I made something* for dinner tonight involving Italian sausage and tomatoes, so I figured some herbs would be nice in there. Oregano seemed appropriate, and we have some in a pot right outside the dining room door. So I used the fresh oregano.
And that is really, really unusual for me. Because I HATE dealing with fresh herbs. In fact, more often than not, I use the dried ones in the kitchen rather than go out to the garden to cut oregano or thyme or whatever.
I'm sure every foodie/gardener/locavore in the world just gasped collectively and started shrieking in their heads about THE FRESH HERBS! And their incomparable taste! And THE FRESHNESS AIEEEE!!!
No? I imagined that? Well, if I did, it is an imagination based in reality, because I cannot tell you how many chefs I've seen online or on TV or whatever waxing rhapsodic about fresh herbs.
I just do not have the patience. First they have to be cut, then washed. Then they have to be stripped off the branches. And yes, I have heard that very helpful tip about just pull down the stem in the opposite direction the leaves grow and they'll all just get stripped off! So easy!
My stems always break. Not so easy. Screw that.
And then they have to chopped up and by the time I've dealt with two or more different herbs, I'm sick of the whole thing and just want to dump in some dried stuff. Dinner is enough of a time-challenge as it is without spending ten minutes on a minuscule portion of the final product.
So where do you stand on the herb divide? Are you a fresh-herb evangelist, or do you shake your herbs from a bottle?
* "Something" is the correct word here, since I find myself more and more frequently mixing a bunch of shit in a pot and calling it dinner. The one-pot meal is my best friend. Luckily, I'm an experienced-enough cook that this does not end up tasting like shit. It's a far cry from haute cuisine, though, for sure.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Celebrating Fatherhood
A. seemed to think the best way to start his Father's Day celebration would be to take Cubby camping in a nearby wilderness area with Jodi and his older son.
But not just any camping:
But not just any camping:
Canoe camping. The best kind, obviously.
When A. asked Cubby if he wanted to go camping, Cubby said he wanted to go on a canoe adventure. Okay, said A., a canoe adventure and camping. We can do that. So the plan is to park the car on a road near this lake/swamp area and canoe to a campsite somewhere. This apparently involves pulling the canoe, laden with the two children and all the supplies, over several beaver dams. A. does not find this to be a daunting prospect at all.
Cubby has no idea how lucky he is to have a father like A. But he'll realize it one day.
And for today, there's canoeing and fishing and camping and s'mores.
Happy Father's Day, indeed.
P.S. I must obviously also wish another very special father of my acquaintance a happy Father's Day. Last I heard from him, he was sitting on the porch of his rented cottage in Wales with my mother, smoking a cigar and enjoying day five or so of their two-week vacation. So I think it's a given that's he's having a pretty happy day. But I'll say it anyway: Happy Father's Day, Dad. You took me camping too, and believe me, I haven't forgotten it.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Action
In addition to crawling, Charlie is now pulling himself up on every available stationary object in preparation for walking.
And when I say "every available stationary object," I mean . . .
And when I say "every available stationary object," I mean . . .
Oven. Yup.
Vacuum. Not entirely stationary, this one.
And Daddy. Only stationary for as long as he can stand being used as a climbing wall.
Life around here has become significantly more action packed. And the real walking hasn't even started yet.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Go Get 'Em
This morning when I came downstairs at 5:15 a.m., Mia and Leda were still outside in the dog pen and Otty was still in the back hall. When the dogs in the pen started barking and then Otty started yipping with some agitation from the back hall, I figured there was something significant prowling around outside.
Most likely that damn fox. We haven't lost any more hens to it since I've been vigilant about locking them up at night. Also, the dogs chased it off awhile ago and I think it was a close-enough call that the fox was deterred for a little while. But they always come back.
If A. had been up I might have sent him out with his rifle. But he wasn't up and I don't shoot guns. I do, however, have three quite effective weapons with sharp teeth and no fear. All I had to do was set them loose. So that's what I did. Those dogs shot out of their two enclosures directly to the hollow without pausing.
I don't think they caught whatever it was this time, but I do know that no animal is going to hang around with those three slavering canines charging around.
Good dogs.
