buenos burritos

no candles please, it'll just set off the smoke alarm...

2012-01-12T08:54:00.000-08:00

Seriously?
Does this mean it's all downhill from here?

2012-01-06T00:22:00.000-08:00

I've loved horses since I was a little girl.

They're such wise, gentle giants.

I'm pretty sure they can see into my soul.

on 2012: notes from an eternal optimist

2012-01-04T22:58:00.000-08:00

I've been giving a lot of thought to the various prophecies about the world ending in 2012. Some of my friends are deeply troubled by these predictions and are taking steps to prepare for dire circumstances they are sure are coming. They see the strife and hardship and natural disasters and anger that has been building in the recent past and believe these occurrences to be a fulfillment of ancient and not so ancient prophecies that foretell the world ending in a great cataclysm of fire and brimstone.

Anyone who reads a newspaper could tell you it doesn't take a scholar to figure out that we could very easily destroy the world many times over with weapons we already possess.

I believe that in these ancient prophecies told and retold for countless generations, there is a kernel of truth.

Sometime long ago, it's possible that a gifted and wise person foresaw an end to a way of life that would eventually become unsustainable, and, as in a child's game of "telephone", the prediction was embellished and misheard, and retold again and again and again, until the message became something vastly different and very much darker, than the original version.

{cartoon borrowed from this site}

Eternal optimist that I am, I believe we're on the cusp of something big. The world is experiencing huge growth and change. And as any parent of an adolescent will tell you, rapid growth and change is not always easy. In fact, it can be downright ugly.

As the parent of two former adolescents, (who have turned out quite well, I must say) I can assure you that--should we manage to live through mankind's adolescence--the best is yet to come.

Here's a video that sums it all up much better than I can:

Wishing you peace, prosperity, health, happiness and good will in the coming year,
your ridiculously optimistic pal,
Petunia

cue the mariachis!

2011-12-21T08:52:00.000-08:00

We want to wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of our hearts!

possible pitch for a japanese sci fi flick...

2011-12-20T15:42:00.000-08:00

Setting: A serene, sleepy little snow covered village somewhere ~~on a shelf in my dining room~~ in the NorthWest.

Picture a schoolhouse, a country church, and teeny tiny villagers making their way to Midnight mass through fleecy white snowdrifts...

All is calm, all is bright.

The magical white snow glows as if lit from below by tiny Christmas lights...

Suddenly, the villagers look up, pointing toward the mountains on the outskirts of town.

They run, screaming for their lives...

Santa-zilla is coming!

You'd better watch out.

do you believe?

2011-12-17T23:32:00.000-08:00

Kris Kringle: You think I'm a fraud, don't you?
Dorey Walker: Fraud is a bit too strong of a word.
Kris Kringle: But you don't believe in me.
Dorey Walker: I believe that Christmas is for children.
Kris Kringle: Well your daughter doesn't believe in me, either.
Dorey Walker: I don't think that there's any harm in not believing in a figure that many do acknowledge to be a fiction.
Kris Kringle: Oh, but there is. I'm not just a whimsical figure who wears a charming suit and affects a jolly demeanor. You know, I... I... I'm a symbol. I'm a symbol of the human ability to be able to suppress the selfish and hateful tendencies that rule the major part of our lives. If... you can't believe, if you can't accept anything on faith, then you're doomed for a life dominated by doubt.

Well, I think we all know how this ends, don't we?

you'd better watch out...

2011-11-29T09:39:00.000-08:00

This has definitely got to be
one of the weirdest things I've seen in a long time.

What ever happened to the good old days,

when all a boy wanted for Christmas was a Red Ryder BB gun?

You'll shoot your eye out, kid.

Naughty or nice? You decide.

i'm not buying it

2011-11-23T23:12:00.000-08:00

It's a crazy, crazy time we're living in...a time where people all over the world are rising up and protesting corporate greed and manipulation in large numbers - risking arrest and personal injury to send a message that it is MOST. DEFINITELY. NOT. okay for corporations to make huge profits at the expense of the very people who buy their products.

On the other hand - many, many Americans will be abandoning their family tables tomorrow evening to shop until they drop, instead of spending time enjoying a holiday in which we are supposed to be giving thanks for all that we have.

Many retailers will be open for business on Thanksgiving this year. This is not new. For years, most supermarket and drugstore chains have had at least limited hours on Thanksgiving, but this has historically been more about getting last minute items like whipping cream or pepto bismol than deep discounts on flat screen TVs or the latest must-have video games.

A Macy's spokeswoman said “There are many associates who would prefer to work this time as they appreciate the flexibility it affords their schedules for the holiday weekend." And a spokesman for Target said, "...we've heard from our guests that they are excited."
Target evidently didn't bother to ask their employees how they felt about working on Thanksgiving. One of them started this petition.
At least Brian Dunn, the CEO of Best Buy said, "I feel terrible", about having to open on Thanksgiving.
Huh.
I for one, am not buying it.

I'll be hanging out, enjoying the holiday with my good friends and family, for whom I am incredibly thankful. And I won't even be anywhere near a Walmart or Target or Best Buy or Macy's.

Here's wishing you all a happy, healthy and all around wonderful Thanksgiving.

sleeping in haiku

2011-11-19T10:50:00.000-08:00

cold autumn morning,
layered flannel, blanket, quilt:
perfect for dreaming.

eleveneleveneleven

2011-11-11T11:11:00.000-08:00

11/11/11. An auspicious day, according to my sources. A day positively chockablock full of holidays. Firstly, it's Veteran's Day, a national day to appreciate and celebrate those brave souls who have fought wars both just and unjust.

photo borrowed from this site

This date also marks Corduroy Appreciation Day, earnestly celebrated by The Corduroy Appreciation Club, on the date that most resembles corduroy's very linear characteristics... Corduroy aficionados around the globe will be hosting gala events on 11/11/2011, perhaps the most important date for these devotees of the wale since, well, since 11/11/1911.

According to this article in the Daily News, the club has also found a child born on November 11, 2000, who turned 11 on this most propitious day, and who may very well be the "Messiah of Corduroy".

photo by Jeff Bachner/News

(this is NOT the Messiah, but he could possibly be her father...)

But perhaps the most interesting holiday that falls on 11/11/11 is World Hoop Day:

The goal is to raise consciousness on the benefits of "hooping", and the organization's ambassadors have distributed thousands of hula hoops to needy children around the world.

My friend Ann brought several of her hula hoops to work today and dazzled us with her moves...

and her enthusiasm was contagious!

For more 11/11 holiday facts, click here to check out Aunt Snow's post on Doves Today.

Happy holidays!

11111

2011-11-01T06:41:00.000-07:00

(photo borrowed from this site)

All Saints Day is a holy day in many Christian religions, commemorating all saints, both known and unknown.
I was raised a Catholic, though as an adult I've adopted a veritable potpourri of spiritual and philosophical beliefs gathered from the tenets of Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, Islam and Science Fiction. I guess you could consider me a kind of "spiritual freethinker."

I still like the saints, though. My favorite is probably St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of both animals and nature. He took a vow of extreme poverty after being raised in relative affluence and tried for the rest of his life to walk in the footsteps of Jesus, promoting peace and love in his every encounter. Francis loved all creatures of the earth and took it upon himself to take care of those less fortunate than himself. He was known to have preached to hundreds of birds to be thankful to God for their wonderful clothes, for their independence, and for God's care.
He was also a pacifist. During the Fifth Crusade, Francis decided to go to Syria to try and convert the Moslems himself. In the middle of a battle, he decided the simplest thing to do would be to go directly to the sultan to make peace and argue his case. After an apparently persuasive conversation, the sultan told him, "I would convert to your religion--which is a beautiful one--but we would both be murdered."

I think St. Francis was the original hippie. Maybe that's why I feel so drawn to him.

The Catholic church recognizes many other patron saints-- individuals who are assigned as special protectors or advocates for occupations, situations, or places. I kind of like the idea that there's a special saint you can ask for help with specific problems...I remember reciting this prayer to St. Anthony of Padua (Patron of Lost Items) when I'd misplaced something as a kid:
"Tony, Tony, please look around; {something} is lost and must be found!"
Invariably, after repeating this prayer over and over, the item would miraculously turn up.

So in the spirit of All Saints Day, and the Catholic tradition, here is a short list of Patron Saints for your edification:
Saint Anxieté Patron of Impossible Deadlines & Foamy Coffee
Saint Bernardine Patron of Advertising
Saint Concepta Patron of Brainstorming and Procrastination
Saint Jude Patron of Lost Causes and Desperate Situations
Saint Martin de Porres Patron of Hairdressers & Social Justice
Saint Clare of Assisi Patron of Television
Saint Rita Patron of the Impossible
Saint Honoré Patron of Bakers, Florists & Pastry Chefs

Click here for more fascinating information on cool patron saints.

happy halloween!

2011-10-30T22:08:00.000-07:00

flashbacks

2011-09-11T11:20:00.000-07:00

Some incidents stick in your mind and heart, even when they don't directly affect you personally. For some, certain dates bring up anxieties and emotions buried just beneath the surface of daily life. For others, it could be a major earthquake or tsunami or hurricane or tornado. You never really know when or why or which events will stir up something deep within you, they just happen to strike a chord, and that chord resonates throughout your very being.

When a large truck rumbles by and rattles the windows, or I'm stuck in traffic under a freeway overpass, it sparks a flashback to October 1989 and a collapsed double-decker freeway in Oakland, while at home in San Francisco my husband and children and I huddled in a doorway riding out the 7.2 earthquake that caused it.

Watching coverage of Barack Obama wading into crowds of people during the last presidential campaign, my heart leapt into my throat more than once at the dangers he faced. It launched an emotional return to 1968 and the tragedies of the deaths of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King.

