You are currently browsing the monthly archive for August 2011.

I know, I know, it’s still August – I’m picking tomatoes and peppers as they ripen, watching to see if the pumpkins will fruit from the blossoms, getting a kick out of the bumblebees that have been flirting with our sunflowers, and pickling the cukes for later (exciting! I’ll post pix of the jars soon). It’s garden season, right?  Absolutely.

BUT! Autumn is on the way, and if I may be completely honest, I could not be more thrilled. As much as I love the garden,watching stuff happen and change in the dirt, as much as we have enjoyed the hell out of home-grown zucchinis  and all the dreaming about how we’ll improve on it next year, I’m super tired of being hot. There it is, all of it – I can’t wait for the weather to cool off and my blood pressure to drop. And red leaves! And the  smell of autumn – zomg, the smell! And sweaters!

So, um, I’ve been knitting in anticipation. Hats. HATS WITH EARS!

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Saw this up on the Daily Blink this morning and giggled myself silly –

Oh, electric mummy guys, what have you built there? So transmogrifier, huh? Folks are saying it will likely make stuff look like other stuff. Being a sucker for all things dress-up, I’m hoping it makes people (I use the term loosely, as we are talking Azeroth) look like other people/things. As a colleague of mine used to say on a regular basis, more shall be revealed. Looking forward to finding out!

Well, I’m not out of town – Will is. He’s off to Boston to go play with the big dogs at the National Poetry Slam this week. We should see him around Sunday. And Skipper Jane. And Jaquelyn. And Daniel.

Which is to say, it’s just me n’ Man Cub around No. 208 until next week. To be completely honest, we’ll see Jaquelyn’s car, but if she’s home, she’s asleep, and I am not waking her up.*

The Number One Bad Thing about Will being out of town is that, well, he’s not around. Which is a bummer. The Number One Good Thing** about Will being out of town is that Man Cub and I can do some serious bonding. Which is to say, when dad is away, we do stuff that he wouldn’t be terribly interested in.***

Example A: packaged indian food for dinner as many nights as possible. No – seriously – while Will prefers a more varied diet, Man Cub and I could (and very well may, this week) eat packaged indian food every night of the week. We both totally dig the spicy, gushy, boil-in-a-bag goodness from the good-smelling aisle of the grocery (the aisle with the tea and the granola). He especially likes anything to do with lentils. I’m a fan of chick peas. Add steamed veggies (cauliflower is particularly nice, I think), some nan from Trader Joe’s, and make rice, and it’s just delightful.

I was taught by a friend in college how to make this osm rice called pilau. At least, my friend called it pilau. It has no broth involved, even if the wiki says it does. Whatever – it’s super yummy, and I’m sharing!

Seth’s Pilauserves four
2tsp peanut oil
1Tbsp cumin seeds
1tsp green cardamom pods
1tsp whole cloves
1 bay leaf
1 cinnamon stick, broken into two or three pieces
2c long-grain basmati or jasmine rice
2 1/2c water

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It was no distress broadcast that saved us. In the end it was a forged map and some boat songs brought us home.

In the giants’ nest someone figured out the math in the hymnals, how prayer is incantation, and the way the sextant seeks the stars. Sums were worked, equations were fashioned, paper was folded specifically. We sang our shanties from the scattered coasts of the Isles of Brides to familiar orchards on familiar cliffs. They stamped our passports when we landed.

By then the figurehead was drunken, but the paper ship had held. Between us, a roll of quarters, a bottle of beer, two lemons, and a dog dressed in motley. Some documents (authentic), bills of lading made for an empty hold, and a book of verse written along the way.

The book and the dog were claimed at customs.  We ate the lemons on deck and passed around the sweating beer bottle. It would be days before we got our land legs back.


August 2011