Most likely that damn fox. We haven't lost any more hens to it since I've been vigilant about locking them up at night. Also, the dogs chased it off awhile ago and I think it was a close-enough call that the fox was deterred for a little while. But they always come back.
If A. had been up I might have sent him out with his rifle. But he wasn't up and I don't shoot guns. I do, however, have three quite effective weapons with sharp teeth and no fear. All I had to do was set them loose. So that's what I did. Those dogs shot out of their two enclosures directly to the hollow without pausing.
I don't think they caught whatever it was this time, but I do know that no animal is going to hang around with those three slavering canines charging around.
Good dogs.
Monday, June 10, 2013
A.P.D.: The One-Trip Pony Edition
No, that is not a typo. I know the common phrase is "one-trick pony." Just to clear that up right off. Now, on to the topic at hand . . .
We have a fairly large front porch. There's a hammock there, and a rocking chair, and a very nice view. There is also, unfortunately, an ever-changing collection of junk that accumulates there. It's mostly stuff that A. takes out of his car when he parks in his accustomed spot directly in front of the porch. The porch is the closest covered spot to dump stuff when he has to clear his car out.
Which is why we've had two bags of salt (for melting the ice on the steps), a huge roll of plastic tubing (for a water heating system that never quite materialized), and four bags of mortar mix (to finish the stone chicken coop that A. started in the fall) sitting there for months. Until I got sick of looking at them and decided to get rid of them.
There were actually many, many more things on the porch, but for this topic, those are the relevant ones. Because they are heavy. They are things I can't easily carry myself in my arms, so I had to use the wheelbarrow to transport them.
The roll of tubing wasn't too heavy, just kind of awkward because of its size. The bags of salt were 40 pounds each, so no big deal to put both of them in the wheelbarrow and move them around the house to the shed.
But the bags of mortar mix . . . HOLY HELL. The bags themselves are pretty small, but that's only because the mortar itself is so damn heavy. I mean, we're basically talking powdered rock. You wouldn't want to try to carry a big bag of it, that's for sure. Even these small bags were 60 pounds each. And there were four of them.
I carried them one by one down the porch steps and dumped them in the waiting wheelbarrow. Then I tipped the handles of the wheelbarrow up and commenced wheeling.
JESUS.
I realized immediately that I had overloaded the wheelbarrow. But did I stop and take out a couple of bags, reducing my load to a more-sane 120 pounds? No, I did not. Even though I had to rest halfway to the shed and I was a little afraid the wheelbarrow might just buckle before I got there, I did not make two trips.
Because I am a one-trip pony.
If I can possibly do what needs to be done in only one trip, I will do it. Even if it means carrying fifty pounds of groceries looped on my arm, leaving my skin with red marks where the bag handles have cut into me. Even if it means wheezing like an asthmatic because I'm carrying two full laundry baskets stacked together up the stairs.
Even if it means 240 pounds in a wheelbarrow that I'm pretty sure has a 200-pound maximum capacity.
One trip. Always.
I realize there are many people who are not like this. Who will take multiple trips to save themselves some pain and hassle.
So there's the question, poppets: Do you take multiple trips to accomplish a task? Or do you grimly power through just the one trip?
We have a fairly large front porch. There's a hammock there, and a rocking chair, and a very nice view. There is also, unfortunately, an ever-changing collection of junk that accumulates there. It's mostly stuff that A. takes out of his car when he parks in his accustomed spot directly in front of the porch. The porch is the closest covered spot to dump stuff when he has to clear his car out.
Which is why we've had two bags of salt (for melting the ice on the steps), a huge roll of plastic tubing (for a water heating system that never quite materialized), and four bags of mortar mix (to finish the stone chicken coop that A. started in the fall) sitting there for months. Until I got sick of looking at them and decided to get rid of them.
There were actually many, many more things on the porch, but for this topic, those are the relevant ones. Because they are heavy. They are things I can't easily carry myself in my arms, so I had to use the wheelbarrow to transport them.
The roll of tubing wasn't too heavy, just kind of awkward because of its size. The bags of salt were 40 pounds each, so no big deal to put both of them in the wheelbarrow and move them around the house to the shed.
