It's September and I've already had to bust out a sweater a few times while driving in the early morning hours. While I am about to be excited about fall fashion, crafts and bonfires...I'm not quite there yet. I am still in denial that summer is winding down because I feel I have not had my fill of fun in the sun yet. It began when I noticed that it was dark by 8:30, not 9:15 like it is in the middle of June. Doug no longer insists on constant air conditioning and the best thing about that is listening to the summer sounds in my quite little Iowa City bungalow by the river. There is little traffic, so the only noises are a din of crickets, frogs. owls and bats. I thought I just heard something hit the drainpipe outside my window. It's either a zombie or a raccoon. So, I sit and enjoy it while I can. It will soon be to chilly to sit barefoot in a tanktop with my bedroom window wide open. Either that, or the zombie will get me.
August was kinda rough for those in my little world, but now that September has snuck up on us, it's time to rehash the good parts of the summer. I have decided to leave the summer behind with gratitude for the great things that happened that I will talk about when I am old. I am going to go backwards until I get too tired to continue. I'll follow with July's list another night as my eyelids are growing heavy already.
WILLIAM ELLIOTT WHITMORE @ the VAUDEVILLE MEWS IN DES MOINES --------------------------------------- Doug, myself and most of our close friends are live music junkies. We watch for shows within a reasonable (?) driving distance, pile in the car and go. The most recent trip to see WEW was not one of the long-night, long-hauls since we were fortunate to crash with good friends. Thanks to the U family. You guys are great friends. If only they could have come to the show. The Vaudeville Mews is small, but great. I love that the ceiling in the front half of the bar is low and then it opens up to the high-ceiling stage area. It was like passing through a tunnel into a cave. By the time Will came on stage, the house was packed. He got loud as he stomped his rhythms on the floor and the feet of the crowd echoed back. He talked to people in the crowd he knew, since he is from the Iowa City area a couple hours away, that was many people. He noticed on of his friends walking past the stage on the way to the bathroom and shouted out a hello. He was charming, and funny, and relevant as he told stories between belting lyrics glorifying the great state of Iowa. Though I am not an Iowa native, I felt some significant Iowa pride at that show. He played for almost two hours as he threw back drinks handed to him from the front rows. I, being very short, couldn't see a thin from where my super-tall friends were standing, so I snuck up to the back corner of the stage where I could see everything...well, except his face. Sure beats looking at the back of the heads of the audience.
I took a few videos, but they are over ten minutes long and youtube won't accept them. Where do I go to share these great vids?
Later that night, Doug, Scott and I went to the Hessen Haus (hessenhaus.com) where they each drank a litre of beer from giant glass steins. They had no trouble. I barely finished my 2 Cokes.
BABY'S SECOND IOWA STATE FAIR (Myself AND Katie!) ----------------------------------------------
Ah, my second annual (and consecutive) trip to the Iowa State Fair in Des Moines. The best part was watching an almost-two Katie see everything - really see everything - for the first time. Last year she couldn't even walk. This time she wouldn't take no for an answer.
There are few joys greater than watching this beautiful little girl moo at the giant cows.
In addition to the traditional butter cow, there was also a butter sculpture of the moon landing and a television to watch it on. The class encasing it was covered with the smudgy fingerprints of a million kids, so these shots are iffy.
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I prefer to photograph Doug when he has no idea I am watching.
...but not always.
This little guy was really cute....for a pig.
....and just to prove I was there.......lol. Here I am being pushy with Katie.
VINTAGE FRIENDS *************
Emily, threw a very charming vintage garden party, complete with a gorgeous, healthy feast of goodies prepared with the help of her very hip mom. (Any lady that listens to Tom Waits is all right in my book.)While I played my all-to-typical role as wallflower among some unfamiliar faces, I had a lovely time. And who doesn't love an excuse to dress up. Here are some shots from the event. *********************
Vintage vin⋅tage/ [vin-tij] noun, adjective, verb, -taged, -tag⋅ing. adj. 1. being the best of its kind.
