Month: November 2011

mug shots

This shifty-looking character was discovered at a Massachusetts farm stand this September, trying to pass itself off as an ordinary eggplant. It was taken in for questioning regarding the brutal dicing of a carrot, the decapitation of several fiddleheads, and the deflowering of a cauliflower. It was eventually implicated in the death of sweet potato, and was convicted of yamslaughter. While the tubers all demanded that the eggplant should fry, it was instead given a life sentence in the cooler.

It’s after 11:00 p.m., and I needed something to post for my daily posting commitment. I’m trying to focus on work and I need to get to bed so that I can be productive tomorrow. Naturally I did what most people would do: found photos of ridiculous vegetables in my photo library.

Seriously, though, who does this guy remind you of? I do see a bit of Nixon in the top photo, but the profile reminds me of a cartoon character that I can’t quite place.

a bushel and a peck

One of the pick-your-own farms we frequent announced that they’d be open this weekend for apple-picking. Typically the picking season wraps up at the end of October, but this year (in spite of the freakishly early snowstorms) the hard frosts have been taking their time. The result is an extended apple season.

I knew I’d be tired after my travel day yesterday, but the weather was gorgeous today and I thought a day out in the fresh air would be good for all of us. Phoebe, however, really didn’t want to go. She had in mind to spend the day at home doing art projects. I think it’s great that Phoebe can get so involved in doing art projects, and I don’t want to discourage her. But I really, really wanted to go pick apples! It was a last, totally unanticipated, opportunity.

John was pretty worn out from his week of single-parenting, so he was happy to stay home with Phoebe. However, Theo did want to go, so off the two of us went.

It was a ridiculously beautiful afternoon. It was sunny with temps in the low 60s. Not even a hint of chill in the air. We got to the farm around 3 in the afternoon, and the light was turning golden.

While many of the trees had long ago finished dropping apples, there were several varieties that were still going strong. Among them, Empire apples, which is possibly my favorite variety. They are tart and crisp when freshly picked, make a very smooth buttery-textured apple sauce, yet keep firm enough when cooked to work in apple crisp. Empires are a cross between McIntosh and Red Delicious, neither of which I actually particularly like. I find that McIntoshes get pretty mealy, and unless very freshly picked, I don’t like them for anything beyond making apple sauce. (They also tend to get too mushy when cooked for apple crisp.) And Red Delicious? What can I say. Possibly my least favorite apple variety. Ubiquitous in school cafeterias and sorry hotel buffets, they are often mealy and sickly sweet without a hint of tartness, and with a bitterness to the skin that makes me gag. They are useless for cooking because they are too firm, plus they don’t taste good. It is a complete mystery to me how these two lackluster parents could have produced such outstanding offspring.

Wow, who knew I had so much to say about an apple variety?

In any case, it was remarkable how many apples were left on many of the trees. (In fact, I remarked on it frequently. I must have said “Wow, I can’t believe how many apples are left on the trees!” about 30 times.) Theo and I had a great time wandering and easily filled up our 2 half-bushel bags. (Actually, Theo picked maybe 5 apples. But he also didn’t interfere with my picking progress, so that’s productive in my book.) Then we headed to the playground for some sunset playtime.

And now I have a bushel of apples. I think my work may be cut out for me.

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a long short day

I’m home now, after a fairly long day of travel squeezed into a short day. (What with the crossing of time zones, my day is only 21 hours.)

My choice of window seat was once again rewarding. (I’ve long been taken by the patchwork pattern made by agricultural fields as seen from above. Today the ones I passed over were snowy. This particular quilt of fields is tucked into a valley among striking mountain ridges.) I was doing work on the plane, and found the views to be somewhat distracting. I kept grabbing for my camera. Luckily, flying away from the sun meant that it got dark a couple of hours into the flight.

I heart NED

Tomorrow I head back home to Massachusetts. As always, the trip went by too fast on this end, though I feel like I’ve been away from my people too long.

I’m gathering my things together, and packing up my miscellaneous items. By far the best thing that I get to take back with me is peace of mind. My mother heard from the surgeon today, and got the run-down on the pathology report. Things look good. Really good. No cancer was found in any of the lymph nodes biopsied. While there is one last test result that will take a bit longer, all the evidence points to the cancer having been completely removed. Things are looking very good for my mother not needing to have chemo treatments.

This news came a few days behind some other very welcome news: Diego’s latest scan showed NED: No Evidence of Disease. (He had his quarterly scan on Monday morning.) Diego has now passed the one year mark off treatment, and that is something worth celebrating. What’s more, nothing beats getting to see how well he is doing with my own eyes.

The big bonus for me for this trip is that I’ve gotten in some quality time with my sister and adorable nephews, who live only a few minutes walk from my mother’s. (Unfortunately, I’ve barely gotten to see my brother-in-law, as he had to travel for work this week. He left Monday morning, on the heels of my Sunday night arrival, and then isn’t coming home till tonight, on the heels of my Saturday morning departure. I’m trying not to take it personally.)

I’ve had a really great visit with my mother, and she’s continuing to recover well. (I know that she will sleep easier after the good news on the pathology.) Since she has to take things easy and stay close to base, we’ve had time to chat and enjoy each other’s company. I’ve also gotten to meet and spend some time with some of my mother’s many wonderful friends who live nearby. It’s been moving to see how many people really care about her–there have been lots of phone calls, visits, emails and notes.