But the bags of mortar mix . . . HOLY HELL. The bags themselves are pretty small, but that's only because the mortar itself is so damn heavy. I mean, we're basically talking powdered rock. You wouldn't want to try to carry a big bag of it, that's for sure. Even these small bags were 60 pounds each. And there were four of them.
I carried them one by one down the porch steps and dumped them in the waiting wheelbarrow. Then I tipped the handles of the wheelbarrow up and commenced wheeling.
JESUS.
I realized immediately that I had overloaded the wheelbarrow. But did I stop and take out a couple of bags, reducing my load to a more-sane 120 pounds? No, I did not. Even though I had to rest halfway to the shed and I was a little afraid the wheelbarrow might just buckle before I got there, I did not make two trips.
Because I am a one-trip pony.
If I can possibly do what needs to be done in only one trip, I will do it. Even if it means carrying fifty pounds of groceries looped on my arm, leaving my skin with red marks where the bag handles have cut into me. Even if it means wheezing like an asthmatic because I'm carrying two full laundry baskets stacked together up the stairs.
Even if it means 240 pounds in a wheelbarrow that I'm pretty sure has a 200-pound maximum capacity.
One trip. Always.
I realize there are many people who are not like this. Who will take multiple trips to save themselves some pain and hassle.
So there's the question, poppets: Do you take multiple trips to accomplish a task? Or do you grimly power through just the one trip?
Friday, June 7, 2013
Tools for Children
You won't find this one at Toys 'R' Us:
That's my boy, yes sirree.
Yup, A. purchased an old scythe this past week (for various uses including possibly cutting some loose hay for the sheep in the neighbor's unused field), and do you think I could keep Cubby from trying it out? No way in hell.
Funny thing is, ridiculous as it looks to give an eight-foot scythe to a three-year-old, it's actually one of the safer tools he can use. It's too heavy for him to lift and the handle is so long he's a long way from the blade. As long as there are no dogs or babies in the vicinity, he can't cause any real damage; he just kind of pulls it along on the ground.
But I bet there's still more than one person out there shaking her* head at my parenting choices. That's cool. Doesn't bother me. And it could be worse. Cubby informed me today that now that he's three, he's old enough for a pistol, no doubt inspired by the very educational and (I now see) ill-advised book on pirates we got from the library yesterday.
That scythe doesn't look so bad now, does it?
* I use the feminine pronoun deliberately, as the odds are pretty low that any male head is doing anything right now other than thinking, "That scythe is RAD. I wanna try it."
Thursday, June 6, 2013
The Lesser of Two Evils
I just finished applying sealant to half of the grout on the tile wall around the bathtub in the downstairs bathroom*. Having now done that for the first time, I can say with some certainty that I would rather butcher a deer than seal grout.
And you know I know whereof I speak.
What with the cleaning of the grout with toothbrush and baking soda, and then with bleach and a sponge, and then brushing on the sealant, AND THEN cleaning each individual square of tile to wipe off the excess sealant, AND THEN DOING IT ALL AGAIN . . . screw it. Butchering a deer is faster and doesn't hurt my hands and shoulders so much.
The worst part is that I still have the other half of the grout to go. Dammit.
* Part of the ongoing project to bring our downstairs bathroom to any kind of acceptable state for the guests who use it. No, I have not yet finished painting. A. helped me caulk around the drywall last weekend, so the path is now finally clear for the second coat of paint on the walls and then painting the trim. After I finish this goddamn grout.
And you know I know whereof I speak.
What with the cleaning of the grout with toothbrush and baking soda, and then with bleach and a sponge, and then brushing on the sealant, AND THEN cleaning each individual square of tile to wipe off the excess sealant, AND THEN DOING IT ALL AGAIN . . . screw it. Butchering a deer is faster and doesn't hurt my hands and shoulders so much.
The worst part is that I still have the other half of the grout to go. Dammit.
* Part of the ongoing project to bring our downstairs bathroom to any kind of acceptable state for the guests who use it. No, I have not yet finished painting. A. helped me caulk around the drywall last weekend, so the path is now finally clear for the second coat of paint on the walls and then painting the trim. After I finish this goddamn grout.
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