DANIEL JOHNSTON @ THE SLOWDOWN IN OMAHA ------------------------ Okay, this was one of those long-distance, long-haul trips. Doug drove the way to Omaha with me, Scott and Shawn in tow, which took about four hours. After the show I was the sober driver back...four hours. We left at 5pm and rolled in after 4am. The show was well worth the effort.
Many people recognize Daniel Johnston's name from a popular documentary about his life called The Devil and Daniel Johnston. This trailer is for your viewing convenience. I urge you to find out who he is and find his music. It is both rudimentary and beautifully complex.
He played for about an hour, first alone with his guitar, then with an accompanying guitarist, and finally, with a band backing him up. He brought out with him four bottles of Mt. Dew and a three-ring binder with all his lyrics in sheet protectors. He was genuine in his performance, and did wonderfully, with the audience gently encouraging him on. It was well worth the eight hour drive to see a musical legend in all his vulnerable might.
MY OTHER PASSION, Photography. WILBUR'S PHOTO SESSION ------------------------
This was my first taste at pet photography (besides the masses of shots of my own pets) and it made me want to do other people's pet portraits. Anyone interested in commissioning me to make your furry or feathered friend look great in a frame?
Here are my favorites. **********************
HONORABLE MENTIONS....while I am remembering them........ ---------------------------------------------------------
TOGA PARTY. I did not sport a toga, but guess who did...
Hopefully this posting won't get me in trouble. Let's see how long before my toga man reads this.
Though, in all fairness, he didn't give in right away. I wish I had not been holding a cig and an alcoholic beverage. Oh, what kind of role model will I be now?
I'll close with the joy of my toddler photo shoot with Katie. These are some of my favorites shots of Katie so far.
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I think I got (un)intentionally smacked right after this. *sigh* kids. *********************
She likes to feed Chico one morsel at a time, with a giggle in between.
A pretty good month to remember. Stay tuned for July. I've got to go to bed. p.s forgive my mistakes; I am too tired to proofread. ha
I was having a pretty good Sunday, complete with a nice harvest of tomatoes and peppers in tow. I had a dish with about 50 cherry and grape tomatoes, 2 jalapenos, 2 serranos and 4 habaneros (which I actually picked too early...they're not orange yet.) Anyways, I was looking at this bowl of veggies and all I could see was salsa.
I tossed the tomatoes in the food processor to be diced, cut some corn off the cob from the previous night's dinner-for-one, and moved onto the peppers. I halved two jalepenos and two serranos. I took one of the halves into my hand, and began seeding it over the trash can by running my thumb under the seeds.
What happened next happened in a fury, so let's see if I can keep it straight... As I was watching the seeds fall into the trash, it happened, almost in slow motion; two beads of juice shot up and nailed me directly in both eyes. Before my brain could form the thought that this was very, very not good, the fire engulfed my face. In the next few seconds, moments, what felt like days, I began splashing water into my face from the kitchen sink, uttering a series of pained curse words, my thoughts racing over what to do to make it stop.
I ripped the dishtowel from the pocket it was tucked into, soaked it with water and began to run to the bathroom. (Mind you, this running includes stumbling blind, tripping over 2 cats and a dog who want to know what's wrong, cursing, and an intense burning, scalding sensation beneath my eyelids.)I would uncover and attempt to open my eyes every few feet as i ran the 15 feet to the bathroom, each time, I'd see a blurred view of the next few feet before howling again and shoving the wet towel into my eyes.
Once in the bathroom, I stuck my face under the pouring faucet of the tub, trying to blast out the irritant, but instead, i felt the burning spreading to my eyelids, the skin under my eyes and even my forehead! My thoughts screamed, "Doug! I'll call Doug, but oh sh**, I have no idea where my phone is and i am blind!" So I make the same flailing, fumbling, moaning journey back to the kitchen, stepping on a cat, and nearly falling on my burning face....feeling around for my phone. "Oh, God, save me, I am going to be blind and buried in a mess!"
