Friday Pillow Talk – Shreds

Posted on March 16, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Thursdays are strange days at the office.  There is a certain stressful energy that builds up during the week and by Thursday, everyone is running pretty fast, throwing a lot of plates in the air and trying to keep them all spinning.  Even though I have previously said that not everything is urgent on Fridays, I have often wondered if the curious corporate circus act which is Thursday might be what causes the seeming urgencies of Friday.

Luckily, I have a friend at work, Cherie Ripperton.  I know it sounds like a make-believe name, but it’s her married name and now she’s divorced.  We walk almost every day at lunch and it helps to clear the circus cobwebs out of our brains.  We get a little Vitamin D.  What’s cool is the “trade port” we work at is a former Air Force base and Cherie lived there a  long time ago when she was a little girl; she sometimes tells me things about her childhood while we walk along the flight line or around what used to be her own little small town.

We’ve been walking for at least 2 years and when we’re not talking about work or memories, we might discuss “current events.”  Tips and techniques for saving money and becoming debt free are popular topics, including our regular lament about wearing the same old clothes for just a few more months in order to pay a bill or save a few dollars for an emergency.  One day, I was tying my sneaker and I pointed at the hem of my old jeans and said “look at that, my jeans are shredded!”  It was funny and it became the “joke of the walk.”

“A customer is coming to the office and we’re supposed to dress up.  What are you going to wear,” I might ask.

“Probably my black shreds with a blue blouse.  But definitely not my tan shreds” Cherie replied.  “They’re too shredded.”

And so it goes, unless the “trade port” turkeys cross our path.

Ayuh, there are turkeys on the old Air Force base.  Like all turkeys, they generally move in a group, with their silly pin heads bobbling front to back.  One never knows when they’re going to show up and if they do cross our path on the walk, they quickly move on because they don’t want anything to do with two women walking.

Unfortunately, this Thursday Cherie and I did not take our regularly scheduled, almost like clockwork walk.  It was my fault because I let the spinning plates control me instead of sticking to the tried and true routine.  The result was an evening’s fitful sleep that no seed catalog or gardening magazine could remedy.  If I had been at home, I know my father, King of Winter Carnival, ’51, would have said “I think someone was chasing you last night.”

Sure enough, on the “dream port” Cherie and I were taking our lunch walk and everything seemed normal until a group of “trade port” turkeys started chasing us.  Except they weren’t the normal size; they were the size of full-grown Saint Bernards and they were wearing gold chain necklaces with circular medallions.  The medallions were swinging back and forth as they chased us, occasionally clanking on the ground or on another turkey’s medallion.

They were trying to peck at our clothes.

All of a sudden, Cherie’s leg gave out on her and she fell.  I kept running and I didn’t even look back to see what happened to her because the biggest turkey of the bunch was pecking at the shredded hem of my jeans.  I was trying to scream (the way one does in dreams) and I was pounding my fists impotently at the pecking turkey.  I was almost at the office when I woke up in a panic.

I hope Cherie is ok.  The first thing I’m going to do when I get to the office today is tell her I’m sorry I left her alone to fight the turkey posse.  That’s what friends do.  Even if it was just in a dream, when we’re wrong we say we’re sorry.  Right?

Right.

Do you have a friend you might have wronged?  Make it right today!

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Beware The Chives Of March

Posted on March 15, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

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Now The Troubles Begin – For The Love Of Lago’s

Posted on March 14, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

I could tell you a long story today, but I’m just not sure you want to hear it.  Maybe someday.  Essentially, it’s a story about working RHEE-LEE hard at something, to the point of exhaustion.  And this went on for a long time.  Then it ended and I was RHEE-LEE tired.  I was so tired I would take naps in my car at lunch and then I would eat ice cream from Lago’s almost every day after work.  Sometimes, I would have hot fudge sauce on my ice cream.

I gained a few ounces.

The Wanna-be-a-Farmer exercise regimen was good to fix those things and I learned to restrain myself; I created alternate routes to take on non-ice cream days.  I stopped getting hot fudge.  I didn’t give up ice cream cold turkey.  Moderation.

My favorite flavor is “Indian Pudding” which is not always available. “Cappuccino Slam” is pretty tasty too and “Banana” is a sentimental favorite for my friend Jaxon and me.  We’re going to go to Lago’s very soon and get some banana ice cream and remember the good times.  And we’re going to go soon, because (I don’t mean to shout, but)

“LAGO’S OPENS TODAY!” I shout.

