In The Garden

September came on suddenly, the way it often does, with a change in the weather. Oddly enough, it appeared as if the very first day of September meant an abrupt shift to Fall Weather. The weeks of hot, sweltering summer vanished in an instant.

Now we have cool days and almost cold nights.

Fortunately, I still have hummingbirds.

Fly to me, my love, and sip the nectar from my depths.

I still have several of them zipping around the yard and fighting for the right to drink all of the nectar from the deck plants.

Mmm! Agastache 'Heather Queen'. A 2007 vintage. Lovely!

Here he is, finally at rest.

Taking a breather.

He keeps the interlopers on their...errr...wings.

In the front yard (Also hummingbird territory.), the container plant has filled in and the millet is putting up flowering stalks.

Flowering stalks that smell remarkably like cumin or curry. Yum!

The bed I created earlier this summer has gone nuts.

Beneath the cherry tree, flowers bloom and bees buzz.

As I was weeding, I found a casualty: one of my toads lay dead. I don't know what did it in, but I was saddened at its passing. (No photos of that one because...ew!)

Close up of the flowers. Click to enlarge for detail.

I'm looking forward to trying new flowers under there next year. Still haven't decided what I want to put in there permanently, but I could be a wild woman and leave it a bed of mostly annuals I suppose. I shall have to think on it. I do think the river of red flowers that curls around the tree has worked out very well indeed and the night scented Jasmine Alata was wonderful. Next year I hope to get plants for this bedstarted even sooner. This fall I'll mulch the bed and clean out all of the annuals once they are killed off by frost.

Death undoes us all.

Soon the gardening season will wrap up again for another year. I feel like I have a lot to show for it and yet not enough. It's never enough for me. Other people call it a "hobby". For me it is an obsession.

A beautiful obsession.

Soccer Hooligans

As we were waiting for the game to begin, I mentioned to Eric that we should pick up a pair of the folding chairs everyone else seemed to have.

"If we really wanted to, we could probably just go over and take some from those soccer moms." I suggested with an evil grin. "Pow! Soccer Mom drops [Folding Chair]."
"Yeah, the only problem is then you'd lose faction. Your faction with the PTA has decreased! Your faction with Soccer Moms has decreased! Your faction with Soccer Hooligans has increased!"
"Good point."

I think we've been playing too much Warcraft again.

-----

Oh what a difference a week makes! After spending the last week grilling her on the positions and what the players do, reminding her that we never sit down on the field unless injured and that her job is to chase the ball, Caitlin did remarkably better.

Indeed, I remarked upon it. As did several of the other parents.

She and her team did so well, in fact, that they actually won. Three to zero.

Incredible!

Two, four, six, eight! Who do we appreciate? The other team!

High fives all around.

I also noticed that we weren't the only parents giving our kid last minute instructions. I heard furtive whispers of: OK, where do you stand? What's your position?

I'm glad it wasn't just us!

As for Caitlin? She really enjoyed herself this time. She wore her glasses, paid attention, chased the ball and actually managed to kick it around a few times and defend her position. Awesome!

Play the Game

It was an exercise in frustration.

I shouldn't have been so surprised, really. After all, they'd only had two whole hours of practice before their very first game and Caitlin had never played before. The coach is just some dad (As in, not an actual coach that has training and a paycheck.) and does not appear to have ever coached before.

She knew the proper way to pose with a soccer ball, though.

The soccer pose. It's all about the jaunty stance.

I guess I had my expectations set kind of high when I thought the coach might've chosen to do something useful with the twenty minutes before the game. I kinda thought he might go over the rules of the game with them. Or give the girls a refresher on what their positions were and what they were expected to do.

Guess not.

Here's an action shot of Caitlin.

Chase the ball!

As in, she's actually in motion.

Here's a shot of Caitlin as she was for the majority of the game.

Not the goalie.

No, she wasn't the goalie.

She didn't know she was supposed to move - ever. Unless the ball pretty much came right to her, she never moved. She didn't know defense positions or what offense did. She didn't know where left mid-field was. The coach didn't tell her and I didn't know that she didn't know. I was under the assumption that information was included in the two hours of training.

Guess not.

Oh well.

Her team did score one goal, amazingly enough (The other team scored over three. I lost count.). I discovered that I am not cut out to sit quietly on the sidelines.

