Rainy Day fun

I've been curious for a long time about eventually buying a house, I have today off, and it's raining. So just for kicks, I'm going to drive around to see (from the curb!) some houses listed for sale right now. Call it research.

Ideally I'd be wanting: no HOA, sunny enough yard for a garden, 3 Br and 2 Ba (for a roommate plus guest room), safe neighborhood, wouldn't make my commute more than 40 minutes one way, walkable, not stuck up, hardwoods, non-horrible kitchen, fenced yard, blahdity blah blah. They're mostly negotiable, these desires, but that list I gave tends to descending order of importance.

Neighborhoods I'm familiar with: Northgate Park (Hi Cristin!), Duke Park, Old West Durham, Watts Hillandale, Tuscaloosa/Lakewood, Forest Hills, Hope Valley, Trinity Park, Trinity Heights. Other areas that might be OK would be the Cole Mill area, around the intersection of Sparger and Hillsborough....

Any other ideas? Tell me about some nice neighborhoods here in Durham!

Bird Crazy

So, migration is getting into the swing, and I haven't been birding in ages and ages. Yesterday I went to Maria's to pitch in on some weeding and mulching. Got sunburned a little where I missed a spot on my left shoulder. Oh man, I'm rambling. Ah well, it's OK because I haven't had any coffee yet (argh!), and I'll eventually get to the point.

I brought my binocs to Maria's just in case. She's a birder pal, as well as a garden pal, a public health pal, a spanish-speaking pal, and just an all around fantastic pal. While we were hoeing, scraping, mulching, and picking out henbit galore, we heard the loud teacher teacher teacher of the ovenbirds.

So yeah, migration.

We tried to see the yellow-throated warbler, but his sweetie sweetie sweetie belied his location (can I use belie that way?). Despite our neck craning and patience, we didn't see him.

I suppose this taste of spring migration is what led to my dream last night. I discovered what I thought was a nest inside my house. I saw a male American Redstart in molt sitting on a low shelf, and cautiously approached. I held out my finger, hoping he'd perch on it, but he just pecked at it. It hurt, but in quite a delightful way. I got him some seed and lay it near him. He ate it immediately, and as I watched I saw that there were more birds, baby birds, behind a basket on the same shelf.

Time lapse. I went to get a camera. None of them worked.

So I returned to just observe. Between going to get the camera and returning, my parents' housekeeper of over 20 years, Ruth, had been to visit. She had cleaned off the shelf, leaving just the basket. I picked up the basket, and inside I realized things had changed since I'd last checked in.

Instead of baby birds and a lone molting Redstart, there was now a mix of warblers. Some I knew, and others I didn't. There were two Blackpoll Warblers that I first mistook for Black and White Warblers. (Actually, in the dream I thought they were Blackburnian Warblers, but I meant Blackpoll and just confused the name. Now, looking at the pictures, they actually were Black and White Warblers, because they had stripy heads).

There were about 5-6 birds in that basket, and there was one that I seriously had no idea about. It was a warbler, but it was no warbler I'd ever heard of. The most distinguishing mark was the thin yellow X across its throat.

Yesterday I was remembering the time I had an avian visitor in the house. I bet that's another reason for my dream last night.

I need to get out there. I suppose I'll head out tomorrow morning before I let migration pass me by.

My new friend

                      .--.
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                _.-"    ,(  `
            _.-"      ,;;|
       _.-=" _,"    ,,;;;'
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   `"'`          `\`\
                  /^\\\

(from here)

Last night I had an extremely vivid dream that to this minute brings me some very strong feelings of The Happy.

I was outside and saw a small, yellow bird. A warbler, of course. (Yes, this is a bird dream. Come on, you know it's boring as hell to hear about other people's dreams to begin with, so they might as well be about an arcane topic, right?)

So yeah, a yellow bird. Small one. It fluttered around by me, and when I held my hand up for it, it alighted onto my forefinger, as a falcon to my gauntlet. Then it crawled down to my hand, and it became clear that this was not just a wild bird, but a true friend. This bird had been looking for me.

It was yellow all over, but looking at it closely, there were a few areas of turquoise blue feathers on its flanks and near its eyes.

Someone was nearby and expressed surprise at the bird's tameness. I explained that this was a bird that was meant to for me, that it was a friend, and that its name was 'Thon.

'Thon rocked.