I call Doug, who answers after the 5 thousandth ring, or the third, but who can tell when your eyes are melting? "I need your help....i shot myself in the eyes with jalepeno juice and now i am dying"....or something to the effect. I went on, panicked, "I need help, look up what to do....." I hear pity in his laughter, but no mind now, I'll deal with him later.
In the eternity it took for him to call back (again, likely less than a minute), I remembered that my dad always told us kids to eat bread when our mouths were on fire from his cooking. So I fumbled towards the white bread I had been saving for my ducks (a whole other story) and smashed two full slices of white bread against my closed, trembling eyelids. God bless my dad, because this actually brought me some relief almost instantly. As I was making this discovery, Doug called back and told me to get some milk to neutralize the burning. By then I was giving myself a Wonderbread facial, and actually got to the point of opening my eyes without wishing them removed. I babbled at him for a minute, and then went back to absorbing my pain with the slices of now-squished bread. All this had occured in what felt like 10 minutes, but it was more like 5 in real, non-pain time.
The animals sat around me in amazed horror. I can only imagine what two cats and a Boston terrier might've thought about my little freak out. By the time I was actually able to look in the mirror, I saw that my eyes and the skin around them were a hot pink, a little swollen, definately traumatized, with breadcrumbs speckling the area. It wasn't until that moment, when I knew I hadn't fried my eyeballs, that I could laugh about it. I was reluctant to finish making the salsa, but I did what any grown woman would do....I put on sunglasses while I finished chopping the peppers.
You know something, that's damn good salsa. Just learn from my mistakes, kids.
My grandparents live in the West Chicago suburbs and will drive to Iowa City to visit every few months. They came out this week and I spent time with them yesterday and today. Here's how it went.
Mom announced a "corn boil" which is exactly what it sounds like...she boiled a ton of sweet corn and we sat around and ate corn. I felt like a native Iowan for a few minutes as I scarf down my aslty, buttery, crunchy sweet corn.
Grampa suspenders.
My 83-year-old grampa, who has been a housepainter his whole life, insisted on painting my mom's living room on the day they arrived. And he painted all of it except the few spots my mom touched up. I took a photo of her standing on the step ladder, streeeeeetching....
Today, Gramma and Grampa came over to Doug's and my place (unfortunately, Doug is in Des Moines for a spell) and sat around for a bit and messed with the critters. I also crawled into the tomato jungle as they stood outside the fence and directed me to bright red tomatoes. As I got handfuls, I would hand them over the fence to mom and gramma. We collected 40 tomatoes total. I've been snacking on them all day.
To make the grands happy, we went to IHOP for lunch. We sat in a booth and talked and joked and i listened to my grands bicker and joke intermittently. Every time the waitress asked if we needed anything else, my grampa would reply "A stack of twentys this high" gesturing a stack on the table with his hand. Each time the waitress didn't get it. "Uh, what? Twenty pancakes?"
We went to Hobby Lobby, which is on the way back from IHOP, and Gramma and Grampa sat on a bench near the main entrance and insisted that we go shop for a few minutes. Mom and I ran around looking for elastic and felt for my sewing endeavors.
My goodies are at the bottom.
My grandparents are in town for a few days and gramma gifted me this awesome retro dress. I was shocked that it fit , and fell in love with it as soon as it was zipped. The photos are all a different shade because of the variation of "mood" lighting schemes in the house, but it is a lovely peach with tiny black polka dots. And, no, it is not the same color as my skin.
The only problem was the collar. It was very high and gathered and made it look like I had one gigantic boob. So I was inspired to do a little project. That little project kept me up until almost 4 in the morning, sewing the details by hand.
