Sow There

One day a week the 9-year-old next door comes over for the evening when his mom has a night class.
This week I asked him if he wanted to play a card game or did he want to carve one of the pumpkins that has been a source of fun recently.

We laid out newspapers on the floor and gathered up a bunch of carving knives.

A loyal reader recently sent me a comment on the Sow There! blog (www.norcalblogs.com/sowthere) about a pumpkin she had gleefully carved. You carve the eyes and other optional features as usual and then carve a huge, gaping mouth. Instead of composting the pumpkin guts, you arrange the guts on the porch, coming out of the gaping mouth as if the pumpkin is heaving its guts out.

This was not my original idea. But of course I took full credit when introducing the idea to the boy.

His eyes lit up and I felt somewhat like an Auntie action figure. I can only hope I can keep improvising and appear original and fun when he is 15 and starts to think Im as dull as Melba toast.

My niece went through that phase when she would draw black dots on her forehead and mope around the house saying you dont understand me.?

Continue reading “Sow There! 10-27 heave ho” »

Ive decided that I am an action news reporter.?
Why not? A lot of other people are doing it right now.
Putting that label on myself makes me feel like I have my own soundtrack and am constantly looking over my shoulder and striking a heroic pose.
If those TV reporters can call themselves action reporters? every five minutes, certainly I could qualify to be among that self-proclaimed group.

Continue reading “Sow There! 10-20 action reporting and green tomatoes” »

About a month and a half ago I was lamenting that my tomatoes weren’t setting fruit. I had many blooms, but they would all just die off. So I contacted Cass Mutters at the Cooperative Extension office and he said to tickle the tomatoes to help pollinate them.

I taught Tommy as well and we’ve been tickling fools.

Alas, the weather is changing and now I have all these green tomatoes, which surely will not survive a couple of cold nights and/or some rainstorms.

Do any readers have recipes or ideas for green tomatoes. I know they have the movie “Fried Green Tomatoes,” and I know you can make jam out of them and whatnot, but I’d love to have some fun, new ideas to share with readers in the newspaper.

Lemme know.

H

It’s rare and beautiful when a person feels “understood.”

Dot first started e-mailing me about three years ago when I went to Hawaii and offered in my column that I would send a postcard to any readers who sent me their address.

She requested a postcard with a nice looking Hawaiin guy not wearing a shirt. I think I obliged.

When you have a wacky sense of humor like I do, it’s nice to know there is some wacky person out there who understands it. Friends, family and significant others can provide much comfort, but its nice to know there are people who understand you outside of your close proximity.

Re: my recent post about pumpkins, Dot sent the following, bless her.

For more wacky pumkin fun, check out: http://www.extremepumpkins.com/

DOT WRITES:

Now, as to pumpkin fun. I’m sure you’ve seen the attached picture making the rounds on the Internet. A few years ago I decided to try that. I saved the pumpkin guts in a bag in the fridge and carved my pumpkin in the classical way with the ‘saw blade’ grin and triangle eyes. The day after Halloween I recarved the face to make the eyes look rounder and kind of sad, and the mouth wider and more like the one in the picture. I put out newspaper on the porch and set the pumpkin on an overturned bucket and had him ‘spewing’ from there. The kid across the street thought that was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. The mailman, however, thought I was insane. No accounting for taste, eh?

Dot

My best friend next door and the nine-year-old went to the Book Family Farm. They went with my sister and niece. It was a weekday, so Ill consider that the reason that I wasnt invited.

The nine-year-old, Leif, proudly pointed out the three enormous pumpkins they had placed on the front porch. Bonnie can be really picky. She looks over every button when she buys a shirt to make sure that one has not been sewn poorly.

Bonnie said she and the nine-year-old spent an inordinate amount of time picking out the pumpkins. Unlike the pumpkins you buy in the big bins at the grocery story, their pumpkins were perfectly smooth, with no nicks or gashes. The stems were long and created perfect handles for carrying them. The color was the perfect Halloween orange.

Continue reading “Sow There! 10-13 Pumpkin passion” »

For the longest time I didnt allow the television to be turned on, except for renting movies. When Tommy and I first started dating I told him that the clear sign that it was the beginning of the end? when a couple resorted to sitting around watching television instead of talking, taking walks or playing games.

He must have really wanted to woo me, because last year he didnt even watch the baseball playoffs.

When he was out of work for a while because he almost lost his finger in an accident, he was a bit crabby. I was less than my normal loving and adoring self. We had a spat one night and just to be rude, I defiantly clicked on the television. He knew eggzactly what statement I was making.

Funny thing is, after not watching it for a while, watching those silly television commercials was kind of funny. Television commercials can be clever the first time you see it, before you have seen the same commercial 15 times in a single hour-long program and become numb like a teenager tuning out a nagging mother.

At first Tommy was really excited to watch all those CSI? shows that he loves, and I was excited to use that time to yak on the phone with my girlfriends.

I even got into that reality show Rock Star, Supernova? and was seriously sad and a little lost on Tuesday nights when it ended.

But after awhile television has started to become really annoying again.