I can no longer hear a plane flying low overhead without it triggering a memory of that warm September morning ten years ago, of the sight of airplanes cutting through clear blue New York skies to shatter so many lives. How, for the next week, the skies all across the country were eerily quiet while all air traffic was suspended.

Flashbacks are painful, yes, but they serve as reminders to savor and appreciate the good in the world, and the importance of working to change the bad stuff, however we can in our daily lives.

We wish that we could go back and prevent those tragedies, but we can't. The only hope is to move forward with renewed purpose and optimism, and to never forget those who gave up everything for those principals.

nature turns the page

2011-09-05T13:00:00.000-07:00

I woke up the other day and summer was over. It was September first, and the quality of the daylight and scent of the season had suddenly changed. There was a slight nip in the air, and the soft, sweet, dense bouquet of summer had been replaced with the crisp aroma of cooling earth.

The atmosphere is crystal clear, the amber light comes slanting through the walnut tree out front. Squirrels have amped up the harvest, running around with two or three walnuts in bulging cheeks. They're burying the loot everywhere: in the garden, flower pots, under chair cushions, in unattended shoes.

The message from squirrel HQ? Winter's coming...stock up!

We've had a short, cool summer up until now. Only one 90˚ day so far, but the forecast for next week looks promising.

Indian Summer is here!

a back to school tutorial: how not to do laundry

2011-08-23T23:14:00.000-07:00

This post was originally published in 2008, and still gets the most number of reads per week of all my posts (followed closely by "Photo styling 101: How to roll towels like a pro"). The traffic around this post always increases exponentially in mid September (coincidentally, around the time newly-minted college students start running out of clean laundry and begin frantically searching the internet for instructions) so I'm rerunning it as a sort of public service message, or maybe a cautionary tale. So let this be a lesson to you!

How not to do laundry

We have a system for doing laundry at Camp Cactus...the evolution of which seemed to happen rather organically, and naturally (meaning: nobody actually designed the system, it just sort of occurred; and said system's evolution has happened at an agonizingly slow pace, like the melting of the glaciers before global warming). Here's how it works:
Step 1: There are 3 baskets, beautifully handmade by ~~child laborers~~ highly skilled workers in China. One for WHITES, one for LIGHTS, and one for DARKS. Are you with me so far? Ok, so these three beautifully handmade baskets usually reside in our ridiculously huge bathroom, waiting patiently to be filled with the correct shade of dirty laundry. (This seems very simple and logical and easy to me...so why do so many people insist upon doing their laundry in one giant, washing machine- killing load? But, I digress...)

Alternate Step 1: See steps three and four for explanation.

Step 2: The now-full basket of dirty laundry is moved into the hallway outside the bathroom, waiting for someone (anyone?) to carry it down 2 flights of stairs, over 2 baby gates (a story for another time) to the basement laundry room/hovel to be washed until sparkling clean, or at least smelling like spring rain.

Step 3: The sparkling clean, smelling-like-spring-rain laundry is plopped warm and fresh out of the dryer into its beautiful and functional Chinese basket, carted back up two flights of now exceedingly steep stairs, over two baby gates (destined to someday cause one of us in our increasingly aged condition to break a hip), to the bedroom, where it is deposited in the middle of the floor. This location was chosen (again in some organic, evolutionary way) for its position relative to moving about the bedroom, meaning of course that anyone wishing to move about must step around it. Evolutionary timeline of this era: millions of years (okay...maybe a day or two or five) Which brings us back to Alternate Step 1: (see above) where dirty laundry waits not for an empty basket.

Step 4: After a few days sitting in the middle of the bedroom floor, the piles of dirty laundry have grown too big for the bathroom, and something must be done. So, the basket is emptied onto the largest flat surface available for folding.

At which time, it has started to resemble a giant sand castle molded in the shape of a hideous malformed lump, startling the lounging cat, and causing whoever faces the task of sorting (and sometimes even folding) this pile to sigh loudly and complain about the whole system.

There. All done. Now isn't that better? Stay tuned for my next tutorial: How not to fold sheets. Coming soon.

what are you waiting for?

2011-08-05T10:34:00.000-07:00

a little light summer reading, anyone?

2011-07-25T18:56:00.000-07:00

It's always easy to spot an Oregonian on vacation outside of the Northwest. They're the ones sitting in the shade with the ethereal complexions, wearing sunglasses and wide brimmed hats, nose deep in a book.

Portland is a town full of readers, and I'm not sure, but I think it might possibly have something to do with our rainy climate.

There is never a time when Powell's City of Books isn't packed, and our library has a ridiculously high circulation rate. This makes for some stiff competition when a new or interesting book is reviewed on NPR or in the NY Times or the Oregonian. Fortunately, the Multnomah County Library has a great website which enables you to search for and place holds on books online. Unfortunately, Portland is also a very web-savvy town, and when a book is mentioned on NPR, within a few seconds there are 350 holds placed on two copies, and you really have to have good reflexes to be one of the first in line to get it. This is exactly what happened when I read this review of "The Instructions" in the Oregonian early one morning in the beginning of January. I jumped up immediately, walked the thirty-six inches to my computer and placed a hold on the book at the library. I was something like number 245. I promptly forgot about it until last Friday, when I got an email from the library stating the book was waiting for me.

When I went to the holds shelf, I thought I must have ordered an audio book. It looked like a big box sitting on the shelf. Then I remembered that the title of the review was "The best 1,000 page novel you'll ever read", and I realized what I was in for.

(Wine cork added to show scale)

I just hope three weeks is long enough to finish it.

weekend wine report

2011-07-23T12:21:00.000-07:00

I sure do love a good label, and having designed a few myself, I appreciate good art and snappy copy writing when I see it. Occasionally, I'm even ~~suckered into~~ tempted to buy something just because I like the label. Usually, the actual quality of the product doesn't have anything to do with the quality of the packaging, but every now and then the product almost lives up to the promise of the label.

Here are three bottles of wine that caught my eye a while ago at that bastion of good taste, Trader Joe's. I simply had to buy them, even though each of them exceeded my everyday wine budget of $4.99. I thought the artwork alone was worth the expense.

Lazy Bones is a Cabernet Franc from the Paso Robles area of the central California coast. (A region made famous in part by a starring role in the film Sideways). The label is a beautifully drawn and lettered woodblock by Swiss artist Felix Vallotton circa 1896, so nice in fact, that I'd love to have a framed print of it.

While I don't claim to be a wine connoisseur by any means, (see my everyday wine budget above) I do know what I like, and I liked this one. It has a lovely rich flavor like ripe (but not sweet) berries, and an earthy quality that reminded me of being in the forest.

The back-of-the-label story is almost as good

as the artwork on the front:

Okay, so maybe the copy is a little over the top, but it's amusing, to say the least. All in all, not bad for $6.99.

Lost Sonnet is a Meritage, which indicates the wine is made from a blend of certain red grapes. This one is 58% Cabernet Sauvignon, 22% Merlot and 20% Cabernet Franc. The label described it as having "warm Christmas spice and earth on the nose," leading "into a verse of plush vanilla and chocolate covered cranberries." Personally, my impression was not quite as lyrical.

I thought it tasted of burnt coffee beans, cherry pie baked in a smoky, oak-fired oven, and had a finish that scoured my tongue like hot steel wool.

I got it way back in May, and at $9.99, it totally blew my budget. Critics say it should improve with age, but I don't think they meant only 2 months...I give the label a 10, though.

Cocoban was perhaps my favorite of the three. It's light bodied, but full of fresh but not sweet cherry flavor. I have no idea what the blend is, but it definitely lived up to the description on the label, and although I didn't have a dark chocolate walnut cake with a cherry coulis to pair it with, it went quite nicely with Trader Joe's dark chocolate covered pretzels.

I am, however, still waiting for it to take me to Nirvana.
At $6.99, that would be a heckuva bargain.

That's it for the wine report...

Cheers!

and it seems like only yesterday his art was on my fridge...

2011-07-04T10:42:00.000-07:00

Last week, Matt hung his work in a group photography show at

Portland State University's Autzen Gallery.

Instead of an opening, they had a closing reception.

Even though I had already seen all the works in progress,

I was still impressed with how good they looked on those clean white walls.

Father and son shared a touching moment

(pay no attention to the body language - apparently, it's hereditary)

Here's a group portrait of all three talented artists.

We trooped upstairs to see an older installation

of Matt's graffiti series in the stairwell gallery

Seeing his work hanging in public made
us so proud and impressed

...and it's so much cooler than hanging on our refrigerator!

beagle in the house!

2011-06-28T23:50:00.000-07:00

Our little Beagle friend Arrow has made himself at home

for another two week visit.

Wish us luck. I think we'll need it.

another year done gone

2011-05-30T23:08:00.000-07:00

Four years. Three hundred and five posts. Thanks for reading.

dear samsung

2011-05-22T14:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Samsung SGH-t609,
I want to thank your creators for building at least one product that never quits.