At approximately 1:53 am, I got the idea and started to snip away at the collar. It was pretty easy to cut it straight using the polka-dot pattern as a grid.
Approximately 2.53am, after pinning the fabric down to a pointed collar, I stitched both the outer polka-dot layer and the inner solid layer with a black topstitch. I stitched up the original piping to hide the seam from what used to be the inside of the collar.
I added a shiny, black button to the tip of the v-neck, to hide the stitching there. With the split sleeves, it's quite charming.
By a quarter to 4, I had a fantastic new dress for my collection!
Since it's so difficult to take photos of one's self in dresses, I may have to recruit a helper for the next project. Any volunteers if I promise not to work at 3 in the morning?
I do live a charmed life in many ways. I was thinking about this as I rode my beach cruiser along the Iowa River, listening to Doug's iPod and feeling relatively good while riding into the sunset. When I arrived back home, I trekked back to the garden to grab a handful of tomatoes to immediately devour. As I was searching out the bright red dots among the green tomato jungle vines, I began to feel tiny, painful bites on my neck, face and exposed arms. MOSQUITOES! I literally dropped everything in the grass and ran back to the front door of the house where my bug spray is kept. Those little buggars bite hard this time of year. I covered myself in bug spray just for the 45 seconds it would take to walk back there and collect my things. It was that bad.
While I was back there, I managed to get 11 cherry tomatoes and 3 Serrano peppers. I also noticed that there were many yellow, soon-to-be-red tomatoes, maybe 20-30. These are the days.
On the downside, I must've gotten 8 mosquito bites in a matter of 15 seconds. I don't think I got any of them back. So unfair.
On another downside, Doug is in Des Moines again, still tending to his grandparents, who really need him right now. That means that I am here in the house on my days off trying to stay busy and positive so that I can send some good vibes his way and get some projects done.
One project I took on this afternoon, before my bike ride, was to make a bunch of delicious croutons from the almost-stale whole grain bread I had on the counter. It went smashingly well and I have been snacking on them shamelessly. I warmed a few tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil in a skillet and loaded it with Italian herbs, some of which were grown in my garden and dried in my kitchen. Use your imagination when you make yours....oregano, basil, thyme, black pepper, Parmesan cheese, etc....and be generous with them. Warm the oil over a low heat.
While the oil is warming up, cube several slices of the bread of your choice. I like to use bread that's not fresh enough for sandwiches, but hasn't yet gone stale. I used a Pepperidge Farm 7 grain and I leave the crust on since I think it's the best part. Toss it in the skillet until the cubes are covered in the seasoned oil.
Lay these delicious little cubes on a cookie sheet and bake at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for 10 to 15 minutes or until golden brown. Let them cool completely before storing them. If you're like me, you'll eat them all before you get the opportunity to store them.
They actually are better after they have sat out for awhile, or at least that's when I think the crunch is best. Those of you who know me know I am all about the crunch. ;)
As For the Crafts......Projects in the Hopper......
I am teaching myself to embroider, mainly by watching youtube videos explaining the various stitches....but don't expect to see any embroidered teddy bears...I am sticking strictly to that which shocks....roller derby girls and abstract forms....i welcome ideas, got any? Here's the shirt I am presently embroidering. This embroidery is on the right sleeve. I will do a similar design on the left side of the torso also.
I am also taking on a project for Doug, now that he trusts me enough to have at his clothes...gimme gimme.... I am taking in a shirt that is too big for him. The sleeves and trunk of the shirt are the right length, but just too big around. I have basically just begun to take it in about an inch in those areas. I have also added a patch on the shoulder to cover a couple tears. Looking pretty good so far, considering I am doing all this by hand. Better appreciate, Doug!
Now, I am headed back to work on my black t-shirt.
The end of the lease year is an event in Iowa City. This is the time when a great portion of the town has to move...move to a bigger place, a smaller place, a place closer to campus, or just plain move away. It's the best organized chaos of the summer.