There are other ice cream places on the Seacoast which win awards and claim to be very good, but my money always goes to Lago’s.  I’ve tried the others.  Lago’s hires a lot of teens and college kids and trains them RHEE-LEE well.  When you get a scoop of delicious ice cream at Lago’s, you get friendly and polite service too and that’s important.  The ice cream is just a little bit sweeter when it comes with a smile and a thank you.

Don’t worry; I’ll tell you when the Dairy Maid at home opens.

And no one paid me to write today’s blog post.

I’m going to Lago’s to get an ice cream today; you go too, if you can!

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Red (turtle) Neck

Posted on March 13, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

For the past two weeks, I’ve noticed three deer grazing on the lawn outside my office after dark.  It looks like a doe and two calves, one calf smaller than the other but neither having those white Bambi spots.  None of the three have any antlers.

Inevitably, my lights stun them (not on purpose!) and they freeze.  It’s the strangest thing to watch and I find myself as mesmerized by their statuesque poses as they are by my headlights.  According to one article I read, the deer think the car is a predator and they don’t move, so as not to be detected.  Sometimes, I roll down my window and say “I see you; beat it.”

They never beat it; they just stand there in profile like marble statues.

The summer after I graduated from high school, my friend and I were hanging around with some older boys from town, waiting for summer to end and college to begin.  Our idea of fun was to buy some beer and go park on the edge of a big field at night with the truck headlights shining across it.  It seemed so innocent and pastoral, with a little classic rock in the background.  It also seemed kind of weird, because neither my friend nor I came from “huntin’ and fishin’” families.  Her father worked at the nuke plant and my father worked at the paper mill.  Both of our dads spent their spare time coaching little league or some other team sport.

I don’t remember actually seeing any deer on those long-ago hot August nights, but our summer-before-college boyfriends would stare long and hard out to the place where the light beams ended.  I sometimes wondered if they were searching for something besides deer.  Maybe they were thinking about their lives and their futures.  Maybe they were thinking of their deer stands on a cold Thanksgiving morning.  Maybe they were thinking of nothing.  I was probably thinking I wanted summer to go on forever, dreading college and the inevitable beginning of growing up.

So here I am, many years later, staring at the deer in my headlights, thinking it might be nice to sit in a deer stand for a few hours.  I think I might just be a red neck.

“Simmah Down Now Hee-Yah!”

What signs of spring have you seen this week?

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Six Degrees Of AYUH

Posted on March 12, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

A friend from home and I went to the Portland Flower Show in Portland, Maine yesterday.  (Thanks, friend!)  Even though it was the first day of Sommerzeit, it was the last day of the show, so I managed to arrive on time and enjoy every minute of it in spite of my lost sleep.

The Portland Flower Show is an annual event that provides an opportunity for local landscape designers, hardscape artisans, and garden centers to highlight their skills, talents, and value.  I was impressed with the hardscapes and stonework displays, including one by a company, Jaiden Landscaping, Inc., from Durham, Maine (“across the river” from home).  The display included a stonework fireplace and a pizza oven.  It would make staying home a very attractive option; coincidentally, Jaiden won “Best In Show” for their hard work.

My two favorite vendors, though, were a neat little hoop house company and a greenhouse builder.  I can’t quite decide which structure I would prefer.  The Eden House is flexible and affordable, while Ken’s Grow Houses are well made, sturdy, and attractive for the longer term proposition.  I coveted both structures.  How I long to extend the growing season.  I’ll do the best I can by planting peas on Palm Sunday and growing greens and kale until the snow flies, but it’s not the same thing.  Living here at the coop with a tiny patio limits me to pots and window boxes.  The Hampton Victory Garden has potential, but it’s a community garden, not my own personal garden.  I’ll bring it up at the next Hampton Conservation Commission meeting, though, and see what the Commission thinks.

As I was wistfully daydreaming about potting up tomatoes in a green house, my friend nudged me and said,

“Do you think your Uncle Bob would let you have one of those in his backyard?

“Maybe if I suggest he get a few chickens first” I said.  “Then the greenhouse will seem mild in comparison.”

Going to Maine on a sunny not-quite-spring day before the Rusticators get there is almost heaven.  No need to speed and the living is easy; the way life should be.  It has been a long time since I lived and worked in Portland and many things have changed.  But a lot of things were the same; we got burgers at The Dry Dock and it was almost like I remembered it ten years ago.  Of course, since every person in Maine knows everyone else through six degrees of AYUH, I did see two people I knew.  (And NO, we’re not all related and we have all of our teeth.)  Stepping back into the bright sunshine and sea breeze of Commercial Street, I decided it had been a perfect day to play tourist.  I even got off the interstate in Kennebunk and stopped at a few antique shops on Route 1.  Look at this crazy linen tablecloth I bought for Uncle Bob (sweetening up the green house proposition):

How did you spend the first 23 hour day of 2012?