Status Update and (fever?) dreams.

So. I'm feeling a lot better than I was late last week. I didn't sleep during the day on Friday OR yesterday, for example.

But I'm not better.

Today I managed to get up early (didn't everyone?), take a walk to a new bakery, majorly clean the kitchen, do a load of laundry, make a really fantastic tomato sauce from the last few pounds of tomatoes I was hoarding, and then drop off the rent checks.

I picked up more Gatorade at el rey de la comida (It's been on sale. I've had about 10 liters of the stuff this week), and also bought some pantry essentials I was somehow lacking. I had meatballs to make! Cookies to bake!

By then it was noon. And I was shaky, in a cold sweat, and scared. I dropped all the groceries on the counter, and got in bed. I read for a bit, and then slept the sleep of the freezing cold and dead.

I've been having tummy issues today, so the Gatorade is more important than ever. Jesus this is annoying. It's now been a week.

I'm going to try to work from home tomorrow. Too much to do, and I feel good 1/2 the time. I just don't want to have to go in to work only to need to collapse.

******
I dreamed last night that I found Dave Neuhaus, living in GR. He had changed his name to something vaguely Arabic sounding (Abdul Auk, I believe), and had become concertmaster (despite not playing violin) of some orchestra. He was sharing offices with another guy I knew back in the day, named Carl Aronson*. Dave was wearing a turban, and for some reason I had to then watch a fancy slide show of his different looks.

*Carl was a Jew for Jesus, if I recall correctly, and played a mean trumpet. We were in a wind ensemble together once (Playing horn allows you to do elite things like this even when you kind of suck in comparison to the others. Nobody plays horn, so they're at your mercy.), and played something from Handel's Water Music. The ensemble kicked ass.

Lazy

I'm lying abed, at noon on a Sunday. I've made coffee, eaten some quiche, noshed on some sesame sticks, and pondered my still-producing pink beefsteaks.

At 2, I'm meeting a friend to do a corn maze up in Rougemont. Then at 6, I'm heading to Cristin's for my first viewing of Labyrinth (her fave movie), along with our sweet JeniQ.

I dreamed last night, or maybe the night before, that I was hanging out with Martha Stewart. She was canning tomatoes and had the gall NOT to peel them. I read her the riot act.

Did I mention I'm still in bed? My feet are cold. I love it. Remind me come February that I appreciated having my feet need covering.

It's going to be in the mid-eighties today, and it's the end of October. Wow.

Barcelona, Society, Baking, and Men.

Last night I dreamed about being back in Barcelona again. I don't remember how I ended up there, but I had all sorts of adventures as soon as I realized I was there. I often dream about BCN. It's where I had the happiest period of my life. No worries, much friendship...I just FLOWED. When I was sad, I was sad. When I was happy, I was happy. I didn't have to think about things. They just were.

So I do. I dream about BCN. There's a recurring dream that's kind of boring, and then the one last night was new.

In fact, I went to a new section of BCN that hadn't existed before.

I liberated a fancy coat a woman had left hanging in an industrially-green room lined with cubbyholes. It was two parts. Leather and Cashmere. Oh, and fur. That makes 3, doesn't it? That coat led the women in the section of BCN I'd never explored to think I was part of this extremely highly-regarded (snooty) subset of society figures. A Wearer Of The Coat, perhaps. Then I met a young woman from the study abroad program at the private U near me, and she showed me the rock climbing wall/park. I climbed it a little bit. I didn't like her.

Then I noticed our Marianne and her Sprog had moved to BCN. Marianne was still holding down her job here in D-town, but worked from home. In her spare time, she had opened up a store. It's hard to explain the store. There was a LOT of detail I could tell. Basically it was this upscale, yet homey store that was filled with gorgeous food items Marianne had prepared. Among other things.

I especially remember mini-chocolate chip cookies tied with a green bow in sets of two. They were about the size of a quarter each, and my emotional response was "Oh, GOOD. Marianne is doing America proud," because the presentation was beautiful, and these were just the samples, people. She had also made cupcake-sized concoctions with mini-strawberries held together with some kind of pâte à choux, which somehow had left the strawberries raw AND the pastry crisp. Ah well, BCN is really a place that welcomes the surreal and modernist, so maybe that does make sense. The whole city was agog; it was by far the most fashionable store ever. It was a warm off-white/yellowish/greenish inside. It was more Foster's Market than Guglehupf in its design. (Sorry to those of you who aren't local--imagine warm and cozy and hip compared to glass and steel and hip)

Things have fallen apart with that boy situation I may have alluded to a few weeks ago. CRASH. It's the right call, but it still bums me out. Sigh. High highs create low lows. If anyone wants details, email me.