My trusty little white cellphone, you will not give up. Not after being dropped a zillion times, or being left in a car to bake in 120º heat for hours, or having been chewed by a hungry labrador, or even that time you were run over by a pickup truck. No, not even after the final catastrophe: being dropped in a toilet. Needless to say, after that last incident, I'm afraid this time I will have to retire you, as no amount of disinfectant can get you clean enough. Please know I wish our relationship didn't have to end in such an undignified way. You see, I've been given a used Blackberry Curve as your replacement, and I will be missing you just as soon as I figure out how to use the #*&@!$% Blackberry.
Au revoir,
Petunia

w.w.l.d.?*

2011-05-15T10:42:00.000-07:00

photo borrowed from this site

Did you know that Judgement Day is scheduled for May 21, 2011? On that date, it is believed by many that those who are True Believers will be physically transported to Heaven in the Rapture to be judged by God for their Good Deeds. The rest of us have already been deemed incorrigible and will be left behind to experience The End Of The World As We Know It.

photo borrowed from these folks

This all sounds fine to me. However, I do have a few questions, like:

What time will the Rapture occur? I'd really rather not be out on the road when all those True Believers are transported out of their cars to rise up to Heaven.
Will dead people really rise from their graves first? This could make one heckuva mess.
When the Last Trumpet sounds to call all the faithful, what happens to the faithful who are deaf? Maybe the Lord will have hand signals or flashing lights or something.
What will happen to all the pets?

The last question really is valid. What will happen to all the poor pets who have no souls? Is there a doggie heaven? Could the faithful really leave their pets to perish in all good conscience?

*What Would Lassie Do?

These questions have been nagging at me, so I've looked into this matter, and I've found that there is actually an organization devoted solely to the care of pets left behind in the Rapture. It seems a group of dedicated animal lovers, who also happen to be ~~confirmed~~ card-carrying atheists, are offering to adopt (for a small fee, of course) the pets of Christians expected to be transported to Heaven.

Eternal Earth Bound Pets are currently active in 26 states, now including even Illinois and Iowa. Unfortunately, they are not equipped to to accommodate all species and limit their services to dogs, cats, birds, rabbits and small caged mammals. (Sorry, no reptiles!) If you live in NH, VT, ID or MT, they can now also offer rescue services for horses, camels, llamas and donkeys.

They do have a few conditions, such as:

If subscriber loses his/her faith and/or the Rapture occurs and subscriber is not Raptured (aka is "left behind") EE-BP disclaims any liability; no refund will be tendered.
Should a relative residing within the rescue location not be Raptured and opts to retain the pet(s), EE-BP will not take possession of the pet(s). No refund will be tendered.

So, now our Christian friends can be swept up in the Rapture with a clear conscience, knowing their beloved pets will be cared for...

And me? Well, all I can say is, it's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.

Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure Eternal Earthbound Pets has never heard of me, and this is not an endorsement of their services.

since last week was word week, how about a wordless wednesday?

2011-04-27T18:46:00.000-07:00

word week, day seven

2011-04-23T10:38:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking about the power of words all week.
Words can envelop us in feelings of joy, hope, understanding, excitement, love, sympathy, empathy and kindness. They can also anger, upset, hurt, challenge, denigrate, disrupt, confuse and defeat us. Words can slap us in the face or surround us in warmth, kill our desire or inspire our creativity.
A simple word lying on the page or resting in our brain doesn't have this power all by itself. A word must be used with intent for it to have power.

We choose the way we string together those words.
We choose the direction.
How we say things does matter.
What direction will you choose?

word week, day 6

2011-04-22T08:03:00.000-07:00

word week, day five

2011-04-21T22:06:00.000-07:00

(photo by Dave Brown)

We must look funny to Someone,

Tumbling through the universe locked in a death grip with

our tiny ball Earth and ripping her busily to pieces,

trailing a stinking film of gas and pieces of satellites

and mushroom and dust clouds.

Think of her new.

An unspoiled country lying open in the sun.

Think of oceans of beauty,

instead of scattered puddles,

muddy and drying up.

What can make the heart ache more than a billboard?

~Terry and Renny Russell

word week, day four

2011-04-20T00:03:00.000-07:00

Portland is a literary town, and anyone who's spent even a few hours here can't help but notice that Portlanders love the written word. Powell's City of Books is a beloved institution, and even has a satellite store at the airport. The Multnomah County Library has for years had the distinction of having the highest circulation in the nation among libraries serving less than 1 million residents, and its materials are checked out at twice the rate of the national average.

So it's no surprise that we have what I think is a uniquely Northwest way of celebrating literature: Poetry Posts. These mostly handcrafted boxes range from elegantly designed masterpieces utilizing clear cedar, copper and stained glass, to the most humble works cobbled together from recycled materials, but they all share a common theme: poetry.

Here are a few of the posts around my neighborhood:
(click on images to zoom in)

In Portland, poetry thrives in driveways,

nestles amongst the vegetables,

draws passers-by with the written word

and slows the pace of pedestrians.

Not all poetry is verbal.

This one has a solar-powered light on top.

This one is beautiful to look at as well as a pleasure to read what's posted inside.

April is National Poetry Month.

Finish

I rub my shoulder

against a doorframe’s wood,

getting the feel of this creature

felled and transformed.

My fingers curve to knead blood

toward a muscle’s hurt, lotion

into an elbow roughened by neglect.

Snubbing shoes, I let bare soles

reacquaint themselves

with the wear of pavement’s grit.

Clothes serve the modest task

of long, soft friction.

Bit by bit, night by day,

I grow smoother-grained,

ready for light. Let me be

a mirror in which something else

might catch a glimpse of itself—

the burnished stone beneath

a lifetime of water, flowing.

~Paulann Petersen

Oregon's Poet Laureate

word week, day three

2011-04-19T07:26:00.000-07:00

The power of words, continued...

Would you buy a used car from this man?

word week, day two

2011-04-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

“Be Impeccable With Your Word.

Speak with integrity.

Say only what you mean.

Avoid using the word to speak against yourself

or to gossip about others.

Use the power of your word
in the direction of truth and love."

~ Don Miguel Ruiz

word week, day one

2011-04-17T11:42:00.000-07:00

wordless wednesday no. 25

2011-04-13T22:35:00.000-07:00

momentary sighting of large yellow orb frightens oregonians

2011-04-11T23:29:00.000-07:00

Pacific Northwesterners are a hardy people. Our mail carriers wear shorts in freezing rain, youngsters play soccer knee-deep in mud. We scorn umbrellas, Gore-Tex and fleece are acceptable attire at the opera and ballet, and our weather forecasters use 47 different descriptive adjectives for "rain".

We cope with the dark and wet and cold by drinking copious amounts of organic, fair-trade coffee in the morning followed by gallons of organic, local microwbrews and pinot noir at night.

Winter in Oregon is not for the faint of heart. As hardy as we are, this year's winter was particularly long and dark, causing rampant Vitamin D deficiencies, and possibly even an uptick in sales of self-tanning products. According to the National Weather Service, from February 26th to April 7th —41 days!—we had no clear days. None. Nada. Zilch. It's enough to tempt even the diehards to head for points south. Or at least consider learning the basics of ark construction.

Even the Oregonian posted a front page story, with a 4 column-wide photo of the day the sun briefly returned to Portland, just under the story about an 11th-hour federal budget compromise being reached.
I won't say there was panic on the streets around here, but everyone I encountered seemed deliriously happy for some reason, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't over the budget.
Now that that scary-bright ball has again disappeared behind the cloud cover, people are acting normal again. And we've all gone back to our regular routines.

Cheers!

window light

2011-04-09T23:27:00.000-07:00

Every week, Carmi over at the blog Written Inc., hosts an exercise called Thematic Photographic. It's been awhile since I've participated, but this week's theme (No. 141) is titled "Windows", and it just so happens they are a favorite subject of mine.

Here are a couple of photos I took not too long ago at Timberline Lodge. Timberline is a beautiful old lodge built on the south slope of 11,000 foot Mt. Hood. During the Great Depression, President Franklin Roosevelt ordered the lodge built here in Oregon by the Works Progress Administration, so that hundreds of artisans and craftsmen (and craftswomen) would have work during one of the most difficult times in our country's modern history.

This writing desk and chair were hand carved from gorgeous, old-growth Douglas fir. The windows look out on the Palmer Snowfield, one of Mt. Hood's 12 glaciers.

Here's one of my favorite portraits of Dave, standing next to a window at Timberline, with the light reflecting off the snow outside...in July.

The WPA was a phenomenally successful and ambitious experiment by Roosevelt's New Deal, and provided over 8 million jobs between 1935 and 1943.

Timberline remains an enduring legacy to a time when our government really was (in Lincoln's words) a government "of the people, by the people, for the people", a concept that seems to be lost on many of our elected representatives today. Click here for more info on the lodge and the WPA.

Then pop on over to Thematic Photographic and check out Carmi's photos, then scroll down to the comments and check out the other contributors.

swept away by an emotional tsunami

2011-03-13T23:36:00.000-07:00

Watching the events unfold around the world: revolution in Libya, Egypt, Tunisia, Yemen, Bahrain; earthquakes and tsunami in Japan and New Zealand, all paralleling the footsteps of demonstrations in London, in Italy, and Wisconsin. I'm overwhelmed and saddened by the depth of the tragedies- the lives lost, the sacrifices made. Each day seems to bring more tragedy and upheaval, and I have to wonder how we humans will survive. I hope we can find the strength to carry on, to change and grow and learn from our massive mistakes and lapses in judgement. I know we have the tools. I pray we have the will to succeed.

the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated

2011-03-01T23:41:00.000-08:00

Look, I know I haven't been around here much lately,

but I've been quite busy working in the barn

on a special project with my friend Marilyn.

We decided to try and put on a show for the neighborhood,

kind of a cross between a circus act and a rodeo,

but we had a hard time finding quality performers.

Here I am interviewing actors

auditioning to play the part of the Knuckleheads

in a semi-autobiographical sketch called "Dietary Indiscretions".

I guess the rehearsals got too loud for the neighbors,

who also seemed to be somewhat irritated

that we built a barn on their land.

Maybe the beads we traded for it

weren't worth quite as much as we thought.

Unfortunately, the show folded after only one night,

but we had one hell of a wrap party.

