Home & Hearth

Off to War, Almost

2012-02-15T11:02:00.000-08:00

January was a busy month. A phone call early in the month from my Army Reserve Commander had me on a plane days later, first to relinquish command at my unit in Florida and then a day later flying to Texas to undergo validation training in preparation for departure to Afghanistan less than two weeks later. A unit's commander days away from departure might not be able to go and I was the relief pitcher called in for the game. This had the whole family scrambling.

The reserves operate on a scheduled basis now for most units, and I was not scheduled this year for deployment. This phone call came as a surprise and was an exceptional opportunity, yet was also fraught with issues. My wife is pregnant, due in June. That very week I was deep into final edits for a book due to publish this month in time for the San Francisco Writers' Conference. I was actually in process of transferring units from the Florida battalion to one local in California. Everything came to a sudden stop. Well, not everything, the wife is still expecting in June.

My change of command at the Florida unit was sped up a month. This meant that no family or friends were there, due to scheduling no higher headquarters commander to officiate even in attendance. My Command Sergeant Major made sure to tell me the "award and farewell token would be in the mail". I was in Florida less than 36 hours and sadly unable to see family there as I was at the unit or at the airport most of the time.

In Texas, I went through lots of training while waiting to hear if I would actually be needed. In the end, I came home and three days later the unit departed with its original commander, the issues of concern, injury or illness worked out. I'd lost about ten days of work. But in the process, my wife had to take a week off work also, in order to help with the prep work done in anticipation for my sudden year long deployment. This was a wake up call for there were legal documents to prepare, medical documentation to find and the Bug would have to go into preschool most of the week instead of her two days a week. Stuff not on the radar with no deployment expected this year. How would the other mommy also deal with being home, alone with a toddler and pregnant? Thankfully, because of the repeal of the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy, I anticipated that when delivery was soon, I'd be able to be up front and request emergency leave to go home for the birth of my child. What I'm still not able to do though because of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) is actually list the wife as spouse on the various documents that among other things, determine who decides disposition of remains in event of death, who gets my benefits in event of death and who is notified in event of death. Think about that. She's listed on those forms as "friend." She's listed as the "designated person" since my two year old certainly can't be notified.

Do you think a "friend" or "designated person" is accorded the same respect and care that a spouse is when two uniformed individuals come to the door to notify of a service member's death in service? For that matter, is a friend or designated person even accorded that courtesy or do they just receive a phone call? That's a good question and I've no idea who can answer it.

I'm 52 years old. My mother died at age 49. I'm a little conscious of my mortality these days and especially when thinking I'm days away from departing for a warzone for a year, leaving my pregnant wife and our toddler. The Defense of Marriage Act prevents my Spouse from receiving the proper acknowledgement, care, and concern from representatives of the "grateful nation" that is due when a Soldier dies in service.

New book No Red Pen - Writers, Writing Groups, & Critique e-Book on smashwords or on Amazon.

San Francisco Writers Conference

Missing Girl Found

2012-01-14T21:30:00.001-08:00

Darlene Signh was found. Thanks all who helped by linking and reposting. Mecury News

Missing Teen Darlene Singh

2012-01-13T11:18:00.000-08:00

Darlene Singh D.O.B 09.12.1997. Missing Since January 10, 2012. 5'4" 100 Lbs. Medium complexion and black curl hair.Darlene was last seen wearing the clothes in the picture on the right. Any information that you may have that can assist in finding Darlene is needed. Darlene suffers from socialanxiety and she may need medical assistance. If you have information, you can call her sister Ashley directly, the Hayward Police or Citizens for the Lost Society. Darlene has never left her home and not returned in the past. The family is desperate to find her and bring her home.If you have seen Darlene or know of her whereabouts please contact the Hayward Police at 510-293-7272, The Citizens for the Lost Society (510)315-2321 or Ashley Singh at (510)676-3287.San Jose Mercury News: Police, Family search for missing girl. // Please help missing children webposter: Please link back. // Missing Persons of America Blog // Inside Bay Area

Failed those 2011 Resolutions? How to do Better in 2012.

2011-12-30T21:51:00.001-08:00

Full disclosure: Nina Amir and I are professional colleagues via the San Francisco Writers Conference.

Get Ready, Aim, Shoot: Hit Your Bull's Eye This Year: A Spiritual Guide to using the Secular or Jewish New Year to Reset by Editor and Author Nina Amir is a down to earth conversation with the reader that invites, motivates, and inspires. Using a Judaic perspective of assessment and evaluation of one's desires, hopes and behaviors from the past with the intention of an improved performance in the future, Amir communicates with the reader via a series of exercise like questions creating a means towards success. The take away when you put this short 45 page workbook down is that meeting the goal is not what is important; the act of identifying and trying to get there is what counts.

Reading Nina Amir's "spiritual guide to using the secular or Jewish new year to reset your personal, professional and spiritual targets" was like sitting down at the kitchen table or a folksy coffee house with an old friend for a 'my life's not working, what would you suggest' heart to heart. There is no judgment, guilt, or condemnation about not succeeding, accomplishing, or abandoned attempts. Rather, explaining the essence of Jewish thought on 'sin' as a lack of attempt rather than a lack of accomplishment and that as long as one makes the effort, it is the effort that is redeeming; Nina creates an opening for the reader to take a breath and introspect in a safe place. The Jewish perspective is really just a tool box. The concepts are presented in a manner that makes them accessible regardless of faith or belief, or lack of such.

The skeptic whispered in my head "Oh, new age crap!" The curious and a little surprised, honest self noted that each section of questions was creating a sense of urgency even impatience as I wanted to see what the next page would bring, wanted to participate in the process. I wanted to put into practice what I was reading and that is the point. Participate and practice and the attempt will work its way towards success.

Get Ready, Aim, Shoot: Hit Your Bull's Eye This Year: A Spiritual Guide to using the Secular or Jewish New Year to Reset by Nina Amir is published by Pure Spirit Creations of Los Gatos, California with a list price of $11.95. ISBN 9780983535300

Anna-Marie McLemore Wins Victoria A. Hudson Emerging Writer Scholarship

2011-12-30T16:02:00.000-08:00

The 2012 recipient of the Victoria A. Hudson Emerging Writer Scholarship at the San Francisco Writers Conference is Poet Anna-Marie McLemore of Sacramento, California. Ms. McLemore is a grand slam winner, whose fiction and non-fiction entries were also blind selected for top honors in the annual writing contest. Ms. McLemore is a 2011 Lambda Literary Fellow in fiction. Her work has appeared in numerous Cleis Press anthologies.

Runners up included fiction writer Katrina Anne Willis, of Starkville, Mississippi, and non-fiction writer Rebecca Beyer of San Francisco, California.

Ms. McLemore will receive a registration credit to attend the 2012 San Francisco Writers Conference February 16 - 20th. (Pre/post conference events and Speed Dating with Agents are not included.) All three will receive a one year Sunshine membership to the San Francisco Writers University online community.

This is the fourth year Victoria A. Hudson has sponsored a scholarship to the San Francisco Writers Conference. Initially restricted to MFA students, for the 2011 conference the competition was opened to any emerging writer. This year, due to a small number of entries, the genres were combined into one competition.

Each year, submissions include two pages of a written, unpublished work and a short essay responding to the prompt "I write because...". Finalists are selected genre neutral based upon the quality, clarity, and depth of the essay. The writing samples are used to further differentiate the quality of each writer's work. Reading is done blind with no identifying information available until after entries are ranked and finalists selected. For the 2012 scholarship there were a total of 18 submissions across the three genres.

The submission period for the 2013 Victoria A. Hudson Emerging Writer SFWC scholarship is September 1 - December 1, 2012.

After Don't Ask Don't Tell

2011-12-27T22:11:00.000-08:00

The media has been busy covering the one year since the DADT repeal law was signed. The actual repeal didn't occur until Sept 20 of this year. So,for me, really didn't seem like much was different from December last year till September but after the 20th, yes, lots of seemingly small differences. I was able to talk about my wife with my battle buddy. I could finally explain my sudden absence from drill last January when we had a miscarriage. As my change of command is planned for FEB, the traditional flowers can be given to the spouse of ten years who when I took command was officially invisible. And when I looked for a new unit, I could finally accept a local assignment with no fear of accidental outing in the local community.

For the majority of my 31 years in the Army Reserves, I have traveled to my unit of assignment. Sometimes only an hour or a few away, the last three - five years from the top of the state to the bottom and then 2/3ds of the way across the country and now from California to Florida. Dictates of assignment and needs of the service certainly drove accepting such assignments but a fundamental reason was also that as long as I was somewhat 'out' at home, I couldn't risk accidental crossing paths with anyone from the unit. So, units far away were the only option.

That is finally no longer a consideration. I am finally free to accept local assignment and am looking forward to a lot less travel and time home with the family. Additionally, a local assignment means being part of a community that is close by. A community that I can continue to be part of and participate with even after I move on in assignment or retire. I can be a family readiness supporter after retirement. I can be available and accessible to Soldiers by living a short drive away rather than a day's worth of air travel while actively assigned. Thirty miles rather than 3000 miles is a whole lot of difference.

No More Baby

2011-12-03T10:40:00.000-08:00

The Bug stands above my belt line, when did she grow so tall? She's been in pre-school now for a a few months and still wakes up saying, "Go pre-school today!" She says please and thank you and excuse me, not all the time, but in general and usually appropriately. She also says "I'm sorry," when she should to us as well her little people and animals say it in during make believe play. Sometimes she shares, and sometimes the jealousy monster rears its head. Cat gets pushed out of the way and Bella dog is denied her bed. Books, trucks, dolls, and dancing dresses and boxes remain her favorite toys. We've learned how to sort of play 'go fish'. Playing with open hands this is more a game of guided taking of turns and learning to make pairs. Looking forward to when she can play board games. She's not so little a baby now.

Challenging DOMA

2011-10-28T11:36:00.000-07:00

Taking part in a constitutional challenge to federal law is not something I ever imagined I would do. I have always believed though that if an individual perceives a wrong, and has an ability to impact or change that wrong for the better, the individual is obligated to act. I believe it a fundamental violation of the American value that all are created equal, and a failure of my professional value as a military officer that one must always do the honorable, hard right over the easy wrong, to stand silent in the face of unfair, unequal treatment of my family and other gay or lesbian families serving in the Nation's military. I am sworn to uphold the constitution and I believe the Defense of Marriage Act and other laws that influence military regulations to deny equal treatment are unconstitutional. I am grateful that I live in a country where an individual can participate in an action of such magnitude as I and my co-plaintiffs have taken in order to correct the injustice of mandated unequal protection and treatment perpetrated at the federal government level. The military follows the law. Only the President and Congress can change the law.

Servicemembers Legal Defense Network SLDN Files Landmark Litigation

Meet the DOMA Challenge Plaintiffs

The complaint as filed in the US District Court of the state of Massachusetts

Army Lieutenant Colonel Vicki Hudson remarks at SLDN Press Conference announcing DOMA Challenge 10/27/2011

Navy Lieutenant Gary Ross on MSNBC

Josh Snyder, husband of Plaintiff Stephen Hill on MSNBC

Josh Snyder with Rev. Al Sharpton on MSNBC

NPR All Things Considered 10/27/11 Gay Service Members Challenge DOMA

The Advocate online Why Our Family is Fighting DOMA

Huffington Post Gays in the Military Bring Lawsuit to Overturn DOMA

ABC News Gay and Lesbian Service Members Sue Government

CBS News Married, gay service members sue government

USA Today Gay and lesbian service members sue U.S.

Blog Mombian Lesbian Moms Among Plaintiffs in Servicemembers' Lawsuit Against DOMA

Stars and Stripes 8 service-members file lawsuit seeking benefits for same-sex spouses

Seacoastonline.com Rye Guardswoman is one of 16 suing feds for same-sex rights

Servicemembers Legal Defense Network Facebook page
For SLDN updates via twitter @FreedomToServe

Message in the Media

2011-10-12T15:18:00.000-07:00

Don't Ask, Don't Tell: Finally Gone

2011-09-19T23:08:00.000-07:00

Here on the west coast it is not quite September 20th but the celebration of the fall of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell has begun. At midnight 3000 miles east, the law was finally repealed and with it, the sanctioned discrimination against GLBT members of the military. I have served for just shy of 32 years. For the last ten, I’ve had a loving partner and spouse whom I married in 2004, first in San Francisco’s civic disobedience on Valentine’s weekend and a few weeks later among family and friends with a Jewish wedding. We used my Army officer’s sword to cut the cake, symbolic acknowledgement that the act of sealing our union publicly could as easily end my career in the Army as that blade was able to slice through cake.

The presence of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell robbed me of the camaraderie that is the foundation of military service. How could I become close to my fellow Soldiers who spoke of their loves and heartaches and I was forced to remain silent? Who spoke of their families and I could only speak of my dog? Who came home from war to the embrace of loved ones and I stood alone on a parade field, no one to meet me because officially, no one existed?

How many stories have I not written, because writing them required choosing between my military career and my writing career?

Now, the law that caused me to lie, or at least to dance around a truth and obscure my reality from others is gone. I expected to feel elation. What I feel is numb. Strange. Odd. No longer, will I have to carefully change a pronoun when telling a story about what happened last weekend when passing time with my military comrades. No more will I have to page quickly past that picture of a woman holding my daughter. I can put family pictures out on my desk, and am not obligated to mask the people there by the presence of my dog. Why do I feel so, not feeling?

Recently, I updated my public bios with mention when I was honored with selection as a Lambda Literary Fellow in 2007. On the eve of Repeal Day here on the west coast, I changed my Facebook relationship status and acknowledged in my Twitter feed that I was married. These small, insignificant actions harboring so much more than simple life updates. For six years I’ve risked wearing a wedding ring that I’ve had to dismiss as just an old family heirloom. No longer, for no longer must I hide behind the label of “single” because the law requires me to lie.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is gone. I have no plans to stand up and make announcements. I won’t be coming out to my unit or actually, any of my military associates. I will just live my life. In the course of that, my life will be known. And like all other aspects of my life, finally, Home and Hearth will include all of my life.

I’ve served since 1979. I have been recalled to active duty five times in peace and over three wars. Through it all, I had to keep my intrinsic self under cover. My family has been hidden for one third of that time and for the last two years, I’ve been unable to explain that no, I am not a single parent. If I feel anything beyond the numbness of a long, enduring battle for professional survival as an honorable warrior forced to endure under a dishonorable law, it is relief. Relief that this time, when I go to war, I will not have to fear that an IED, mortar, or firefight will leave my spouse alone with no notice and no consideration as my surviving family. Another dishonorable law remains, DOMA, but that fight is for another day. Now, in this moment, I have reached the end of an era that forced me to bend values in order to obey orders. There is no going back.

Recalling September 11, 2001

2011-09-10T13:16:00.000-07:00

September 12, 2001 – The Day After

I want to wake up

The sun bright

Dancing shining beams

Upon a morning

Without fear

Of yesterday’s tragedy

Absent the smell of flesh

No quilt of destruction

From soft ash and pulverized bone

Blanketing humanities’ horizon.

***

I wrote the above poem the day following September 11 and the attacks that began this decade of war and fear. The day before I had been awoken by the phone ringing approximately 6:40 in the morning on the west coast. “Turn on the TV” was all my friend could say. Tuning in, I see jet planes crashing into skyscrapers and shots of the Pentagon burning. I’m asked, “What does it mean?” I reply I don’t know. I watch the news a while, then turn off my TV. I drag out my gear and inventory my go to war kit. I call my career manager at the Army Reserve Personnel Center and volunteer. That day I’m assigned to 16th Military Police Brigade, an active duty unit, as a Reserve Individual Augmentee. I wait for activation orders. I put my uniform on and drive the 25 miles to Camp Parks, the local Army Reserve Training Base to see if I can assist in anyway. The flag remains at full mast. There is no guard at the gate. The force protection signs still read Alpha – no threat. There is nothing for me to do, I go home. Count my gear and repack again. A few weeks later, I am recalled to active duty and join with 49 other reserve Military Police and Military Intelligence officers and NCOs assigned to the United States Army Corps of Engineers (USACE). I lead one of several Infrastructure Security Teams over the next 6 months that assess security at economically vital locks and dams in the homeland. This is the first of three mobilizations post 9/11. Those six months I traveled by air a number of times. Each time, I wore a rugby jersey that recalled the leadership and sacrifice of ruggers Jeremy Glick and Mark Bingham, with Tom Burnett, to have led the counterattack on Flight 93, preventing the plane from reaching its target, possibly the White House.

