eh...pickles....

RT is obsessed with making pickles these days. Or pickling. He started another batch of pickles last night while I made zucchini bread and Addie "helped". RT says she helps like a cat. Anyways, if it's not pickled pickles it's pickled carrots (these I will eat, and they are good), pickled peppers (for real), and two failed attempts at Kimchi. He googled last night, to try to find the cause of his pickling obsession and his craving for vinegar. He learned that it was a pre-menstrual thing. Very interesting. Oh, he also learned it could be because his body is too alkaline. Which it could be now that he's glutonium free. It also has to do with insulin and sugar....and RT's never liked sweets.

Anyways, the pickles look dang pretty in jars and he's developing a little cult following. I think people befriending me just for a shot at his pickles. Wait. That doesn't sound right...

damnit janet

Really good art. I'm grateful for it. I'm opinionated about it (although my opinion can be easily swayed by a good argument). It's what makes me happy. It helps me be brave. And so I'm always looking for really great artists, balls-out people, people who see the world differently, people who do what they do because they are the only ones who can do it. People who create without worrying about what's considered good or valuable or worthy.

And I love collaboration. It warms my heart. It makes me smile. It's good stuff.

So I was happy today to stumble across this article on how the Rocky Horror Picture Show turned into a phenomena. It's a fun read and I love the part about the guy who stubbornly put newspaper over his head every filming for three weekends until the idea finally caught on. I like the image of this guy with a paper over his head and his friends making fun of him. And now it's one of the more popular things to do when you see Rocky Horror. There you go. Persistence can pay off.

phobia

Lots of people dream about losing their teeth. I wouldn't call that a phobia so much as a collective-unconscious-fear-thing.

Well, just to be clear, that's not what I'm talking about here. What I'm talking about is a phobia. Or just a fallacious way of thinking. I don't know. I'm thinking too hard.

Here's the story. One night I parked my car on my friend's farm in Michigan. I left the window down. It was a warm night. Balmy. I had a beer, hung out, then it was time to go home. Well, driving back to my place I became consumed by the idea that a raccoon had climbed in the window, fallen asleep in the back seat, and was, as I drove, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. I kept turning around, searching for the critter in the pitch black, waving my hands around in the air, all the while, bracing myself for the moment he bit.

Crazy, right?

Well, that raccoon has become a little bit of a symbol for me. A symbol of all the stifling things I let myself believe, all the things I let cloud my enjoyment of this long, pleasant ride home we call life.

So here's to getting rid of the non-existant raccoons in the car. (And hats that make you look like a turkey...)

pop up pancakes and last night's beer can

Well, I was partly inspired to start a blog because I enjoy reading them so much. Blogs like this one or this one are just two that I love. There are a ton more,and I like skipping across them, link to link, like a virtual wandering. Inevitably I end up finding something really good, or interesting, or inspiring. And I always notice the photos are gorgeous – showing art and home in its finest light.

Well, I was jumping around and found this recipe for Pop Up Pancakes here . I made them for the kid that following Saturday along with strawberries and raspberries (that we picked this summer!) I simmered in a little sauce pan with some water and sugar. Dang, they looked pretty, and tasted even better. As a homage to the blogs I love, I show the “blog” photo above… This was a dish I fixed up and took across the street to our neighbor because the kid and I had eaten our fill.

But, because our house is always teetering on this side of chaos, I feel it's important to take a real picture, too. Because life ain’t always as pretty as it is in blogland. (It's a shame about the teletubbie. He was so young.....)

I heart alleys

We have these amazing alleys in our neighborhood. Well, amazing may be a bit strong but shoot, I get paid to use adjectives Anyways, these alleys are a weird blend of beauty and creepiness...lush, delicious blackberries and, two steps away, a broken bottle and an empty paper bag. Before Addie came I walked them every morning with the dog - rain or sun. It was a way to defragment before the day started, and Rhodie loved it. Then, when Addie was a baby I'd strap her in her snugglie and we'd walk them together. In the early days she'd just blink and stare, but time passed and she began to learn the words of the alley "dandilion, rose, stick, rock".

There is a vulnerability. Occasionally the out of place person walks by, a weird looking guy with a stick or an aimless homeless type looking for returnable bottles. But I love our alley. It’s like the park equivalent of a hole-in-the-wall. The trees have had their share of hard knocks; the weeds just want a little something to drink. And hey, isn’t beauty just a little more beautiful when you have to search for it?

First Post

Okay. Let's get this over with. Here's my first post. I've been wanting to jump aboard the blog wagon for a while. As a way to capture my thoughts. As a way to document the fun I'm having with RT and Addie. As a way to keep in touch with family far away. And as a way to expel some personal demons. So. Ready or not. Jump that bridge.