Well, perhaps I did have one too many margaritas...

The next day Marilyn had the brilliant idea

to hire ourselves out to direct traffic on Hollywood Boulevard.

For some reason, there were quite a few accidents that day.

Marilyn left for Cleveland yesterday to visit her friend Elvis,

so things are pretty quiet around here at the moment.

They invited me to hang out with them next week.

Anyway, that's what I've been doing lately.

Just thought you might like to know...

The other Jane Russell

1921 - 2011

Happy trails, cowgirl.

more messages from the universe

2011-02-24T23:03:00.000-08:00

The other day I was unloading some stuff from the back of my van, when I turned and almost stepped in this pothole in the street right behind me...

Everywhere I look, I see hearts.

time out

2011-02-14T23:14:00.000-08:00

Sometimes minutes are in short supply, so organizing priorities is important. A person could drive herself crazy if everything that needed to be done carried the same weight. So I've been away from the blog for awhile, but I'm filing away ideas for posts and taking pictures every day, and pretty soon I'll be back.

In the meantime, I'm working on getting enough sleep to get rid of the bags under my eyes...

So check back soon, and have a Happy Valentine's day!

i stand corrected

2011-01-26T19:39:00.000-08:00

In my last post, "The Joy of Cross Referencing" I mistakenly conferred a bachelors degree in journalism from NYU on my mother, who apparently spent her time at NYU in the education department, while my dad hung out with her older sister, who actually was a journalism student.

After stating how my siblings and I understood the value of researching and fact checking, I relied upon supposition and heresay evidence to support my claim, which was of course proven false by my ~~elderly~~ (cough) eldest sister.

My bad. I guess I must have been absent the day they went over the research lesson.

the joy of cross referencing

2011-01-23T22:41:00.000-08:00

I have lots of cookbooks. Mostly because I'm a total sucker for both beautiful books and food photography, but also because I've styled quite a few kitchen photo shoots over the years, and cookbooks come in very handy as props. I don't use them in the traditional way much, even though I cook all the time.

this is not my kitchen, but I styled it for these folks

I use my cookbooks mostly as reference books. Not really that unusual, considering I'm the offspring of an editor and a teacher (both graduates of NYU's school of journalism). My siblings and I learned the value of research and fact checking from a young age.

And I think because of this background, my favorite cookbook is The Joy of Cooking. I've had my copy (the 1975 edition) since 1976, and I've never failed to learn something every time I open its worn cover and thumb through the grease-stained pages. Like using any reference book, I skim through the index looking for a particular subject or recipe, and in doing so, my finger passes by any number of other recipes and subjects which may or may not cause me to veer off course for a time to investigate something intriguing. I like this old-fashioned analog way of researching for just that reason. You don't often have that kind of experience when using a search engine.

Joy is an encyclopedia of cooking in condensed form. My father (the editor) was not a fan. He liked his cookbooks simple and to the point. Short, easy recipes were always the preferable path to dinner for him, and referred to Joy as "The Joy of Cross Referencing". And he was right: nary a recipe in the book escapes that necessity to jump to another page for added information.

Suppose, for instance, you'd like to make something as basic as a bean soup, using dried beans. First, the recipe directs you to soak the dried beans, but not before you read the article directly above it, titled "About Legume Soups", which tells you (in the first sentence) to "Please read About Dried Legumes" on page 286. Flipping to page 286, "About Dried Legumes" warns you not to "upstage them, because they have valuable, if incomplete, proteins". The next thing you know, you've moved on to page 519, and the article "About Water", because evidently just any old cooking water will not do.
By the time you get back to the original bean soup recipe, you're ready to open a can of Campbell's Bean with Bacon soup and call it a day.

Though it may not seem like it, this is a great cookbook to open when you have a particular ingredient you have absolutely no idea how to cook.

(click to enlarge if you dare)

Let's imagine you've just run over an unfortunate squirrel. You feel terrible that the poor creature lost his life, but even worse, you'd hate the idea that it was in vain. So you flip open Joy, and in moments you have a step-by-step guide showing you how to skin him and prepare a tasty meal. They suggest using the recipe for Brunswick Stew (page 427), seasoning the gravy with Walnut Catsup (page 848), and serving with Polenta (page 201), but not before you've read About Small Game (page 513).

Suddenly that can of Bean with Bacon soup looks very appetizing.

where do you think best?

2011-01-16T02:07:00.000-08:00

For the last two weeks in December I avoided as many responsibilities as possible. I guess I needed a break from all the details and the multi-tasking and the planning and the money worries that filled my brain last year. Freelance work was on hiatus, so I put my brain on hold and tried to relax, and by the last day of my mental holiday, I thoroughly relished the rare experience of spending an entire day in my pajamas.

Now it's mid January already, and instantaneously the g-forces of all that deferred responsibility have slammed me back into my seat as 2011 shifts into high gear. All at once I have a million things to do, projects to complete and deadlines to meet, and thankfully, my freelance work has picked up (be careful what you wish for!). With all this energy flying around, I need solitude to organize my thoughts and make plans, and this is where I do it best:

At 5:45 am, the best place to think and ruminate on the day ahead is in the shower. Hot water running over my sleepy noggin and down my back washes all the sleep dust from my head, and for a few wonderful minutes my brain can wander aimlessly from one crazy idea to the next.

And while I'm on the subject of crazy ideas, you may have noticed I've started a few new projects.

I've designed a new header and reorganized this blog by adding a new feature:

the daily photo, my a one year commitment to shoot a photo a day will now be located on its own page, which can be viewed by clicking on the photo in the sidebar.

There are more things coming in the next day or so, including a new etsy shop and blog, so stay tuned.

In the meantime, where do you do your best thinking?

daily photo {no. 13}

2011-01-13T23:47:00.000-08:00

This tree is definitely fairy habitat!

daily photo {no. 12}

2011-01-12T21:24:00.000-08:00

Thematic Photographic: Wet

daily photo {no. 11} 1.11.11

2011-01-11T21:00:00.000-08:00

January noon.

daily photo {no. 10}

2011-01-10T22:15:00.000-08:00

I never get tired of this mountain view.

watch your step

2011-01-09T20:11:00.000-08:00

I think

the universe

may have been

trying to tell me something

today...

I'm pretty sure it wasn't "Look up".

daily photo {no. 8)

2011-01-08T23:01:00.000-08:00

Sunset. 4:32 pm.

thematic photographic: wet

2011-01-07T23:45:00.000-08:00

daily photo {no. 7}

January afternoons in Oregon are generally dark, cold, and wet. It's sometimes a challenge for me to remain upbeat in the winter. When I arrive at work in the early morning dark, work all day in a windowless photo studio and then drive home in the gathering gloom, I often don't see the sun for days. When I get home I want to turn on every lamp in the house and light a hundred candles in an attempt to banish the darkness...which may or may not improve my mood, but I'm sure it makes the power company very happy.

Every Wednesday evening, Carmi over at the blog Written Inc. posts a photographic theme, and invites everyone to join in. This week's theme is "wet". Hop on over to Thematic Photographic and check it out!

daily photo {no. 6}

2011-01-06T19:34:00.000-08:00

Another beautiful old weathered door.
Taken this afternoon in Northwest Portland. The weather was dreary and foggy and wet, but this door was a vibrant spot of color in the otherwise drab landscape.

and visions of sugarplums are still dancing in her head...

2011-01-05T16:41:00.000-08:00

the daily photo {no. 5}

Yes, my Christmas tree is still up.

And I'm enjoying my last day off of the holidays...still in my pajamas at 4:30 in the afternoon.

daily photo {no. 4}

2011-01-04T20:35:00.000-08:00

I have a thing for doors and doorknobs. In more than a few places we've lived, the front door has been what sealed the deal for me. It's weird, I know. Doors, old ones in particular, can have such character. They speak volumes about old houses and the people who have inhabited them. This door is the entrance to our teeny tiny downstairs bathroom. It's made from old growth Douglas fir, and it had been covered with many, many layers of paint until it was lovingly stripped down to it's beautiful clear grain by a friend and his dad who really appreciate the beauty of old wood.

I had originally intended to paint it, but I've since decided I love it's honest, worn quality and all the scars.
I hope I look this good when I'm 101.

daily photo {no. 3}

2011-01-03T17:05:00.000-08:00

(click on photo to see a large version)

Today was full cold sunshine topped off by an amazing blue sky...but down here on the ground, the garden looked pretty bleak.

It's a good thing my mood matched the sky and not the roses!

daily photo {no. 2}

2011-01-02T23:12:00.000-08:00

daily photo {no. 1}

2011-01-01T20:34:00.000-08:00

oneoneoneone

2011-01-01T01:11:00.000-08:00

I'm not one who usually makes New Year's resolutions. It's because I have this stupid habit of overextending myself and setting ridiculous goals. Also, when I make resolutions to try and give things up, they don't stick. So I've given up giving things up, and mostly try not to let my eternally optimistic self write checks that my real life self can't cash.
(OK, you can stop rolling your eyes now, Dave...)

Since this year's first day starts with 1/1/11, (which seems to me like a particularly auspicious set of numbers to make a fresh start) I thought maybe I'd give the whole New Year's resolution thing another go.

{Resolution No. 1}

I resolve to take at least one photograph every day
(that's 365 of them in 2011)

and post it here, no matter what.

{Resolution No. 2}

I resolve to stop being a lurker

and come out and comment on every blog I read,

even if only to say "Hi! It's just me: Petunia!", and wave.

(they might end up wishing I would just go back to lurking)

{Resolution No. 3}

This one's for you, Dave:

I'm going to try and get rid of at least one thing a week

in an effort to declutter the house
and make a path in the storage room.