The above day after poem has a tone of helplessness. There is a desire for hope that has been lost and is mourned, driven by confusion of the day before’s events. The poem as well contains prescience of a future colored with fear, loss and violence. The poem was written in a group of other writers, gathering for our scheduled Tuesday afternoon fiction writing class led by author Mary Webb. A semblance of normality, we’d come together according to our ordinary schedule on what clearly was not an ordinary day.

Ten years have passed and as a nation we have reclaimed a sense of normality though we have lost some of our comfort. Travel is no longer any may never again be the easy, comfortable process it once was in terms of security. We remain at war, though for 99% of the population, there is no sacrifice real or emotional as still less than 1% of the nation serves and economically we have not responded as all previous wars have called us to with shared sacrifice and contribution.

The blanket of destruction has been transformed into memorials and memories. We are an impatient people, ready for the war and conflict and meager collective sacrifice, if any, to be over. Alas, our adversary is patient and will wait for us to weaken our resolve from fatigue and time weathered experience. The day before yesterday’s tragedy, will it ever be again our day after?

Jeremy Glick
Mark Bingham
Tom Burnett

How to Buy a Love of Reading

2011-09-10T11:19:00.001-07:00

Author Tanya Egan Gibson

T

2011-08-23T20:58:00.001-07:00

Trekster

Call for Submissions: Military Coming Out Day

2011-08-22T21:51:00.000-07:00

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE 22 August 2011
CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS - MILITARY REPEAL DAY

Seeking personal accounts of actions or experiences of serving LGBT military members and their families on 20 September 2011, date of the Don't Ask, Don't Tell (DADT) repeal. Did you take part in a celebration, make a point of coming out to those you work with, do a small yet significant or symbolic action (like update your DD 93 and change 'friend' to 'spouse') that marked the change from forced in the closest to finally able to be yourself and true about those who are your family? What is your story of how you experienced Military Repeal Day? What was the significance of the day for you and your family? How does the repeal affect you?

Submit your story as RTF or Word document to Victoria dot A dot Hudson at gmail.com. Please include your name, rank, service, phone number, email and snail mailing address. Deadline is January 30, 2012.

Submissions will be considered for the anthology Military Repeal Day - September 20, 2011, When DADT Became History, edited by Victoria Hudson.

Air Force Sidewinder Band - currently deployed.

2011-08-11T16:48:00.001-07:00

SIDEWINDER are Citizen Soldiers - members of the Air National Guard based in St. Louis, Mo. who have been called up for active duty in Afghanistan. Military bands are essential elements of ensuring troop morale is maintained. They provide musical requirements for military ceremony, assist with establishing stability by their interactions in the local communities and represent the nation as they meet and perform for the local people, other nations' military and civilians and dignitaries that are in their area of operations. Most military bands have a secondary defense mission, so don't think it's all music all the time.

Most of all and perhaps most important, military bands help provide a bit of home to those deployed so far from loved ones and the familiar. Let your congressional representative know that military music should continue and be maintained.

The credit goes to:

U.S. Air Force Staff Sgt. Angie Johnson and Sidewinder perform a cover of Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." Sidewinder is part of the 571st Air Force Band, 131st Bomb Wing, Air National Guard. They are deployed as the U.S. Air Forces Central Command Band

Fan video** Sidewinder performs a cover of "Forget You'" by Cee Lo Green. Sidewinder is part of the 571st Air Force Band, 131st Bomb Wing, Air National Guard. They are deployed as the U.S. Air Forces Central Command Band.

Fan video** Sidewinder performs a cover of "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey. Sidewinder is part of the 571st Air Force Band, 131st Bomb Wing, Air National Guard. They are deployed as the U.S. Air Forces Central Command Band.

SIDEWINDER - Air National Guard Facebook page.
Staff Sgt. Angie Johnson's Facebook page.

Sidewinder is Capt John Arata - officer in charge, keyboards, fiddle; Tech. Sgt. Kevin Maret - NCO in charge, percussion; Tech. Sgt. John Cavanaugh - operations/logistics, bass; Tech. Sgt. Joseph Castilleja - guitar; Staff Sgt. Tobias Callaway - saxophone; Staff Sgt. Ransom Miller - trumpet; Staff Sgt. Devin LaRue - trombone, guitar, keyboards; Staff Sgt. Brian Owens - vocals; Staff Sgt. Angie Johnson - vocals; Staff Sgt. Sean Navarro - Audio, Trombone.

Censorship, Toddlers, Books

2011-06-21T13:22:00.001-07:00

Even at two years, old, my daughter loves reading. She has about 200 books that she picks through before selecting what she wants to read or have read to her. She can’t yet read, but she tells the story in her toddler language as she turns the pages. Some are clearly below her level now – picture books with no text, some are clearly beyond her – lots of text and not as exciting pictures. The books with flaps remain a favorite. We talk about what the pictures show and what is happening in the story. The exciting aspect as her mom is that she is choosing to read. She likes books as much as she likes her little people or her trucks or her balls. In fact, books are one of her first choices for what to play with as soon as she wakes up in the morning, after nap and before bed. When she picks a book that is not yet appropriate for her, I take it but not before promising that she can read it when she is bigger and providing an alternative. That is what I think my role as parent is – to guide her towards reading, let her choose what she wants to read by providing a varied selection. Redirecting her to better choices and discussing what she is reading.

The love of reading and value of freedom to select what to read is partly why I started the Fight Censorship - Fund Books campaign. I want my daughter to grow up valuing books, valuing the written word and appreciating the power of books. Whatever a book may look like in 2025 when she is in high school, I hope censorship will be a historical note, not a modern reality.

WoW Rage of the Firelands patch trailer

2011-06-16T16:54:00.000-07:00

Banned Book in Fremont

2011-06-10T10:36:00.000-07:00

I love books. I remember my mom teaching me to read the Sunday funnies. I was that kid that was always reading above grade level and my mom, a public school teacher, encouraged me to read anything I was interested in and then we’d talk about what I had read.

When I first heard about the censorship of Bastard Out of Carolina in the Fremont Unified School District I was astonished. Really. I grew up in conservative south Florida. This is a book we would have read in my high school. Here it is the 21st century and books are being banned. In the United States. By Americans.

That is just wrong.

I decided to do something about it. I decided that I may not be able to change the world in big ways and maybe I can’t combat censorship everywhere. But I can do something when it shows up in my own back yard.

The question is, will you help me? Check out Fight Censorship, Fund Books and contribute towards purchase of books. You can help spread the word with Send Bastard to School merchandise at the cafe press store. Spread the word via twitter, FB, on your own blog and tell your friends please!

Behind the Victoria A. Hudson Emerging Writer Scholarships at SFWC

2011-05-22T10:09:00.000-07:00

The story behind the Victoria A. Hudson Emerging Writer scholarships to attend the San Francisco Writers Conference.

I'm an emerging writer myself and not yet bringing in more than I send out. I've yet to balance money in from amounts paid in reading fees however because I have benefited so greatly from attending the San Francisco Writers Conference over the last few years I wanted to find a way to support other emerging writers to gain that same benefit. Some might ask why would I want to help my competition get better yet I don't see assisting other writers trying to stake their claim in the authorship wilderness as helping the competition. I take a more team or community approach. Let's work together. That community attitude is what I found when I first attended the San Francisco Writers Conference as a volunteer in 2007. Hundreds of professionals, already established in the industry reaching out to help anyone interested enough in learning more about the profession of author. I immediately signed up for the next year as a paid attendee and have attended each year since. Every year, I learn more and gain new insights on how to succeed.

Originally, the scholarship was meant to honor my mother, Susan Elizabeth Durfee Hudson and her generous spirit and example in helping others. She always encouraged my writing and I still see in my memory the note she once wrote me after I went to college that simply said, "Still writing?" The scholarship is meant to help other emerging writers to keep at their craft.

Initially, I wanted my peers in the Master of Fine Arts program in writing to benefit as I had from what was offered at the San Francisco Writers Conference. The first few years I set up the scholarship for MFA students. Lack of response resulted in changing the focus from MFA students to emerging writers in 2011 and that increased the participation significantly. The scholarship will continue as an opportunity for emerging writers. If it helps someone move faster on the passage towards authorship that is just great. If it exposes someone to new ideas and means for ensuring greater success, fantastic. Most of all though, if it gives someone a little more confidence in continuing the hard work of the journey towards success as an author so they do not muzzle their voice but keep on writing, then my investment as the person behind the Victoria A. Hudson Emerging Writer scholarship is providing a full return.

What's for dinner?

2011-05-08T19:34:00.000-07:00

Tonight's dinner was one of those what is there in the house nights. Potatoes, that old mainstay were the center to build around. Not a bad foundation to work with. Elizabeth Woodland's 500 Potato Recipes cookbook was finally going to get a try. The title of the book belays the treasure trove of inviting dishes from soups, appetizers and snacks to desserts, bakes and breads with main dishes of fish, meat and poultry as well as the expected vegetable and side dishes. This may be a book of potato recipes but the result is a cookbook for any occasion, any time of day or night and with a multitude of cultures drawn upon.

Page 136 brought Shropshire Bacon and Potato Pie. "This classic combination of potatoes, onions, apples and bacon is packed inside a pastry crust and would have been typical of the thrifty and filling food that was fed to farm workers at the end of a long hard day in the fields." The recipe includes a pastry crust from scratch but the fall back of store bought refrigerator crust was what I used. First action, to pull the crust out and let it warm up, as it takes about 20 minutes before it can be unrolled. Just enough time for the prep which took about a half an hour.

This was a what's in the house dinner - a couple big baking potatoes and some smaller of several different types in the bin, a half pound of bacon in the freezer, hard cider in the garage, a couple onions and two left over apples from last week's farmer's market. This cooked up, mixed up and then baked with the pie crust over, brushed with milk resulted an hour later in a golden covered savory pie.

Results were mixed - I found Shropshire Bacon and Potato Pie a savory and filling meal. The apples balanced the hearty bacon and potato mixture. The cider reduced down to a tasty gravy and the crust was perfectly crisp and flaky. My dinner partner greeted the meal with a suspicious "what's inside?" After a few bites, wasn't going for it and thought the cider made the meal too sweet. All in all, I tend to like these traditional style travern meals and my dinner partner does not so take that with a grain of salt. The only aspect I did not like was the apples softened up considerably and became small chunks of square mush. However, this could more be result of how old the apples were after a week on the counter than consequence of the hour baking in the pie. Overall, a tasty meal however if you are sharing with a known picky eater - try something else. On a cold spring evening though, I found Shropshire Bacon and Potato Pie just the thing.

3 Oz all purpose flour
3 oz wholemeal flour
pinch of salt
3 tbl lard, diced
3 t/l butter, diced
1 tsp oil
8 oz lean bacon or ham, cut into small strips
2 medium onions, thinly sliced
2 tsp sugar
2 medium cooking apples, peeled, cored, and sliced
4 fresh sage leaves, finely chopped
salt and ground black pepper
1/2 pint vegetable stock or medium dry (hard) cider
beaten egg or milk to glaze

- Sift the two flours and salt into a bowl and rub in the fats until the mixture resembles fine crumbs. Mix in enough cold water to bind the mixture, gathering it into a ball of dough. Chill for 30 minutes.
- Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Heat the oil in a pan and cook the bacon until crips. transfer to a mixing bowl.
- Add the onions, potatoes and sugar to the hot pan and brown until beginning to soften. Add to the bowl.
- Add the apple slices to the bowl. Stir in the sage, season with salt and pepper and mix well. Transfer the mixture into a 6 and quarter cup pie dish, level the surface and pour the stock or cider over.
- Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured surface to a shape large enough to cover the dish. Brush the edges of the dish with milk or beaten egg. Lay the pastry lid over the top, trip the edges and make a slit in the center. Brush with beaten egg or milk.
- Put into the hot oben and cook for about 1 hour, until the crust is golden brown and the filling is cooked through.

Spring Garden

2011-04-17T10:47:00.000-07:00

The winter garden never made it, except for the potatoes which were planted in November or so. They are growing tall and next month or so will bloom. All look strong and healthy so I'm looking forward to a good crop this year after two years with very small to no harvest. Moved their containers to the other side of the yard and that seems to be agreeing.

Yesterday went to my favorite yard and garden store for compost/dirt since a few of the potatoes still need mounding and I'd run out. The spring vegetable seedlings were in, though I think it is still a little early with the strange weather we have been having. It was warm and sunny yesterday and rained unexpectedly last night. I could take that as a good sign though as now the dirt will be soft and damp for planting. Filled the cart with flowers for the front and vegetable starts for the back. I'm going to try for melons again in the front, this time putting in the front corner where the clover and grass is not growing and the flower seeds spread last year have not taken. We'll see.

After clearing out last year's spring garden, yes, I neglected to get that done with all the traveling; will be planting corn, heirloom tomatoes, several peppers, and onions. More stuff will follow but am going to try and space out some of the plantings this year. What a concept - harvest over the full summer instead of all at once!

More Bubbles - Swimming at 23 Months

2011-04-16T14:38:00.000-07:00

The Bug loves water.

"Bubbles, more bubbles!" She'll exclaim and that can mean she wants a bath, wants to join mommy in the shower, wants bubbles, sees bubbles, wants to go in the pool - water is bubbles and bubbles are fun and she will just run in and like how she is with everything that she really, really is excited about, dive right in.

That's a problem when Bug who is just about 23 months old, doesn't know how to swim.

Watching your daughter slip on the side of the pool and tumble underwater; looking down to see her face two feet below the surface. That is scary.

Seems, it just isn't a family vacation without a little water drama. Read about last year's in the archive for September 7, 2010, Underwater in Typhoon Lagoon. This year's not nearly as traumatic but still a frightening moment. After a long day of travel, while waiting for the room to be ready at Disney's Wilderness Lodge Villas, we'd just rolled the stroller onto a nice parking spot between two chaise lounges and were walking to the geyser pool (so named because it has several small geysers spouting bubbling up in it) when Bug scampered off ahead of me. The pool had a ledge around it and she was kneeling down as she likes to crawl around the outside of the pool in the shallow water. I was right behind her. I watched her kneeling down and thought, oh, I should be closer in case she... and there she went, head first into the water. I looked over the edge and she was looking up at me, her eyes open wide, but her mouth closed, two feet below the surface. That's a photo in my mind as sharp as any photo I've ever shot with a camera. I took a step jumping into the pool and pulled her up and out onto the ledge into MP's hands while I sunk under the water. It was fast. Too fast even for that sensation of time slowing down. She didn't cough. She wasn't crying. Don't think she even knew what was NOT GOOD about that moment. We just looked at each other. MP started to cry. I'm almost crying now thinking about what could have happened. But didn't. The adults looked at each other, Bug realized something was wrong and started to get a little crinkly face so I took her back into the water with me and we enjoyed the bubbles. She laughed and laughed.

And when we got home, Bug started swim lessons.

Underwater in Typhoon Lagoon

Shout! for Women Veterans May 5-7 2011 in San Francisco

2011-04-16T14:14:00.000-07:00

Upcoming May 5 - 7 in San Francisco, Swords to Plowshares 3rd Annual Shout! For Women Veterans. I'll have a few photographs in the Art exhibit and perhaps some writing and may do a reading (that is not yet decided). This event has progressed from a single event in a few hours to three days with a film debut, art exhibit that will run two months, and a day of workshops for women veterans. Hope to see you there. I'll be at the Art opening on May 6th. Details here.