Theres not just CSI.? Now theres CSI, New York? and CSI, Miami.? Im waiting for them to go full-board and have CSI, Pocatella, Idaho.?

Dont get me started on the rest of them, such as Cold Case? and Without a Trace.?

Promo photo for CSI, NY?

I hate the blood and gore of these shows and if I do watch them (because no girlfriend is reachable by phone) Ill groan when all the beautiful people somehow sleuth through the cases as if they are psychics.

The women wear tight shirts with the top buttons undone. The guys look like theyre in GQ Magazine. Ive interviewed detectives at the Chico PD, and believe me, none of them look or dress like that.

Also, even in a relatively small town like Chico, with really good investigators, complicated cases dont piece themselves all together in two days. When watching one of the CSI? shows, I know that if I look at my watch 10 minutes before the show is due to be over, were due for an impassioned confession by the criminal.

For once, Id like to see the guy not confess and the show continued. Maybe they could even have a really good court drama on directly after the CSIs.? The incredibly gorgeous attorneys would have to try the case and piece together the evidence we just saw on the crime show the hour before. They could even intertwine the stories. The crime from the CSI, Des Moines? could somehow be linked to some crimes on CSI, New Orleans.?

But I have an even better idea. I think Im going to ask Tommy to go back to the days when we played a lot of pinball and made up stories about our neighbors while we were taking walks at night.

Tommy pulled a Lucy Ricardo.
We’ve all done that in our lives, a moment when we are a total dork and manifest a silly scenario worthy of 1950’s sitcoms.
We were staying at my mother’s house in Redding. Mom left us a key and said we could have the run of the house. She has a hot-tub and a beautiful garden, not to mention the “white room” which is filled with white lace and a comfortable mattress. If mom doesn’t open a B&B upon retirement it will be a travesty.
There is lattice on her back porch with white Christmas lights and little tree frogs slightly larger than a quarter that climb up the wall of the house. They peek up from the little trays that set under her outdoor house plants.
We’ve named them all after Russian dancers.
What’s not to love?
Tommy and I pretended like we were staying at a bed and breakfast. It was all very authentically bed and breakfast style except for the moment where we write a big-fat check.

Continue reading “Hissing soap and rabid dogs” »

When my niece was young, maybe 12 years old, we would play a story-telling game on car trips. We call it the “AND” game. The way it works is the storyteller gets to tell a story, but if she says the word and? her turn ends and someone else continues.
This is invariably frustrating because just as you get to some important turning point in the story, you get excited and say the word and,? ending your turn.
The next person continues the story and takes it in an entirely different direction.
Sometimes the beloved character so painstakingly developed would be bitten by a rattlesnake and tragically die. Other times space aliens would rip apart the Native American village you had constructed, putting your fictitious characters in a space ship headed for Roswell, N.M.
Over time everyone had become bored playing the game with me. I had learned many alternatives for the word and,? so I could tell a story for 45 minutes and never give anyone a chance to chime in.
My niece, Cassie, however, liked hearing my stories. Id craft romantic epics with a teenage girl in 1905 who fell in love with a pioneer who had become separated from his caravan. Despite a misunderstanding with her father early in the epic, the young man would prove his love and become accepted by the village dwellers.

Last weekend Tommy and I visited my mother in Redding. The next day Mom traveled to Paradise to spend time with my niece and sister.
I phoned up to say hello to the three of them, and was told my mother was taking a nap.
HEATHER: Hey,? I said to my niece who is now 22, Did Nani (grandma) tell you about the wild night we had last night??
CASSIE: No. What??
HEATHER: No way, I cant believe she didnt tell you.?
CASSIE: What? What??
HEATHER: (Laughing). Tommy and I went to the grocery store and we ran into this guy, Vladimir, who is a Russian dancer.?
CASSIE: Oh yeah??
HEATHER: Yeah, I did an interview on this guy about five years ago when he was dancing with his troupe at Laxson. I liked him a lot and I guess they had a gig at the Redding Convention Center or something.
So I invited him over to dinner at Nanis house and he said sure. I guess there was a problem with the translation because when he showed up he had his whole Russian dancing troupe with him, like eight guys.?
CASSIE: Thats funny. I bet Nani was happy.”
HEATHER: Yes, she was amazing. Somehow she found enough food to whip up this really great meal. The guys could barely fit at the dining table. Everyone was waving their arms around, since it was difficult to understand them since we dont speak Russian and they barely speak English.?
CASSIE: (Laughing). Wow, I bet she did have to hustle to pull that off.?
HEATHER: Yes, it was pretty wild. Even though they are Russian, for some reason they were all drinking Ouzo, which is Greek.?