I have moved 7 times in the 10 years I have lived in Iowa City and I have relished the years when I have been able to stay put. Moving day is anytime between July 29th and August 1st which means that the heat and humidity are near unbearable even when you're not carrying a sofa up and down 3 flights of stairs. Movers are usually seen armed with gatorade and brow-rags for wiping themselves down between loads. For many of these tenants, there is a gap between the time the old lease ends and the new one begins. This is good news for the storage unit businesses in the area, but they're about the only ones. For those of us that are homeless for 2-3 days out of the year, it's a huge problem. It means either renting a u-haul for the entire time (if you planned early enough to have gotten a u-haul reservation) which is pricey or to store all your stuff somewhere and crash someone's couch for a few days. All the way around it is a huge pain in the booty that there is, apparently, no better solution for...
Moving day(s) also means that the city is a giant swap meet for unwanted and discarded items. You can drive up and down the blocks and find displays of furniture and household items on front lawns with notes saying "FREE- PLEASE TAKE" If you're one of the lucky ones, you might just find a treasure. Several years ago I picked up a near mint club chair up off the curb and loved it for two years until I had to move again and leave it on the curb for the next person. Doug and I also found a perfect steel bookshelf for our friends who, at the time, were in need of one. It's not always trash, although there is a great deal of that, too.
I was riding my bike home down Dubuque Street a couple days ago and saw one of the above-mentioned junk piles waiting to be scooped up by our reliable trash collectors. It makes me very sad to think about where all this stuff ends up and if any of it could have instead been donated or reconstructed or even recycled.
Another common sight in Iowa City these days is the FOR RENT sign. You'll find them stuck in front lawns, stapled to posts and on bulletin boards everywhere. I remember what it's like to write down 15 phone numbers a day and then make calls only to discover the place is too expensive, too dumpy or doesn't allow pets. (Iowa City landlords could do more to cater to responsible pet owners in Iowa City.....this has been my biggest frustration for the better part of the last decade.)
If you're living in Iowa City and you have reusable items that you'd like to donate instead of throwing them away, click the title of this blog for information on how to donate to Rummage in the Ramp, going on until August 1st. (They will have volunteers pick your stuff up so there's no excuse not to donate that chair that doesn't fit in your car!)
Also check out freecycle.org. This is a great site designed to hook up people seeking things/getting rid of things so that all these things don't end up in landfills. Look up your city's message board and see if anyone is in need of the things in your garage that you no longer need. In fact, I am going to go check them out right now. You should too.
I did a beautiful thing last night. I walked out into the yard at dusk, went back to the garden and picked a few red grape tomatoes and a few yellow pear tomatoes. The plants smelled great and the tiny tomatoes practically jumped off the plants into my hand. I brought them inside, sliced them up, and put them on two sandwiches for Doug and I. I have been waiting for days like this for a long time now. These are the days when I can eat a handful of tomatoes grown by my own hands. It feels good.
While Doug has been away, I've tried to keep busy....I tried reading....
But that only last for so long, before I start to wonder about Doug again. I know he'll come back, but still I try to pass the hours without him. I tried to do some yoga to relax myself and free my mind.....
......but then I fall asleep.
Age tries to help by enticing me with toys, but I just can't get interested. Maybe later, Age.
The only thing that's not a problem is eating. I still have my appetite. (C'mon, he'll be back and I can't resist a meal.)
I have tried to spend some time in the yard....it's pretty nice back there. Lots to smell and mark.
I tried to warn age not to follow me back there. It stinks to have zero privacy in my own yard.
Well, I guess I should try to enjoy myself a little. Age and I are going to go jump on Doug's bed. Shhhh....don't tell him.
Well, this is Chico signing off. Doug, if you're reading this, I can't wait to see you! Tell Grams and Grampa I say hello
We’re well into summer and my garden has been more successful than I had planned back in February, when I started sprouting my snap pea seeds.My blogging efforts are the only thing that I can say has been less productive than I had hoped. While I wait for things to be ripe enough to harvest, I am reflecting on the endeavor so that I can be prepared for next year.