Working Out

2011-04-13T13:56:00.001-07:00

Just back from a week of vacation and Reserve duty following that. Did I work out on vacation? Yes indeedy. While on the cruise ship took part in their Body Boot Camp. This entailed actually waking up early while on vacation to attend four high energy fitness sessions with trainers on the ship. Four different sessions without stop that had the sweat dripping by close. Each session was a half dozen or fewer exercises, six sets, counting down from 16 reps to 6 reps. This was followed by four core abdominal specific exercises with 3 sets and 3 seconds each set and then closed out with cool down stretching. 30 second rest between sets. Kicked my butt. Had to make use of the All Blues secret training weapon – the ice bath. Fortunately, one of the many pools on the ship was freezing cold. Unlike my companions in Body Boot Camp who distrusted the wisdom of ice water and opted for hot tub. I went with both and kept the soreness to a minimum level. Now I’m home and back on track and will meet up with Trainer Amy in tomorrow.

The Secret World of Bug-a-Boo

2011-03-24T13:42:00.000-07:00

A baby video monitor is essential to peace of mind. How did parents cope before video? Wondering what was going on behind that closed door, straining to hear through the walls any sound of distress. The video monitor provided security when the move from family sleep to crib sleep came along way back when Bug was about 6 months old. Now she's almost two years old. When is it time to stop peeking into her little world?

But watching her is so much fun. Frustrating yes, when she should be down for nap, yet watching her entertain herself when not napping is just cool at times. She organizes her crib buddies - Blue Bear, Sophie Giraffe, Monkey Moo, Dog, and Bunny, some into the corner, some smashed between the crib and the wall, some tossed to the floor. Fishy TV plays its incessant song over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and....but she doesn't seem to care about the repetition. Or maybe that's why sometimes she just gets rid of the music, having figured out how to both change the song and turn the device completely off. Her blankets get piled up, her pillow and taggie tuck into the corner and and she twirls and rolls around playing with her toes. The whole time, she talks, hums, and sings. Sometimes she practices her new words. Sometimes she repeats conversations from earlier in the day or has conversations in her made up world. I've heard her play make believe, with her being both the BooBoo and Mommy. She clearly is both having fun, remembering past events ("hello Bentley" is from from the fall) and synthesizing her experiences.

I don't want to give up on Buggy TV. It's become one of my favorite channels but at some point, she will figure out what that little green light over the crib is and I don't want her to feel like she's being spied upon or watched all the time. Even though she is being watched over by mommy all the time! Looking for that fine line between before she knows really what it is and after she is big enough to be safe without the guardian camera on all the time.

Ampersand

2011-03-18T22:55:00.000-07:00

Oh Ya! I'm a Rugger!

2011-03-18T11:57:00.001-07:00

Nap and Workout

2011-03-14T20:30:00.000-07:00

The time change just doesn't work for toddlers. Waking up was an hour late, by the clock not by the actual amount of hours slept. That tossed the routine nap schedule off track. And like dominos that pushed the rest of the day along too. And all on the day I'm trying to get back to the gym and get back to the routine of working out. This resulted in going to the gym in the afternoon, late afternoon at that. Which is my least favorite time to go work out.

The afternoons are busy at the gym. The parking lot is crowded with the 4pm and onward crown so round and round we go looking for parking close in because with hands full of workout bag, toddler diaper bag and toddler - closer is better. The pool is full, despite the rain and the swimmer in the lane I'm joining carefully avoid eye contact. Doesn't work, just his bad luck he picked the shallowest lane that I use since I'm actually water walking not swimming and the lanes over are all incrementally deeper. I do so like to keep my head above water.

I am determined to get this workout done today. I plug away with forty minutes in the pool, not my usual hour but time is a factor here and I have other stuff to do before getting the Bug and getting on our way home in time for dinner at about the appropriate hour and bedtime on schedule even if tonight's schedule is an hour forward but maybe she will have adjusted by tonight.

My lane-mate bolts for the lane next door as soon as it opens. We're both happier. After forty minutes I get out and as I walk across the cold pavement consider a jump in the locker room jacuzzi before changing back into gym clothes. Three small children are in the hot tub. Two mothers naken in towels watch them soak away in the 13 years and older hot tub. No, they are not 13 years or older. So much for my nekked soak in the locker room hot tub. Quick shower and back into warmups. I don't really want to go on, and momentarily consider getting the Bug and going home. Nope. I'm going to finish. I wander the fitness center looking for a quiet corner to do some exercises. I finally go back outside to the not real grass green next to the pool with the swim kids and work my way through the workout. Thirty minutes later, I'm tired, and hungry and it's time to get the Bug so we get home on time.

Today's workout done, in spite of myself I successfully held up against my inner wuss who would have rather stayed home in comfy clothes.

Garden Musings

2011-03-13T19:24:00.000-07:00

The winter seems to drag on and on and on. The winter garden never happened and the garden spaces are in need of care if the spring garden is to manifest. Two overgrown stocks of brussle sprouts, with half formed tiny cabbages upon their stalks linger in one bed. Slightly shriveled peppers cling red to the browned pepper bush. One long dead tomato vine hangs upon its tower. Beets placed in the ground still in their transplant organic pots, (that was an ooops) are struggling along, forgotten. They never got very big but what can be expected when the roots had to work through the woven pots that they were mistakenly confined within after planning, the bottoms not torn out before the dirt buried them. I've half a mind to skip this growing season, let the garden spaces fallow for the summer and wait until fall with next winter's garden. I think I would miss the garden though, miss walking out in the summer evenings to poke around. Miss pulling a warm tomato from the vine and sharing it with the Bug who won't eat a tomato for anything on her plate but will sit in the dirt and eat one after the other fresh and warm from the vine. But when, when to start putting in since the last frost was supposedly in Feburary yet we've had a half dozen since the beginning of March. I usually plant the tomato vines in April, get several big harvests out of them. Have to get the tidying up of the garden beds done soon if that plan will fruit this year. The potatoes have managed, making it through the frosts with a little help. Hope to have a good crop this year. Waiting for strawberries to hit the farmer's market and thinking of trying jam this year. We'll see.

2011-03-07T15:02:00.001-08:00

Find an e-book to read this week - click here!

Choices at Bedtime

2011-03-07T09:51:00.000-08:00

Flying home after four days away, weather delays the flight just enough that I get to the house after bedtime. Bug calls out though from behind her closed door hearing my voice. I watch her on the video as she plays with her taggy blanket and turns on the fishy TV as she talks to herself when I don't open the door. She's awake, an hour after her bed time, but will go back to sleep.

"I promised all day she would see you at night night. When we got ready for bed all she would say was 'Mommy? Mommy?'"

Going in now would get her excited and the back to sleep process could go for hours. Not going in and she'll talk herself back to sleep in a half hour or so.

Flying home I looked through her photos and felt her soft hair under my chin, the scent of her on the tip of my memory. The quiet holding of her as she falls asleep cuddled against my shoulder, curled up in my lap. She doesn't cuddle much anymore, except when falling asleep. The rest of the day she is playing and reading but the little baby that would lie in my arms and be content is an active curious toddler now. I miss her quiet and nestled close.

I didn't go in and the promise to see me before night night was broken. The sensible choice of preserving her bedtime routine and not letting her rev up with excitement after being put to bed by going in...is neither a right or wrong choice. I have all day with her the next morning. But she doesn't want to cuddle, she wants to play games and talk with her people and read books and books and books.

The connectedness that is there when she nestles up and holds on, the bonding that strengthens, I missed that. How may misses before it's gone?

Working Out with Baby

2011-02-28T20:17:00.000-08:00

Some days are just off days. Woke up early, got halfway through the email pile, baby up early - thought I'd get to the gym. Then discovered the memory card on the smart phone was full. That makes it smart but unable to add any new data. Started transferring files to the mother ship computer. That took some time, mostly because somehow I ended up with jpg files for hundreds of movies. Why? I have no idea how they got on the phone. No wonder the card was full.

Baby Bug has a cold. Grey green snot waterfall and I decided to not be that mom that takes the kid to daycare ANYWAY, thus infecting all other families. We stayed home today as a result. I'll just do my workout anyway. So I did. In the living room. With Bug "helping." If you want to know the workout, download the FA 53 APP TC 3-22.20 in the iTunes store. It's the Army's new physical fitness manual and has all the workouts right there easy to follow. Bug thought the exercises were great fun. Try doing windmills with a toddler diving into you while you try to touch that alternate foot. Or sit-ups with the baby diving onto your chest. And pushups, oh those were really fun! First she pulled my hair. Then she pushed my head down. Then she dived underneath me which resulted in my checking for poop on every downward movement. Then she crawled out and JUMPED on top of my back. No, I can not do a pushup with 25 pounds of toddler prone on me. I'll work on that.

Making the Curve

2011-02-23T22:55:00.000-08:00

The Bug finally made it to the curve at her 20 month check up. That would be the very bottom of curve. Tiny yet mighty, she can push another toddler in a wagon, one that likely weighs more than she does. She can pull her weight onto the bed from the cat step, and I've seen her chin up on the table. Percentage wise, she is stronger than her retired rugger mom!

SFWC - the Business of Authorship

2011-02-20T23:11:00.000-08:00

The San Francisco Writers Conference is over and after attending four conferences I have to say while every year they've been great, this year really rocked! This is THE conference to learn about the business of writing and being an author. The presenters are generous with their time and advice. The organizers dedicated to taking down the walls between the emerging and the established and ensuring new writers have the tools they need to become authors. If a writer can only go to one conference - this is the one to attend. If you missed it this year, plan to attend next year.

Chow - New E-book Short by Victoria A. Hudson

2011-02-09T21:15:00.000-08:00

Check out Chow, a new e-book published at Smashwords. Chow by Victoria A. Hudson chronicles one Soldier's best meals while in military service.

Hey, pay attention!

2011-02-09T20:17:00.000-08:00

Recently I've read about a woman who shot her children then herself, and a woman who gave birth and left the baby in the toilet of a sports arena. These acts are just inconceivable to me. I look at my daughter and concurrently am filled with dread that something will happen to her and fierce in my will to do whatever is needed that will keep her safe, protected, and nurtured. When speaking to a grandmother about the fear of accident or injury to my baby she laughed and said they are always your baby and you are always stricken with that fear.

If I am going to spend a large chunk of my life in fear of anything, fear for my child is worth feeling. Perhaps, something worth remembering is that fear is a friend that taps you on the shoulder and whispers, hey, pay attention! When I want to read a book but the Bug rolls the exercise ball over and throws herself to the ground with that expectant look that I know means Mommy, roll the big ball over my tummy well, the book can wait. When she wants to play with me, hey, pay attention! That isn't going to last forever. When she wants to climb on the play equipment that is a little too big, okay, so instead of hanging out with the other moms on the bench, I'll stand right there next to her in case she slips to help her learn how to manage her body in space. When she runs across the lawn, or the floor, or the playground and trips over her little clumsy feet, I'll hold my breath to see if it's a laugh or a cry that comes out, hoping for one and a little anxious for the other. When I'm cranky and tired and she just isn't doing what I want her to do (insert eat, sleep, lie still for diaper change, etc.) hey, pay attention! It isn't her fault I'm cranky so take a breath, breathe.

I could fill the day and sleepless night with all the things I could be afraid about - will she get hurt, will she get lost, will someone steal her, will she fall, will the dog finally get tired of her and snap, will she fall off the chair, will she fall off the table I didn't see her climb up on, will the cat scratch her, will she play with her electronic games too much and (fill in the blank) will happen, will shewillshewillshewillshewillsheWILLIwillshewillshe and on and on and on is the pulse of the fear.

She knows how to take a deep breath. Innnnnnnnnnnn. Ouuuuuuuuuuut. Innnnnnnnnn. Ouuuuuuuuuut. We learned this one dark night when bed time just was not going to happen and mommy was tired and frazzled and had really had enough of screaming, crying baby. Deep breath. And then she copied me. She took a deep breath. And another. And then she wasn't crying and I was a little less whatever I was the moment before, a little more in the moment with her then. I've heard her do it with herself, take a deep couple breaths to calm herself down. She gets mad if I suggest it when she is too excited at bed time because she doesn't want to calm down. If I start to take a breath she says adamantly NONONO! But then a few moments later, she'll usually do a few big deep ones all on her own. And the mood shifts. Hey, pay attention! Because she is.

Victoria A. Hudson Emerging Writer Scholarship at the San Francisco Writers Conference

2011-01-28T13:49:00.000-08:00

Announcing the winners of the Victoria A. Hudson Emerging Writer Scholarships in Fiction, Non-fiction and Poetry for the San Francisco Writers Conference 2011:

Fiction:

Randall E. Hosilyk- Laguna Woods, CA

Nonfiction:

H. Rachelle Graham- Taylorsville, Utah

Poetry:

Breean Lowe- Castro Valley, CA

The following writers were runner-ups. There is no prize however they are congratulated for the excellence of their submissions:

Elisa Garcia- Missouri City, TX

Hilary Smith- Venice, CA

Allison Moon- Oakland, CA

Kristy Shelton- Napa, CA

Ulla Mentzel- Novato, CA

Each year Victoria A. Hudson sponsors three scholarships for cost of registration to attend the San Francisco Writers’ Conference, one each in Fiction, Non-fiction, and Poetry. This year there were over 30 entries. Each writer submits a short essay and a sample of their work. Initial selections are based upon the quality and content of the essay with final selections or tie breaker based upon the quality of the writer’s submitted work.

All writers that submitted work for consideration are due acknowledgement and congratulations for entering and sharing their writing. This is the first year that the quality of submissions warranted recognition of runner up writers as well as the selected winners. While the runner ups receive no prize, the quality of their work is recognized.

San Francisco Writers Conference 2011

One good turn

2010-11-12T12:55:00.000-08:00

Recently while waiting to fly, I observed competition for the rare and limited electrical outlets in the gate waiting area - one woman had the only open one and another wanted in on the action. If it had been me, I would have unplugged the electric garbage can and plugged in given the traffic of use on the garbage can was about once an hour. However, not having a dog in this fight, I offered up my travel power strip. The woman already plugged in was happy to move to the power strip and that made the other able to charge up. Time passed, the plane came and off I flew to my connection in Denver.

Needing now to power up my own devices, all outlets at my gate were full and the handy power up stations situated throughout the terminals were also full. Unfortunately, the USO, while being in a class by itself as USOs go, did not have a comfortable means to plug in either. Back down I went and finally found a outlet below a pay phone, standing room only. While lounging against the wall, reading the electronic edition of Christie Golden's The Shattering, a woman approached. "When's your flight?" "Hey," I responded, "I remember you." The original outlet user from the last airport was in front of me. Giving me kudos for my random act of kindness, she invited me into the United Airlines lounge, a decidedly far more pleasant location to charge up and wait till boarding. She brings me in, gives me a quick run down on what the offerings are and then runs off "going for some candy!" She returns a little later with a nice sized bag of Jelly Bellies and proceeds to share some very interesting flavors. I find out she's from L.A. and I comment I was just down south for a convention. That's when we find out we're both WOW players. Pleasant game related stories ensue and then we are off catch our plane. The kind woman? Leslie Fisher, Web Designer, Presenter, Consultant, Trainer, and all around good kid. From our conversation, she seems to be the go to gal for tech training and if her positive energy in general is any indication of her persona on the instructor podium, then I'd say this is one trainer who won't have any problem keeping the students in line, involved, and engaged. I can't speak to her skills, but check out the testimonials on her web site, which by the way is interesting, uncluttered and inviting. When I finally move to my very own domain in cyber I know who I'm going to call.

Veterans Day

2010-11-11T09:39:00.000-08:00

The "War to end all Wars" sadly did not do so. We have been engaged in war for close to a decade now, longer than both world wars combined. While troop levels are going down, actual end to this global conflict with a stateless adversary is not in sight.

