Category: Books

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puttering, or if you’re British, pottering

Black coffee and rain. Sleepy cat, laundry piles, Mr. Husband packing to go away for a business trip (which includes a 24-hour marathon relay through the Arizona desert, and a visit to spring training); the girls are in various states of sleepiness as they arise and go about their day. Raindrops against the window behind me.

Yesterday was sunny-ish, and almost warm, and since it was forecast to rain today, I took advantage of the weather (I know — there I go, taking advantage again. I’m such a user.) and puttered a bit. Puttering turned into a little bit of huffing and grunting when I moved a couple of pots I probably shouldn’t have — one was my new rosebush, Olympia (red), yet to find a proper home. The other was a water-logged vat of mint that needed to move out of my way. So I moved it. All is well. I just won’t do that again soon.

Everything else that I moved was on the scale of the above photo contents — lots of little pots and tomato cages and bamboo stakes. We’re moving stuff from one side of the veggie garden fence to make way for a chicken coop. As yet to be built. For chicks as yet to be hatched and come live with us. However, that day approacheth, so the puttering/decluttering hath commencethed.

I’ve been reading lots of books about sustainable living, city farming, and the like, and recently picked up Judith Moffett’s Homestead Year: Back to the Land in Suburbia. I found it hard going at first, not because of the topic, but because she’s boring. BORING. No dialogue, the characters (her husband and friends) are just walk-ons with names, no personality, and her book reads like a massive to-do list. Here’s what the Library Journal said about it (just so you know I’m not exaggerating): “…her meticulous recording of varieties of seeds started makes for slow reading at the beginning of the book, [but] the pace soon picks up, and Moffett’s account culminates at year’s end with more successes than failures.” The pace picks up because the topic gets interesting, but the pictures (hers and neighbor’s photos) are boring, and how she tells her tale is boring. There is so mch potential here — where’s the pathos?

Nevertheless, she talks on and on about the ducklings she raises for their eggs and meat (I haven’t gotten to the part where she eats them yet), and it sounded so interesting that I began to yearn for a duckling or three to have about the place here. In fact, my dreams last night were all about ducks. I kid you not. This is why I need to be kept in a small padded room with no credit card or Internet access. However, for those of you who’ve read this far, I am not likely to get a duck anytime soon, because chicks and ducklings ought not to be raised together. Ducklings are very wet creatures and chicks need to be kept dry. I don’t rule it out for the future. But for the moment, the duck question has been answered with a firm but gentle no.

I soothed myself from that brief duck fever this morning by purchasing a compost aerator (the one I owned was lost in the divorce). This is a tool much needed because our compost heaps (there are 3 at present) are packed down and as stinky as stinky can be. Part of the puttering yesterday involved my combing through compost with a pitchfork to get rid of vines, sinewy stalks and twists of crabgrass, peas and beans, and weeds. They need to stay out of the compost. Into the green bin (for city pick-up), I said. Begone.

Raining in earnest now. There are some very cute repro-retro napkins yet to be sewn over there on the sewing table. That’s on my list today. I would like to mention that very similar napkins were selling for $5 each at chi-chi Sur la Table in San Francisco as I type these very letters.  I saw them the other night when we went into SF for my birthday, for oysters at Hog Island. The price tag of those napkins was enough to convince me that a couple of hours at the sewing machine was a good way to spend a morning.

So off I go. Photos later.

Project Funway update

1. Ombre socks: one done, the other about 1/4 done.
2. Ring scarf: untouched by human hands since photo was taken.
3. Scrappy sweater: See #2
4. Black, white and red skirt made of strips: finished but for the button and ironing. Waiting for a spot of nice weather to induce me to wear a skirt.
5. Aqua/green/plum quilt: See #2
6. Pink, brown, cream yarns to be made into pillow for living room: Slowly working a panel of basketweave stitch in the salmon pink.
7. Tahoe afghan: A couple more rounds will finish this; ergo, it will sit in the purgatory of a basket in my bedroom til I rediscover it and finish it in a fit of manic inspiration. Until then, see #2.

8. BI Scarf: Unmentioned in previous posts was the 2-stranded stockinette with purled edging scarf I started for myself in September, out of one fat tweedy cream and a gorgeous ombre called “Meadow” that is aqua, cream, brown and army green. Delicous! Together, this was going to be The World’s Most Beautiful Scarf Ever Knit. Ever. However, this came to be known as the (insert inappropriate and politically incorrect words of your choice for bumbling idiot) Scarf, since, with my stress factors, I couldn’t manage a single row without a mistake, and pulled out more rows than I knitted and how easy could I have possibly made this project? Here it is, nearly spring, and the BI Scarf was no more than about 18 inches long, and the tweedy wool just made the whole thing stiff and scratchy. And it curled. The purl edging was supposed to prevent that. I kept knitting my purls and purling my knits, and then it was just no fun anymore. So Sunday, Simone and I frogged the whole stupid thing, and it is no longer on my to-do list. In fact, it’s on its own To-Don’t list.

Very good. Carry on.