(hmmm... if I take a picture of it, can that also cover
Resolution No. 1?)

All right, there you have it. I'm sure I can think of many, many more worthwhile resolutions, like ~~giving up wine~~ promoting world peace, but I don't think I should overextend myself any more than I already have. (the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single photograph a day, apparently) What about you? Got any resolutions you want to share?

Happy New Year, one and all!

clement clarke moore is rolling in his grave right about now...

2010-12-27T23:58:00.000-08:00

'Twas two days after Christmas, and all 'round Camp Cactus

Not a creature was stirring...they were all out of practice;

The stockings were emptied, the presents unwrapped,

Just recycling the paper left our energy sapped.

Girl child and puppy cuddled snug in a chair,

Whilst commercials on TV continued to blare;

And Poppa in his rocker, a cat in his lap,

Had just settled down for a little nightcap,

When out on the porch there arose such a clatter,

Cat sprang from his perch, sending cocktail a-splatter.

Away to the basement he flew like a flash,

As the dogs began barking and got into the trash.

While he hid in the basement, an unearthly light

Lit up our street like Las Vegas at night,

Then, all of a sudden we heard a Bronx cheer,

As the neighbor's bright decor again did appear,
With rope lights and candy canes, and icicles galore,

They had no competition, that was for sure.

(photo borrowed from these guys)

More brilliant than searchlights, those ornaments were,

And they blinked and played music and caused quite a stir;

Blow up Snowman and Snoopy and reindeer aplenty,

And penguins, I swear there were as many as twenty!

Then the cars came! And vendors! And people on foot!

I found myself wishing Christmas would go kaput!

Our street filled with gawkers and kids by the dozens,

All with their cellphones, taking pictures of cousins.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the sky,

A TV news 'copter in a prime-time fly-by.

As I closed all the curtains and turned my head 'round,

Through the door a reporter burst in with a bound;

He was dressed in a parka, his news station's logo

Emblazoned all over, from his head to his big toe;

A microphone clutched in his hand like a club,

The former top newsman was now a poor schlub;

His eyes -- they looked haunted! his complexion, how scary!

His cheeks were all puffy, his nose like a cherry!

His mouth was a grimace, drawn up like a bow,

And his teeth, oh! his teeth, they were whiter than snow!

The poor man was a wreck, hadn't slept in a week;

And the stress, it showed up in his flabby physique.

He had a broad face and a big ol' round belly,

And his nerves made it shake like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and bent, a right shaky old elf

And I gasped when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A tick in his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know he was just filled with dread;

He asked all his questions, finished his interview,

And fulfilled his damn duty to me and to you,

And laying his microphone down by the door,

He escaped out the back to be seen never more;

But I heard him exclaim, as he fled from the lights,

"Happy Christmas, my ass! This holiday bites!"

with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

happy holidays

2010-12-26T16:02:00.001-08:00

loneliness is a state of mind

2010-12-19T16:27:00.000-08:00

A lovely little film and a novel perspective.

alien beings inhabit potatoes

2010-12-12T22:56:00.000-08:00

I cleaned out the potato basket in the kitchen today, and found this:

It definitely belongs under the category of miracle food.

It creeps me out that it was lurking in my kitchen.

Now I'm afraid to clean out the refrigerator.

a morning full of memories

2010-12-11T11:53:00.000-08:00

I started writing this on a warm and sunny September day. The sky was the color of a bright chunk of turquoise, the sweet sounds of singing birds in the back yard and the chaotic noise of construction coming from the house across the street, coupled with the distant wail of police sirens, reminded me of San Francisco, and of a time I flew down there a few years ago to hang out with my older brother Jim for a week or so before the cancer that was sapping his strength left him unable to savor the warm sun and a trip to a favorite bookstore.

He wanted to take me over to this bookstore in Bernal Heights, my old neighborhood, knowing I loved rummaging around the musty used books as much as he did. It took awhile for him to get up the strength to get dressed and out the door (as much a mental preparation as a physical one) which in part involved waiting for his morphine to kick in, and then for the inevitable nausea to pass. It was difficult to witness his pain and determination to rise to the occasion. I'm sure he felt he may not get another chance to spend time with me in this way.

When we finally got out the door of his apartment, he was bundled up snugly against the warm breeze, overkill at the moment, but in anticipation of the fog that would soon come tumbling over Twin Peaks into the warm valley of the Mission District. It struck me then that I'd never seen him in more than a denim jacket layered over a sweatshirt in all the years he'd lived there. Now his body was betraying him, his internal thermostat suddenly unreliable.

We climbed into his car, and as soon as he started it up and tried to put it into gear, it became apparent he was too weak to handle the shifting and the braking and the clutch. It was a difficult thing for him to admit, this man who had until recently driven a Yellow Cab for twenty years, who knew every neighborhood, street and blind alley in the whole 49 square miles that makes up the city of San Francisco. We switched places, and I got in the driver's seat, but professing that I had been away too long and the city had changed too much, I made him guide me over the familiar streets from his apartment to Bernal Heights.

I did manage to parallel park his car, touchy clutch and all, in a tiny spot facing uphill on Cortland Street across from a coffee house where we had espressos and pastry to fortify us before attempting to browse the bookstore. When we finally made our way across the street and into the store, the books seemed to revive him a little, but I could tell he was already exhausted. I remember thinking later how grateful I was that we had that afternoon together.

Weeks later, he lay propped up with pillows in the living room on a rented hospital bed, his feet sticking out from under the blanket, it's light weight too oppressive for his fragile bones. I remember he wore clean white socks, because the coolness of the slight breeze from the open window cut across his bare skin like a glacier carving a valley across the landscape. His left arm, by now shrunken and bony, nevertheless still bore a deep tan: the badge of a longtime cabbie. It looked odd now, as if it belonged to someone else.

Now all we could do was to try and keep him comfortable. The whole family gathered in his little apartment, sleeping on the futon or the floor or in a chair at the old kitchen table, quietly waiting.

Pumped full of morphine, sometimes he was here and then he was there, and when he returned, he'd give us a report. His son Casey and daughter Lily kept a notebook to log those reports from wherever it was he went. After returning from one such sojourn into the unknown, he told us we needed to clear some of the furniture from the room to make space for all the kayakers.

It's hard work, this business of dying. I wonder if that final moment when we move into the unknown is similar to the moment we enter this life -- but instead of crying noisily, the silence delivers us into the embrace of loved ones who have passed before us.

So when I started writing this it was a warm and sunny September day... as I finish, it's a cold and dark December morning, and the anniversary of my brother's passing. He was a man of extraordinary intelligence, wit and grace, and I sure do miss him.

You can read a bit more about my big brother here.

one tough mother

2010-11-11T15:06:00.000-08:00

Among the clients I work for as a freelance photo stylist are a couple of homegrown, Oregon-based clothing and footwear companies.

Yesterday, the 80+ year old Chairman of the Board of one of those companies (Columbia Sportswear) thwarted a home invasion by outwitting the robber. This is not too unusual for Gert Boyle, who's known throughout the industry as a force to be reckoned with.

Apparently, she became suspicious of him right off the bat, as he was wearing a jacket made by these folks. When he pulled a gun and forced her into her home, she told him she needed to turn off the alarm, but instead tripped a panic button, which summoned the police who found her somewhat roughed up and her hands tied. The intruder ran out the back door and was captured later at a local McDonalds.

She really is one tough mother...and an inspiration, to boot!
(no pun intended) And by the way, I'm seriously thinking I'd like one of those tattoos.

not such a bad friday after all

2010-10-30T12:44:00.000-07:00

Fridays are tough. They seem like they stretch on forever, and I'm antsy to get out of the dark and windowless photo studio and see the big picture view of the world...sky and trees and fresh air.

My morning commute starts before dawn, through the cold fog. (Figurative and literal, since I haven't had coffee yet, my brain is as foggy as the highway)

Then I spend my day on details. (I'll explain this part of my job some other day)

On the commute home I take a different, more idyllic route. It calms me down and reconnects me with the outside world.

When I got home, I grabbed my camera and tripod and spent the evening at one of my favorite places:

Lonesomeville

It's a century-old farmhouse situated on an acre of land in what is now SE Portland, about 10 minutes from downtown.

The house and garden have been restored by two amazing artists and their friends into an delightful showcase for their pottery and other designs.

A couple of times a year they open it to the public and sell their pottery and let people tour the garden.

I love seeing it in the spring, but I think their Halloween sale is the best!

(click here to see what it looked like last year)

Happy Halloween!

fall: tying up loose ends edition

2010-10-22T10:52:00.000-07:00

I think it very fitting that fall is hurricane season. Autumn always seems to sweep in and hurl me about in 120 mph mind-storms, leaving me dizzy with excitement and soaked in a creative downpour of ideas. It also really stresses me out, making it really hard to keep track of all the irons I've put in the fire, which are suddenly all hot at the same time.
Since there aren't enough hours in the day, or brain cells in my head to process all this energy, I have to let a few things slide here and there. This blog is one of those things. I'm not giving up just yet, but since it's not a money making endeavor, and since our finances and the rotten economy seem to be the only things in sync these days, I just have to focus on the bottom line: keeping the refrigerator stocked and the wolves from the door. So my posts here will be few and far between for awhile (I really don't know who I'm talking to, either. It's not like I have millions of faithful followers, but I know there are one or two of you who check in from time to time. )

Anyway, here are a few photos of my fall so far:

here's the galette I made with the plums from the last post

we went to a fun surprise birthday party here for a dear friend

with incredibly colorful and really tasty seasonal food

the grapes were almost ripe

and the wine was fantastic, of course

the evil hops growing on our fence have had a very good season

but they seem bent on taking over our neighbor's driveway...

too bad I'm not a home brewer!

drawing classes continue in my studio

and the spiders have set up housekeeping across every path and doorway

making everyone walk around waving their arms out in front of them like lunatics,

lest they end up with spider webs across their faces and creepy crawlies in their hair.