Veterans Day tends to be just another holiday for those without contact with someone in the military, the majority of Americans given the military is less than 1% of our population. A day off from work for some, parades to entertain the kids, and sales galore across the nation as if commerce was the reason for the holiday.

Today, instead of spending money on materials, how about sending in some money to those organizations that are helping those who have sacrificed for the Nation's good, in defense of freedom and to ensure a safe homeland? Here are two for your consideration:
Wounded Warrior Project :PURPOSE

To raise awareness and enlist the public’s aid for the needs of injured service members.
To help injured service members aid and assist each other.
To provide unique, direct programs and services to meet the needs of injured service members.

Coming Home Project :Free compassionate expert care, support, education, and stress management tools for Iraq and Afghanistan veterans, service members, their families, and their service providers. The intention of the Coming Home Project is to serve and contribute to well-being and healing of our veterans, service members, their families and their service providers. Providing a multidisciplinary, experienced team of psychotherapists, veterans and interfaith leaders committed to helping transform the wounds of war. Coming Home Project programs address the psychological, emotional, spiritual and relationship challenges experienced during all stages of deployment, especially reintegration. Helping to rebuild the connectivity of mind, body, heart and spirit that combat trauma can unravel, renew relationships with loved ones, and create new support networks. Building a safe place – a community -- for families, their veterans and service members, and their service providers to come together and share their stories, struggles and accomplishments. Coming Home Project connects families with their communities as with collaborate efforts to create integrative continuums of care. Single veterans and service members as well as those with physical injuries are also most welcome.

*******

The look of children in a war zone never leaves you. Children's laughter after their silence in war is the finest symphony. This organization honors fallen service members by helping children escape hunger and poverty.
Veterans Fund for Children :Fighting to protect children from hunger and poverty...

We are Soldiers and Veterans with something more to give. As servicemen and women of the U.S Armed Forces, past and present, we are determined to rescue children suffering from hunger and extreme poverty, by providing food, clothing, shelter and hope. We are volunteers, soldiers giving their time, money, and effort to help these little ones. We do not recieve government funds, and are not affiliated with any government agency. We dedicate our efforts in memory of our fallen brothers. For each life given in sacrifice...one small life given hope.

******

What is Veterans Day?

The United States Congress officially recognized the end of World War I when it passed a concurrent resolution on June 4, 1926, with these words:

Whereas the 11th of November 1918, marked the cessation of the most destructive, sanguinary, and far reaching war in human annals and the resumption by the people of the United States of peaceful relations with other nations, which we hope may never again be severed, and

Whereas it is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations; and

Whereas the legislatures of twenty-seven of our States have already declared November 11 to be a legal holiday: Therefore be it Resolved by the Senate (the House of Representatives concurring), that the President of the United States is requested to issue a proclamation calling upon the officials to display the flag of the United States on all Government buildings on November 11 and inviting the people of the United States to observe the day in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with appropriate ceremonies of friendly relations with all other peoples.

An Act (52 Stat. 351; 5 U. S. Code, Sec. 87a) approved May 13, 1938, made the 11th of November in each year a legal holiday—a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be thereafter celebrated and known as "Armistice Day." Armistice Day was primarily a day set aside to honor veterans of World War I, but in 1954, after World War II had required the greatest mobilization of soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen in the Nation’s history; after American forces had fought aggression in Korea, the 83rd Congress, at the urging of the veterans service organizations, amended the Act of 1938 by striking out the word "Armistice" and inserting in its place the word "Veterans." With the approval of this legislation (Public Law 380) on June 1, 1954, November 11th became a day to honor American veterans of all wars.

Garden, Tomato, and Life

2010-10-17T16:19:00.000-07:00

The sky is grey and the rain is threatening. Indian summer has finally come to an end and it feels like fall, mid way through October. I’ve got some time to myself, the Bug is off on a trail walking the dog (with a little help) and what shall I do? Read? World of Warcraft? Study? Hmmm, how about tackling the garden? I want to put in cover crops this year, to winter over till spring and feed the garden beds. There are six beds that need clearing and two are still chock full of tomatoes. Maybe gather in all the tomatoes for winter storage, layered in newsprint in a dark cardboard box. Last year took in all the green tomatoes this way and ate the last one a few weeks before I put in these plants that are now heavy with fruit. But those were green, and most of these are already ripe. Hearing my neighbor in next door, I put together a sack of ripe tomatoes and passed them over the fence. Maybe make some fresh veggie juice. I have wanted to try that. With a half dozen or so of each variety in a stainless bowl, a couple cucumbers and three jalapenos, I retired to the kitchen. Somewhere in the garage I had a Roma Sauce and Food Strainer.Dusted the box off, washed the components and put the thing together. Checked out a recipe for vegetable juice in The Amish Cook at Home and decided to add in some carrots and potatoes. Cooked those some to soften them up and then cooled before adding to the quartered and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers. Dropped the mess into the bin to run through the roma, turned the crank and turned the crank and turned the crank and finally a thick orange slurpee of vegetable slowly dripped out. The suction wasn’t holding on the bottom of the tool so I rearranged it only to have the lever break. The vegetable slurpee was leaking out the back of the drip guard. The waste was not wasting out the waste end. Clearly, the roma was not living up to its reputation. Trashed it and dropped everything into the blender. Skin, seeds, meat and all blended up together and mixed up in a bowl. Since I wanted to make sure this would keep, I decided to boil the mixture before hot packing it. Added a couple tablespoons of salt and sugar and two cups of water and boiled the lot. Ladled into jars, processed for 15 minutes in a hot boiling bath and now have a dozen jars cooling, waiting for the modern day answer to the suburban root cellar, the extra refrigerator in the garage. While I was doing all this and thinking about the next iteration for the garden, it occurred to me, how can a gardener be depressed? Too much looking forward, investment in life and its promise growing there in the ground, resting on the vine, waiting on the shelf.

Food, Cholesterol and Life

2010-10-09T09:39:00.001-07:00

Between June and September this summer, my cholesterol increased almost 15 points. When it was 263, it was high but now it is edging closer to 300. My doctor thinks there are genetic factors at play. My diet has been reviewed, analyzed and shifted over the last few years significantly. Consumption of red meat, way down from several times a week to several times a month. Organic, grass fed over feed lot. Bison over beef. Fish up from several times a year to aiming for couple times a week. Fresh garden vegetables and weekly trips to the farmers market when the garden is thin. Finally gave up tasty whole milk for watery skim. Food, the nirvana of the soul has been transformed. Food has become my enemy. Eat more protein, eat less. Eat complex carbohydrates, eat no carbohydrates. If the food is good for one part of the body apparently it is not healthy for another. The last diet change to try, increased consumption of salmon, a cold water fish I detest has been implemented. Food, a substance I love to create with has become irksome. One choice cancels the other. I want to not eat anything. Clearly not an option.

So, with all the appropriate cholesterol friendly diet changes in place, what happened between June and September to cause a 15 point change for the worse? Two factors here – my part time, “one weekend a month” (not) job skyrocketed in demands and associated stress, and the resulting demands greatly diminished availability of exercise options. Prior to June, had a pretty good exercise plan going even with a almost toddling baby in the house. Four to five days a week, spent an hour in the pool sprinting. Water walking is a tremendous exercise resulting in increased flexibility, reduced joint pain and sustainable weight loss. Several days I also managed to get in weight training as well. The part time job demanded significant part time travel. I found myself traveling four days a week several times a month for the not so one weekend a month job. The three days I'd be home became one day for post cross country/cross state travel recovery and one day for pre-cross country/cross state travel preparation, with one actual day home to deal with well, home stuff. I spent the summer living out of my travel bag. With the exception of two weekends, and ten additional days spent on vacation (one marred by yet more work demands that could not be ignored) I was away from home every weekend the entire summer. The garden, my usual big stress reducer as well as diet enhancer was a shadow of its usual production. The lettuce went to seed, the tomatoes fed the roly polys and the rest just never got planted. The serotonin increasing dirt never made it under my nails. The goji berry seedlings are still in their temporary pots hibernating long past time to transplant. With all that travel, I slept away from home almost as often as at home, which meant generally not sleeping well half the summer.

End result – increased stress. Increased stress accompanied by increased cholesterol apparently. Have never had a clearer indicator of the relationship between stress and its impact on my health. I thought I was a good road warrior, managing the demands of travel well. I may have the negotiation of airports, rental agencies and hotel rewards programs down but clearly, my body is demanding a change, with cholesterol now north of 275.

The plan – yes, salmon now part of the diet. Will be picking up some red yeast rice, reputed to have cholesterol reducing impact similar to statin drugs. Sleep – bed time is on average two hours earlier since sleep is one of the most important stress reducers nature gives us. Exercise – back to the pool, even when only home for a few days in the week. And travel – still working on how to reduce travel. Have a new assignment that will not entail as much travel often which will make a significant difference but the next few months still mean leaving the family at home and being gone for quite a few weekends, even if some of those weekends are for such fun things as Blizcon 2010 and an all year reunion and college football game of the University of Florida Army ROTC program. I can impact travel stress though with well planned flights and setting boundaries on how much time spent on work email after hours. Boundaries are good even when not in the office.

The bottom line though is at age 51 with a 16 month old daughter, the food, exercise and stress inducing or reducing decisions I make impact more than me. I've always said I'll live to be more than hundred. I guess the body is saying it needs a little more than just the mind deciding saying so if I really want living beyond a hundred years as a viable option. Besides, the Universe has a quirky sense of humor so let's just add to be on the safe side, live beyond a hundred with fully functioning parts and brain cognitively intact.

Mentions in this post:
Satins
Blizzcon 2010
Goji Berry

Vinegar Pie

2010-09-15T20:10:00.000-07:00

Pie. Who doesn't enjoy homemade pie? My most recent cookbook is Nancie McDermott's Southern Pies A Gracious Plenty of Pie Recipes, From Lemon Chess to Chocolate Pecan. I'm not a pie baker, finding the whole pie crust challenge intimidating. McDermott tackles that head on by giving the home cook permission to just go ahead and use that store bought pie crust, no biggie, do what's easy. That said, there are a half dozen recipes for variations of basic pie crust that sound inviting.

Tonight, with store brand crust in hand, I gave Vinegar Pie a try. Just the name rolled over in my thoughts had me salivating. Vinegar pie...what would pie with vinegar taste like? Vinegar as a main ingredient? Had to search this culinary journey out and the outcome was delicious. With consistency similar to pecan pie but a much more subtle, far less sweet twang of taste. A key lime yellow body and golden caramelized crust on top, go the extra step and make the butter basic pie crust in McDermott's book - the pie is worth the effort. The vinegar pie recipe is found on page 47, and calls for:
one 9-inch single crust pie pastry
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 eggs, beaten well
1/4 cup butter melted
3 tablespoons evaporated milk, half-and-half, or milk
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar or white vinegar

I used whole milk and cider vinegar but am wondering and wanting to try another version using half-and-half and maybe malt vinegar?

Oven at 350. Pastry into 9 inch pan, crimp edges. Combine the sugar, flour, and salt in a small bowl, stir together well. In another bowl, beat together the eggs, butter, and milk, mixing well. Then add the first mixture to the second and mix together well. Add the vinegar and combine together into a thick, smooth filling. Pour into the piecrust. Place on the bottom shelf of the 350 degree oven. Bake 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 325 and bake until edges puff and the center is firm with only a very slight wiggle if you softly nudge the pan. Takes about 35 - 45 minutes more. Remove and place on cooling rack.

If vinegar pie any indication of the tasty treats in Southern Pies than this cookbook is destined to become one of my favorites even if I really don't consider myself a baker. I'm inspired though, by the easiness of the recipes, the permission to not completely from scratch pie crust bake, and the presence of several favorites that I've just not been able to find since I left the south after college. Besides, I want the Bug to want to cook, and the only way that will happen is if she sees mama cooking. I loved coming home to homemade treats that mom somehow found time to make. I want Bug to have similar memories. Nancie McDermott's cookbook will certainly be one passed on down the road. If only for the Vinegar Pie.

First sentence

2010-09-15T10:01:00.001-07:00

The Bug said her first two sentences this week. While sitting on the couch together reading (she "paging through board books, me reading a magazine) she called out "Mama?" I looked up to her and she said, "I wuv ooo." My heart melted. Giving her a hug I told her I loved her too. What a moment.

A few days later I had to travel and when calling home to check on her heard that she had been asking for me, "Mama? Mama?" When told mama had gone bye bye on an airplane she said, "mama airplane byebye," using her hand gestures as she said the words. She didn't ask for me again after that, apparently understanding the words she had put together. Yes, she is the smartest, cutest little baby in the world.

Underwater at Typhoon Lagoon

2010-09-07T17:43:00.001-07:00

The wave pool at WDW's Typhoon Lagoon is a terrifically fun place. Fifteen month Bug thought the waves were exciting and quickly learned that the big boom meant something cool was about to happen. Standing about knee deep, with each surge of water, we turned and danced forward with the water. A little closer in to the concrete shore, we waited for each wave seated and stood up after the boom, holding Bug so the diminished wave broke against here. She laughed and giggled with each push of the water. Moving even closer to where the water was only a few inches deep, we sat to watch the waves. The boom sounded and we watched the water crash over people. Bug danced standing on the knees of my cross seated legs. We were only a few feet into the water. The wave surged and broke when suddenly I saw a three foot wave surge from the side, having spawned from the boom wave after it hit the retaining wall. Suddenly water washed over me, pushing me along the concrete sand of the pool floor. My left leg, arm, hand and shoulder burned as it scraped across the stone. Looking up through the frothy white water I saw my outstretched arm like a tower above the surface, surreal with the rest of me below water. My hand bent at an odd angle and branching from it was the sea scape blue of Bug's swimsuit covered arm. The whole rest of her body concealed by frothy whiteness. Where was her head? My arm is longer than hers, was that her arm or her leg? The whole time the water pushed me over and along the bottom, tearing my left side open I thought/prayed 'someone take the baby' but I felt the silken cloth in my fingers and when I finally stopped moving, sat up with her cradled close to me between my legs.

"Did you mean to do that?" A woman with two children two feet away said to me. I thought "Why didn't you take the baby?" Knowing that she couldn't have saved mine without turning away from her own. So, I just replied, "Well, that wasn't fun."

"You're bleeding," she said.
"That hurt," I said, "but the baby is okay." I looked down at her, a bewildered expression on her face. Something was not right, she knew but didn't know what so just sat still, close in my arms. I stood up and walked a couple steps to the retaining wall. So close, so easy to have been pushed there instead of the two feet away where we landed.

I looked down at the bug, "The baby is okay," I tearfully said again. The couple on the wall told me my back was bleeding. I could see the blood on my hand and arm.

I sat a few more moments, holding Bug close who was being uncharacteristically quiet still. "The baby is okay," again, was I asking a question or making an assurance?

Why was there no lifeguard? This little cove where parents come with their little ones to watch the waves, I looked around and couldn't see the lifeguard stand near the kiddie slide, couldn't see the lifeguard that roves the front main 'beach' of the wave pool. The guards at the chairs on each side of the pool couldn't see this site or were to far away to make out anything in the water. Why was there no guard here in this deceptive cove, where waves tumble from the side out of sight?

In an instant, the baby could have been lost from my hands, tumbled across that concrete beach, snatched by a wave and crashed against the retaining wall, drowned as she tossed with the water running onto the 'beach'. In an instant I could have lost her. In an instant, I was grateful for all the many experiences of my life that gave me perception under water, and strength under duress. In that instant I kept the baby from harm but am now reminded how an instant can change a life. I like to take risks, they are part of my fiber. Maybe though, I need to think through some risks and give risk the benefit of the doubt.

2010-08-22T19:38:00.000-07:00

Got my cooking grove back, or so I was told this weekend. Put up three small batches this weekend, with four jars each of freezer mint-lime freezer pickles, pickled okra, and spiced blueberries. The Blueberries may become a substitute at Thanksgiving for cranberry sauce. Kept a little bit of the sauce back and it has been mighty tasty warm over ice cream. For dinner tonight had left over loose meat in homemade bbq sauce (chili sauce, apple butter, beer, onion, garlic, Worcestershire) and tomato pancakes. The baby ate her vegetables tonight!