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fall-winter-cold-sneeze

It’s still fall but in California, this is also what winter looks like. We don’t have seasons, we have weather: hot, fog, rain, wind. Sometimes cold, but not that cold. The cold of which I speak in the headline is myown — I caught the one my daughter had and instead of baking bread and cleaning my bathroom bowl, I’m slouching around and drinking tea in my bathrobe. Sexy!

Yesterday the cold (mine) was coming on, so I popped a lot of cough drops and kept plowing ahead. The last day ofthe fall Friends of the Library Used Book Sale was yesterday — the clearance sale (see pic for the line to get in). I love the clearance sale. A bag of books for $3, a box of books for $5. We brought home seven bags, plus two more that my eldest-at-home daughter bought. She paid $8 for 54 books; we paid $21 for dozens of books, records, new items like journals, wall calendars, games, video tapes and items for collaging. We live a block away and ended up fetching the car to take them home because the bags were so heavy. This sale happens twice a year and is literally one of my favorite events of adulthood.

I. LOVE. the. Used. Book. Sale.

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my boring life

Seems like all my posts have become a bulletin board for my to-do lists [YAWN], so how about something more interesting? [tap dancing across the desktop]

Yeah, it’s my birthday month — my favorite month of the year, except for hot summer and Christmas. But February — woo hoo, my fave.

Valentine’s Day, Austin’s birthday, violets are blooming, plum trees are trying to bloom their gorgeous magenta blossoms, then it’s an anniversary with Mr Husband from one of our earliest dates (our walk on the beach), and of our first romantic date, and when we got engaged, and also…yes. My birthday. And Mia’s birthday. And my sister-in-law Amanda’s birthday. Heck, it’s also Black History Month, Lincoln’s bicentennial and Washington’s birthday.

This year I’ve been ripped off from my usual three-day birthday weekend, since Presidents’ Day is earlier. Bummer. Oh well, I’ll just make it a longer birthday week.

Plans for birthday? A romantic dinner. I think the kids are cooking my birthday meal (ack, as long as I don’t have to clean up after them). I asked Patrick to make me a CD compilation. And I might ask for dirt. Yes, dirt for my garden. A truckload. Or a pallet of dirtbags. The dirt gets so compressed over the year that it needs some fluffing up. Raised beds have that problem. I’m hoping to expand the vegetables a bit this year so new dirt is in order.

A dirty birthday present, that’s what I want.

And maybe a (used/borrowed) copy of The Omnivore’s Dilemma. That would be nice to read. Anyone have a spare? I’ll give it back.

Looks like rain. That’s good news for the state. Shed a little water on us all, Lord. Verily, amen.
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elections and such

Glory be and praise Jah — the election is over and I can finally stop thinking about it. In the news biz, we don’t have the luxury of not caring — we have to follow this stuff and write stories about it (fair coverage for all candidates) and so on. I was counting the days til the election was over so I could sit quietly and think about nothing in particular. Glad to know I can finally do so. (. . . ) –>


I must say, I am tickled and delighted about our President-Elect Barack Obama — though he has inherited a boatload of difficult tasks (um, war? economy? deficit?) from the past administration and it won’t be easy to turn the world around. But I’m guessing he’s the guy to do it. We cried and toasted with Champagne and lit fireworks Tuesday night, thrilled that we can turn the page and try something new. The old wasn’t working, and it has pushed us into scary waters. I feel grateful that we live in a nation where we all get to vote and that every vote counts. God bless America! (–>

And the chickens! Don’t forget the chickens. Now veal and pigs and chicken will have more room to grow in their little cages. That is also good news — but we’ve cut way back on meat anyway and are leaning toward making meat a seasoning rather than a slab to be tossed onto every plate at every meal. I have been reading Michael Pollan’s In Defense of Food and also just finished the somewhat radical journal called Plenty, in which two Canadians ate only local food for a year — and created the 100-mile diet.

Reading both of these books has energized me to become something of a food warrior. No more sodas in the house. No more chips, junk food and HFCS, no more hydrogenated anything. No more bananas. No more imported peaches in January. (Not that I was doing that anyway…)Today I ordered a small farm box for Friday pickup every week, virtually guaranteeing a 100-mile bunch of produce all winter, from a local purveyor. I won’t do it in summer because we have so many vegetables that it makes no sense to pay for them. And we have lots of produce frozen and canned from our garden which is, hello, like the 20-foot diet rather than 100 miles. I would love to go to the Alameda farmers’ market but it takes place on my busiest workday, Tuesday mornings. Grr.

I’m really excited about it and looking forward to starting a new year of Compacting (not buying new/little to no shopping) and conserving, using solar power for many things (preserving veggies and fruit, making tea, drying laundry), continuing to make our own (“fast food,” lunches and dinners, various breads, beverages, cookies, snack foods, etc.)

And…treading lightly on the earth. We have only one. Better treat it kindly. Payback is a mo-fu. And global warming backlash is just the beginning.