Yesterday, I ate an almost-perfect cucumber from the potted cucumbers. I have been surprised (but not really) by how much more flavor they have than store-bought cucs, not to mention they lack the gross shiny wax that grocery stores think make ‘em pretty. Yuck. The vine has gotten so long that I have just been tying it to the fence, which keeps them from rotting on the ground, andmake them easy to harvest without hopping the little garden fence. They have done the best with the least amount of maintenance.
The tomatoes continue to make a jungle of my garden plot. They are so big and branchy that I can no longer distinguish one from the other. The upside: trillions of green tomatoes basking in the hot July sun.
It is now clear to see that the grape tomatoes really do grow in bunches and I have already eaten a handful while they were still warm from being on the vine. My plan for the next garden: space those t’maters out by 2-3 feet and starting placing cages and stakes earlier in the growing process. Separate but equal…so that I can walk inbetween the plants.
Yum.
There has also been one complication to the tangled mess of tomatoes. Friday night’s thunderstorm deposited a very large tree branch right in the middle of the tomato jungle. The plants are hardy enough that the only real damage is that now they are all leaning drastically to the east. Also, I lost a few green tiny tomatoes during branch removal. It coulda’ been worse. Tomorrow I will go out and stand them all back up again.
The upside to the giant branch: free fire wood. I went out with my neighbor’s handsaw to deconstruct it, but promptly quit when I felt a tickle on my neck that I discovered was a spider crawling down into my shirt.I shook it out and then immediately went inside to strip off my clothes and shake ‘em out. I felt like I was crawling with buggies. I am proud that I didn’t shriek and rip my shirt off in the yard. Who says I’m a girlie girl?
I abandoned the project =(
The peppers are another story. The serranos are doing just fine and producing the most baby peppers, but the other plants aren’t looking so hot. They seem to get droopy in the heat often and I need to be more proactive about watering them. The green and yellow bell pepper plants are still flowerless. Perhaps I need to do some more reading on growing peppers. Maybe some plant food will help them along. Any advice from my pepper growing friends?
Serrano Peppers
I let my lettuce down. L Despite it sitting less than ten feet from my front door I’ve been terrible about watering it; it wilts every week and every week I bring it back. I also need to remember to trim it to encourage more growth.
Neglected Lettuce
Trimming the herbs has helped them flourish. Here’s the mistake I made with the herbs: while they look lovely busting out of one planter, I now can barely tell the difference between my cilantro and parsley. Also, the parsley has taken over. It’s taller and bushier than all the other herbs. I have to trim it back often so that sunlight can get to the oregano, which I use much more than parsley. Grow, oregano, grow!
Harvested Herbs
The sage has been mostly useless, except for throwing it on the firepit to make a lovely aroma.It, too, is a not-so-useful herb that has grown like mad. If anyone would like to have some of my fresh sage, speak up. I am unlikely to do anything more than burn it (and that’s a lot to burn).
I put my basil in its own pot a few weeks ago and that turned out to be a smart move. It has spread in the pot and I dried quite a lot of it today for Doug & my next batch of spaghetti sauce.
Last, but not least, the pencil eggplant are popping up all over those giant, leafy plants. Time to find some more eggplant recipes. There is only so much fried eggplant a person should eat. Any one have recipes for me?
Art, especially photography, takes up most of my freetime.
I carry my camera with me everywhere I go, which explains why my camera looks like I tossed it down a mountainside. I take photos of the common and mundane, both to create beautiful images and to create a chronicle of the little world in which I live.
My newest project is out in the dirt, under the sun. I am a novice gardener soaking up skills from friends and family, and a lot of trial and error. The goal is to have as much non-chemical, homegrown food for myself and my friends as I can reasonably produce.
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