For the tomato pancakes, I created a variation of a recipe found in The Amish Cook at Home: Simple Pleasures of Food, Family, and Faith by Kevin Williams and Lovina Eicher. The basic recipe uses two cups diced tomatoes w/juice, 4 beaten eggs, 40 crushed saltine crackers, and salt. I added a few sliced cloves of garlic, fresh ground pepper, about half a dozen small basil leaves minced and because the tomatoes were very juicy, added in another ten or so crackers. I mixed the diced tomatoes, basil, garlic, spices and crackers together then added the beaten eggs. The original recipe calls for the tomatoes, salt, and crackers and eggs to be added together. Don’t know if adding the eggs in after mixing the crackers and tomatoes make a difference of if that is why I needed to add the extra crackers. Melt butter in a pan over medium heat. If the batter is wet, drop by heaping spoonfuls onto the pain. If dry, mold into small pancakes and place in the pan. Fry till firm and golden on each side, only a few minutes each. Serve warm. A little sour cream was a nice addition but the tomato pancakes were tasty by themselves.

Memory or Camera

2010-08-19T16:24:00.001-07:00

Watching my daughter at play recently she did something that sparked the thought, “Oh, I have to take a photo.” The act of getting the camera or the smart phone that contains a camera disrupts the very activity I want to capture. She moves to follow me, the light changes, the expression of inner attentiveness gone because now she is attuned to what I am doing. There is no photo opportunity now and the mental image I might have snapped was lost in the activity of trying to capture the fleeting moment. Being in that instance, capturing within memory what is right in front of me has its value. Noticing what is there – the instance of observation – rather than what is not – the camera. Remembering what I see, not what I wanted to catch.

Nap

2010-08-09T13:38:00.001-07:00

The baby naps, late in the morning, almost noon before she finally goes down. Two hours give or take if I want to plan for after. Going down late fracks up the afternap day. Once she is up, and after lunch, will I still be as motivated to get to the gym as in the morning? Knock at the door, the dog barks. Delivery guy smiles as he waves. Where is the quiet dog that never barked when brought home from the shelter? Barks now and there is no sleeping.

Flying

2010-08-07T14:38:00.000-07:00

Flying with a tottering toddler is such the adventure. Bug has flown numerous times but since getting crawling figured out and now that she is in the almost-any day now-going to walk stage, hours on a plane seem endless. On a recent flight I had her carefully barricaded from crawling away with the bags under the seats in front of us only to look down and there was no baby! Shades of Jodie Foster - how could I lose the baby on the airplane? We were in the last row of the plane and she had crawled not forward, but backward under our seats and around the crew stowage. When I lay face down on the plane deck to look for her, there she was, happily munching food debris that was swept back along the wall. Yes, including peanuts. Apparently, cleaning the plane between stops does not include along the back wall.

Fitness Trianing

2010-07-20T23:05:00.001-07:00

Endless months of 4 day weekend travels. Three days at home then back to the airport for another half week gone. Home and too tired for the gym. Finally made it back to the gym for a workout despite last week's trip and this week's coming up. A half hour of running in the water, a half hour running on the treadmill. Surprised I could run a half hour on the treadmill. Push ups at home with the baby laughing and twisting her head upside down, one shoulder flat against the floor as she tries to figure out what I'm doing. Crunches with feet wedged beneath the chair as the baby scampers around behind me to hide when I go up and laughs when I come back down. I contemplate doing laps around the house, up the stairs on one side and down the tiny incline on the other, round and round for an hour while the baby naps. How many laps would make a mile, I wonder? Haven't had a chance to calibrate the iTouch Nike app so the distance on the screen would not be accurate. The TRX hangs from the back porch rafter, waiting for a body as workout machine session. This is my fitness training.

Child Care or No Child Care

2010-07-07T09:09:00.000-07:00

Child care or no child care, trust complete strangers to spend six to eight formable hours with the Bug daily during the week, molding and mentoring her little mind and behaviors? Continue one on one mommy and bug time, all day, every day? Advantage – those endearing looks every now and then when Bug looks up from play to meet eyes with mommy and grin ridiculously as if to say “see what I’m doing, mom?” Get to be present for the little and big firsts – first apricot eaten off the tree in the back yard, first time standing all on her own even if only two seconds. Complete control over what she eats, as much organically produced as possible. Disadvantage – mind-numbing repetitive play. One sided conversations with unintelligible replies. No personal productivity.

Admittedly, taking the long view, baby years are brief in the scheme of life; is hard after picking up flashcards and restacking into their box because the Bug loves to pull them out one by one and strew them around her in a circle on the floor, over and over and over again. After completing the umpteenth circuit with the toy car because the Bug loves to be pushing along for a ride for as long as Mommy can manage to walk in a circle around the porch, the forest of this precious time is overwhelmed by the redwood of daily details.

My mom was a stay at home mom until my sister and I both reached school age. Six years a home and half of those were after moving to a far away state with no support system and her best friend back home. I wish I could ask her how she did it. I always figured I’d do the same but the inability to concentrate on developing my life’s work, so many writing projects all percolating and waiting for the investment of time and energy is hugely frustrating. Yet, so much occurs in these first few years. The person Bug will be is shaped by her experiences now. What she learns now, what her little baby mind decides about the world will set the mold for the person she will grow up into. Why would I trade away that time, so brief in a life, and unredeemable later?

Birthday Fifty-one

2010-06-27T23:04:00.001-07:00

On June 15th I was fifty-one. Funny, it’s odd to me that a half century is past. What did I do, in all that time? My mother died at forty-nine. If she was here, would she be pleased with how I spent the years from her forty-nine to my fifty-one? Don’t know if I’ve spent them well, but they’re spent just the same. I’ve traveled; I’ve done all sorts of things I didn’t decline so now at this age I wouldn’t regret. Sadly that just meant other regrets previously unfocused upon, now visible. A no win lesson that must be learned late. I’ve spent more than half my half century serving the Nation, in war and peace, at home and abroad. Did I make enough difference to balance the sacrifice? There were two things I wanted to become when growing up. One box checked. The other box is still open. How many books can I write in the next half of a half century, even if I plan to live triple my mother’s span? (I don’t want my daughter to lose her mother at the same age I lost mine. That second quarter is rough to go alone.) How will I invest my time between now and then?

2010-06-15T10:16:00.001-07:00

My Evo arrived in a small cardboard box via UPS. The Evo itself was contained within a small white cardboard box elegant in its simplicity. If anyone has experienced the pain of opening a competitor's hard, plastic containers, the dart friendly Evo box is welcome.

With eager anticipation I waited for the battery to charge. Finally the green light appeared. Evo has substance in the hand, filling the palm. The touch screen is clear and sensitive to the slightest whisper of contact. Icons are slightly too close which results in opening a program inadvertently when merely scrolling. The interface and interactions on the device are intuitve. Follow your inclination on what to do next and you'll probably get where you want most of the time.

A distraction is the limited video upload options, and in particular, inability to upload video directly to Facebook using the Facebook link icon. The work around is sending the video to Facebook mobile as a message. Another drawback is there is no preset video timelimit choice so you could make a video small enough for message or email. I had this feature on my Lotus and found it very helpful.

Evo takes brilliant photos. The flash is automatic when in lowlight conditions. The ability to zoom is long over due feature in camera phones.

The Evo is so much more than a phone and while I am still figuring out how to use it, it feels a little like the 23rd century has finally made it from the Star Trek universe to now.

Blood Draw

2010-06-08T15:06:00.001-07:00

The one year birthday brings with it the year old vaccinations. Bug has also had a never-ending cough since her first cold at age two months so in conjunction with vaccinations, she had an appointment with the pediatric allergist. Twelve months is too young for much allergy testing and what can be done is done by blood test. So, in addition to three painful injections she had a blood draw. Six frigging tubes of blood were drawn for her year old check and the allergy check. First she has to be held down for her injections and that is hard enough. I thought holding her down for three injections was rough. Holding her for a blood draw is even harder and much, much longer. With injections, she is laying down on the table. With blood draw, she is on the lap, one arm outstretched and restrained and the other held down so she can't grab at the needle. And she cries, and cries and her little tears fall to my skin, each one sliding down my hand as I try to not cry so much I can't speak softly in her ear that it really is going to be okay. It will only hurt a minute and then be done. Except six tubes of blood take more than a minute and tears fall over and over and there is no way to explain this all to a one year old.

National Donut Day - Free donuts

2010-06-04T09:32:00.000-07:00

Today is national donut day which apparently is a marketing ploy to bring people in to a shall remain nameless chain donut shop. In order to get your free donut, a beverage must be ordered. Since the average beverage costs twice what a single donut does, I'll pass on the free donut.

Celebrating donut day should not be missed as donuts are certainly an important contribution to daily life. Where would first responders be without donuts cluttering up the ready room? Early morning meetings with no donut sugar rush would be even longer. What do COPs and donuts have in common? (Both have an 'O' in the middle;)

I have fond memories of home-made donuts and fritters, bubbling away in boiling oil on the stove. Draining on brown paper sacks on the counter and then sprinkled with confectionery sugar. Gobbled in a single warm crush into the mouth, warm and melting delicious. Going out for donuts was a special weekend outing when I was a kid. Everyone got to pick their own and then we'd sit at the counter and dip the donut into milk for us kids and coffee for mom and dad. Cake donuts are the best suited for milk dipping, soaking up the milk like a sponge and then once in the mouth, you can suck the milk back out as the donut crumbles on the tongue.

So, celebrate National Donut Day today - you can get the free donut with beverage purchase or better yet, stop by the local mom and pop donut shop and buy your donut today. In the process, help a local business and enjoy a frosted cake, peanut covered, jelly filled, or plain ol' glazed donut. May your day be sweet.

Lonely Cat

2010-06-02T13:31:00.001-07:00

Today has been spent chasing the neighbor's cat out of the house. This all white cat is about nine months old and a sweetheart. Unfortunately, we've watched his behavior change over the months from extremely social to withdrawn to regaining some sociability after hanging around the yard a while. He's developed a few aggressive tendencies and is not as baby tolerant as the rest of the cats. Unlike the rest, he hasn't figured out to run when the baby comes crawling after him. He shows up every morning, sometimes sleeping by the back door when we first are up around 6 am. He has a name, but let's just call him Spike. Spike spends all day lounging around in the yard, chasing shadows and trying to play with the resident cats, Meryl especially. Meryl so far is not having any of that. Spike waits by the door and as soon as it's opened for the four residents to go out, Spike comes in and helps himself to the breakfast buffet. He drops in throughout the day for snacks and lunch and while occasionally leaves the campus, is always back at the door around 6 pm for dinner and if the door is still open, takes advantage of the buffet already set out for the residents. Always hungry, he has a better appetite for the prescription food than the rest of the cats.

He has people, we keep telling him to go back over the fence to his own people but he likes it here. Spike was quite hesitant and head shy but has started jumping up into laps now and purrs contentedly. We think his little pink ears were sunburned for a while and he had a small tear on one ear tip which would explain his head-shyness. Over this past long weekend his people were gone and he spent the entire time hanging out. He sleeps on the lawn furniture and when the house is open, has established a few favorite sites inside where he stretches out and dozes. The residents seem to have grudgingly accepted this new addition though Meryl is striving to make sure that the part time resident gets that he is now at the bottom of the colony hierarchy. One of Spike's people leaned over the fence the other day to say “Can we have our cat back?” Spike decides where he goes, and comes over all his own. We've tried to tell the people that their cat really needs to be more of an indoor cat, that white cats are very susceptible to sun burn and should not be outside all the time and check with their vet about feline sunscreen and maybe he eats all the time because he might have worms (didn't see any but not all are visible) but no, Spike still spends all his time outside. Spike wants people and since his people aren't fulfilling his expectations, he has found new people. We're the cat people and somehow, lonely cats figure that out.

365 days of Baby

2010-05-26T15:19:00.001-07:00

Three hundred sixty five days and the six pound, nine ounce baby girl that had a fleeting smile on our first day is now one year old. She laughs and nearly everything. Flings anything in her hand to the floor to hear the noise impact creates and equally flings herself into my shoulder for a sudden hug. After learning how to climb up and down stairs she transferred that to climbing down from a lap to the floor. Bug doesn’t walk yet but it will happen any day now, and it has been any day now for a month. Her favorite toys are the dog’s rubber treat ball and the cat’s tweetie bird. The ball is apparently because it bounces when flung to the floor and the bird because it tweets on impact or when she shakes her hand. Sometimes when traversing the floor holding a toy in her hand slows her down so she puts it in her mouth instead. Walking is fun holding onto mama’s hands but too slow if she has somewhere to get to or something to go pick up and play with. She’s small, still wearing her 6 month old clothes and despite attempts to not gendercuff her choices, has a plethora of pink to choose from. Food is serious business. Pickles, the first solid food Bug tried are a continuing favorite. Baby mash and toddler smush are ignored. She likes food with a little substance that she can gnaw and pull apart. Ham is tasty. Hardboiled eggs alternate between yolk days and white days with the rejected flung to the floor. Graham crackers are a treat. The first birthday party included the first taste of cake with a vanilla cupcake and buttercream frosting. The cake was not as interesting as the fun of frosting. When she turns two she gets to try chocolate. The neighbors, a few friends and family attended the birthday girl with many wonderful books, a few electronic toys and some interesting play animals for gifts. She has been enjoying them all. Grandma’s gift of a toy car she isn’t quite tall enough yet to ride and touch both feet to the ground was the hands down favorite. Bug uses it to cruise around the living room, pushing from the rear or front. Only took a few days before she figured out that when the steering wheel moved the car would change direction. Playing with her half sister (2.5 months older) they both tossed the dog ball around to each other. Mom had put the chirping cat toy inside the dog ball and that added to the fun for the sibs. Bug responds to any music, or rhythmic sound she hears and some that only she can hear apparently, rocking herself back and forth. A pair of sunglasses and deep dark tan and she’s a tiny Stevie Wonder. She talks to herself and her taggy blankie, singing along with any music playing or just recalling what she’s heard earlier, in her own baby language. Naps usually come easily, about 2 – 3 hours after she wakes in the morning and again after waking from nap. She goes down on her belly with her legs tucked up under her and sometimes pulls her blankie close under her hand. She is content by herself when she wakes up and almost never cries at bedtime. She almost never cries at all. Only when she unexpectedly falls over and goes boom or gets any of the usual baby knockabouts, which so far have been rare. She uses the sign for ‘milk’ opening and closing her hand when she is hungry and makes loud verbal complaints when she can’t get a toy she wants but 99% of the time, this baby laughs, talks, and sings her way through the day. I’m grateful for every single day we have together.

Home

2010-05-05T22:02:00.001-07:00

Home. Home is the place where homemade bread burnt on the edges, warm and dripping with butter is good because of not in spite of the burnt corners. The bed might not be perfect but you know just the right way to lie across it and avoid the bad spot. The cat runs and hides but later won’t leave your side on the couch, purring for no particular reason other than being there. Being away from home brings the essence of home more sharply into focus once finally, at last, back home. Sitting on the swing in the back of the yard and noticing flowers in bloom, fruit starting on the trees, the tomatoes a foot taller than when last home and being enveloped in the sense of at home.

upstairs downstairs

2010-04-22T19:10:00.001-07:00

Stairs are now just another interesting adventure for Bug. Today Bug maneuvered up the stairs with glee and then figured out how to crawl back down. Each day brings another exciting new skill.

Butt

2010-04-09T00:15:00.001-07:00

Diaper rash so sucks.

Baby crying

2010-04-05T23:24:00.001-07:00

The worst feeling ever is when the baby cries and is in pain that can’t be resolved with a simple ‘shhhh’ or cuddle. I hold her close while she cries big blotchy tears and ask her what is wrong, knowing that she can’t tell me anything. Her cries are her only way to communicate and these cries are not like when she bumps her head climbing under the chair or is hungry but doesn’t want the bottle or plopped down hard because she hasn’t yet figured quite how to sit down. This cry is hard and long punctuated by halting breaths. Slowly her cries abate and all that remains is the sense of helplessness they created.