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Dear Father Time

Posted on March 11, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

I talked to Ike and Mamie.  We’re going to loan you an hour of time.

But we want it back.

Did you make your loan to the time bank today?

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Friday Pillow Talk – King Corn Candy Land

Posted on March 9, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Fortunately, I’m a pretty healthy person, so I didn’t understand why I was having a headache behind my “T-Zone” and just a little bit of positional vertigo.  Through the magic of the internet, I self-diagnosed myself with a “sinus issue” and proceeded to obtain some “anti-sinus tablets.”  Apparently, “anti-sinus tablets” are quite popular and buying them requires special permissions and proofs of identity.   One of my co-workers has sinus issues BIG TIME and was able to give me a few of her “anti-sinus tablets.” (Thanks, Michelle!)  She forgot to tell me they were “stimulants” and not “sedatives” and I popped one before bed and curled up to the hypnotic gurgling of my vaporizer.

First, I listened to an entire replay of Wednesday night’s Celtic’s loss to the 76’ers.   Ouch!

Then, I downloaded all the pictures on my digital camera and tried to figure out which ones might make it into future blog posts.

I got up and drank a glass of raw milk.

I wrote my Thursday blog and posted it early.

I did a little internet research on “anti-sinus tablets” and concluded I might never fall asleep.

Finally, I watched the movie “King Corn” again.

The movie is a humorous story of two friends who decide to grow an acre of corn.  They move to Iowa and learn that growing corn is a very complicated proposition in which the government subsidizes farmers to over produce corn.  The corn is then used to make cattle feed, the low-cost sugar substitute called high fructose corn syrup (HFCS), and bio-fuels.  One of the movie maker’s conclusions was that the corn being grown today is the raw material for an overweight society.

Of course, Monsanto was mentioned with their miraculous herbicide Roundup, but that’s another blog post under the future category “She Writes Something Serious.”

The part of the movie I found compelling was an interview with former Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz.  During his time as Secretary, 1971 – 1976, he promoted the growth of agribusiness by telling family farmers to “get big or get out” and to plant crops “from fencerow to fencerow.”  In “King Corn” he is now an old man in a wheelchair and he defends his legacy by saying that his programs provided America with inexpensive food.  I think he truly believed he had created a land of plenty.

It was pretty late (or pretty early, depending on perspective) when I finally fell asleep, although it wasn’t very restful.  I ended up having a dream about the board game, “Candy Land.”  I loved that game when I was little.  I can remember playing it with my brother and a babysitter on the rare Saturday nights when my parents got dressed up and went out.  Those were the days!  My mother might make some special snacks for us and there might be soda.  Back then, gas was expensive, soda was a rare treat, and Candy Land was torture for babysitters.  Life was sweet.

In my dream, I was lost in the Peppermint Stick Forest, trying to make my way past the Crooked Old Peanut Brittle House without breaking a tooth.  I finally made it to the Ice Cream Floats, except they kind of looked like these snowed-in raised beds at the Hampton Victory Garden.

I never made it to the Candy Castle.  My ice cream float sprung a leak and I was drowning in an ocean of soda.

That is why I am never going to take another “anti-sinus tablet” again.  And for the record, in the Hampton Victory Garden, no corn is to be planted in any plot.

Could you go a day without High Fructose Corn Syrup?

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Send In The Clowns

Posted on March 8, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Today’s “Minimalist” post is a digital smile and a wave to anyone who is struggling under some kind of burden.  Last summer, I was just working in Uncle Bob’s garden and these crazy Kora clowns stopped by and posed for a picture.   Imagine that!

Do you have a friend who needs a lift?  Send in the clowns.

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Dear Aunt Tomato

Posted on March 7, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

The information I provide to you is editorial and helpful in nature and cannot be construed as perfect truth.  Some of the information I am providing is based on anecdotal evidence and personal experience.  The benefit claimed has not been evaluated by the USDA or your local extension service.  Your results may vary.