I know, I know...

Believe me I know how non-interesting people find other people's dreams.

Believe me.

I just can't help myself from time to time, though, when I have a dream that seems so beyond the pale that I can't stop thinking about it.

So here it is, as well as I can remember it.

I got something in my left eye. It watered a bunch and then I went to bed. I was at Emily's house for some reason (but of course it wasn't the house she really lives in).

When I woke up the next day, my eye still hurt. I looked in the mirror again, and saw something that looked like a leftover piece of paper...like a bandaid wrapper, or the plastic container of a blisterpack, only smaller and not plastic.

Being pretty comfortable around my eyes, I picked out the thing from my eye, realizing that it had been there for a while, and went about my business.

A few minutes later, I stepped back into the bathroom and saw a largish chunk of my brain in the sink.

Uhhhhhhhhh....

What ensued was a long battle to get myself to the hospital. Emily had left already, which left me home with her husband and baby. There were barriers galore, including snow, ice, people not knowing where to go, me being unable to figure out what to pack, me losing my bag, not being able to decide about whether to go to the downtown hospital where I used to work or the one that was the closest and had lake views. I had to show a couple from out of town how to get to their parking space, after they told me they'd drive me to the hospital.

The brains were lost at some point, actually flushed if I remember correctly, when my stepfather Pedro determined that the hospital wouldn't need to see this burger-sized lump of brains that came out of my head. I had planned to take it and try to, I don't know...get it put back in?

Anyhoo, this laptop is cranking out enough heat to have me sweating here. I'm even bored with this dream.

Whew the A/C just kicked in. I bet I was just overly hot.

A day of, well, nothing!

My body told me to sleep today, so I did. I got up at 7, went back to sleep around 8, slept until 10:30 and went over to pick up a few bags of leaves from a Freecycler for my compost pile.

Stopped off at the Food Feline on the way back, and scored 4/$10 DC. My main purchase though was some of those local peanuts I mentioned yesterday. Last summer at Nemoid's, I had some kick-ass bolled peanuts that I believe her husband had made. I figured I'd try them today.

I came back from the land of cheap D.C. and local green legumes, and did I don't know what. Then I realized I was supremely exhausted, so I went to nap. And I did. For four HOURS.

Anyhoo, I'm still tired. I had weird dreams that involved hidden relations with mafia-like men, tight quarters in a very cold and precarious aluminum clamshell disk flying above the land, unidentifiable birds, and navigations through the underbelly of a discount store.

I made pizza for dinner. Sauce: olive oil and garlic. Toppings: swiss chard and mozz. Tasty.

The peanuts are in brine in the crockpot.

Yawn!

Ticks and Teeth

The purported tick I pulled off of my head last night appeared in my dreams. I woke up (in the dream) to discover my entire right shoulder and face was covered in blood. Ruined a top I had on. My mom was there, but I don't remember why.

Then in another dream, JeniQ's man, Mister Bowie, showed his face as my friend/lover/date. I, too, always had the hots for him when younger, see. But then, in this dream, he opened his mouth. Now, the Mister is known for having either scraggly, gray teeth or oversized veneers, as seen above. In THIS dream, his teeth were so nicotine-stained as to be fully chestnut brown, and black at the edges in-between the teeth.

Trenzas

Last night in my dream, the rest of which has disappeared, I had beautiful, long, loose braids.

They were luxurious and came down to about where a cap sleeve ends. Down to the armpits, maybe is a good way to put it? When I've tried braids before (and it's been ages since my hair was long enough) they have to be really tight, and then they still slip out. It's just the nature of my slippery hair.

I liked the change. It makes me want to keep growing my hair.

Xanadu

Roller skating was fun but HARD!! I struggled with balance, confidence and sore shins for the first several laps. Midway through, though, basic confidence returned, the sore shins mellowed out, and I really began to enjoy myself.

Best of all, though, was watching the other skaters. It kind of reminded me of when I go/went salsa dancing. There was just some amazing talent out there. It did feel at times as though I had stepped back into 1979, but with current music.