Baby Time

2010-03-29T23:17:00.000-07:00

Leave house this morning at 9:45 for the gym located 12 miles away. Baby is asleep within 5 minutes. Drive for an hour. Baby wakes up, am two cities away from the gym. Drive another 40 minutes. Arrive at the gym, it isnow noon and time to feed the awake baby. Get lunch, bring lunch back to gym, eat lunch, and finally check baby into gym child care at 1:10. Baby cries when I attempt to leave the room, takes another 20 minutes to get out and finally step into the locker room. Start workout. 30 minutes later called to child care for upset baby. An hour later, depart for second leg of workout as is finally baby happy. Check on baby after completing weights and baby is fine, so go to the pool for 40 minutes. The, finally at 4:20 go to pick up baby and she is napping. Wait till she wakes at about 5 and go home. 7 hours for 2 hours of workout.

Spring Garden

2010-03-28T21:45:00.001-07:00

Spring time and that means time to really get some dirt under the fingernails from working in the garden. Tore out two beds this week, prepped them with some organic fertilizer and compost added in, pulled the drip hose out and put in new seedlings and seeds then put the hose back in. On the day I started putting in the tomatoes for this season, the last tomato from last season was finally consumed. I was somewhat incredulous that putting green tomatoes into a box and kept cool in the shade back in October would result in tasty tomatoes all through the winter. But it did!

Last year the tomatoes were too close together, the bed became a thicket too thick to get all the tomatoes. This year, the tomato plants are spread out across two beds. Companioned with the tomatoes are peppers, lettuce, basil and marigolds. Supposedly, marigolds keep some insects from attacking the tomatoes. At the very least they look nice in the bed. So far in three beds planted this week five types of tomatoes, all heirlooms, three types of peppers, two types of cucumbers, bi-color corn and Hopi pink corn, sunflower, carrots, beets, and egg plant, and the marigolds. The other two beds have garlic and the last bit of winter spinach, heirloom purple broccoli, celery, and two kinds of onions. This means staggered planting which will support a staggered harvest as well.

When I was a kid, I planted green beans along the decorative wall in the front of our house. My parents always planted tomatoes and my mom raised orchids. For years I wanted a garden but didn’t live in places that allowed or had room and didn’t know about container gardening. I’m grateful that I live in my own home and it’s a place where I have space to garden and grow my own food and feed my family with food I know is safe and nutritious, food that I helped create with my own hands.

Baby Bug Learns

2010-03-23T06:59:00.001-07:00

Bug is now a ten month old baby. She had her most recent celebration of birth while on family vacation during a Disney Caribbean Cruise. Her engaging smile and laugh made her many friends among the cast members. Wherever we’d stroll across the decks of the Ship or at the many shipboard attractions or dining options, she was greeted by name and her absence always noted by the dining staff on the nights she was entertained in child care rather than brought to the dining room.

Watching baby learn and process information has become one of my favorite pastimes. On the Disney Magic, Bug was fascinated with the baby bubble pool where water spurted up from the ground at periodic intervals. This was a special pool where kids could play in the water and the only pool on the ship intended for those young ones still in diapers. Bug developed an uncanny perception for when the jets would erupt, learning to look away from peering down into a hole just before the water would erupt. She was much better at this than mom. Babies seem to be an instant source of joy for many. She learned how to say lalalalalala from one of our dinner companions and we could her practicing to herself for days after. Her fledging attempts at standing were challenged with the movement of the ship but soon she got pretty good at getting pulling herself up and keeping her balance although how to return sitting back down remains a mystery. She would announce her desire to stop standing very loudly or occasionally lose her grip and go boom.

Her last learning adventure occurred on the drive from the airport home where she was entertained with mom’s rolled tongue, a skill that is very important in life. Bug was very interested in trying to mimic this kinesthetic ability. She would reach her little fingers out to feel difference of shape and stick her own tongue out too. After a while, she discovered the muscles that affected her tongue but not yet the control to manage the movement. Her tongue would ripple front to back and side to side. She would slightly curl the edges and create a tiny depression in the center before it would flatten back down. We’d play other games and suddenly Bug would stick out her tongue with another attempt at rolling. Her little brain was clearly trying to process this new skill. Each successful near attempt was greeted with cheers and applause which brought baby smiles and laughter. The ability to roll one’s tongue is a very important grade school social skill. Here's hoping she has the gene and just needs to learn some muscular control of that tongue!

Iraq Photos on Exhibit

2010-03-10T16:05:00.000-08:00

Check out the 2nd Annual Shout! Art by Women Veterans. I'll have some photos on exhibit taken while I was deployed to Mosul, Iraq in 2005. SHOUT! Art by Women Veterans

I'll be taking a break for a couple weeks. Look for the next posting after March 24th.

Newborn to Nine Months

2010-03-07T08:32:00.001-08:00

Newborn to nine months, the days just flew past. Human development is slow compared to other animals but it sure feels fast to this mom. Already missing the tender bundle of baby sleeping softly, cradled against my shoulder. Or the soft, cashmere feel of her wrinkled skin covering a head that soon enough grows in its hair. Napping in mom’s arms is a rarity now. Only when Bug is really tired or doesn’t feel well will she fall asleep that way. Holding her close, listening to her breathe, smelling that faint baby scent as she turns and snuggles on her side into me creates a moment of joy. So many things need to get done while the baby naps, and all such thoughts are lost in the moment of holding this little one safe and warm. A moment where time ceases.

Struggle or Rescue?

2010-03-02T09:59:00.000-08:00

The Bug is at the nine month exploration phase. She hates to sit still, doesn’t want to be held and is a bullet train of crawling energy. Adventuring in the jungle of kitchen table and chair legs continuously intrigues. She gets about halfway through and finds herself stuck teeter-tottering half under and half out from under a chair. A wail of frustration often accompanies this predicament. The initial impulse is immediately reach out and pull her free from her entanglement. She’s not hurt, she’s not in pain, she is just stuck and mad about being stuck. Is rescue and solving her problem the best course of action? Takes care of the immediate issue, a crisis response to a small domestic hurdle but is that a sustainable habit for this little person to get used to experiencing? When she is mad and frustrated, someone will fix her problem for her? A different choice is move closer to her when she yells her discomfort at being stuck. Sit down near and talk with her. Model supportive emotions and gesture for her to come closer. “You can do it. This is hard. You’re almost there. Keep working at it. Nice job. Keep trying, you can get over that.” Reaching out and encouraging her, she laughs instead of cries. She resumes her struggle over the jungle of chair legs and finally gets her little self over the obstacle. She hits the floor a few times with her hand and then crawls over to mom who is reaching out to her. Grabbing hold of mom’s arm, Bug pulls herself to standing and leans into mom who gathers her up for a hug and kiss. “You did so well, you worked really hard at getting over that obstacle. Good job.” Then she wiggles out of the hug and is off, looking for a new adventure.

Cold Baby

2010-02-23T14:58:00.000-08:00

Steady rain makes for a grey end-of-winter day. Recently we discovered that the contractor and subcontractor that did repairs on the house post purchase did poor quality work on the HVAC system. Last winter the heat was turned off at night and used infrequently during the day. This winter was colder and there was an infant in the house. The baby’s room was noticeably colder than the rest of the house but during the day it seemed only a couple degrees off. Once a repair company was brought in we discovered the previous company and the general contractor who inspected their work failed to complete the duct work. The ducts leading to the baby’s room were not completed. Apparently they attempted to complete the work despite not having enough ducts so overstretched to the vent connections. Eventually, that shoddy solution to not long enough ducts ripped and failed. No heat was going to the baby’s room, none at all, nothing. No wonder when changed in the morning her feet and hands were purple with cold. She’s toasty warm now.

Baby Laugh

2010-02-19T05:41:00.000-08:00

Making the baby laugh is a highlight of my day.

Backyard swing

2010-02-17T18:38:00.001-08:00

The weather is finally warm again so took the Bug and we laid around on the back swing today. We’d not done that since the fall when the swing was the only place we could go where she’d be so entranced with the sky and leaves and cats that she’d forget about being cranky pants and eventually fall asleep for a nap. No nap needed today, Bug has found her napping grove with three naps today. Swinging with the clear blue sky above, we watched the oak leaves back and forth, listened to a woodpecker on the Lotus tree and watch Meryl the Feral hunt small creatures tunneling in the yard. Bug, who has recently discovered crawling and an associated tendency to refuse to be still was content for almost an hour to just watch the sky. An occasional “egh” would chirp out from her. Maybe she was calling to the woodpecker? Eventually, she rolled over and the tug of war began. Bug crawled along the side of the cushion, against my shoulder, intent upon checking out below the swing. My left arm was wrapped around her hips, anchoring her down. She inched herself just enough forward that her fingers curled over the lip of the cushion and she could look over the edge, but not so far her head was vulnerable as we continued to swing back and forth. This kept her occupied another half hour as the late afternoon sun made its way into the trees. Eventually, she rolled herself over and began opening and closing the fingers of her hand. Time to feed the Bug, who has started to use the only sign we’ve taught her.

San Francisco Writers Conference 2010

2010-02-11T22:35:00.000-08:00

This weekend is the San Francisco Writers Conference and that's where I'll be all weekend. On Sunday I'll be part of a panel discussing writers groups and will talk about how to effectively give feedback in a writers' group and on the page.

A great new novel by young adult author, Rosemary Graham

2010-02-04T17:31:00.000-08:00

Parental Nightmare

2010-02-04T13:46:00.000-08:00

Baby Bug is not happy playing with the various toys on the floor on her baby play mat. An hour after wake up at oh still dark thirty, Bug is cranky, not hungry, not interested in yesterday’s favorite toys, not wanting to be held, but don’t get more than a foot away. Plopped down on the couch, Bug is happy leaning against the back sitting up. Her little smiley face just beaming away at last. Doesn’t want her bottle, doesn’t want a toy, holds on to her toes. Intently watches mama tap away at the laptop on the coffee table. Pulls the toes of one foot up to her mouth and falls deeper against the couch. Pulls the other foot up at the same time, so has both feet up then drops both at the same time, thump into the couch.

And there she goes, tumbling forward right off the couch from her own momentum.
And yet another parental nightmare/baby first achieved – falling off the furniture.

Quick reflexes sparked by the movement results in Bug caught just as she almost but not quite touches ground. She is lifted up high back into worried mom’s arms. Bug cries sharp, long wails not ever heard before. Head works, hands and feet work, everything moves. No bump, no redness, no bleeding found. Snuffle, snuffle and a couple minutes later, all is fine. No tenderness response anywhere.

Didn’t break the baby.

Pets Prey

2010-01-30T15:45:00.001-08:00

Pets sometimes have a strong prey instinct. With dogs this is problematic because it invites chasing of small animals and children. This instinct is easily channeled into running with the favorite humans, chasing balls or flying discs, or frantic steeplechases around the perimeter of the dog park. If the “prey” is caught up to the result is generally a lot of bark, lick, and bouncing all around.

Cats are a different story. With cats, small animals are also an issue but the problem is a bit messier. Cats tend to eventually catch what they prey upon. For the second time in as many days, the carcass of a small creature has been found, cold upon the ground. Yesterday, Cali was outside the backdoor observed licking something below the level of the concrete step. Once shooed away, the two inch body of a grey rodent was found with the head separated from its body. Cali had been enjoying a snack. The cold pieces were quickly whisked to the green bin. Today, while playing with the Bug who has finally figured out how to actually move forward of her own locomotion, an unknown object was noticed under the living room window. Two objects, one about a foot away from the other. One was small and round, the other long and cylindrical. One was a head, twice the size of yesterday’s head. The other object was a back foot connected to the tail. The middle has not been found.

2010-01-30T15:25:00.000-08:00

Love and money - what a combination with potential for pitfall. Check out the guest posting I wrote now up on Elaine M.D.'s blog Commitment Advice.

Remembering a Good Dog: Happy Birthday Boo

2010-01-22T22:53:00.000-08:00

Today I recall Boo Bear’s birth in the dark early morning of a rainy San Francisco winter in 1990. Boo was one of only two males born from the encounter of a friend’s Border Collie/Lab mix and the neighbor’s Mastiff. Long before the sun was up that cold rainy morning, the phone woke me with an urgent call to assist a rugby player’s roommate. Seems her dog had a litter of puppies and when they thought she was done delivering, she was let out to pee only to have an unfortunate run in with an oncoming vehicle along Guerrero Street in the Mission. The dog died and two more pups were delivered on that dark, rainy street. My friend, a player for the Sonoma Women’s Rugby Club and all the roommates, called everyone they knew, to come help with the puppies. The women of the San Francisco Women’s Rugby Club (my team) along with the Sonoma players and a few non-ruggers took on the task of caring for the puppies. When born, a single pup would not even cover the palm of a hand, it was so small.

Using eye droppers and tiny tipped bottles, the puppies had to eat every few hours. Before eating, similar to what the mama dog would have done, each puppy had to have its bottom wiped with a cotton ball damp with mineral oil over and over to simulate the mama’s licking. This caused the puppies to pee or poop. After this was accomplished, they’d receive the bottle but they wouldn’t eat very much. Following the initial feeding, another “licking” session with cotton ball, and then a more intensive feeding session followed when the pups would receive the majority of their sustenance. The cycle took about 3 hours for a couple people to work their way through all twelve puppies. There were four feeding cycles in every 24 hour period.

The puppies made it through their first 24 hours thanks to a dozen or so women ruggers drawn from two competing clubs and forming one team of caregivers. The first night, a pet rat of one of the roommates at the apartment escaped its cage and attacked the puppies. The skirmish was disrupted and while several pups would have scared little heads, no lives were lost. Developing the system for keeping all the puppies warm took a little bit of invention and there was on incident where a puppy escaped its enclosure in the now aptly called dog room (formerly the living room) and was outside the range of the heating lamp’s rays and the warmth of its littermates. Discovered whimpering and shivering, it was safely returned to dog pile.

Some of the surrogate mamas had feelings and opinions about males and chose to devote the majority of their time caring for the ten female puppies. After a couple weeks, one of the Sonoma players and I noticed a distinct failure to thrive in the two males, one who had been the runt of the litter so was already at a disadvantage. We considered this misandry ill placed. From then on, the two boy pups received greater feeding, attention, affection, and play from the two of us as we hoped to counter the deficit we had noticed. The long days and nights of seemingly endless feeding shifts stretched into weeks and then a month almost two. All the pups were doing well, developing into their personalities and eating more and more. Someone wondered if they could swim and an experiment was deemed appropriate. The bath tub was filled up and the 12 were dropped into the water. Six sank, the others tried to swim.

After six weeks or so, the management of 12 hungry puppies and the need to keep them contained to one room became untenable. The litter was split in half. Six females were sent off to one of the caretaker’s place and the remaining four females and the two males stayed at their original home. They all reached weaning age and a surrogate mom adopted each puppy. My friend and I, well, we’d bonded early on with the two boys and I took the runt home. I wanted to name him Bear but she beat me to the name so my pup became Boo Bear.

Every now and then the dogs would run into each other in the dog parks and rugby pitches of the Bay Area but over time, I lost track of most of the litter. There was a story of one of the pups having to be given up and somehow a homeless guy got the dog and a few of the original rugby caretakers tried to find the guy on the street so they could buy the dog back but were unsuccessful. Time went by the little runt grew up and became the biggest of the litter topping 110 pounds for a while and averaging about 90 pounds.