No! Really! I was surprised. I thought I wouldn't care how the game went, but while watching I found it kind of a thrill to watch those kids running around, kicking wildly at the ball and trying to make it go somewhere else. I felt so frustrated watching Caitlin do nothing at all that I had to start shouting encouragement and useful things like Stand up! and Chase the ball! and Run, Caitlin!

You know, just like a good sports enthusiast would.

Emma and Logan watched, too. They didn't have much to say, though.

I could be goalie!

Run, Caitlin! Run!

I'd like to say that the last two practices have seen better behavior, but I can't. Even with her new glasses firmly perched on her nose, Caitlin goes off into her own world in her head. And if ever a kid needed a team sport to get her out of her own head, Caitlin is that kid!

All I want is for her to learn the rules of the game and actually try to play it before throwing a fit or announcing that she hates soccer. So while I never had any intention of becoming a "Soccer Mom", it would appear that until the coach steps up and starts coaching, I will have to drill Caitlin on the positions and rules and shout from the sidelines.

Any advice out there on getting a bookish kid into the game? Anyone? Bueller?

Suddenly...

She doesn't seem quite so young anymore.

My baby is growing up.


And now she can see!

The Eyes Have It

I wear contacts. Eric does, too. We're both pretty bad off in the visual department and kind of wondered how Caitlin was doing so well with that whole "seeing" thing and all.

Then it happened.

I went to school to meet the teacher and noticed that Caitlin's desk was in a different location than it had been after the first week of school. I wondered if that had to do with her behavior or the teacher's preference, so I asked Caitlin about it the very next evening. She mentioned, casually of course, that the other location was too far away from the board.

My ears perked up.

"What do you mean?" sez me.
"Well," sez she, "I was just too far away from the board."
"But what does that mean?" I sez, fishing around without trying to lead the witness.
"It was hard to see." She paused for a moment and then added in a rush, "But it's not like I need glasses or anything!"
"How do you know if you need glasses or not?
"Well, I just don't, that's all."

Then there was a flurry of activity: the downloading of a vision chart, scrambling for the measuring tape and getting a somewhat unwilling Caitlin to stand there and read that. Then getting her to move closer when she couldn't see anything.

Then closer.

Then even closer.

Then there was the immediate phone call to our optometrist to set up an appointment for the next available opening.

I suppose it was inevitable, but I had hoped....

According to Dr. K. there was a 30% chance that her eyes would have been just fine, but no, Caitlin didn't beat the Crazy Nearsighted Odds. Instead, she got to sit in the fancy chair and attempt to read the real eye chart.

"Just read any of the letters you can make out to me." said the helpful assistant.
"I can't see anything." Caitlin replied. I was unsurprised.

Flick. The letters got bigger. "How about now?"
"Nope." Still unsurprised.
Flick. "Now?"
"Nope." My eyebrows started lifting towards my hairline.
Flick. "Can you read them now?"
Caitlin finally tried to read the letters and made a complete hash of it. My eyebrows were officially stuck in the Oh My God She's Blind! position.
Final enlargement. Only two letters were on the line. They're HUGE. "Can you read them now?"
"S and L." Caitlin replied.
The assistant dropped down one level. Caitlin tried a little harder to read the letters and got them mostly correct. At that point, the eye test was over and the assistant went to go get Dr. K.

Wow. Oh, wow.

How long has this been an issue and she didn't tell me? For that matter, why didn't the teacher mention that Caitlin was having a hard time seeing the board? Is it possible this has been going on for the last two years? I have no idea, but it seems really sudden!

Previously, Caitlin could read all manner of signs as we were driving along in the car, so this was a big surprise to me. Apparently eye changes can happen just that fast as the eye gets squished out of the proper spherical shape. I'm just glad that we caught it as quickly as we did.

Caitlin is kind of worried about being teased.

Here kitty, kitty!

But I think she'll be OK. We role-played our way through a few situations, just in case.

The eyes are beautiful, but they don't see so good!

As for me, my 3rd grade teacher was the one that told my mom I was squinting at the chalkboard. Glasses at eight. Unsurprisingly enough, I kept "losing" them. Eric didn't realize anything was wrong with him until he was eleven and jokingly put on a friend's glasses. What a surprise when everything suddenly came into focus!

What about you? How did you find out you needed glasses (If you do.)?

Still Sticky in Singapore

We continue our travels in Singapore, because my brain, she is tired.

June 13, 2000

The night exhales hot and sticky air onto my skin. I swim through the dimly lit dark and catch sight of an anteater. He's furry! He looks like he's wearing mukluks on his front legs!

