Overexposure to the Hobson Cookbook caused me to go wild on a recent boating weekend at Port Orchard with the Boeing Boat Club. Not content to take along cheese and crackers, bologna and white bread, canned soup and store-bought cookies; I actually cooked on the boat. Well, sort of.

The biggest challenge of the weekend was the Red, White and Blue dessert contest Saturday. I'm not a jello person so that cut out quite a few ideas. Blueberries and strawberries are lovely but I just knew everyone else would use them. In the Hobson cookbook, Christin contributed a recipe for Sparkling Candy Corn Cookies (orange, yellow and white - shaped like candy corn! Page 134). A quick switch of colors and I had Red, White and Blue Sparklers!  There was never any hope of making these babies on the boat. I have a single burner and a microwave. That's it. However, cookies transport well (as long as you hide them from the captain and crew).

 
Festive and delicious!

I wanted to bring Swedish Meatballs (page 85) for the Sunday evening potluck but the thought of forming the balls and frying them in my tiny galley (really too tiny to even merit the term 'galley' - more of a 'gallettina' really) was horrifying so I made the meatballs ahead of time and made the sauce on the boat. Put it all together and I had a dish that smelled great and disappeared fast on the dock. Too fast, in fact, to take a photo.

I also made Hot Crabmeat Appetizer (page 10) AND Gourmet Onions (page 100) totally on the boat from scratch.

So now I've done it. Everyone will feel persecuted when the entire menu consists of things that come in cans and boxes on the next cruise.

114 days since my last post.
so here's the thing:
Diana Gabaldon: Fantastic! Bestseller! Movie Rights! I LOVE Jamie & Claire and think about them all the time!
Jane Smiley and John Updike: OMG could I ever write like that????
P.S. If there is ever a movie version of Outlander with Tom Cruise as Jamie I am not, not, not, not going to see it! NO! Never! Not even if I could have extra large popcorn! No, no, NO!

I am writing this on the new boat as it sits in the driveway, ready for the first adventure of the season. With full canvas up and the sun totally out, the cockpit is warm and pleasant. In some ways, it is bigger than my office because out here there is only me, my netbook and a cup of tea. In my office there are a gazillion things even on a neat day - which this is not - and they all vie for my attention. So it should be a snap to write a good many marvelous things out here, right?

I have been listening to a book about the Tao te Ching. Be the Tao, it suggests. Try less and be more. Let go and allow the power of the Tao to flow through you.

Piece of cake, that.

Ooohhhhmmmm….twittering birds, freeway noise, the smell of warm plastic, hot sun on my shoulders, tea running right thru me….is that Tao?

If I let my fingers just type sometimes they come up with great stuff. Whole scenes trickle right out like some higher power is writing them. Other times, not so much. Today, all I get is a bunch of drivel about other people’s dogs and Cherry Crest and kids’ baseball and kitty kats.

What if I just let my thoughts wander?

Nope. I just start thinking about Lost (which makes me sad) and worrying about Logan’s homework. Then the weeds I can see from here start bugging me. So that doesn’t work. Too much scope for entanglement.

Why do the networks end all the best series just when you really get involved? And why do people have dogs with long hair and dogs who poop in my yard and dogs who bite? How did Logan get to be such a procrastinator and why is it any of my concern anyway? What about all those other parents who manage every stroke of their kids’ homework? They’re messing it up for lazy moms like me!

The Tao also advises us to be less judgmental. While that might be very happy for real life, I think it would knock the stuffing right out of my blog, don’t you?

Here’s something that might be Tao:

Seems like yesterday the state of Washington was a dark and gloomy place where mud was the main form of life. But today my lilacs have begun to bloom and I can see the beginnings of berries on the raspberry bushes. Dandelions are in full flower.

   

Ponies will eat dandelions but not with any enthusiasm so there I am thinking about weed whipping again. The blackberries have begun their annual romp toward world domination. Where did I put the long-handled nippers?

There is a raven, sitting on the fence near the boat, looking at me. He is chock full of Tao! He's got so much of it he has to open his beak and let some croak out. I wonder how much he knows about boats and the nice things that may or may not be inside them.

Let us pray for local raven ignorance.

May the force be with us.

I gotta go. That tea has Tao-ed its way clear through.

What I’m listening to now:

Change your Thoughts, Change your Life by Dr Wayne W. Dyer

 

 

 

 

Pony hair, pony hair
Oh so much pony hair!

(sung to a tune in my head that does not go any farther than that and therefore needs no more wordage)

Around here, the smell of spring = the smell of pony hair.
It’s everywhere!
In the barn it’s on the floor, all over every piece of harness, clogging every brush, sprinkled over the bales of hay, even clinging to the walls and ceiling. My carriage and harness are filthy! But why clean any of it? As soon as I put harness on a pony, it rubs their hair, releasing great clouds of hair - which drift back over carriage and driver. It’s like driving in a blizzard.

