Watermelon Smuggler

late afternoon sunshine

After working hard all week, I was all thumbs on Friday. All thumbs in pain because I am old and busted so I decided to take the day off and sew instead.

First I hauled out the ladder and washed Charlie's car. It is a true sign of manliness when your car is so big your wife has to Scale A Ladder to wash the roof. All shiny and lovely now! Thumbs continued to hurt, so I stopped postponing my day off.

Last week I came across an Amy Butler pattern for a satchel-style bag that I quite liked. I've dabbled a bit in making tiny bags, but until now have not ever made a Proper Bag. I already had the fabric I wanted to use and decided to treat the pattern like a first time recipe and follow the directions for the first making. So off I headed to the fabric store and bought woven interfacing. Until now I had no idea this stuff existed. I usually buy the cheapo medium strength or gossamer weight generic stuff and use them as all purpose. Why is woven interfacting $4 a yard instead of the $1.50 of my usual? Because it is AWESOME. It is definitely firm support but is, well, woven instead of a stiff sheet. Malleable. Supple. Pellon 101 fusible, I heart you.

inner sanctum

The bag directions were simple and I only added two things. Only a teeny diversion from following the directions. I adjusted the sewing on the small pocket so that it had a little sub-pocked exactly the size to fit my phone. And I added a d-ring to the inner seam because I like to clip my keys and not lose them. What I didn't count on was the size of the finished product.

next to palm tree for scale

Every woman has criteria for a bag, and how much it needs to be able to hold. For me, a bag must be able to contain: my keys, wallet, 2 rolled up shopping bags, phone, and a book. My criteria used to include being able to carry a graphic novel, but I've let that one slide over time and just carry that in my hand if I have one with me. I am not a jumble-shop carrier. I don't wear makeup or contacts or need to have a change of clothes with me at all times. And this new bag is BIG. But it is so lovely! Charlie recommended it as a knitting bag, but I actually already have one that I love (my monogrammed Land's End bag, thanks to Charlie's parents!) that has the added bonus of being rugged enough to stay open upright on the floor for easy yarn access. I think I may use the bird purse when I am going on an airplane because it's much nicer than my ancient backpack.

But if you are going shopping and need to buy a watermelon, call me and I'll help you. I think it would fit in there perfectly next to my keys.

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outside view of the coop, with bonus crazy tilted camera framing. It is level, I promise. And yes, the rafters are the same blue as the house trim. I am That Good.

Hens in the Hizzouse

The girls made their big move today. I finished up the nestboxes and night perches, and moved in a bin for their greens and their food and water. The biggest hit is a kitty litter box filled with sand. The original idea was for them to enjoy dust baths in it, but they all promptly ran over to the thing and began eating sand like they were starving for it. Well, whatever floats their little feathered boats I guess.

I sat in the coop for a while with some of their favorite treats and enjoyed having them crawl all over me trying to get the most corn. Muriel, the (blonde) buff orpington, is the ringleader of the bunch for sure. Eunice, the (mostly white) Delaware, is the most affectionate. They do get excited over a handful of corn.

The coop is about 90% done and it will stay there for a bit while I work on other seasonal projects. I still want to run some buried wire out so that I can put in a lamp and have the option of a heat lamp in the winter. The back also needs a gutter and a rain-barrel to run into so I don't have to lug water from the hose all the time. I think the girls will also want a few more high perches, but I wanted to find some natural wood branches to use for those so that it provides a bit of entertainment and variation for their feet. Yes, I am still guilty that they will be shut in all the time. I have such great memories of my old girls running all over the yard, chasing bugs and digging in the dirt. Unfortunately I also have memories of them all ending up in bloody piles of feathers, so I will compromise by trying to make a cooped-up lifestyle as interesting as possible.


Garden phenomenon: while spending hours weeding in the back today, I kept hearing a sound like a fountain. Or a far away motor. Then I realized it was the enormous pink rhododendron near where I was sitting. I do mean huge. The thing is probably a 12-foot orb and it's completely covered with gobs of hot pink flowers. And every flower bundle has at least one bee. Big fat fuzzy buzzy bumble bees. Hundreds of them. Once I figured out what the sound was, it was like weeding in the middle of some apiarian horror movie. I just tried not to make any sudden movements.

Tagine Tastiness

Charlie has experimented with many cuisines, from Vietnamese to Thai to Somewhere In Louisiana. His turkey gumbo, made from the carcass of our thanksgiving bird? Divine. Kung Pao shrimp? He can knock your socks off.

But one thing he hasn't used until today: a tagine. I have often looked at them longingly in the kitchen store mostly because their shape is so seductive. A curved base and a fluted top, a culinary tent that sits on your stove and keeps moisture in Just So. I never bought one because I hadn't the faintest what to do with the thing.

Dinner, in process. The black dish is the bottom of the tagine

Today we found ourselves at a bookstore, as we often do on weekends, and suddenly Charlie had an armful of new cookbooks. Moroccan and Turkish, to be exact (well, and Cuban but that will be another story). He picked a recipe from the Moroccan book and we headed to sur la table and finally bought a tagine.

Moments before eating

The recipe: shrimp with ginger and fennel. The verdict: awesome. Most recipes take a few cookings to get right, especially when you're using a new technique. But this one was fabulous on the first take. I am delighted to report that I have leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

tips

Tip #1: Tamarind paste is not, I repeat, is NOT the same as tamarind concentrate. It is advisable to figure this out before you spend all day doing intricate steps in fancy rice recipe and a few minutes before serving remark "hey, this looks a whole lot darker than the picture in the recipe." The ominous darkness means that when your husband taste-tests, he will be forced to spit his mouthful out in the trash can and take you to have mexican food as soon as possible. Well, I suppose this is also a tip for getting yourself taken out to have mexican food.