Tonight being my last night here, we had some tasty Indian food delivered for dinner. Among other topics, we talked a bit about Thanksgiving plans, and my sister remembered how she spent last Thanksgiving. I got a little choked up in my Chana Masala thinking about all the scares we’ve had these past 18 months or so, and how thankful I am that we seem to have made it through.


I saw this water-beaded purple petal on my sister’s front steps this morning. It reminds me a bit of the purple heart beads that kids get from Beads of Courage at the end of treatment.

…and that’s when I realized I’d forgotten my pants.

You know that dream that you sometimes have where you show up for a job interview, and you’ve spent a lot of time rehearsing the answers to the standard questions about how you like to solve problems and you’re a go-getter and a team-player and how your biggest weaknesses are really strengths and how at your last job you invented a miracle flavor of gum that not only cured bad breath and herpes but brought about peace in the Middle East, and you’ve paid lots of attention to make sure your hair is just right and that you don’t have any spinach stuck in your teeth and then they call you into the office and you look down and you realize that you forgot to wear pants?

You know what yesterday was? My blog’s birthday. This blog is 5 years old now.

And one day.

Not only did I neglect to bake my blog a cake yesterday, I also completely failed to prepare a post. Here I’d been shopping around for weeks for the right pants for my blog to wear on its big day, and then what with life’s distractions, I just forgot. I mean, I guess I got my blog a flower yesterday, but given all we’ve been through together, it still feels a little cheap. Sadly, I did remember shortly after posting last night, but I was tired. I went to bed. My poor blog probably felt all mopey last night, thinking I’d forgotten. Thinking I didn’t care. Going over all the times that it had been there for me, tirelessly putting up with my whining and crankiness and embarrassing dorkiness and occasional neglect. My blog probably was thinking about packing up and moving in with some other blogger, one who would buy it a full dozen flowers and bottles of wine and write it love poetry.

Wait, was this a birthday I missed, or an anniversary? (Clearly the relationship I have with my blog is complex.)

So, um, happy belated birthday/anniversary, dear blog. I bought you a card, but it must have gotten lost in the mail.

interleaf

Late this morning, I went for a stroll with my mother in the gardens of her apartment complex. The sun was hitting this flower just right to make its leafy interloper glow. (I do wish I’d done a better job with the focus. I may try to go back again tomorrow at the same time of day, but I doubt I could find the light just so again.)

oil and water

They say that oil and water don’t mix. If two people just don’t get along, someone might just say “they are just like oil and water.” Which would you rather be? Probably water, right? Water gives life. Water is clean. I mean, who really wants to be oil? It’s all greasy and oily. On the other hand, when you pour oil and water together, which one ends up on top? Yeah, you think about that.

But here’s something else to ponder: if you pour oil and water into a glass, they separate. But who would want to pour oil and water into a glass? Really, what kind of recipe is that? Who comes up with these things? You’d be far more likely to try to mix oil and vinegar. Why isn’t the expression about that? Because of salad dressing, I’m telling you. People really want that oil and vinegar to mix, so they shake it up. They make them mix. If you said “those guys are just like oil and vinegar,” people would be all like “Huh? They taste good on mixed greens? That doesn’t make any sense.” That’s what I’m saying.

You know what else? If you put oil and water into a bowl with a package of brownie mix and 2 eggs, they do mix. Then you bake them together in a greased 9 x 13 inch pan at 350 degrees for 30 to 35 minutes until a toothpick stuck in the middle comes out clean. So if you ever meet a couple of people who just can’t get along, that’s what you need to do. Bake some brownies with them. Or stick a toothpick into them.


If you put oil and water into a rice cooker with some rice, then they do end up kinda mixing. But only after the rice is cooked.

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This post was brought to you by Tiredness™ and a 2-year-old photo chosen arbitrarily from my photo library. For the record, I have not been eating any brownies. I did, however, bake some cookies. And some squash. But not together. Because you know what else doesn’t mix? Cookies and squash.

great so far

Things are going well so far. My mother got to go home from the hospital today, a day later than originally hoped for, but not too much of a setback. She is in good spirits, and happy to be home. She has read all your nice comments on my earlier post, and was very touched. Thank you all for your thoughts!

It’s been a long and fairly busy day, so I’m going to consider getting ready for bed. (Maybe tomorrow I’ll have something of substance to say.)


This photo doesn’t have much to do with anything. It’s my mother’s ginger grater. It’s a great thing to grate things. (Actually, I’ve never used it. I just wanted to say that.) (Also, I took the photo on my last trip out here, back in January. Maybe tomorrow I’ll take some photos so I can post something new in case I have nothing of substance to say.)

Window or aisle?

I love getting a window seat when I fly. Sure, you get trapped in, and you have to interrupt the people sitting next to you whenever you need to get up to use the loo. The way I see it, though, the aisle seat is more convenient for getting up, but you also end up having to move out of the way when the rest of the row needs to get up. And you get your feet and elbows bumped when the beverage carts get rolled through.

I don’t think anyone will argue with me that the middle seat is the worst. There’s all that awkwardness with the armrests. I mean, which one is yours? Are both of them? When I get stuck in the middle, I always feel like I need to make myself smaller.

But when you have a window seat, you get a wall to lean against, and oftentimes, some great views. I’m not sure where I took these photos. Well, I know where I was. I was sitting in the plane, up in the air. But I’m not sure what part of the country the plane was flying over. Possibly Nevada.

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How about you? Which seat do you pick?

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I’m here at my sister’s house, and falling asleep on the couch. I don’t think I’m making much sense. But I liked these photos. And I wanted to post something before 9 pm, since my blog still thinks it’s on the East Coast.