CASSIE: Is that the stuff that tastes like licorice??
HEATHER: Yes. Thats the stuff. They got pretty wild and did a big dance demonstration in the back yard. Apparently one of the traditions with Ouzo is that youre supposed to break plates.
“So Nani had a bunch of plates in one of the boxes in the garage and she said it was OK to break them because she would do some craft project later and make mosaic stepping stones.
(This is entirely something my mother would do if she happened to have some broken plates lying around).
CASSIE: That so sounds like Nani.?
HEATHER: I know.
So, the lead guy, Vladimir, even gave mom his phone number. Hes kind of cute actually, but he was pretty drunk on Ouzo and forgot to write out the country code.
“Mom wont call him I bet, but if she wanted to she could just look in the phone book and find the country code for Russia.
“It doesn’t matter anyway, Mom wont call anyway.?
CASSIE: Do you want me to wake up Nani, shes taking a nap.?
HEATHER: No, thats OK. She’s probably exhausted. Just tell her I called and tell her I put all the bottles in the recycling bin.?

Later that night I got a call from my mother. Apparently she had woken up and my sister and niece were angry at her. Why had she had not told them about the wild night she had had with me and Tommy and the Russian dancers?
Mom was just waking up and was caught a little off guard. She kept denying that anything like that had happened.
My sister and niece thought she was lying and was denying it to protect me so that they wouldn’t get mad at me for corrupting her and/or putting her at risk with a bunch of drunken, dancing, plate-breaking visitors.
My mother gave me a stern lecture that if I make up a wild story I should always end it with the words: I just made that all up.?
I guess I took for granted that my family knew I had a wild imagination.
My niece later got on the phone and cracked up because there were so many details in the story that rang true. Cassie has a set of dishes she has stored in my mothers garage. Recently they had the discussion that my niece had bought a new set of dishes and that mom would take the old set to the Salvation Army.
Who knew?
Also, it seemed so much like my mother to use something like broken plates to make mosaic stepping stones.

I guess my mother is right. You do have to end a wild yarn with the words: “I just made all that up.”

Continue reading “Mom and the Russian dancers” »

The leaves have started their downward spiral.
We rode bikes to the farmers market Thursday night, riding in zig-zags to try to crunch brown leaves under the bicycle tires.
We were very conscious that the end of the summer vegetable and fruit season is near and had plans to stockpile a few things.
The four-pound bags of apples were only $3. Poor Tommy wished we had driven the car instead because he had to tote those around in his backpack.
Last weekend I made an apple pie, which I havent done in about a million years. After the first bite, Tommy put his fork down and insisted that we run out to the store at 10 p.m. to buy vanilla ice cream. Double yum.
At farmers market last week we also visited our favorite vegetable booth across the way from the Lodestar Olive Oil tasting booth.
Jason is a teenage boy who works the booth with his parents. I like it how you get to know the people who sell at the market. You can talk to them about recipes or how hot to expect the peppers to be or whether there will be another batch of corn this year.
Weve gotten to know Jason this summer because Ive been making huge batches of fresh salsa. Because the tomatoes we buy will be chopped up, we pick out the softest or ugliest ones and Jason frequently throws in a few extra. My salsa recipe is fairly basic. Tomatoes, red onion and cilantro. I use the Cuisinart to chop up about 1 1/2 jalapenos and garlic. The key is to squeeze in the juice of one lime. If we have it on hand Ill finely chop some celery, just for some added crunch. Season with salt and pepper.
But now that the season is wrapping up, Ive shifted to my cooked salsa, which I freeze in ice cube trays. One cube defrosted in the microwave for 30 seconds is enough salsa to add to an omelet. Three cubes is enough for a snack of chips and salsa.
Heres the recipe, which I should credit to my friend Donna Garrison, who told me how to do it.
Cut the tomatoes and one full onion and a few jalapenos in half. Place on a cookie sheet and broil in the oven until the tops of them are charred black.
Put in the blender with garlic and cilantro and lime. Liquefy and pour into the ice cube trays.
The charring of the tomatoes gives the salsa a smoky flavor.
Freezing salsa is a little bit like trying to put a little bit of summer away to enjoy later.

A friend and I were chatting recently about how her single adult son keeps certain feminine products in his bathroom in case a female friend or relative is visiting and needs them.
We both agreed this is a very sensitive and thoughtful gesture and bodes well for his future as a spouse.
Why it is embarrassing for men to buy such things is somewhat of a mystery. You would think a man would be proud to go to the store, stand up tall and make the nonverbal statements that a) he has a woman in his life, b) he cares enough about the woman to go to the store for her when she needs something important and c) hes not such a goober that he would be embarrassed by something like that.
I’d think people would be more embarrassed to be loading up a shopping cart with stacks and stacks of Swanson’s dinners and Little Debbie’s. Can you say “bachelor alert.”
There are, however, things that are merited on the embarrassment scale. These are the things you place face down on the conveyor belt and sort of hold your breath until the clerk puts them in the white plastic bag. If you need to purchase only this one item, you usually walk around the store and find a bunch of other things you dont need to help hide the embarrassing item.
These would include things like Preparation H and early pregnancy tests.
My friend and I were cracking up about what if there was a task on one of those reality shows and you had to shop for all of the most embarrassing things at one time.
The list would include condoms, feminine hygiene products, Viagra, lice shampoo, Grecian formula, anti-fungal cream, facial wax, cold sore medicine, Ex-Lax, wart removal, Polaroid film, Rogaine, Vagisil and K-Y.