I kept thinking that someone needed to do a documentary about roller-skating subculture. I wonder if they call it rollerdancing? If you want to check out the scene, here's a link to photos from various skating events.

I had a hard time falling asleep last night, because I had my endorphins all hyped up. And then I had a gruesome dream that my mom came skating with me. I told her it was slippery, she smiled kind of shyly and moved gingerly to the 'wood' and then WHOMP! She fell to her right, hit her head on the rink and knocked herself out. I had to ask people to call the ambulance. Her head was bloody.

I'm glad that didn't happen to me.

Daddy's gone a-hunting

Last night I dreamed that I was sitting outside with a bunch of people and a Painted Bunting flew up. He was kind of dully colored, almost like he was about to molt.

For some reason he was also extremely bold, and didn't mind me snagging him (at the behest of the crowd) and perching him on my head. Of course I had already been extremely excited, since I've never seen a Painted Bunting before (and look how cute they are!!).

But I also realized that wild birds, no matter how seemingly cooperative, probably don't want to spend much time perched on someone's head.

I was right. He deliberately pooped all over my head. And I was at work, so I had to wait for it to dry and then just not touch it.

My work is not done here

Oh my. It's a gorgeous weekend, and I was fortunate to be able to take Friday off, due to long hours early in the week. I've gotten a lot done, including the worm bin. More on that later. There are lots of pictures, but I want to wait until I have the whole thing set up before showing off what I did. (Of course, I dreamed last night that the bin I made fell apart. Can't escape the anxiety!)

More pressing now is the HUGE pile of soil and compost sitting in my driveway. If anything is going to get me in shape it's going to be moving the pile around.

Lookie here:

Um. WOW.

OK, to foment some motivation to move that pile of dirt, I'd like to show off some of my babies that will eventually go IN the beds, as well as the pea babies that weeded and mulched yesterday. I'm a little worried about them, because they don't seem to be getting any bigger.

Seedlings:

In order, from top left, clockwise: jalapeño peppers, sorrell, sweet basil, sweet frigitello peppers (which, BTW, had three germinate yesterday! YAY!), Extreme Bush Tomato, and Indian Stripe tomato.

OK, off to move some dirt, as soon as I put in my contacts. I'm going to a POOL party later on today, where I'll show off, well, nothing except my slight sunburn from yesterday (despite 30 spf protection). But I will drink cold beer from cans.

CHOP CHOP, Dirt MOVER!

p.s. I noticed some Carolina Wrens went to an open house at my bird box yesterday. I hope they liked it. I just hope they get the financing.



Oops: almost forgot the peas:


UPDATE:

Thanks to Imperatrix, I had a happy CD to listen to while I did my work today. I figured I'd kill myself if I tried to make it through the whole thing, but once I got into a groove I didn't even notice the time. Until Deee Lite came on. Ha ha. But no, really, it's almost the last song.

So check this out:


I'm going to be pretty sore tomorrow. But I think I did a decent job of using gravity plus that gray container to the best effect. I used my legs not my back.

See how much I moved? The pile began basically at the lower right corner of the picture. I used the rake to spread the topsoil smooth.


Finally, Michele? I'll buy you some new flip flops, cause, um, looks like I got yours a little dirty, after mine fell apart yesterday. Thank god they were brown to begin with!

Plans, plans, plans and more

Why am I still dreaming about Dave Neuhaus? Maybe Marianne is right and he's actually a Demigod. I'll avoid the minute details of the dream, because really, who besides me cares, right? An overview, however, can't be avoided. If only for my own records.

Setting: my old high school

Dave Neuhaus walked by me in a hallway. He was a senior, but it was today. So he must be about 37 or 38. But he of course, looked the same as he did (GASP!) 20 years ago (Jesucristo todo poderoso, I'm old. when did that happen??????). I explained to him that I was, in fact, NOT stalking him. That's the gist of the dream, but somewhere along the line I also had a shower at a just-barely-not-coed facility. And there was snow. And birds. Gosh my life is boring...same old topics day after day.

Garden:
I have a $126 soil delivery (3 cubic yards) scheduled for Friday. It's going to be 1/2 very rich compost and 1/2 darn rich topsoil. I'll have to shovel it into my beds, but that's fine. It's going to be sunny and in the 80s this weekend. Nice time to be outside!