Boo Bear enjoyed a long life, living until late September 2001. Towards the end he lost sight in one eye and began to have difficulty in his hips. He loved to run wild in open fields, chasing bugs and small animals but he never caught anything he chased. I watched him bound like an Antelope in the tall grass at Paynes Prairie Florida when he was chasing some small creatures. Harnessed, he once pulled almost 150 pounds of rock and despite his hefty size, loved to cuddle like a lap dog. Very smart, he was housebroken in three days and throughout his life, he learned any new command very quickly. Despite his Lab heritage, Boo was initially afraid of water. He absolutely refused to get his paws wet. One day when walking along trails in the woods near North Hampton, Massachusetts, he jumped up top of a slab of granite outcropping over a lake. Evil perhaps, but I pushed him off into the water. From then on, Boo went for any puddle, lake, stream, or pool of water he encountered. Boo loved to fetch and would play ball or Frisbee for hours until exhausted. A Frisbee swept by the wind into a creek once sunk, and Boo kept diving his head under water and swimming in a circle trying to get it off the bottom. I eventually had to go under water to drag it out for him. His favorite toys were a rugby ball he’d torn apart and Kongs that he destroyed with chewing. Introducing him to rugby balls was a problem for when attending a game; he wanted to play too and would dive onto a ball that crossed the touch line into the crowd. Occasionally he surprised a few ruggers also competing for the ball. Once when confronted by a spray sprinkler, the kind often seen at school yards that shuck, shuck, shuck the water out then whip back to the beginning of its rotation, Boo was compelled to guard everyone around and attacked the water spewing from the sprinkler. Barking and growling, he was soaked and continued fighting the water until the sprinkler cycle turned off, 45 minutes later. Surprisingly, for such a big guy, Boo was gentle and recognized creatures weaker and smaller than himself. His best buddy for a while was a little 15 pound dachshund. Boo would get down on his belly and crawl around on the grass when playing with her. When dogs approached him aggressively at the dog park, Boo would ignore them and turn and walk away, even when they growled or nipped at him until finally if they persisted, one great bark and snap in the air and that was it. Mostly though, he just tried to walk away. I’d never seen a dog respond like that before Boo.

On Boo’s last day we came downstairs to pee and for the first time he couldn’t stand up when he lifted his leg. Blind in one eye, the week earlier he’d bitten my hand when I startled him on his unseeing side. The first time he’d ever demonstrated unprovoked aggressiveness, the first time he'd bitten anyone. A few weeks before, the rambunctious rescue we’d adopted two years before had successfully growled Boo off from his own dinner, another first. Just after September 11, 2001, I’d been alerted to immediate call up in the Army Reserves. I knew Boo Bear wouldn’t make it while I was gone and with his blind induced crankiness and bite, he wasn’t eligible for fostering through any rescue agency. I’d cared for him since his birth, I didn’t want someone else to decide his death. That week, old friends had come to say goodbye, and Boo and I spent long afternoons at Point Isabel sniffing grass and rolling in the mud. When he fell into the flowers and long grass, unable to stand, he looked at me with such an expression of bewilderment and trust. I helped him up, we walked to the truck, and I lifted him into the back for the last time.

Boo Bear was not my first dog but he was my first dog as an adult. Holding him in the palm of my hand when he was born until I cradled all hundred pounds of him in my arms while the vet who had been one of those caring rugby players in the beginning eased him softly from this life; Boo Bear was a special dog. Happy Birthday Boo, you live on in my memory and my heart.

Rain

2010-01-22T14:17:00.001-08:00

Rain, rain, rain, lots of rain here in Hayward. Walking out to the garden each step squished even when carefully placed on usually firm clumps of greenery. The clay soil is completely saturated. A few waterless hours with a bit of sun peeking out from the clouds and now the canyon a block away is dark with cloud cover. The next iteration of storm is soon to break. Another big storm rolls in after the weekend. At the old house, by now south and west walls would be penetrated and the bedrooms and office would be soaked. The new house had its issues when bought but at least it appears to have a solid foundation and so far no water intrusion. On a hill with rock, shale and clay though is a little worrisome so purchasing flood insurance even though not on the flood plain seemed prudent. Just to be safe, the garage door and back doors have been sandbagged. Despite all this rain, the drought recovery is only halfway. This is an El Nino year and now that the rain has made its way in, if anything like the last El Nino in 1998, by the time Spring arrives the water table will be replenished and the drought past. Rain barrels are on their way just in case.

Garden Get Done List

2010-01-15T13:56:00.001-08:00

1. Take down tomatoes that have completely wilted brown even though a few hardy tomatoes are hanging on.
2. Amend soil with organic material in now vacant tomato bed; pick jalapenos in corner of bed.
3. Put down organic soil into the corn bed, ruck the plant debris under and cover with straw to over winter. Try and get this done before winter is done.
4. Trim slug eaten leaves from broccoli, weed, and add straw to bed.
5. Get organic soil for potato containers, prep potatoes, plant.
6. Clear corner in shed for mushroom box, get mushrooms started.
7. Weed dandelion patch, amend soil, prep for strawberries.
8. Ruck slope, throw down grass and clover seed, and cover with soil (note, get soil) stake with burlap cover to stave off erosion.
9. Mow grass.

Sleeping Baby

2010-01-11T18:47:00.000-08:00

Getting the bug to sleep is such a confounding process. She rubs her head, tugs her ears and pulls her hair all signals of a tired little baby. Nap and nighttime both have a routine of steps to bring her closer to sleep. During the day, one good hour to two hour nap is about all that can be expected. The world is a very exciting place and a nap means missing EVERYTHING! Today saw two naps, an hour in the morning and then an hour in the car driving home from the gym. She fell asleep about ten minute into the drive home. Instead of exiting the highway, we went from Castro Valley to Oakland on 580 then back up 13 and started on the way to Dublin again when she work up. Two hours later it was bed time. A story, a bottle and a sleepy little bug went down only to cry like the world was coming to its end five minutes later. A cuddle and lullaby and tucked back into the crib with Sophie the squeaky toy giraffe and monkey-moo (monkey with pacifier attached to it). A few pets of the head and bars of the special made up time for bed song and out the door. By the time I reached my office the video showed she was turned on her side and asleep. I really think the crying after the initial putting down is just a check that yes, indeed, my favorite people will come back to me and I’m not all alone. More often than not, it just takes that one check back in, that one more cuddle and soft singing voice of mama and she’s ready to roll over with monkey-moo and bahbahbahbahbahbah herself to sleep. Isn’t that what we all want when we’re in the dark, alone? A little reassurance that someone big and strong and dependable is out there ready to come help when we call?

Review: Helping Baby Sleep

2010-01-11T09:22:00.000-08:00

Nap and bed time are potential battlegrounds with babies. Parents have long been told to let the baby cry and she or he will then learn to self soothe. Anni Gethin and Beth Macgregor with Helping Baby Sleep: The Science and Practice of Gentle Nighttime Parenting argue against this practice. There are two main arguments for how to get baby to sleep – allow baby to cry or respond to baby’s crying. Helping Baby Sleep: The Science and Practice of Gentle Nighttime Parenting provides parents and caregivers sound scientific information regarding babies’ developmental needs, enabling parents to make decisions that incorporate the latest infant development research when trying to decide the best way to guide their child towards sleep.

Helping Baby Sleep is clearly not in favor of the more established theory of controlled crying and ‘sleep training’. The book’s first half is an explanation of controlled crying and the intent behind sleep training. The book explores the science that disputes sleep training effectiveness and introduces the reader to the theory of responsive parenting. The authors are adamant in their belief that sleep training is not effective. They put forth an argument that sleep training has lasting negative consequences for the child’s emotional and social development. They counter sleep training with controlled crying impacts the future adult the child will grow into. The theory behind Helping Baby Sleep is that the traditional sleep training with controlled crying results in direct and negative impact on the infant’s brain development. Bottom line – sleep training does not meet children’s emotional or neurological needs.

After refuting the theory of controlled crying and sleep training, the authors go on in the latter half of the book with practices and techniques to gently assist baby with sleep. There is discussion of common sleep problems and suggestions for how to cope with common issues. Throughout the book, small highlighted sidebars offer additional information on select issues or topics. These function as mini chapters within a chapter. Each is quite helpful and often deal with a question the reader may have while reading the book.

Anni Gethin and Beth Macgregor’s child development based approach effectively coaches caregivers not only how to help baby sleep, but how to positively impact the emotional and social development by ensuring their responses are consistent with baby’s neurological and emotional needs. If you need help immediately, skip through to the second part of the book for the practice of helping baby sleep. If you like to know the why and how, start from the beginning. Either way, Helping Baby Sleep: The Science and Practice of Gentle Nighttime Parenting is an excellent resource.

Lemon-Pumpkin Preserve

2010-01-10T21:00:00.000-08:00

The first attempt at pumpkin growing resulted in vines everywhere but hardly any actual harvestable pumpkins. This was due to leaf mildew as the vines did not receive enough sun come the fall. Five or so small pumpkins were salvaged. Two didn’t fully ripen and went to the green bin. Three are on the back porch with the tomato box. One small pumpkin was used for a first attempt at putting up preserves.

A couple Meyer lemons from the backyard with one small sugar pumpkin resulted in 24 ounces of preserve, canned into two jars. The preserve is a sunburst orange color with a sweet initial taste followed by vanilla sour. Excellent on toast, warm over ice-cream or could be used as sweet chutney.

Recipe follows:

Lemon-Pumpkin Preserve

1 small sugar pumpkin peeled and cut into small squares (about 4 cups). Discard or roast seeds separately.

2 cups sugar

1 cup cold water

2 Meyer Lemons sliced thin, seeds removed

1 snip from tip of a vanilla bean

Mix all ingredients except vanilla and let stand in a nonreactive bowl in the refrigerator overnight. Cook until fluid is clear and pumpkin is soft, stirring occasionally. Smash larger chunks. Once mixture comes to a rolling boil, reduce heat and add vanilla snip. Gently boil ten minutes. Pack into hot jars and process 15 minutes in boiling water bath. Then store in the refrigerator, freezer or cold storage root cellar.

The end result was sampled by neighbors who happily agreed to sign on as tasters for future endeavors.

Spring Frost

2010-01-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

Barely into January and already plans for the spring garden are percolating. Potatoes are a favorite, and very easy to grow. While surfing various garden supply sites I found Ronniger’s Potato Farm with dozens and dozens of varieties to choose from. After placing an order for delivery at the end of January, the single line of caution on the web site stood out, “…plant two weeks before your last spring frost.” Last spring frost and I want to plant at the end of the month, in the middle of winter. The Victory Seek Company web site has a frost chart and while scanning the chart I was dismayed at the dates for California. Most were in late February, on into March, April, and May. A few July dates (those in the mountains I assumed). Suddenly, two little “1s” stood out. San Francisco: January 24. Berkeley even better: January 19^th. San Jose’s last frost date is projected as February 19^th. Where will Hayward fall? If January, the taters will go in late. If February, just in time.

New Year's

2009-12-31T21:45:00.000-08:00

Today is New Year’s Eve and the end of the decade. The world did not implode with its entrance into the 21^st century but the decade sure wasn’t an easy one. I’ve moved cross country twice. I served three active duty tours including deployment to a combat zone. Mourned the death of a comrade and anxiously waited for more than a few friends and colleagues to return home from war. Said goodbye to two well loved dogs, one I’d cared for from birth, the other rescued from the gutter. Contributed as part of a team and won a national championship. Rescued a few dozen ferals from cyclic reproduction and found homes for a half dozen abandoned cats and three feral litters. Took hold of the American Dream and became a home owner. Lost touch with friends. Found my long ago best friend from grade school. Mourned the passing of my father, and was grateful for the repair of our decade’s long estrangement in his final years. Completed graduate school and began the journey towards authorship. Found my Beloved. Held a baby moments after birth with all the dread and joy combined of parenthood. Tried to make the world a safer place, knew I made a difference in the undertaking. Came to understand that what is done at home creates the foundation for peace everywhere. I end these past ten years happy and content, sheltered, warm, well fed, loved. Live long and prosper. A salam alechem.

Focus and Discipline

2009-12-28T15:39:00.001-08:00

Focus and discipline. One would think after thirty years of military service, or eighteen years of rugby including five years on an elite national champion team, focus and discipline would not be an issue. Such attributes might even have become second nature. What brought focus and discipline all the more present on the personal radar for getting stuff done was adding an infant to the family. For the last seven months, baby has demanded all the attention. Work projects remain ideas waiting development. Research waits. Class work is done last minute. Professional email demands are met late at night or early in the morning. Creative time is non-existent. Until now. The baby finally naps for an hour to two hours at a time. These blocks of time are a precious entry into potential creative time. In order to capitalize on these windows of freedom for thinking about more than diapers, strained peas, bottles and the gazillion repetition of mahmahmahmahmahmah sound; focus and discipline are required. Generally, there is one good 90 to 120 minute nap a day and on good days, two such blocks. The opportunity is there, play World of Warcraft, or work on that book proposal. Surf the net, or respond to office emails. Catch up on Facebook, or pound out a new flash fiction piece, blog entry or revision of an essay. The choice is there, all one needs is a little focus and discipline.

The Christmas Yearned For

2009-12-25T16:33:00.000-08:00

I was raised with Christmas as a family holiday. Christmas had no religious meaning but it was full of tradition and heritage. Special bread only prepared on Christmas morning, Canadian bacon only eaten for Christmas breakfast. Each year my mother gave my sister and me a tree ornament, so we’d have some of our own when we grew up. The Alpine village carefully positioned around the tree base. Our hand-made ornaments mixed with those handed down across generations of Durfees. We didn’t have a star on top but a tiny nest with a red cardinal, my mother's favorite bird. A treasured ornament was a Santa Clause made from cardboard and colored pen. We opened one present on Christmas Eve and each person had a Christmas card hidden in the tree on Christmas morning. Our stockings were stuffed and we were allowed to open what was hidden inside until mom and dad finally woke in the morning. Every year, a new toothbrush, an orange, a tin of hard candy, new underwear and socks rolled into balls and wrapped tight, pencils, an eraser resembling an animal, some small books, puzzles and tiny mechanical toys. There were never many presents, not nearly as many as the other kids in the neighborhood but the gifts were usually carefully chosen with thought towards our unique personalities. Usually there was only one BIG gift that my sister and I would share. One year it was a tiny ten inch black and white television. Christmas dinner was special; we’d have ham and Waldorf salad, homemade yeast breads, and fresh made apple and mincemeat pies. We’d take turns having dinner at home or at my dad’s sister’s home with her family and I’d wrestle with my cousins, three boys, for hours. Christmas is about family. Ten years ago I converted to Judaism after a long journey that began with a non-religious upbringing, fundamental Christianity in high school and early college, questioning the infallibility of the church, spiritual journeying from lack of belief to some to a return to faith and the eventual homecoming of Judaism. So even though I’m well established in my Jewish identity, I still want Christmas.

Yet, this Christmas, as most of my adult Christmases, didn’t exactly happen in keeping with the memory. The Christmas tree never got up. A domino effect from not finding the box with Christmas stuff that is packed in the garage or the storage unit or the closet where stuff not yet unpacked from the great move from renter to home owner live. No Christmas dinner with family, for no family live close by. Considerations of H1N1 exposure on a flight mid-way across the country with a new baby ruled out going to the family but that wouldn’t be the Christmas I dream of having either. Christmas in the new family home, with the growing family, establishing our own traditions while honoring those we’ve inherited. That’s the Christmas I yearn for when I consider the holiday. The baby at only six months doesn’t know the difference this year. She loved playing with presents if only for the crinkly paper she endeavored to eat. I want her to grow up with fond memories of a holiday that is the embodiment of family. That produces the same calling to create and recreate a heritage. Building a heritage is hard work though. There are many aspects of my childhood I don’t want recreated but Christmas is one I do. The family strength of Christmas is one I want passed on. Here then is another lesson in parenting. Positive childhood memories take effort in the here and now and won’t be appreciated or understood until long after the experience. Or even, long after I’m gone, as my parents are gone but now I more fully appreciate what they attempted to give their children each holiday.