All in all, things are pretty normal around here for hurricane season. I'll check in again whenever I can. Thanks for stopping by.

Cheers,

Petunia

sunday still life

2010-10-03T00:18:00.000-07:00

Three lovely plums from an orchard nearby.

I'm thinking of painting them someday.

nap quest

2010-09-28T11:41:00.000-07:00

I got into a conversation about napping the other day with a couple of friends. I know this sounds simplistic, but after taking an informal survey of a decidedly small segment of the population (do four people qualify as a focus group?) I've since come to the conclusion that the world is divided up into nappers and non-nappers.

Non-napper types generally feel that sleeping during the hours we're supposed to be awake and productive is wasteful. Time spent napping could be better utilized doing something productive, like ~~checking your facebook page~~ balancing the checkbook, or ~~reading blogs~~ emptying the dishwasher. They employ slogans such as "Sleep is for the weak", or "I'll have plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead", along with copious amounts of caffeine to get them through the day.

A typical non-napper type getting her caffeine fix.

Nappers are generally divided into three camps: the Unabashedly Laid Back, Guilt-Ridden Snoozers, and Master Nappers. The ULB's talk of the restorative effects of the 15-minute Power Nap. They quote studies that support their theories, and insist that scientists at Harvard have determined that a midday snooze reverses information overload. (wikipedia)

The Guilt-Ridden Snoozers, on the other hand, also believe in the benefits of napping but due to a childhood spent under the influence of parents who adopted a strict work ethic during the Great Depression, they find it difficult to nap with a clear conscience. A typical GRS can usually be spotted in the prone position with an open book, magazine or newspaper on his or her chest. If caught dozing off, they will insist, "I was just resting my eyes!"

photo borrowed from here

And the third category of napper? Master Nappers are those who have achieved the highest level of Napology. See photos below:

A true Master Napper can nap anywhere, at any time.

This is known in the trade as a Napportunity.

The training to become a Master Napper

must begin at an early age

and is successful only if practiced on a regular basis.

Another hallmark of the Master Napper is the Group Nap

where three or more Master Nappers
meet to practice in a warm and cozy place.

Synchronized Napping

is a highly developed art form

practiced by teams of Master Nappers.

MN's take Nap Form very seriously

but are sometimes mistaken for Unabashedly Laid Back Nappers.

I hope this post has helped to illuminate the plight of all misunderstood Nappers (yawn!). As it is only through understanding and education that we can promote tolerance for all.

Now I really must go and get another cup of coffee, because I'm suddenly feeling very sleepy....

Buenas noches

another wordless wednesday: because I don't seem to have any words at the moment

2010-09-15T17:28:00.000-07:00

wordless wednesday no. 24

2010-09-08T09:37:00.000-07:00

on number thirty five

2010-09-06T09:34:00.000-07:00

I love being married.

It's so great to find that one special person

you want to annoy for the rest of your life.

- Rita Rudner

* * * * * * * * * *

another recipe, or you could just sneak some zucchini onto your neighbor's porch...

2010-09-03T20:49:00.000-07:00

We are now officially over Zucchini Madness Week at Camp Cactus. The crop has finally slowed way down, now producing only about one zuke the size of a 7 year old's tibia every few days.

A more sane and manageable number, even for a zucchini lover like myself. In all seriousness, there is just so much squash a person can take! So, here's one more recipe, in case you still have a squash surplus.

Zucchini Cake

1 cup white sugar

1 cup brown sugar, firmly packed

2 cups unbleached flour

2 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

4 large eggs, beaten

1-1/2 cups safflower or vegetable oil (not olive oil)

3 cups grated zucchini

2 tsp vanilla extract

1 - 12 oz pkg chocolate chips

1 cup chopped nuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 350ºF

Coarsely grate zucchini.

Combine sugar, flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt in a large bowl. Add eggs, oil, zucchini, vanilla and chocolate chips, and stir together with a wooden spoon until the mixture is thoroughly moist. Spray an angel food cake pan (or a 15" x 10" x 2" rectangular pan, or two 9" round pans) with non stick cooking spray and dust with flour.

Dump the whole mess of batter into your cake pan(s) and bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. (About 1+ hour for the angel food cake pan, or 45+ minutes for the rectangular pan, or about 30 minutes for the round pans.) Let cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes, then turn out of pans and finish cooling on the rack before frosting. (Recipe below)

Cream Cheese Frosting

1 - 8 oz. pkg. cream cheese

1/4 cup butter

2 tsp vanilla extract

1 - 1/2 cups powdered sugar

With an electric mixer (or a lot of elbow grease), cream together the butter, cream cheese and vanilla. Slowly add the sugar, mixing until creamy after each addition. Taste all along the way, adding more sugar if you like it very sweet, less if you like it more tangy. (I like tangy)

Frost the cake and lick the spatula!

I forgot a few steps in the photography process, so let's just jump to the finished slice, shall we?

friday potluck: it's zucchini week!

2010-08-27T00:04:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of my old potluck group, I thought it would be fun to start a virtual potluck, where bloggers could take turns hosting and choosing a theme.

Here's how it works:

The host chooses a theme and posts a recipe on their blog on a Friday evening.
Other bloggers will leave links to their recipes in the comments section.
The first person to post a recipe link becomes the next host, who then gets to choose a theme. The themes can be as elaborate or a simple as you like, and the recipes don't have to look like these, by any means...you can simply post a recipe, or even a link to another blogger's recipe. (Just make sure to give credit where credit is due!)

I'll post the link to the next week's host here on Thursday.

This week's theme is...

Z U C C H I N I !

Here's a recipe my dad created years ago that he called "Scrambled Eggplant".

Because I didn't plant any eggplant, and the single zucchini plant in my garden seems bent on overpopulating the planet with monster squash, I'm substituting. And I'm changing the name, because "Scrambled Zucchini" just doesn't sound right, somehow.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Zucchini Jambalaya

3 Tbs olive oil

1 cup chopped bell peppers (any color)

1 small jalapeno, chopped (optional)

2 cups zucchini, cut in half-inch cubes

1 small chopped onion

2 cloves minced garlic

2 cups of cooked, seasoned rice {see recipe below}

note: plain cooked rice works fine

1+ cups of tomato sauce

9 slices of monterey jack cheese

paprika

salt & pepper

2 sliced green onions

Preheat oven to 350º

Chop all your veggies and heat olive oil in a large cast iron skillet.

Saute onions, peppers, zucchini and garlic over medium heat until everything gets all soft and juicy and the onions are transparent.

Add the tomato sauce

and then the rice. Season with salt and pepper to taste,

mix thoroughly and cook on low heat for a few minutes while you cut the cheese.

{did I really just say that?}

Slice the cheese!

Arrange the cheese on top and sprinkle with paprika. Then bake in the oven for around 15 or 20 minutes, until the cheese melts and gets a little brown on top and the rice gets a bit crispy around the edges. (Since it was about 95º the day I made this, I put the whole shebang on the barbecue and cooked it on low with the top closed.)

Sprinkle with the green onions, and chow down.

Seasoned Brown Rice

2 Tbs olive oil

1 cup brown basmati rice

1/2 small onion, chopped fine

1 clove minced garlic

1 Tbs tomato paste

1 3/4 cups chicken or vegetable stock

1 tsp oregano

1 Tbs chili powder

salt and pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a 2-qt (medium) saucepan over medium heat.

Saute the onion until it becomes translucent. Put in the rice, garlic, chili powder and oregano, and stir for a couple more minutes, making sure not to burn the garlic and spices. Add the tomato paste and stir until it's all combined. Add the stock and season with the salt and pepper. Bring it to a boil, then reduce the heat to very low, cover and cook until all the water is absorbed, about 25-30 minutes. Turn off the heat, and let it rest with the cover on for about 5 more minutes, then fluff it with a fork.

Makes 2 cups

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

So, got any zucchini? What are you waiting for? Link to your recipes already...I'm buried in squash and I need ideas! In the meantime, here's a nice recipe over at Aunt Snow's blog, Doves Today.

and my husband thinks I spend too much time blogging...

2010-08-25T15:58:00.000-07:00

I'm not always on the computer.

In my defense, I did spend about 45 minutes working on my giant rubber band ball the other day.

unsolicited advice, part three: are you happy now?

2010-08-14T16:48:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, a concerned neighbor left a note on my car kvetching about the sorry state of our parking strip. Apparently, she/he was worried about our weeds spreading to surrounding gardens. This anonymous neighbor (and I'm pretty sure I know who you are now), who evidently has a bird's eye view of our property and all the time in the world to critique my gardening skills, somehow missed the countless hours we've spent trying to battle those very same weeds over the course of the almost 20 years we've lived here.

So ~~to make a long story even longer~~ because I know you're just dying to find out what happened, here's the progress that has been made since my last update:

I dug out the dreaded horseradish and Canada thistles once again

and cleared the patch for phase two of what I'm now calling Operation Victory Garden.

Here's the pile of cedar 2x6's we saved from our deck remodel a couple of years ago. I've been planning on building some new raised planters with them. After scaring away about a hundred spiders, I picked through the boards and hauled them out to the sidewalk.

I measured and cut all the boards and waited for Dave to get home,

because assembling those suckers turned out to be a two person job.

While taking a break from ~~screwing~~ assembling the boxes, Dave inspected my weeding job and pointed out I'd missed some horseradish that was growing in the street in a crack between the curb and the asphalt.