My early-seeded sorrel is finally showing some vigor, which gives me hope for the sickly-looking, spindly, leaf-curling tomatoes and not-yet germinated sweet peppers.

New Project: Woooooorms!

A couple of weeks ago, I sent out a "wanted" email to my local FreeCycle listserv asking/begging for anyone's extra compost bin, or lacking that, a vermiculture setup. I got an email back from this guy Sean, who is a neighbor and enthusiastic vermicomposter. He let me know that it's actually really easy to DIY with vermiculture, and pointed me, in turn, to one JeniQ, who appreciates a good thrift store score (especially when we're talking almost free Danskos). Of course, Sean referred me to JeniQ more for her goodness of vermicomposting outreach than the other things that are cool about her (another birder!!). But at any rate, she's going to be hooking me up with starter worms and technical assistance.

Sean and Jeni and I have been in contact several times since that original email; Sean has offered up a drill to make my bins, Jeni has pointed me to resources, including a blog posts about worm farming in general and how to "harvest" the castings.

Oh yeah. Why worms? I'm allergic to cats, and I wanted a pet.

Just kidding. I want the worm poop. That's all. My bin composting is too slow. I am whole-hog (as opposed to half-pig) into this gardening project, and I want to pamper the planties with the rich goodness of the castings.

(So I can eat the garden products, muah ha ha ha ha ha)

I meet JeniQ on Sunday. Right on.

More to come...

For the record

I had my (at least) second Google search for "Dave Neuhaus" leading here to the blog. Those of you who've been reading since the old blog will know the story, but anyone coming here via a search will not.

For posterity and google searchers, here's a quick explanation of the ins and outs of the Dave Neuhaus tag. Dave Neuhaus was a high-school friend of mine who played timpani in the orchestra when I played French horn, back in the late 1980s. He was quite cute, and had a HUGE smile that people teased him about. Sometime in the last year I had a dream that Dave came to find me because of his deeply seated (heh) feelings for me that had not abated. After I woke up and figured out what the hell I had just dreamed, I tried to look him up online. I had no luck, even though I think I know where he went to college in NY.

So for some reason the tag Dave Neuhaus came to mean anything related to boys and dating.

Dave, if you find this, I'm not scary. Email me! Lastewie at the Google mail. Or with this format: firstname.lastname (at) the Google mail. I have the same last name.

Shoot!

Well, I've officially harvested something. It was time--probably past time, actually--to thin the peas. My official consultant told me last week that I could do it when the plants were looking crowded or whenever I wanted pea shoots in my salad.

I just ate about 8 plants worth, straight. No dressing, no company in the form of other greens, no cheese. Tasty.

The non-germinated peppers have me worried. I finally have two jalapeños peeking out, but none of the frigitellos have even hinted at germinating. I can't help thinking that nothing will actually grow, and that I'll be forced to go to some horrible nursery to buy flats of non-exciting vegetables, which will also fail to thrive. This is called the popover mindset. A number of years ago, when I was horribly depressed, I suddenly became absolutely incapable of making popovers "pop." Instead they were lumpy, solid little chunks of dense nastiness. My messed up brain translated that first to "I'll never be able to make popovers again" and then expanded it to "Nothing I do will ever be successful."

The reason I'm concerned about tending towards the popover mindset, I think, is that the sorrel I planted ages ago is not exactly thriving, either. Nor are the peas. The sorrel's inside, and though I've transplanted to larger pots with better soil, I'm convinced my lack of experience is going to fuck everything up. The peas have been the same size for the last two weeks or so. Maybe the thinning will help them. Kill a few to save many, or something like that.

Yeesh.

******

I dreamed last night that my dad's best friend from childhood's son, (who happens to be this nice cutie's real life husband, if you followed that complicated relationship) proposed to me. Mind you, he was still between 18 and 20 years old, though I was my real current age.

Anyway, I wasn't thrilled about the engagement, but I did like the ring. A lot. I can't remember the design too too well, at least not to describe it, but I'll try anyway. It was gold. There was not a solitaire diamond. It was a thickish disk, set on a normal ring. The disk was about the size of a women's watch face. You could detatch it from the ring by unscrewing it, and the disk was designed to spin in place. The threads that unscrewed were gold, too. On the face were four tiny diamonds all clustered at the edge, and then some free-floating diamonds that were inset around the edge to move freely (kind of imagine this as a ring rather than a watch, but about an inch thick). There was also some kind of white jade inset.