Luckily, I think I have some enthusiastic little girls lined up for a pony-brushing party this Friday. Gem will be the main beneficiary. Here are his ‘before’ pictures:

         
   

Remind me to post an 'after' shot on Friday.

In the meantime, here are some fine uses for pony hair.

• Have it spun into yarn for a nice sweater. This website, VIP Fibers, will make pet hair into yarn and even create a keepsake! How cool is that? Pony hair shouldn't be any problem for them - they list Bengal Tigers and Buffaloes on their list of pets.
  
  iPod Case! 
  
  
  little teddy bears!  
  
  
  clothing for the little teddy bears!

• Use it to stuff pin cushions or plush toys.

• Add it to your compost bin

• Donate it for use in oil spill cleanups! True! Check out these oil spill hair mats

•  
• 

• Make it into jewelry. Sadly, this one is for nice, long tail hairs - not the blizzard of fur I have in abundance. High Hopes Designs  can make tail hairs into nice stuff!
•  earrings!
•  hatbands!

 

 

 If you liked that,
Maybe you'll like these odd things too:

     
dismembered Barbie jewelry

 Katamari Damaci added to Thrift Store Art 

 

 

Very old stuffed things  

  

 

Only my very best friends know I shop at the Bellevue Goodwilll Store.

 

Nah.

I’m not proud. I tell everyone.

It’s like a treasure hunt plus it’s good for the environment! Really though, my grandmother used to wash and reuse aluminum foil. So, I can’t help it.

Here are some fun ‘treasures’ that I did NOT buy.

            

 

They’re probably still there. You could get them if you want.

Now I can go into Goodwill and come out with nothing. My DH, not so much. He already has a gazillion golf shirts and yet, there’s always one languishing on the racks at Goodwill that’s just too good to pass up. Logan is just as spendy. If we hadn’t starting making him use his own limited funds he’d come out of there with two nerf guns and a stack of Far Side books every time.

Logan's Nerf gun collection

My challenge is resisting the things I feel sorry for.

What? Haven’t you ever felt sorry for a thing? How about a hand-tatted doily that someone spent months making? Or that detailed (but really hideous) needlepoint picture? Embroidered pillowcases? Home-made doll clothes? Vintage photographs? Come on. You know you feel at least a little bit sorry for things like that.

 

Things I felt a little bit sorry for but did NOT buy

One time, I narrowly escaped buying a home made dress. It was the finest example of sewing I have ever seen. Every stitch was perfect. Every seam allowance was finished with zig-zag stitching. The zipper was straight. Tiny flowers were embroidered on the peter pan collar. No 4-H judge on the planet could have given it less than a blue ribbon and recommendation to go on to the State fair.

But it was ugly.

I even tried it on just because I did feel so very sorry for it.

Nope. Still ugly. In fact, it was even uglier on me that it was on the hanger. So I left it there, alone, abandoned and unloved, on the end of a rack at Goodwill.

I know, I know. I should have taken a picture!

What I’m reading now:

200 tips for growing vegetables in the pacific Northwest by Maggie Stuckey.

'>

Did you know that you can use pureed citrus peels to acidify alkaline soil?
Did you know they sell perfectly nice vegetables right down at Safeway?

P.S. - Here's my second experimental Squirrel Pie!

 

Did I really title one of my previous blogs ‘The End of Boat Obsession’?

What was I thinking?

Now that we have gone over to the dark side, the obsession is just beginning. There’s even a sanctioned support group just for us: Seabacs, the Boeing boat club.
My

oh my; whatever will I wear to the Commodore’s Ball?

 

 

If you’ve been reading my blog, you already know about the mutiny and the long, arduous, strife-filled search for the NEW BOAT. Good times, good times. Don’t ask Logan about boat shopping unless you want an earful about the glories of Bayliner Contessas.

In that old blog about the end of boat obsession, I posted pics of the new boat on its way home. Here it is, safely parked in the home berth.

Costco garage $180 - what a deal!

Poles to raise Costco garage an additional 4’ $50 - what a deal!

If only I had photos of the three of us raising the Costco garage the extra 4’. Now that was a day to remember. It was the only day in my entire life I ever thought maybe one child was not enough. Three reasonably able persons are not enough to do the work of six. While the parts of the garage we could not reach twisted and yawed out of control, I heartily wished I had given birth to quadruplets 13 years ago.

　Last week, to finalize our commitment to the dark side, I went to the temple known as D.O.L., made a large sacrifice, and collected the holy stickers. Immediately following, as if in recognition - or perhaps as a token smiting - we had our first boating accident.