He determined it was time to try a new method of eradication.

And discovered it takes a lot of heat to burn horseradish leaves.

In a last-ditch effort to keep the horseradish from coming up again, I decided to line all the planters with 1/4" metal screening and covered that with a layer of weed-blocking fabric. That step took a ridiculously long time, because the screening doesn't come in sizes wide enough to cover the bottom of the bed in one piece, and I figured if I didn't sew all the seams together that horseradish would certainly find its way through any crack.

My friends Iris and Laurie stopped by and helped shovel dirt for awhile.

This entire project has turned into a communal garden of sorts. Dave and I built the beds and provided the land and water, and my friend Laurie bought the dirt and helped fill all the planters in return for the use of the one farthest from the camera. We finally got all the vegetables and seeds planted at the end of June.

Here's what the garden looked like last week:

The corn is well over my head.

Laurie went on vacation, and by the time she got back,

her radishes were the size of torpedoes.

And I thought I was being smart by planting only one zucchini, but I've harvested four in the past week. (Those giant leaves hide the squash until they're the size of baseball bats!)

Anyone got any good zucchini recipes?

imagination unleashed

2010-08-13T00:17:00.000-07:00

I love Anthropologie. Every time I walk into that place I'm inspired to look at styling in a completely different way, to play around and use the humblest of materials to elevate an idea into the realm of great design. Yesterday I stopped in to visit the Portland store and was transported to another realm, as I am almost every time I visit. Don't take my word for it, see for yourself:

scraps of fabric create a bohemian canopy bed

circles cut from old books and scrap paper, sewn together to make a fabulous curtain

a chandelier of twisted wire and cut-up plastic bottles adorns the fitting rooms

crazy cocoons fashioned from strips of recycled cardboard

I love this place!

hot or not?

2010-07-27T00:02:00.000-07:00

wordless wednesday no. 22

2010-07-07T00:05:00.000-07:00

wordless wednesday, newport beach edition

2010-06-23T23:45:00.000-07:00

pdx to oc, day three

2010-06-22T22:26:00.000-07:00

On the road again, after a stop in the Bay Area to visit my sisters and nephews...I stayed up too late and got up too early, but I was eager to get the trip down that desolate stretch of Interstate 5 over with. Not much to look at but gently rolling golden hills and cows. Lot of cows. Down around Coalinga, you can smell the feedlots from miles away. A truly awful way to raise food. I'm not a vegetarian, but why we feel as if it's our right to treat these animals as if they're just inanimate, non-feeling things is a mystery to me.

Further south the rolling hills give way to the enormous San Joaquin Valley, a formerly fertile, now incredibly arid place full of orchards and vineyards and orange groves fed by broad, manmade canals moving water from North to South. Farm is such a quaint word. This is Agribusiness.

It's easy to be critical, but not so easy to reconcile that criticism when I pull into an oasis to fill up my car with gas and have a breakfast of fast food at Burger King.

However, nature is not quite so critical...the wild things see opportunity in the very things I'm criticizing.

Hours later, I make the long, hot climb up and over the final pass

into LA smog and traffic.

It seemed fitting that I was listening to this song at the time:

Welcome to LA...

did I mention it was hot?

pdx to oc, day two

2010-06-21T22:09:00.000-07:00

Back on the road after a one night stopover at my cousin's place. By 7:45 am I've already seen two dead deer and a small orange tabby on the side of the road. We humans sure have made this planet a dangerous place for our fellow creatures.

On the bright side, I narrowly avoid hitting a confused squirrel trying to cross the interstate, so I console myself with that for awhile.

By mid morning I've climbed up and over quite a few mountain passes:

The first three were hills, really...

but then they got a bit higher...

Still, nothing like going over the Rockies, but the highest point on I-5 nevertheless.

And then I got to see the last little bit of cool, green Northwest scenery for about a week:

stuff and nonsense

2010-06-21T10:58:00.000-07:00

pdx to oc, day one

2010-06-20T22:43:00.000-07:00

Driving down I-5 near Roseburg, Oregon listening to Jumping Jack Flash loud on the stereo. I'm doing 75, trying to pass a log truck, when out of nowhere a big maroon Pontiac comes up on my tail. I slip the Honda in front of the truck, and watch the Pontiac blow past me. It's a car full of blue-haired, little old ladies bobbing their heads and laughing animatedly, doing at least 85. I wonder what they're listening to?

friday potluck: it's an all-pie event!

2010-06-10T22:12:00.001-07:00

This week's potluck theme is...pie! What's your favorite? There are so many kinds to choose from: sweet or savory. One crust, two crust, pies you can hold in your hand. One-bite pies.

Let's see if we can come up with enough pie recipes to make up a balanced meal.

I'll do the veggie course.

~ Veggie Pie ~

(Recipe adapted a million years ago from the "Eat It" cookbook.

Written by Dana Crumb and illustrated by her husband, R. Crumb!)

1/2 onion, chopped

2 stalks of celery, chopped

2 carrots, thinly sliced

about 1 and 1/2 cups mushrooms, sliced

(I use cremini mushrooms, but you could experiment with any kind you like)

about 4 cups fresh spinach, chopped

1/2 cup each of two other veggies, like:

corn

peas

green beans

lima beans

zucchini

or whatever

2 cups grated cheddar cheese

2 TBS olive oil

2TBS butter

3-4 TBS soy sauce

freshly ground pepper

crust for a 2-crust pie

(I'm a terrible pie crust maker, so I use Pillsbury, but don't let me be a bad influence)

Preheat your oven to 400º

chop your celery, onions, garlic, carrots,
and any other veggies you like

heat olive oil in a large skillet and saute the veggies on medium heat until they're soft and fragrant and the onions are translucent

chop your mushrooms (halve or quarter them first if they're large)

Add the butter and throw in the mushrooms

While the mushrooms get all fragrant and start to soften and soak up all that lovely butter, chop 4 cups of spinach

throw the spinach in, too.
It will be a big pile, but stir and it will cook down to practically nothing in about 30 seconds.

see what I mean?

Add the soy sauce and freshly ground pepper to taste
(the whole 4 TBS of soy sauce might be too salty for some so take it easy and taste as you go)

then mix in the cheese until the whole mess melts into a mass of gooey goodness.

put your bottom crust into your pie pan, and fill with the veggie mixture.

put on the top crust, crimping the edges, and cut a few slits in the top to let steam escape

Bake for about 35 - 40 minutes, or until the crust is golden brown. (But don't do what I did

and take your dogs for a long walk while it's baking)

Let it cool for a few minutes, and Eat It!

Okay, now it's your turn...got a yummy pie recipe? Here are a couple of ways to share:

Post a comment with a link to the recipe on your blog, or
Post a link to someone else's recipe on their blog, or
If you don't have a blog, email it to me, and I'll post it here as soon as I get it.

So what are you waiting for? Let's have a potluck!

P.S. When I decided on the pie theme, I thought I'd google it to see if anyone else had done it before, and whaddaya know? There was an all-pie potluck right here in my hometown of Portland back in January. Check it out here: Mile Post 73.

friday potluck, anyone?

2010-06-10T06:42:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, back when we lived in San Francisco, I belonged to a loosely-organized potluck group. We usually met once a month, with everyone taking turns hosting the gatherings. The host got to choose the theme, and because we were a pretty eclectic bunch, ranging from bookkeepers and artists to microbiologists and musicians, the themes got pretty interesting.

I've tried once or twice to drum up interest in forming a new group in my Portland neighborhood, but we all seem to be too busy these days to commit to a regular thing. It's a shame, really - my friends are awesome cooks. The closest we've come to a regular thing has been the five-plus years that three or four families have been pitching in to cook dinner for our local Ronald McDonald House.

It's been a great experience, but cooking a meal for 25 people you don't know generally tends to limit your creative choices. I'm not sure the residents would fully appreciate a meal composed entirely of bite-sized foods or the color purple.

So, in the spirit of my old potluck group, I thought it would be fun to start a virtual potluck, where bloggers could take turns hosting and choosing a theme.

Here's how it would work:

The host chooses a theme and posts a recipe on their blog on a Friday evening.
Other bloggers will leave links to their recipes in the comments section.
The first person to post a recipe link becomes the next week's host, who then gets to choose a theme. The themes can be as elaborate or a simple as you like, and the recipes don't have to look like these, by any means...you can simply post a recipe, or even a link to another blogger's recipe. (Just make sure to give credit where credit is due!)

I'll post the link to the next host's site here every Thursday evening.

So stop by here tomorrow for the first week's potluck theme and recipe!

just checking in...

2010-06-09T09:38:00.000-07:00

I haven't been around here a whole lot in the last week.

My friends appear to be checking up on me.

It's kinda nice to know I'm missed by somebody.

wordless wednesday no. 20

2010-06-02T09:48:00.001-07:00

tempus fugit

2010-05-30T20:00:00.000-07:00

May 30th marks three years since I started this blog, and the time really has flown by. Counting today's entry, I will have written 242 posts, which averages out to about 80 posts per year, or somewhere in the neighborhood of 6.72 posts per month, way more than I ever would have thought possible when I started. Definitely not in the same league as this blogger, or her, or him, or even close to my favorite blogger, Bossy, but in the course of those three years and 242 posts, I've discovered that I truly enjoy writing, even though I find it to be an infinitely more painful process than drawing or painting or making teeny tiny little fairy shoes.

I'd never even read a blog until early 2007, when my nephew took a trip to Costa Rica and started a journal to document his adventures south of the border. (It's all your fault, Seamus!)

It was while reading Seamus' blog that I noticed the little "next blog>>" button at the top of his blog and clicked on it...which randomly brought me to her blog, and suddenly a whole new world opened up for me.