I mentioned I was not happy that I was engaged. I think I didn't really have a choice, and we hadn't even been dating. But I took the ring, and I put it on. And then the guy disappeared off somewhere, and I plopped down on the couch next to a guy friend of mine.

I showed him the ring. He was impressed, and immediately pressed the white area, which apparently was a hidden switch. Up from the ring rose a white touchscreen. I have no idea what it controlled. But I showed it to everyone, because in my mind it meant the boy really loved me.

Yarn and shipwrecks

My dreams last night were no doubt influenced by the fact that I had no heat in the house last night.

Yup. The heat went out, I called the rental agency, and the HVAC guy came and fixed it. The fix lasted one whole cycle. It's kind of cold here. Thank god for the miracle of cashmere plus down. (I'm convinced that cashmere is in itself the perfect winter fabric. It's soft, it's warm, it's not bulky, and it's beautiful.)

So. I had two main cold-inspired dreams. One was about an estate sale. I hadn't found all that much, but then I came across a cache of crafting/sewing/knitting supplies. SCORE. I got about 10 skeins and other units of gorgeously colored Lopi yarn, all the while internally crowing that I'd be able to send Jamie more cheaply acquired wool to fuel her winter hobby.

This dream was certainly related to a visit I took to my friend Maria's father's house on Saturday. He died some time ago (he's the only person whose ashes I have actually held in my hands. They're REALLY heavy!), and the family was clearing out the contents of his home. I ended up with some good cookware I'd been lacking (food mill, bundt pan, springform pan, angel food cake pan, a new tea kettle), some books, a puzzle, and a ball of brown Lopi much like the one I'd already sent Jamie's way.

The other dream was not as fulfilling. Wait. I just realized I had *two* more dreams!

OK, so the second dream was the woman who had a house outside the town where I used to live. I don't know why, but I went up to her house and just walked right in. I vaguely recall I was interested in the rural property and thought it was abandoned. The yard had an abandoned ski-hill that reminded me of a place down the street from my Dad's house*. There was more to the dream, not much though. I talked to the woman. She caught me in the house, and I told her that "Yeah, I just walked in. I figured it was OK." I remember feeling like I was trying to dig myself out of the hole I had created in entering without her knowing. But also I knew that she really was OK with me walking in without her knowing. It was weird.

The third dream was the scary one. It began with me walking down a beach/boardwalk and seeing a bird. I have a very specific picture of the bird in my head, because I didn't know what it was. I described its physical characteristics out loud, as I do when I need to ID a bird.

White water bird. Egret-like, with a yellow crest. Large black patch on the throat. Yellow legs. Curved heron-like bill, white.

It took off like I had flushed it, heading for the river behind the weathered wooden structure that faced the water. It seemed scared.

I kept walking, thinking briefly that I'd have to look the bird up as soon as I got my field guide. Then I noticed that there were TONS of these birds. They were all behind the plexiglass window of the barn-like, high school bleachers-esque building I had noticed before.

There were hundreds or maybe even thousands of them. They were all dead, piled up against the dulled though still transparent window.

I knew then that I was prey. So I began to hustle along the large wooden structure until I finally went inside.

(I'm feeling panicky just writing this! Seriously panicky...blech!)

The building was actually a ship. A wooden ship. Peeling paint, trapdoors and bleacher steps aside, it was clearly some kind of vessel that had been either abandoned or crashed at the beach. It had rooms that were linked to one another via wooden fence gates.

I saw my sister and her boys inside one of the rooms, and realized that I was fighting for my family. I had to not only fend off the (still unknown) predators, but also provide sustenance at the most basic level for a family of four.

So I went on reconnaissance, looking for food and drink. I went from cabin to run-down cabin, opening cupboards, refrigerators and freezers. There were many, and they were still powered, despite the abandoned state of the ship. I came across some odd possibilities, but nothing that seemed particularly promising. Mostly I found dregs of former meals. There was usually some kind of potential food or drink in each place I looked, but it was always unfit for one reason or another. The only find I specifically remember was ice cube trays full of frozen Jello shots. Thirty to forty-year old Jello shots.

