn't necessary. We have a wheat grinder that I appropriated to make rice flour and corn flour. I tried to grind rolled oats in it, but they gummed up the works, but Leila ground them in the blender fine enough to use. Most gluten-free dessert recipes rely on guar gum, tapioca flour, or more exotic chemistry to hold the flours together. I haven't used them, but have relied on extra egg and a mix of different flours to do the trick.
Most days, before I decided to experiment with my diet, I ate sandwiches for lunch. I would pile as much lettuce, swiss or farm cheese, meat - if available, or egg, and mustard and mayo that I could squeeze between two peices of bread. Colleen called them my Shaggy and Scooby sandwiches. I needed to replace them with something that was quick to prepare that I could eat for lunch, but was filling. I tried a number of things, but the fastest and best replacement for a sandwich is this salad:
I will try and load a picture, but it isn't really a beautiful meal, and varies with what is available in the garden and what I have on hand.
Poached egg and rice vinegar salad
1-2 poached eggs
Bowl of salad greens - lettuce, beet greens, cabbage leaves, etc.
Splash of Rice Vinegar
Pinch Salt
Dash of Pepper
Optional ingredients:
Veg:
Carrots
Peas
Onions
Beet greens
Fruit:
Banana slices
Apple slices
Cheese:
Preferably farm cheese or Havarti
The way I learned to poach an egg, is not technically poaching. It is a mix between sunny side up and steamed eggs. I put a bit of oil or butter on the pan and crack 1-2 eggs. Add a pinch of salt and a dash of pepper. Once the edges start to turn white and the pan is really hot, pour 1/2-3/4 c. of water around the egg and cover with a tight lid. Then steam until the water evaporates off. I like the yolk still runny in the middle.
While that is cooking, I wash my lettuce and greens. Depending how much dirt is on them from the garden, this can be fast or slow. We are starting to get cabbage loopers on our lettuce so I try to pick through and find them before I stick in my fork. The salad spinner is great, but won't get the bugs out. Today I found two. One in my bowl at the table. Uggh.
I like the mix of vinegar, egg yolk, and greens. The greens wilt a little with the hot egg, but somehow that improves it to me. Especially if the greens are a little bitter. The banana slices are actually quite good with the mix, even if it sounds strange. I had it in a salad at a conference in Indianapolis at a very swank restaurant. The waiter swore to me that the best thing on the menu was a salad with blackened tuna and bananas. I was very skeptical, but he was right. Amazingly good combination.
One day I was desperate for some whole grains and started trying to make different pancakes. The recipe I settled on is roughly this:
Corn, rice, and bean flour pancakes
1-2 egg
1 c. sticky rice flour
1/2 c. corn flour
1/4 c. white bean flour
1 tsp. baking powder
Dash of salt
Milk
I don't measure my ingredients well. Mostly a dash of this and that, but the ratios are pretty close. I tried single flour versions, but the rice one was kinda gummy and the corn one needed more egg. I didn't try an all bean flour version, but my theory is that it is high protein enough to hold it together. This makes as good of a pancake as I have had. It can be a bit dense, and adding some oil to the batter helps. I sometimes have added savory spices - onions, garlic, or salt and pepper. I have used that instead of a hot dog bun or as a side with my dinner, especially if they are a bit thin they are great.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Museum Hopping in D.C.
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| I tried to find as many boat pictures as I could in the art museum |
While we were in D.C. we visited some of the Smithsonian museums. When I was younger I thought there was a single museum and I imagined it had the warehouse from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. I have been to D.C. three times and spent days each trip in different museums, but I have not even come close to seeing all of them. There were thousands of school kids swarming over the Air and Space Museum and the Natural History Museum so we spent more time in the art museums than Emily and Aleah would have liked.
They had a sketchbook from Paul Guaguin that I thought was really interesting. Emily and I each sat down and tried to draw some of the scenes.
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