Dear Aunt Tomato,
I’m a new gardener and I’m overwhelmed by how much there is to learn.  Do you have any suggestions on where I begin?
Thanks,
Bernard Saint

Dear Bernard,
Thank you for your question.  I agree it can be very overwhelming to figure everything out in the garden.  I failed at quite a few gardening initiatives before things started to make sense.  When I look back on those failures now, they seem like silly but necessary mistakes.  For instance, one of my long-ago Portland, Maine neighbors explained how easy it was to save marigold seeds.  I was appalled!  I thought “wow, she is so cheap!  Marigold plants are inexpensive.”  (OK, it was the early 90’s, I was young, and it did seem like money grew on trees.)  Yet here I am, 15 years later, saving marigold seeds.  Aunt Cheap Hypocrite Tomato.

But enough about me; you asked a question.

Finding your way around the garden, Bernard, is sort of like a three-legged stool.  The first leg is YOU.  A new gardener needs to try a few things and simultaneously prepare for failure.  Anything you dream of doing is only a dream until you actually get your hands dirty.  Commit to trying three things this year, such as growing a patio tomato or a container of herbs.  If you’re really scared, try one of those Topsy Turvy tomatoes.  They look fool-proof.

The second leg of the stool is the “book-learning.”  It’s amazing what you can learn just by “liking” a few local garden centers on Facebook or signing up for alerts on an organic seed company’s web site.  There is nothing new under the sun and someone out there has already started some seeds and posted time-lapsed video of it on YouTube.  If you can Google it, you can do it.

Finally, the third leg on the stool is your fellow gardeners and farmers.  I love talking to some of the alumni gardeners at the Victory Garden.  They have so much knowledge and I have yet to meet a person who grows things and won’t talk to you about it.  (Well, there was this one farmer at a market in Connecticut who was kind of secretive about his lettuce-growing techniques, but maybe I was being a little pushy!  Aunt Snoopy Tomato.)

I hope that helps, Bernard, and I wish you well with your three projects this year.  Keep us posted on your successes and failures.  We’re rooting for you!

Best,
Aunt Tomato

What do you think is the most important tool for a new gardener?

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Good Neighbor

Posted on March 6, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

I’m not a very good condo neighbor.  I’m not a very bad condo neighbor, but no one is ever going to write a book about my stellar neighborliness.  I try to be a good neighbor, mainly by staying out of the way.  I’m not at the coop very much and when I am, I’m really just in the process of sleeping, writing, or getting ready to go somewhere else.  The coop is my own extended stay hotel with property taxes, a See-Mint pond, and the Atlantic Ocean a mere 200 yards away.

I have a neighbor, we’ll call her Jan.  She is a good condo neighbor. Her condo is not her chicken coop. It’s her castle.  She decorates her porch for every holiday, she keeps her eye on people, and she plants all kinds of beautiful flowers around the See-Mint pond.

Jan also makes big pots of delicious soup and shares it with her neighbors.  She’ll put some soup in a container, put the container in a bag, and hang it from my door knob.  Inevitably, Jan’s soup always arrives on the day when I haven’t prepared a healthy dinner for myself or I’m tired. It’s funny how Jan always seems to know I need soup on the days she leaves it for me. Maybe she looks out her window and sees me shuffling my feet like a schlep rock, bowed under the weight of my laptop, when I leave in the morning.

All hail the pea soup, the minestrone, and the Italian wedding soup!  Sometimes, she gives me enough for 2 meals.  I always try to give her something in return when I bring back her container, like candy hearts or chocolates.

Yesterday, after I finished my “day of rest” invigorating walk, I was bummed.  I was thinking about the work day coming up and the (gulp) pending time change.  I was so surprised (and happy!) to see the soup bag hanging on my door knob!  I practically started wolfing it down while I unlocked the door.  I hadn’t even returned the container from the pea soup Jan left me two weeks ago.  I looked through my cupboards and refrigerator for something which might fit in the container.  I had lots of kale and spinach, but nothing that would make a nice presentation.

Or was there?

I had a lot of eggs, since Joel & Annalisa had lots of eggs at the market on Saturday.  Yup, Jan was going to get some eggs.  But how would I explain Winter Market and CSA?  What if she asked what I meant by CSA?  Could I explain CSA in less than 500 words?  My post about CSA was 778 words.  I was tired and I just wanted to finish my soup.

Knock, knock, knock.

Jan opened the door.

“Hi Jan, thank you so much for the delicious soup.  I’m sorry I’m behind in returning your containers.”

“Oh, no problem,” she said.

I held out her soup container with half a dozen fresh eggs.

“I have some friends with a farm and they gave me some fresh eggs.  I hope you can use a few.”

(C-S, C-S, Aay!  Wink, wink!)

Do you have a good neighbor?

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