Sow There!

Valentine's Day is my least favorite advertised holiday.
I'm all for romantic love, so don't get me wrong. Romantic love is one of those delightful gifts of being human. It makes us giddy, sends our body chemistry through tips and turns and sometimes makes us tingle all over.
But that kind of goo is best when spontaneous. Love loses its luster when it is given a time slot.
I prefer expressions of love to not be wrapped in fake red satin, nor to find out the token Teddy bear has been recalled because it contains cadmium.
I know part of my cynicism comes from past Februarys when the red-lace holiday gave me the blues.
There were several years I watched my co-workers serenaded by men in white starched pants and candy-red bow ties. Then I went home alone to watch TV and snuggle with my cat.
I've also lived long enough to remember how uncomfortable it is when the wrong guy makes a grand gesture on the right day.

I was recently checking my hairline to decide if it was time to add some highlights.
Rummaging through the dirty-blonde strands, I spotted it. At my widow's peak was a short, stubby, slightly curly gray hair.
This was no silvery strand. This was a gnarled, coarse, dark gray, dull thread. If multiplied by a million, this could be the matted mane of a crone in a Disney animated feature.

My mother was walking out to the car as I made my discovery.
"I just now, just this second, found my first gray hair," I announced.
My mother rushed over for inspection, in much the same way she did the day I asked her to verify another type of hair at age 12.
She smiled and told me it looked curlier than the rest of my locks.
Translation: gray mop-head.

Those of you who know me, know that this rubber chicken thing has been a staple in my life for quite some time.

My boss recently came across this article in the Oakland Tribune, and naturally thought I would appreciate it:

$1,000 reward offered for missing toy bears
By Kristin Bender
Oakland Tribune

OAKLAND -- Missing: Two tiny stuffed Japanese toy bears in a plastic bag.

Height and weight: About three inches tall and a few ounces each.

Last seen: Jan. 24.

Reward: $1,000. No questions asked.

That's right. One thousand big ones for the safe return of two "Korilakkuma" bears that Christopher Ferreira and his girlfriend, both 37, purchased two years ago for $10 at a Japanese convenience store.

"We just really want our bears back and figured an exorbitant reward may help bring about their return," said Ferreira, a music composer who lives in Oakland. "Of course, the reward is for our bears -- not just identical bears. I have my methods for knowing. I am almost certain that they are in the hands of someone who has no idea that they could be a thousand dollars richer, but would love to be. It is my mission to find said person."

Korilakkuma is a small, childlike white bear character that often accompanies Rilakkuma, a larger brown bear character that debuted in 2003.

Ferreira said the couple bought the bears during a trip to his girlfriend's native Japan shortly after they began dating two years ago. Both he and his girlfriend, he admits, have a somewhat silly passion, or obsession, for the bears -- photographing them, bathing them, writing about the bears' favorite foods and discussing their likes and dislikes.

"We take pictures of them everywhere we go, and have made movies for fun. We love
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them very much," he wrote in an e-mail pitching the story to the Bay Area News Group. "Even if (their loss) was mentioned in a way that was funny and poked fun at us, that would be OK."

The boy bear sports a pink hat and a pink-and-white scarf and the girl bear wears a pink cape and pink-and-white gloves.

Ferreira isn't exactly sure what happened to the bears. His girlfriend, who he said asked not to have her name in this story, had them in her purse when the two parked Jan. 24 in a garage at the Bay Street shopping complex in Emeryville.

They intended to see the movie "Avatar" at the mall's movie theater and even joked about getting 3-D glasses for Bear No. 1 and Bear No. 2, as they call them.

But then horror struck when they realized the bears were missing. Ferreira said he rushed back to the garage, looked in the car and around it, but didn't find them.

"I probably walked right by them," he said.

Deflated, they left the theater without seeing the movie and spent all day searching for the bears. Then they returned the next day and looked again.

"It was one of those things where you wake up and say, 'I can't believe the bears are gone'," Ferreira said. "It's very emotional. If we talk about it too seriously, she will start crying."

Ferreira said he believes the bears were dropped while the couple was walking to the theater. Ferreira also believes the bears were picked up by someone (maybe a girl or teen) who didn't realize the sentimental value of the bears.

In hopes of retrieving the bears, Ferreira has launched a Web site and blog (http://wearebearz.com) devoted to the toys' safe return.

The couple advertised the site on Facebook, and have asked friends to do the same. They also put up fliers and posted the blog on a couple of social news sites. They e-mailed people who have blogs about Rilakkuma bears and asked them to post the information. They also posted a few videos starring the bears on YouTube.

After eight days, more than 2,000 people from across the U.S. and from as far away as Australia, China, New Zealand, Romania and South Korea had hit on the Web site, according to the site's visitor map viewer.

But still, no bears.

If you have information about the bears, contact Ferreira through http://wearebearz.com.

I've found some new creatures with which to become codependent -- my sister's cats.
A ritual began in late spring last year when a reader recommended I try sprouting wheat berries. These can be purchased for almost nothing at the Massa Organics booth at the Chico farmer's market on Saturdays.

I love sprouting things, and revel in that first awakening of the dormant seed with just a little nurturing. Unlike other plants, cat grass will be quickly devoured so there is no need for fussy follow-through like replanting or worrying about soil nutrients.
When the gifting began, my sister gave me reports of how much the kitty treats were appreciated. The cats circled around on the linoleum when she got near the perch where the plants were placed.

Somewhere along the way, I decided that if the cats were going to get the treat, I might as well get the satisfaction of being their hero.

I sent my mom flowers at work for her birthday today. (If you're reading this, happy birthday Mom).
I'm not one to normally send cut flowers.
First off, they're expensive, but I had a special coupon. Also, they arrive ready to wither.
Yet, receiving a big, beautiful bouquet of flowers at work can be fun every once in while.

Flower deliveries cause a buzz in an office.
The receptionist and coworkers get giggly with excitement. People may conspire to take a peek at the card.
One gal in the office might look longingly, or hope the bouquet is for her from some special guy.
People might wildly speculate whether someone in the office had a passionate fight last night.

Then there is the fact that the flowers must sit on my Mom's desk all day, as a not-so-quiet reminder that she is loved.

(A photo of Mom at a young age. I think she's actually holding a plastic doll, and check out those rings on her fingers!)

I'm hoping people will ask Mom the occasion, and word will spread to give her some extra attention.
Publicity on your birthday is a good thing, because even the generally grumpy people at work will mumble a few nice words.

I haven't ordered from gardening catalogs for several years, so I am apparently "off the list" for free catalogs.
However, several catalogs are sent to the office, and my co-workers invariably jam them into my over-stuffed mail cubby.

The catalogs, which I call "garden porn," are fun to breeze through, with their juicy, close-up photos of fruits and vegetables. These are expertly photographed so you can see the leaves glistening, presumably with morning dew. Tomatoes in the photos are sliced open with juice dribbling. Other fruits may be waxed or shined.
In early January, these catalogs are hopeful, even tantalizing.

This week I spent some time huddled under the down comforter perusing many glossy pages.
Seeds aren't cheap in these catalogs, and after you add on the $6 or so for shipping and handling, you'll get a better bargain at a local store.
However, you won't find these selections at the big-box.

I don't know where else you can get seeds for broccoli romanesco (page 1 of the Cook's Garden Catalogue, http://www.cooksgarden.com). The vegetable looks like something you would see while scuba diving. The catalog explains that the texture is more like cauliflower.