Nope. It’s not summer yet.

Yep. The boat is still parked behind the barn.

But keeping a boat out of water is no real barrier to boating accidents. Luckily, this one involved only the boat, the boat garage, and the wind. The ponies were right there, trapped in the smallish paddock with the boat when it happened! Look how upset they are!!

Pictures say it all.

   

NORMAL ponies would be cowering in the far corner after witnessing something like this.

As I waited for Steve to get home, cringing every time the wind made a new crash, I had another one of those ’wishing for quadruplets’ moments.

Is it a sign?

Should I start thinking like Angelina Jolie???

Nah. What would I do with 4 kids the rest of the time? And what would they eat? I can’t keep enough cereal and milk in the house for one kid.

Besides, if we had 4 kids, we’d need a bigger boat
and
if we had a bigger boat, we couldn’t keep it under a tent behind the barn
and
then what would be the point of having all those rotten kids anyway?

What I’m reading now: Ice Story by E.C. Kimmel.
'>

Not for the faint of heart, this is the true story of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s expedition to Antarctica in 1914. Read this to make even the very worst boat trip seem like a kiddie ride at Disneyland.

 

 

 

This will be my first Easter ever without easter eggs.
Impressive, eh?
So, here's a brief celebration of the history of easter eggs.

This grim looking fellow is Jakob Grimm, one of the Brothers Grimm who brought us beautiful tales of childhood like Hansel & Gretl and Rumpelstiltskin. 





He was also the librarian for the King of Westphalia and a pretty darn serious linguist. Betcha didn't know that. 
In 1882, Jakob theorized a pagan connection to Easter. He wrote about the goddess Eostre, who he called Ostara, this is her:



I see a rabbit, a birdhouse, a goose, flying giant babies, flowers, tiny people. Hmmm... all very nice but I don't see any eggs. In fact, from here, the jump to eggs - colored or not - is just messy. Theories abound. None of them seem sensible.

These are Ukranian eggs in a photo taken by the U.S. FEDERAL government.

Why would they do that? Both things - why would the Ukranians go to so much trouble with eggs and why would THE FEDS photograph it?

And how did that work? Was there a government contract - i.e. 'the contractee shall produce for photographic purposes a quantity of traditionally decorated ova sufficient to fill a 24" x 24" square.'

Or was a U.S. government photographer just out strolling in the Ukrain when he or she came across this lovely group of eggs and thought, 'well that's exactly what I need to finish off my big report on  the Ukrain!'

This is the Faberge Peter the Great egg.

< app.quickblogcast.com width=464 height=600 originalPath===" src=" />http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faberg%C3%A9_egg
 
How is it that we have 'progressed' from this to hens eggs dyed pink and green?

Chocolate in solid form was invented around 1847 by Joseph Fry. By 1910, his sons had come up with this:

Cute, isn't she? In fact, I think she looks a little bit like old Ostara, above. Maybe that's the connection between pagan rituals and easter eggs!
 
Or, maybe not.

Anyway, have a marvelous Easter, however you celebrate. Do remember that white chocolate is NOT chocolate and easter grass cannot be planted or put into your compost bin. Hard boiled eggs are a healthy choice; creamed eggs on toast maybe not so much.
 


Sadly, the library will be open. Even more sadly-er, I will be there. 


There are 6 images and 1 link in this post. If any of them are missing or distorted please click on the permalink (in tiny letters at the very bottom of this post) to see clearly.
Thanks for being one of my readers.

 

Aaack!

Remember that scene where the cowardly lion clutches his tail and mutters, ‘I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do, I do, I do!”?

Now picture me clutching my mouse and muttering, “I don’t believe in writer’s block, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t!”

We just got back from Los Angeles, where my only child became a TV STAR. But I can’t blog about that. Literally. I signed a contract.

I can’t blog about Spring because it is 47 degrees outside. Ripley wants to believe that it is warm enough to lay his skinny black self on the balcony but it is not so and he keeps coming back inside looking disappointed and sad.

Many weeks ago, I planted tomatoes indoors. Why, I wonder? My grandma used to start tomatoes in cut-off milk cartons (½ gallon size). Speaking of that, my mother used to freeze corn in butter boxes (1 pound size). Lovely. While I have inherited many, many of my grandmother’s more disheartening thriftinesses, I am not capable of planning ahead to the extent that I have a dozen cut-off milk cartons on the ready. What I do have is the slightly-more-elegant-than-keg-cups alternative - the clear plastic cup.

Viola!

This is a tomato on March 26^th, 2010.