* * *

Last weekend I did not go to any events I had planned to attend: the Matt Nathanson concert with Moni at the Warfield, the last performance of Bat Boy: The Musical at the Altarena Playhouse, the Lincoln Brigade documentary premiere in SF. We had tickets ($$) and everything. But I stayed home, and Mr. Husband stayed with me. General exhaustion and constant drama have sapped my interest in going outside the homestead for much of anything. In my busy world, home keeps me happy and I just don’t have the juice to go out. Especially when you look at my evening schedule (after a full day of work at the newspaper 5 days a week):

Monday – women’s group, Albany or Pinole, 6:15-10:13 p.m.
Tuesday – every other week, school board – 6:30 p.m. til whenever it finishes. Or yoga, if I can make myself go.
Wednesday: Teaching writing or sustainability classes at the Alameda Adult School, 2-3 times a month, 7-9 p.m.
Thursday: Yoga, if I can make myself go; or therapy appointments if I can make myself go (by this day of the week I’m ready to drop).
Friday: evening softball continues, through end of November (since April); plus I have a weekly phone call at 6 p.m. with my leadership team (1 hour).

Add in the pick-ups and drop-offs for kids coming and going, meetings, events, appointments…and also home-cooked meals every night (see above: 100-mile diet and better living through eating actual food, not reheated chemical goo)…Can you see why I am not so keen to dash out to whatever it is on a weekend?

Can I please just stay home and play in the garden?

I like to stay home and do my laundry, and cook different soups on the stove, bake a loaf of bread or muffins for breakfast. I like to pull weeds in the garden and take walks or ride my bike. I like making desserts and casseroles and boiling up beans for the vegetarians to eat during the week. I make cat food in the Crock pot or a batch of tomato sauce from the last tomatoes. Sometimes I get to fix holes in knees or sew on buttons. I usually irons shirts on Sundays and listen to classical music, or Bob Marley and Jimmy Buffett, or nothing. Silence is golden.

If I can read a bit before bedtime, if I can scratch my cat’s belly in the sun, if I can sit in the hammock with one or two of the kids and laugh, if I can snap a green bean off the still-producing vines and eat it in the garden, hallelujah. That’s a moment to celebrate.

And if I get a minute to close my eyes and breathe deeply, that’s a moment to be grateful.

What are you doing to save the earth? What are you grateful for? Leave a comment or e-mail me. I’d like to know.

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two steps forward

one baby step back…Mother, may I?

Big fiesta at our place tomorrow — El Tres de Mayo, so come if you want to. Wear your huaraches and bring a Mexican dish to share (we have chips and salsa to feed a platoon, so skip those), and a tasty beverage of choice. BBQ will be going if you want to cook meat-like things. Firepit will be going if you want to get warm, in case it’s cold, which it will be. It always is out here in Scotland, I mean, Alameda Point. Fiesta is 3 pm to 10 pm and not a minute later. I need my beauty rest, and so do the rest of the clan.

I’ve just added to my garden with some judicious rearranging of pots and plants. It looks better now. Yes, I did this in the dark. I had three kittens and a spider (in my sweatshirt sleeve, ACK) for company. Early to rise tomorrow means a little more garden work, hang out the towels to dry before company comes, cook the pintos and bake some bread. I’m working, too. More on that in a minute.

But I just got a slightly alarming/annoying note from Dr, who (not Dr. Who) says I have slightly elevated blood sugar and thyroid — which could mean many things, not excluding pre-diabetes or lack of iodine. I called my nutritionist friend and she has instructed me to eat every three hours to keep blood sugars level. You mean my habit of going to work with breakfast, but only managing to drink the coffee, until it is 1 p.m. and I haven’t eaten a thing — this won’t work anymore? OK, so I’ll work on it.

More work: Saturday is the Friends of the Library Book Sale — it started tonight, but I’m waiting till Sunday because of Big Plans. Plus the close-out sale happens Sunday. Books for a few bucks! Very cool. Saturday after household chores, I’m going to take pix at the Alternatives in Action build-out at Woodstock School, as they swing hammers and wield paintbrushes, getting ready for their move off the base and into the West End (which is more like the middle, now that we have use of the base). Then it’s home to pretty up and go to the Girls Inc Women Who Dare luncheon. Then it’s home again for fiesta prep and party. Then it’s bed with toes up for a good night’s sleep. Then it’s Sunday and I have to rouse the waifs to help with the post-party cleanup. That also means a big pancake or some such breakfast, because a handful of kids will probably sleep over. Not to mention our marguerita-drunk friends.

Then it’s off to the Book Sale, with our own empty bags to fill.

Note to any and all: Take your own shopping bag everywhere, every single day. And your own mug. It’s the right thing to do. I really mean it, and I’m gonna call you out on it if I catch you schlepping a thin one-time-use plastic bag or a paper cup. Stop it now. I mean that with love.

OK, I think that’s most of it. I think that’s all of it.

I’m supposed to be Nano-ing in May but thus far am two days behind. Have missed two birthdays, no, three now. But at least we got the vacuum to work. Happy Tres and Quatro de Mayo, and hope to see you locals at our hootenanny.

Paz.