Tip #2: When having a dinner party, remember that children can be forced to stay up past their bedtime by bribing them with movies and homemade popcorn.


This way, the adults can eke out precious drinking time in the kitchen.

thumbs up for Kathy's Amazing Margaritas That Made The Party Awesome

Tip #3: Always hire Paul to build things that you want to turn out looking good. The aviary is built for the most part, and now I'm down to the inside work. I am aching in every muscle from days of frantic painting. First I was trying to beat the rain this past weekend and now it's working on the nestboxes and perches inside. After that comes the wiring and other things. But the big stuff, the framing and roofwork that I couldn't have possibly done by myself, oh awesome Paul you saved me. The chickens I'm sure will lay extra eggs because they will be so happy in their new house.

all built, but before staining

working on the inside (nice how the roof keeps the rain off)

nestboxes done but not painted yet

Wait for it, you will

I have been walking around for a week with an envelope in my purse that needed mailing. It was a thank you note, which always should be timely. Unfortunately stamps went up in price last week and in order to mail the card I needed a penny stamp.

Why a penny stamp? Because I can't stand the goofy looking eternity stamps, or whatever they are called: they-will-never-go-up-in-price stamps that the post office has now. They are so boring with a relatively uninspired yet patriotic liberty bell on them. I don't like them. So many months ago when I was last at the post office I bought a sheet of Yoda stamps. I didn't realize that postage would be raised so quickly.

At any rate, I was out this morning and ran into the Kirkland post office to grab some once-cent-ers. There was a big line at the main counters, so I decided to use the self service kiosk in the deserted lobby. I swiped my debit card and asked for one cent stamps. The highest quantity you could get was five, which I thought was pretty bizarre. Charge 5 cents to my debit card? Well, ok then. Every step took forever. Swiping, then a bunch of buttons, then the machine just kept saying "in progress" on the screen. I had places to be and was not in the mood for machine delays. After a minute or so I muttered "Jesus god, would you print already? All I want is to use my Yoda stamps."

And from behind me I heard a man's voice say "Amen!"


Yeah. Turns out I wasn't alone in that lobby. But at least I was overheard by a someone who (judging from the huge grin on his face) understood the importance of Using Your Yodas.

Meat Festival

8.30 am: the day of meat begins.

We had a meat party on Saturday. Charlie made another of his epic barbeque spreads, this time including a personal record of 12 (twelve) pounds of beef brisket smoked all day long. Roast pork also made an appearance, along with two kinds of homemade bbq sauce. Almost as an afterthought, there was a huge pot of beer beans and some corn.

how many can we fit in the kitchen?

By some miraculous twist, many of our guests brought dessert items. So along with meat, there were Kristy's latest cheesecake creation: cheesecake chocolate pops, Maggi's awesome cupcakes, boxes of ice cream bars and popsicles, and a poppyseed cake. So I suppose it should more properly be referred to as a "meat and sugar festival."

How our dinner parties roll: beverages for everyone!

Verdant

apple blossoms

The ceaseless dribbling rain and grey skies tend to keep me inside in the early springtime, and this year was no exception. February and March and April weather here is like a steady drumbeat of dreary. The payoff? One morning you look outside and you can actually see the sky and you realize that while you were inside reading books and watching movies, all of the plants got together and started a frantic party.

There are suddenly leaves on the maple tree that are as big as a tea saucer. I never saw the buds because I was too busy looking down to keep rain off of my glasses. The azalea and rhododendron bushes have started their cycling of blooms. Right now the icy pink and delicate purple ones are open, and I can see colored buds on the dark red bush in the front yard. The apple trees and quince tree in the backyard orchard have tiny leaves, and even some tightly furled flower buds. Not bad for their first spring in the ground. I'm not sure if we'll have any fruit this year, but the trees are starting to look like more than sad sticks.

lawn, shag-style

The lawn? The lawn has Gone Crazy. The grass was a good foot high when I nosed into the shed on Tuesday to drag out the mower. I was prepared to do a little voodoo prayer over it. After all, my "extensive winterization procedure" included such rigorous steps as:
1. After the last mowing of the fall, let the mower run until it is out of gas. This way I don't have to drain it.
2. Take a stick and scrape clods of grass off of the blades.
3. Push it in the shed and wonder what I really should be doing to prepare the engine to rest for a good eight months.


That mower? My lovely, awesome, cherry-red mower? I poured fresh gas into it, checked the oil, and it started on the first pull. The lawn surrendered to me.

lawn, tamed

Minneapolis Malaise

infants make the best dinner centerpieces

Was it full-Lally-family withdrawal? Lack of essential homemade bread nutrients? Or did the airport simply suck my soul out through my pores? I'll never know what it was but I am positive that I was sick as the proverbial dog for many days after my return from the chilly midwest.

a sunny hallway

Recovery complete, I can look back on the visit and still hear Calliope asking me to draw:
1. a skeleton
2. a snake
3. darth vader
4. Little Faffo (baby Sappho)

She always picked from the same four items, and loved pointing to each drawing and announcing exactly what it was. My snakes and skeletons were serviceable, but only a 2 year old with a great imagination could have been happy with my rendition of darth vader, who looked alarmingly like a parakeet wearing a helmet.

Words fail me, so photos will have to do:

Sappho, sporting a scarf so jauntily

She needs the scarf because she's outgrown the newborn hat I made

There was some minor plumbing work, and you know what plumbers are like...

Calliope takes a break from her aggressive raisin-eating campaign. Or at least goes horizontal with it.

The best part: they had no idea they had adopted the same pose. They were just watching the men rip siding off the back of the house to see what was underneath (clapboards, huzzah!)