Less many weeks ago, I planted beans, squashes, pumpkins and peas indoors. I know why I did that. You can’t get most of those things down at Lowe’s when the time comes! What’s up with that???? There is a distinct scarcity of fresh beans and peas in grocery stores all summer. Don’t they realize people from the Midwest eat those things all summer? I need my beans and peas.

This is a bean on March 26^th, 2010

Many thanks to our fantastic house sitter, Cameron, for keeping these tender young things alive and thriving while we were away because, frankly, we were not thinking of them one little bit!

Do lions like beans?

Can writer’s block be cured by vegetables??

Maybe so but it’s not as exciting as rum and coke.

What I'm reading now:
Neverland by Piers Dudgeon



the dark side of J.M. Barrie, author of Peter Pan AND Daphne Du Maurier, the author of Rebecca. Strange folks, and who knew they knew each other???

Okay. Cocktail obligations (hic!) out of the way. Now you want to know what I really think of the Big Island when I’m sober?

It was so very, very desolate. Kauai is lovely. Oahu is delightful. There’s nothing wrong with Maui. But the big island is desolate. Not everywhere, of course, but so, so much of it. You can get lava rock at Lowe’s so you know what it’s like. Now picture that, but jet black and in chunks ranging in size from what you get in the Lowe’s bag to Volkswagen size spread over acres and acres as far as the eye can see with no relief at all except maybe just a few sprays of dry brown grass clumps.

The guide books only hinted at this.

It would be wrong to whine about a trip to Hawaii and I am not really complaining. It was still Hawaii, even if it was more bleak than I expected. And I am glad I saw it. That black landscape was one of the most unforgettable things I have ever seen.

The resorts, bless their mercenary hearts, are NOT desolate. It is amazing what money and bulldozers and an unlimited account with Giant-World-of-Tropical-Plants-R-Us can do. Our resort was a modest one and yet, acres of green surrounded it. Where there wasn’t a pool, there was a lawn and it was GREEN goddammit.

Maybe fields of endless black lava make the ocean bluer. It seems bluer anyway. It truly is that impossible aqua shade you see in magazines. Lovely, lovely and lovelier. Even better after a cocktail - not a Mai Tai.

It is the people, not the black and blues of the landscape, or the cocktails, that make a place memorable.

Logan, who is not shy, managed to collect a new group of friends at the pool every day - sometimes twice a day. We started calling them his posse. A local 5^th grade girl struck up a conversation with me in the hot tub. She said her family comes over to the west side of the island 5-6 times a year to go to Costco. No, I am NOT laughing about that. We visited Costco THREE times while we were there! Was she a resort guest or did she just slip in along with her sister, mother and aunt? Not that it matters to me. Within an hour she and her sister were part of Logan’s posse-du-jour.

An immense woman in her 70’s who could barely walk went on our snorkel boat trip with her son. I didn’t think she would leave her seat at the onboard bar but she got in the water and paddled around with an inner tube. Good for her.

Mr. Friendly - whose name was bestowed not by us but by other resort guests - was an older single man at our resort. He made the rounds at the pool, talking to everyone and even asking someone to sunscreen his back!

On the snorkel cruise I met a woman from Seattle who was in her 70’s and had never snorkeled before. Her husband, a wisp of a man with a British accent and a green Speedo (lucky you, I didn’t get a picture), wanted her to try it. She was nervous and upset when we anchored at the snorkeling spot. I told her she would do fine and advised her to take a ski belt. An hour later, she told me she couldn’t believe she had never snorkeled before and she was going to be ‘a snorkeling fool’ from now on.

     

I played the ‘what do you like better’ game with a 4 year old girl by the pool.

Me, “What do you like better, ice cream or cake?”
Girl, “Cake!”
Me, “Cake or cookies?”
“Cake!”
“Cake or candy?”
“Candy!”
“Candy or frosting?”
“Candy!”
“Candy or butter?”
(yes this did puzzle her but my own child always chose butter so I always ask)
“Candy!”
“Candy or Brussels sprouts?”
(just to see if she is really thinking)
“Candy!”

Then her mom asked her, “candy or dogs?”

And the 4 year old candy freak said, “dogs!”

Isn’t that nice?

We are traveling home today. Sometime after midnight, I will get to see my own sweet dogs again.

Dogs or Hawaii?

Dogs.

What I’m reading now:

I managed to finish Molokai while in Hawaii! How cool is that? It is the story of a girl who is separated from her family and incarcerated at Molokai at age SEVEN. Can you imagine? On Molokai for the next 50 years, she finds love and friendship, even as Leprosy deprives her of people and health.

For two completely different points of view, read Molokai, written by Alan Brennert, from New Jersey;


And Shark Dialogues, written by Kiana Davenport, a native Hawaiian.

Amazing.