Green Tomato Pickles part two

2009-12-22T19:14:00.001-08:00

Half the harvested green tomatoes are in a box, covered in newspaper on the back porch. The other half were put up as green tomato pickles. Pickling lime makes these pickles very firm. They are semi-sweet with a nice tartness on the tongue. These homemade pickles are great with BBQ or darker meats. Canning the end of season green tomatoes from the garden will spread the harvest to the dark winter months with a tangy taste of summer.

4 pounds by weight green tomatoes.
1/2 Cup pickling lime
4 quarts water
2 quarts cider vinegar
1 1/2 Cup packed light brown sugar
1 1/2 Cup granulated sugar
3 tablespoons pickling salt
2-3 teaspoons whole yellow mustard seeds
1 teaspoon whole allspice berries
1 teaspoon celery seed
1 teaspoon whole pepper corns
One 1-inch cinnamon stick, broken
1 large onion sliced into rounds (about 2 cups)

Starting with just over 4 pounds by weight, the first step was slicing them up into 1/4 inch slices, discarding the tip and end. Place in a bowl and cover with the pickling lime and water solution. Dissolve the lime into the water as much as possible. Soak for 12 to 24 hours. There will be three rotations of drain, rinse and soak again. After the first long soak of 12 to 24 hours, drain, and rinse well. There will be a white powdery substance, that's the lime, visible. Make sure to rinse all of the lime away. Cover again with cold water and soak at least an hour. Drain, rinse, and soak in cold water another two times for a total of three rinses after three cold water soakings.

Combine the vinegar, sugars, salt, pepper, mustard, and celery seed in a large, nonreactive pot. Place the other spices in a cloth spice bag or use a piece of cheesecloth tied up and add to the pot. Bring to a full boil. Stir to dissolve the sugars and salt. Once the water is at a rolling boil, add the tomatoes and onions. Return to full boil. Reduce heat for fifteen minutes at a simmer. Still occasionally and submerge the vegetables under the liquid.

After removing the spice bag, ladle vegetables into warm pint mason jars and cover with the pickling liquid. Close with the lid and screw band and process jars for ten minutes in a boiling water bath. Ensure at least a half inch to inch of water over the top of the jars.

After ten minutes remove, place on a rack on the counter and do not disturb over night. Next day check the lids, if no movement when you press firmly down in the center, then there is a good vacuum. Store the jars in a cool, dry, dark place for at least three weeks. Pickles are ready to eat now. They'll just taste better after a few weeks. Refrigerate after opening.

BALSAMIC PICKLED FIGS

2009-12-19T09:49:00.000-08:00

This morning harvested the lone figs on the leafless fig tree in the front yard. Ripe and semi-ripe, once off the tree figs will not continue to ripen. The internet is a wonderful resource which revealed a number of pickled fig recipes. Interestingly, many different sites repeated the same, exactly the same including spelling errors, recipe. Balsamic Pickled Figs appeared original so check another day to find out how they turn out. Taken from Nina Corbett's put up or shut up ! blog.

Green Tomato Pickles - the Search for Lime

2009-12-18T19:21:00.000-08:00

There were an equal number of green tomatoes to ripening tomatoes after harvesting the holdouts on the spring planted vines. Half the green tomatoes were placed between newspaper in a closed but not sealed cardboard box along with half the ripening tomatoes and stored on the back porch. The very unripe are separated from the ripening by several layers of newspaper. In the shade throughout the day and exposed to the cold winter temperatures while kept in darkness thanks to the box, garden tomatoes will be enjoyed well into January. The remaining ripening orange and red tomatoes are in a bowl and finishing up on the kitchen window shelf. Within reach for an almost fresh off the vine easy pickings snack. The remaining green tomatoes were made into Limed Green Tomato Pickles.

Adapting (meaning some ingredient and process changes – for actual recipe see page 127 of the book) a recipe from Linda Ziedrich’s The Joy of Pickling. This was a first attempt at hot bath canning. The recipe calls for pickling lime, which is Calcium Hydroxide. There are several types of lime, only one of which is considered food grade. Using non food grade or using a lime that is not Calcium Hydroxide is
dangerous. More info on lime.

Calcium Hydroxide is not an easy ingredient to find. When asking at the local big chain grocery store the 20 something clerk had never heard of pickling lime. She then asked the 40 something grocery florist clerk who walked off to look for an answer muttering “Mom never used lime, she used Alum.” Alum is a F.D. A. approved food additive that is a toxic chemical in quantities of an ounce or more. Both pickling lime and pickling alum are discouraged from use now. Additional information on crisp pickling options.

After checking for lime at Safeway, Luckys, Wal-Mart, and OSH; all stores that stocked some canning supplies, none was found. An internet search produced the nugget that pickling lime is also used in Mexican and Asian cooking. Finally at the third Mexican market small 3 oz packets of lime were found. Lime can be ordered from internet vendors but the shipping cost was triple the actual product cost. When first looking at the recipe for Limed Green Tomato Pickle, citrus lime was what came to mind and by the time the recipe was actually read fully, the process was in motion. Just goes to show, really read through a recipe fully when attempting something not done before. More to follow at next posting.

Dogs and Babies

2009-12-16T16:27:00.001-08:00

Dog toys are typically hard plastic or rubber. They often have a squeaky inside, and are designed for constant submersion in slobber, or tricky open faced balls with bells or smaller items bouncing around inside. Have you ever noticed baby toys are very similar to dog toys? This just reinforces my long held theory that having a dog is an excellent way to train up and prepare for a baby.

Dogs whine when they don’t get attention. Babies cry. Dogs will eat anything they can get their jaws around. Babies put everything into their mouths. Dogs slobber. Babies really slobber. Sit down and dogs want to sit on you. Babies are happiest when atop you. Dogs get all excited when they see you, even if you just came back from a different room in the house. Babies do that kick feet bouncy arms whole body grin when you come back into view. Dogs and babies – they sometimes make you laugh until you cry but you always love them.

Review: Julie Andrews' Collection of Poems, Songs, and Lullabies

2009-12-14T21:49:00.000-08:00

Julie Andrews is the author of a number of children’s books. Her most recent book is titled Julie Andrews’ Collection of Poems, Songs, and Lullabies. Published by Little, Brown and Company, this is a splendid collection. The book is divided into nine themed sections with titles such as Accentuate the Positive, Growing Up, and Talk to the Animals. Within each section are works by well known and little known authors including Nikki Grimes, A.A. Milne, Shel Silverstein, Langston Hughes, and Emily Dickinson. Poems written by Julie Andrews and close family members are a delightful addition. Julie Andrews introduces each section with a glimpse into her family memories, providing context for the choices within. A compact disc is also included. Julie Andrews reads a small selection from the book concluding with a poem that is the favorite of both Julie and her daughter Emma Walton Hamilton, the co-author of the Julie Andrews’ Collection of Poems, Songs, and Lullabies. The book is magnificently illustrated by James McMullan. This is a wonderful anthology filled with poetry in verse, perhaps not as prevalent as it once was in literary circles. Those that grew up with the melodic cadence of rhyme and rhythm will enjoy reacquainting themselves with such again. Children will enjoy the auditory play the words produce. This is an excellent collection, destined to become a much loved favorite.

December Tomatoes

2009-12-07T10:50:00.000-08:00

Rain this week with freezing temperatures forecasted. Today there is even snow in parts of the Bay Area. Apparently snowmen have invaded the Saint Mary’s College of California campus. With the freezing temperatures arriving, tomatoes planted as part of last spring’s garden are finally on their last vine. Amazingly, three varieties have continued producing despite the increasingly colder evenings and fog shrouding days in the Hayward Hills. We’ve barely had five hours of daily sunlight on the garden since October.

In April, I planted Early Girls, Lemon Boy and San Francisco Fog .

Usually I take the last harvest in September. When I went to ready the fall planting, the plants were still covered in fruit. I did pull two cherry varieties, including one vine that had topped seven feet. This apparently encouraged significant growth for the other three that now had greater sun access with the towering seven foot tall and three foot wide teardrop vine removed. A month ago I harvested what I thought were the last of the tomatoes. The vines remained waiting for when I would have a weekend free to clean up the bed and prepare it for the winter. Then I noticed that the tomatoes kept getting bigger. They kept getting riper. I figured they’d probably not taste too good, given how cold at night it was and that’s like putting them in the fridge – makes for mealy tasting tomatoes. Made a salad one night and pulled a few off the vine – amazing taste of summer in the middle of fall! I wondered how long they’d keep producing so I left Early Girl, Lemon Boy and San Francisco Fog alone. Now it’s the second week of December and because the temp is forecasted in the 20s this week, I finally harvested what was left on the vines. Twenty or so pounds of tomatoes in various degrees of ripeness. Tomatoes will ripen off the vine so I can put these in the kitchen window sill and we’ll be eating summer’s fresh tomatoes for New Year’s! Now I just need to find a tasty pickling recipe for tomatoes. I hear the Russians have great ones so maybe I can track down a good Russian cook book. For additional information about tomatoes, check out: Growing Tomatoes in the Home Garden or Home Grown Tomatoes.

Chronic State of Fear

2009-12-03T22:31:00.000-08:00

When I was a child, there was a fifteen meter wall the area kids would climb atop by scrambling up the Banyan tree besides the brick and concrete. From a branch above the wall, an old fire hose was tied with a knot and loop at the end of the hose. I’d put a foot into the loop and jump off the wall, swinging down and away, twisting and turning. The pendulum arc would return to the wall and holding tight, I’d squat down, extending my arms out creating an almost jackknife so my feet would hit the wall first. Knees bent, I’d push off again hard as I could to swing back out, back and forth, until the energy dissipated and then removing my foot from the loop, let go and drop six feet or so to the sandy ground. Exciting but not frightening.

Once I was in a car accident, driving from Jacksonville, Florida to Miami. Just a half hour from home, tired, I lost control of the car, I overcorrected and slammed into a concrete jersey barrier in the center of the freeway. The estimated speed was well over a hundred miles per hour according to the responding police. I recall looking at the wall and thinking I was about to die. I wasn’t afraid.

I went to war twice and fear became my friend. I learned to keep it close and created a home for it in a crevice of my awareness. I didn’t think about it much, fear was just something there to remind me to pay attention. Fear didn’t bother me much.

Tonight I’m in Phoenix, Arizona. My six month old daughter is at home and I’m afraid in a way I’ve never know before. I’m afraid that the cold she has will worsen to something where she can’t breathe and she won’t wake up in the morning. I’m afraid every moment that I’m away from her that something will keep me from returning to her or something will happen to her before I get home. When I’m home, and she sleeps, I’m afraid. When I’m driving and she is behind me in the car seat and falls asleep and I can’t see or hear her, I’m afraid. I can manage the fear. I can remember how to acknowledge it and guide it to its own place in my consciousness but I can’t shake the constant feeling of impending disaster. The fear I have over this tiny life that is mine to protect. This is being a parent, a chronic state of fear.

Email

2009-12-01T20:51:00.000-08:00

Remember when email was not integral to daily life? When it was easy to sort the junk from the actually interesting, commercial from the personal? Maybe you don’t remember, maybe email every day demanding your attention is all you’ve ever known. Recently my main email program was offline for a few weeks. During that time I was unable to access my personal email, an address I’ve had for well over ten years now. When I finally got back on line, got the email program back up and running (it was a hardware issue not software issue) and finally downloaded what was waiting in the inbox – 3749 messages. Maybe a hundred will be pertinent, interesting and important to my daily life. I could delete them all yet feel strangely obligated to at least review the subject line or sender ID of the whole mess of messages. Clearly I’m conditioned to technology’s demands.

Icebox Pickles with Carrot and Dill

2009-11-29T15:21:00.001-08:00

The first attempt at pickling has produced outstanding results. Each bite creates a plethora of sensation on the tongue. First a satisfying crunch fading to the soft white center. Sweetness rollicks with the sharp tang from the vinegar. Subtle carrot and dill accent the homegrown cucumber bathed in clear sweetly sharp acidic syrup. Slowly savoring one pickle at a time, the mouth salivates in anticipation of the next.

Eight cucumbers from the garden, after discarding one that was drying in the center, gave roughly five cups of sliced cucumber. This was an easy and simple recipe for a first attempt that resulted in three pints of pickles put up in the freezer and a half pint in the fridge. That half pint didn?t last long either.

2 pounds pickling cucumbers (about 6 cups)
2 to 3 tablespoons pickling salt
1 large or several small carrots, grated (between 1/2 to 1 cup depending on taste for carrot)
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 1/2 cups cider vinegar
2 teaspoons or no more than 1 tablespoon freshly chopped dill

Wash cucumbers well. Cut off the blossom end plus about an inch then slice 1/8th inch thick. Toss well with two - three tablespoons of pickling salt, cover with a clean dish towel, then let set on the kitchen counter in a cool spot two to three hours. In case you might consider munching on a salted slice, just trust me, don?t.

After standing for a few hours, drain. In a separate bowl, mix one half to one cup of grated carrot (more if you like carrot, less if not so much), one and half cups sugar, one and half cups cider vinegar and a couple teaspoons or one tablespoon of fresh chopped dill. Stir until sugar has dissolved fully. Pour over cucumbers and mix well, making sure all slices are coated. Refrigerate eight to ten hours, or overnight.

Using tongs place cucumbers into freezable food grade plastic containers or freezer bags. (Supposedly you can also use wide-mouth canning jars.) Ladle in enough liquid to cover cucumbers. Allow one inch headspace for expansion and place into the freezer. When hankering for your homemade pickles, take out of the freezer and thaw overnight in the refrigerator. For a faster defrost, place the sealed container in a bowl of cold water and run a stream of cold water continuously until contents are defrosted. Never let food defrost out of the refrigerator without a running water cold bath.

If when thawed there is a bad smell, cloudiness in the liquid, bubbles or when you eat the pickles there is a sensation of carbonation, toss the batch. Something went wrong and they are not safe to eat. For additional information on how to safely home can and pickle, check out Putting Food By, by Janet Greene, Ruth Hertzberg, and Beatrice Vaughan. (Go with the latest edition because well, things change and what was thought safe once may not be considered safe now.)

Homemade icebox pickles - make the most of your garden harvest. Enjoy.

Wood Chip

2009-11-28T21:17:00.001-08:00

The air is crisp, bright with the blue sky sharply contrasted by the yellowed Poplar leaves that linger on the trees still. This afternoon the Bug and I sat watching the wind toss leaves from the trees across the yard, dancing in small swirls against the concrete grey steps into the kitchen. The dog ran wild from one end of the yard to the other then dug into the wood chips until just the right three inch slug of bark was found. Ignoring the cow femur in the grass, the dog crunched down upon the wood, slivers caught in thick saliva hanging thick from the side of her Mastiff/Lab jaw. Thicker than gravity's pull, the spit held hanging off her jaw, wood slivers encased in slime. Bug found this exceedingly funny.

Bug humor

2009-11-27T02:57:00.000-08:00

What does a baby find funny? Apparently, incongruent behaviors. The Bug laughs when mom pants like the dog, when a face coming down to kiss growls and gobbles baby belly. Bug belly laughs also come when wild dog comes out to play and charges around the yard, to and fro, with a quick play bow in front of baby before galloping away instead of the usual lying around sleeping. Discovering what will make the baby laugh, and not just little laughs but rolling laughter that continues on and on, now that is fun.

Putting up

2009-11-26T21:06:00.000-08:00

The first attempt at a winter garden grows slowly. Tomatoes from the spring garden continue to ripen while the vines wither in the cool evening temperatures. Almost December but no freeze yet so I’m inclined to see how long they will keep producing. Alternately, could look for a green tomato recipe and put up what remains on the vine. I recall my mother making strawberry jam when we’d visit upstate New York where she grew up and my grandmother’s root cellar with shelves full of tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, pears, apples and more. Growing up in Florida with nearly year round access to fresh produce, mom didn’t continue to can and never passed on the how and why of proper canning. Now I’m into my fourth or fifth season of urban farming and I suppose, the natural progression is saving the excess for beyond the growing season. I’ve got some books, acquired supplies, and am hunting down a local class or workshop. Hopefully, I won’t poison the family.