The other day, a friend of a friend, who I see maybe twice a year, told me she really enjoyed reading my blog, and I couldn't help but feel astonished. I mean, I know that there are people who read it...I have a site meter that tracks the numbers, but I'm always shocked when someone I know tells me they read it.

I can't guarantee how many more words I have left in me (I've been struggling lately) but I want to thank these bloggers who inspire, entertain, and make me wipe the coffee off my keyboard daily:

And thanks to anyone who takes the time to read this blog every once in awhile...leave me a comment occasionally, would ya?

I don't bite. Usually.

Love,

Petunia

strange but true

2010-05-26T09:30:00.001-07:00

More people use blue toothbrushes than red ones.
The Nobel Peace Prize medallion features three naked men, who appear to be wrestling with each other:

Over 2,500 left-handed people die every year from using products designed for righties.
People photocopying their buttocks are the cause of 23% of all copier errors.

Oreos are the Official Cookie of Nascar.

Just thought you'd like to know...

knee deep in fairy shoes!

2010-05-14T14:10:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, I'll be sharing a booth with Gretchen Boylan at the Alberta Art Hop, a fun street fair in the Alberta Arts District in NE Portland.

They'll be closing down Alberta street to traffic from 11 am to 6 pm, and filling it with all manner of artists and crafters and entertainment, from NE 11th to 30th Avenue.

I'll have lots of fairy couture, including little shoes like these, and new one of a kind fairy dresses.

And here's a little example of what Gretchen will be bringing:

So look for the fairy tent on the south side of Alberta Street, between 19th and 20th Avenues.

You won't miss us...we'll be the tent covered in pixie dust!

2010-05-06T13:46:00.000-07:00

Sleeping In The Forest

I thought the earth remembered me,

she took me back so tenderly,

arranging her dark skirts,

her pockets full of lichens and seeds.

I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,

nothing between me and the white fire of the stars

but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths

among the branches of the perfect trees.

All night I heard the small kingdoms

breathing around me, the insects,

and the birds who do their work in the darkness.

All night I rose and fell, as if in water,

grappling with a luminous doom.

By morning I had vanished at least a dozen times

into something better.

by Mary Oliver

it's all in my head

2010-05-04T16:52:00.000-07:00

It always begins with a tiny point of colored light, flashing like an emergency beacon in the very center of my vision. Not even noticeable at first. My vision becomes fragmented in a way, and suddenly I realize I can't focus on anything in front of me because it's blocked by an invisible squiggle, like trying to see clearly through a pane of wavy antique glass. I feel frustration and anger at the disruption of whatever it is I'm working on or reading. Such bad timing! It really pisses me off, and I keep trying to forge on, writing out a check for my cell phone bill, but I can't even see the balance due.

I make a cup of strong, hot coffee and swallow three ibuprofen, to fortify myself against the headache that sometimes comes pounding out of left field after the visual disturbances subside.

The squiggle gets larger, turning into a pulsating snake of interconnected, multicolored triangles. It engulfs my entire field of vision from the left side to my right. All I need is the strains of Jefferson Airplane's White Rabbit piped in to feel like I'm on a bonafide acid trip.

Now I'm typing through the psychedelia, pretty much unable to see the keyboard or the words appearing on the screen. The snake undulates and jumps, slowly retreating out of my line of vision. Sunlight suddenly streaming through the window next to me hurts like hell and I think I'll retreat into the cool darkness of the living room and a comfy armchair to wait it out.

happy trails, bossy!

2010-05-01T00:02:00.000-07:00

A famous blogger rode into town Thursday on her intrepid hybrid pony known as (Harrison) Ford.
Bossy is on another road trip, driving 10,000 miles from coast to coast to convene her council in cities and towns across the country. She's been on the road about three weeks or so at this point, and arrived in Portland after a grueling ten-hour drive from Reno looking a little bleary-eyed, but surprisingly fresh and cheery. (The girl's got some serious stamina. I would have been incoherent if I tried to keep up a schedule like hers!) In fact, I'm pretty sure I was fairly incoherent anyway, after spending the afternoon shoveling all the messes out of the house to make it look presentable to the general public.

We shared homemade pizzas, and salads and a fabulous gorgonzola spinach dip that made it all the way up from Eugene (thanks, Elizabeth - it was awesome!)

That's Amanda on the right, an amazing blogger and about-to-be-published author who's already working on her second novel.

There was some great conversation, which is a given, considering all the talent assembled that night. This is Eliza, a fiber artist and soon to be publisher with two blogs: this one and this one.

Bossy was looking stuff up on her iPhone...what did we ever do without the technology to instantly call up facts when we need them?

Here's Sara, who has a wonderful blog where she writes letters to her young daughter.

That's Ann (who's in a marimba band) on the left, and Elise on the right. I met Ann and Elise and Sara a couple of years ago at a mixed up meetup for Bossy's last road trip. We're all glad we finally got to meet her this time!

I wish I'd taken more pictures, but I was way too busy trying to keep the knuckleheads from stealing the pizza off the table, and generally creating chaos. Plus, it just wouldn't be the real Camp Cactus experience if at least one of the cats didn't draw blood or throw up on the rug. (sorry about that!)

Well, I sure hope Bossy has one or two fond memories of the few hours spent with her Portland Council. You can see her famous long-arm portraits of the whole group here.

And as for me, I'm spending the weekend recovering from Bossy's No Book Tour.

Thanks to whoever left the "lemonade" behind...(and trust me, it is not simply lemonade...that stuff has a kick!)

Happy Trails, Bossy!

(Cooper's already taken over your chair)

it's not as easy at it seems

2010-04-27T06:49:00.000-07:00

The past few weeks, I wonder if I've died and gone to accessory hell.

I work as a photo stylist, and even though the average person would never know it, the recession has hit the advertising industry pretty hard. Advertisers have been reusing old photos, running fewer ads and scaling back costs, which means less work for the supporting industries like photographers, stylists and graphic designers. After a very long dry spell for freelance work, things seem to be finally picking up a little.

I've been hoping for work of any kind, not just the glamorous and fun stuff like this:

or this:

or even this:

Sometimes, this is the reality:

Socks. Hundreds of them. Days and days of them, punctuated by piles of hats and gloves, and then - then when I thought I would surely go out of my mind, I get to style SHOES!

So the next time you look at shoes or socks or hats or gloves in a catalog or on a website, think of me and those other anonymous stylists out there slaving away,

lacing all those shoes perfectly.

And just in case you're wondering what kind of shoes I prefer:

another camp cactus tradition

2010-04-17T11:20:00.000-07:00

Here at Camp Cactus, all kinds of random events become traditions at the drop of a cowboy hat...like Tostada Tuesdays for instance. Years ago, Matt and Caitie invited a few friends over for a tostada dinner on a Tuesday night, and before I knew it, our Tuesday nights were filled with cauldrons of refried beans, whole heads of shredded lettuce, and enough grated cheese to cause cholesterol levels to rise for blocks around. The smell of frying tortillas permeated the house for days afterwards. Also, I learned to never underestimate the appetites of teenage boys.

So this last Tuesday, when one of Matt's old buddies was in town, we revived the long dormant Tostada Tuesday Tradition...

Caitie fried up a bunch of chips...

Check out the elbow action...frying foods in cute but skimpy outfits requires a special stance.

Mmmm...crunchy goodness!

You gotta love Matt's knife skills.

Fresh guacamole - another tradition.

Greg supervised the preparations, then chipped in by grating a mountain of cheese.

The old gang gathered around the table, and we had ourselves a feast.

Mr. Chubbs is a connoisseur of home made tortilla chips.

Cheers!

unsolicited advice, part two

2010-04-08T18:27:00.000-07:00

Last week, after an unidentified neighbor left an anonymous note on the windshield of my car, I wrote a blog post about it. (Scroll down to read part one of this little saga, and don't forget to read the comments) It seems that in their opinion I have been slacking in my gardening duties, and therefore, by my sloth, have raised the Noxious Weed Threat Level to ORANGE (see chart below)

I received many supportive comments from my friends in the blogging community (I'm truly touched that you're all so pissed off for me!) as well as from my lovely neighbors who assured me they wouldn't hesitate to come over and pull the damn weeds out themselves if they could only identify them.

What the passive aggressive note-writer didn't seem to know is that I have been battling this particular patch of weeds for years. In fact, along with the dreaded Canadian thistles (Cirsium arvense) the parking strip is also overrun with horseradish, for which there seems to be no known enemy. In fact, I'm now convinced that in the event of a nuclear bomb blast, it would just spread bits of roots everywhere and the radioactive horseradish would happily repopulate the earth.

In September of 2008, I finally gave the go ahead to use Roundup to clear the patch, after 17 years of attempting to eradicate the stuff organically. We sprayed it, and left it to die for several weeks, after which we covered it with thick black plastic and let it sit over the entire winter and well into the spring of 2009.

We finally pulled up the plastic in June, only to discover snow white shoots of horseradish growing everywhere, followed several weeks later by sprouts of Canadian thistle. I set to work once again, digging deep craters in an attempt to get out all the roots, then bored holes in the roots that remained and poured undiluted Roundup into them.

This was nearly a year ago, and with the arrival of warm spring weather in 2010, the buggers are back with a vengeance. And now some busybody is giving me crap about slacking.

I have been considering my options for the past few years and have come up with another strategy to thwart the weeds' plans for world domination, but I just haven't had time to implement it yet, as I've been too busy working hard trying to keep the mortgage paid and food on the table. So in the meantime, this will have to do: I posted a discreet sign in the parking strip to ward off any more well-intentioned public diatribes.