Eventually, as I was trying to elude the man chasing me (who looked a HELL of a lot like Freddy from Scooby Doo), I ducked back into the room where I'd stashed my sister and the kids. They were being really good and quiet. Then I saw the motherlode of goodness, hidden from immediate sight, but seemingly endless once you saw it. Pringles in size 10 cans, pop**, bottle after bottle of liquor, granola bars, trail mix, cheese on wheat and other Lance (Warning, sound. Hilarious marketing sound!) products... I specifically remember thinking that Phew, these had to still be OK to eat, even after 40 years!

I gathered up a handful of snacks and took them to the kids. Oh there was red licorice as well.

That's where the dream ends. Saved by junk food. Maybe. It was never clear if we survived.

I don't feel very well now. I think I'm going to lie down for a bit. Reliving that dream caused much real anxiety.

**********

*A sadder sight you've never seen. Imagine two rope-tows and a snow machine.

**That's the word that came to me just now, so that's the word I'll use. As I examined the stash, I was pleased to note that there was Diet Coke and Caffeine-Free Diet Coke, and Annie and I had a pretty calm discussion about how nice that was. Notably, there was nary a Pepsi product to be found.

Imagination on caffeine

I hear the train whistle right now
I can close my eyes and pretend it's not today
and I've got on an apron trimmed with rick-rack
around my neck is sweating a little bit from the heat...
and it's dusty outside
the kids are driving me absolutely nuts.
WAIT UNTIL YOUR FATHER GETS HOME!
i sit down and pour myself a bourbon two fingers deep.
the roast won't be done for another 20 minutes
and the sides will keep
(that's what a train whistle does to me)

******

I wrote that a few minutes ago, over IM while waiting for a friend to respond to something I had said.

My imagination is very active, though I may not document it. My dreams are alternately wacky or disturbingly reflective of the mundane details of my life. I find myself thinking about what I could do or what I'd like to do. I live a very, very rich life in my mind.

Now that I'm done with my Stew-as-a-1950s-housewife imaginary personality, I'll move on to the next Stew. Lady Stew needs to take her Marlyon out hawking.
(Falconry is cool)

*******

I made home-made suet cakes today. Bacon grease, peanut butter, birdseed, liberal amounts of cayenne and some flour all mixed up into a stiff dough, and then patted into a chunk.

Actually, the process wasn't that streamlined. It went more like this:

• September: buy a suet feeder to hang outside. Have a squirrel knock it down and eat the whole suet cake at once, breaking the feeder. Resolve to beat those darned squirrels!

•October: Remember you have an unused suet cake holder. Buy some gadgets to jerryrig the suet feeder to withstand squirrels.

• November: read about how to make own suet. Do nothing else.

• December: repeat November

• January: repeat December. Occasionally think, hm. I should do something about that feeder.

• February: repeat January.

Then one day, notice that you've been saving bacon grease for some reason. And that it would make a good suet base. Put the coffee can on the gas burner to melt the grease a bit. Dump in peanut butter. Mix in as much birdseed as you can. Find a tupperware that almost mimics the shape of the feeder. Pour the mixture into the mold and place in freezer. Wait.

While you're waiting, fix the feeder so that it hangs from a stronger chain, since the damn mammal freaking PULLED it down. Hm. Maybe it was a raccoon.

Take the tupperware out of freezer. Try to shove the now-congealed grease into the feeder, but realize the mold was too big. Chop up the spicy grease and mold into a more acceptable form with hands. Hang. Watch the whole damned thing melt and start falling apart in the sun.

Sigh.

Bring it back inside and transfer the feed into a bowl. Mix in some flour, dust liberally with cayenne and hang it up.

Notice NO birds are interested.

Remind yourself that it's the PROCESS not the result that's most important.

Aigües termals

Over yonder at the Archer Pelican, Phil set up a question about where his readers would like to live. I got to thinking, and gol durn it, I think I have my answer! Let me tell you about my new favorite place to live. I promise y'all will each want to come visit. I'll make sure I have a barn or something to hook you up with.

Caldes de Montbui (or for more info: in Spanish)

Location, location, location

Caldes de Montbui is just 35 kilometers north about of Barcelona, my favorite city ever, which in itself is a huge selling point. You have mountains to the north and are within spitting distance of seaside resort areas. Caldes de Montbui also takes advantage of the fact that it sits on top of hot springs. VERY HOT. 74˚ C, in fact. Right out of the ground. Or at least out of the main square's Font del Lleó, first constructed in 1581.

The draw

Not surprisingly, the town* was established because of the thermae. The HOT, mineral-laden waters were said to cure arthritis, fractures (!) and other aches and pains. The Romans built baths at least as early as the first century A.D. and remains are peppered throughout the city.

The waters get you there. The balnearios keep you. Modern or Modernist, you're still going to get top notch treatments and pampering. And at REALLY reasonable prices, to boot. I've been to Caldes just once, in 2004*. If I'd have known about the town when I lived in Barcelona, I'd have been broke....but relaaaaaxed.

I think I could build a garden there. Shall I? Wonder what the birds are like... OOOH! I bet you have to have a water COOLER rather than a water heater!

____________

*Only 15k people live there, by the way..1% of the Barcelona city size, if I did that math right

**I had a mud-wrap and got some water treatments with my two girlfriends Marta and Ilse, who accompanied me. I went first. Neither of the other two girls could bear the idea that a sub-20 year old boy would be rubbing mud all over their body, breasts included (!!). I figured I could deal with it.

Victory (garden) is MINE!!

Y'all? I had a whole mind dump of dreams I had during the 13 hours I slept last night that I was going to post.

Dave Neuhaus explained to me tenderly just why he hadn't come to my last dream/event; He was in the CIA. My former childhood dentist decided to shoot me and a friend point blank into the stomach while we all lay on a white eyelet-covered bed. Luckily he missed me, but my friend was not so lucky, so she had to go to our test with a gunshot wound. I was merely woozy.

But instead of going into even further detail about the dreams (I remembered crazy-specific snippets), I really would rather talk about my new baby: Project Garden.

OMG there's a lot to do! And I don't even really know where to begin. When in doubt, begin with the basics; stock up on gardening necessities.

Taking stock of what I have:

• a broken shovel.
• a rake
• a cheap trowel
• a compost bin that has compost in the bottom of it (yay!)
• two blue tarps
• bricks (to be gathered from around the perimeter of the garden site, which seems to have been the foundation for an out-building in its past)
• garden hose and sprayer thing
• soaker hose, missing an end cap and which doesn't fit onto a spigot
• hand pruner
• 3-4 heavy duty garden stakes
• unknown quantity of non-heavy duty stakes
• hedge clippers
• non-motorized lawn mower
• ingenuity
• time
• thrift
• the internets
• access to seasoned gardeners for consulting services
• SEEDS!!
• a garden plot that may or may not be sunny enough. (Damn you pretty, but non-native, invasive Mimosa Trees and your "filtered sun"!)

OH SHIT! May or may NOT be sunny enough!!

What I need, at minimum, I think:
• Sun
• at least one shovel that works, preferably two: pointy and flat edged. Long enough.
• a cultivator (like the Garden Claw, but dude, I don't need marketing.)
• a ho(e)
• spading fork
• mini weed chopper thing
• gardening gloves
• anti-bunny/small animal fencing (anti-deer? I don't know, because I am pretty urban here)
• a climbing system for beans
• tomato cages
• sprinkler or at least an end cap for the soaker hose

Icing?
• a multi-hose adapter for my one accessible outdoor spigot
• a programmable hose timer (My stepdad Pedro always gets the "hose man" title for his extreme watering systems)
• mulch
• manure
• more canning jars
• gardening clogs
• aerating fork

Wellspring Caramel Icing
• Deep freezer for all my bounty
• house with sunny acreage and established beds of raspberries, asparagus, blueberries and blackberries. And fruit trees, especially sour cherries, which are not only my favorite fruit, but also the hardest access here.
• hot, nice man who reciprocates my love to garden with
• a job that pays enough to get the first two things on this list, while allowing enough time and inherent enjoyment to actually be able to garden
• the luck/opportunity/whatever to meet, entrance and keep the third

To deal with the possible lack of sun problem, I'm considering ripping out some sod in long strips. One spot by the backyard fence might be ideal. It's sunny, and the chain link fence could be used to trellis beans or cukes or squash or even tomatoes. Alongside the house there's another area I could go ahead and make into another long, sunny bed.

I'm so excited about this project. I hope I don't have a total burnout from it!

Don't forget to delurk, and if you have any feedback to give me on my plans, please let me know.

xxoo Stew

p.s. OMG I just started digging out a new bed. Hard work! Sweating! CLAY soil I'll have to prep somehow with mulch or sand or something...