I peer at a bat, who is hanging upside down from a branch. I could touch it, if I just reached out a little bit...I restrain the impulse. The fruit bat is far larger than I'd ever expected. He's (she's?) the size of a ferret with wings! Leathery, satiny, black wings. I'm only 6 inches away...and there's no barrier in my way.

Strange birds call out in the night. Strange insects sing their night song to one another. I hear a loud bellow (a big cat? a deer? water buffalo?) and try to walk towards it, but I'm blocked by jungle.

I squat down and examine the fur of a leopard inches away, separated from me by only an inch of glass. He's lying against it, snoozing and unconcerned with my existence. I am fascinated by his and by the pattern of his fur. I want to touch him. I want to communicate somehow. I admire all of the big cats, one by one. The Malaysian tiger, the African lions, the jungle cats. I want to be a big cat. I feel sad that they're in captivity but glad that I'm able to see them.

I'm at Night Safari - the nocturnal zoo in Singapore where they display animals that are more active by night. Lighting them gently with special "moonlighting" lights - dim, bluish light. I see lions, tigers, sloth bears. Civets, mini water buffalo, big water buffalo, bongos, deer pigs, porcupines, rhinoceroses, elephants...Separating us are only gullies in some cases. Glass in others. Striped hyenas. Spotted hyenas. These last watch people walk by and look as if they are considering angles and distances. "I could take 'em!"

Earlier I was having High Tea at the Compass Rose, a restaurant in my hotel, 70 stories up. What an excellent view of Singapore! Crisp white linen. Perfectly displayed cucumber and salmon sandwiches. Tiny scones and cakes. I feel rich and decadent. I'm glad the company is paying for this trip....

I went to the Singapore botanical gardens. As I walked along, sweltering and melting slowly, I had my very own theme song playing over in my head: "Heaven! I'm in heaven!" The plants are HUGE beasts of the jungle. Plants that we keep in pots, tiny things in comparison to the massive plants towering over my head. I have my camera and am shooting everything that interests me that I am able to capture (thus no shoots of the exotic women). Later on the same day I was given the SG tour by one of my hosts, Ching Meng. He took me to Chinatown where I saw an Indian temple - brightly colored statues and paintings and cloth abound. We had to take our shoes off upon entry, but I left my socks on since I was following Ching Meng's example. I was trying to figure out how to NOT give offense by 1) wearing socks 2) wearing a tank top and shorts 3) being an unbeliever and 4) being female. Maybe being female should have been at the top of the list?

I saw images of gods whose names I do not know and could not pronounce. Dangerous, knife wielding images. Beautiful, sensuous carvings. Elephants and sacred cows.

The next stop was the "wet" market where produce and meat are sold. I saw things in bags and boxes and in piles that I cannot name and didn't recognize. Ching Meng bought me lychee (About the size of a large grape, with red/orange bumpy skin that you peel off. The flesh of the fruit looks like the inside of a grape and the flavor was somewhat similar.) and ramputan (Red and orange and yellow skin with long curling hairs? fibers that stuck out in all directions.) and persimmon. In the meat section I saw fish that were still gasping on tables, tortoises and eels and bullfrogs in cases, waiting to be bought, killed and cooked. Ching Meng thought I would be grossed out by this but I've EATEN frog and eel, and although I've no personal experience with tortoises, I knew they ate them here. We walked along and stopped in a Chinese herbal medicine shop - the walls were lined from ceiling to floor with huge jars of unrecognizable animal and vegetable parts. Horns of this, roots of that, shark fins, bird's nests (you eat solidified BIRD SPIT??) and so many other things.

After that we took a cable car ride from Mount Faber (Hee hee! They call THAT a mountain?) to Sentosa Island and back again. The view is wonderful, so high above everything. You can pretty much see the whole island from up here - it's very small but they're enlarging parts of it slowly with sand that they've "reclaimed" from the sea. Tons and tons of sand are poured and allowed to settle for 5 years or so and then they start building new high rises. Then the people who had last had the beach front property now have a fantastic view of the backside of a new building...

Everything changes.

Last night I was convinced to try a taste of the sweat sock smelling fruit - Durian. I decided, after trying it, that it wasn't for me. Unfortunately, the smell on my hands remained part of me for the rest of the night. They serve it to you at open air fruit stalls. The buyer selects one of the vicious looking spiked fruits, the size of a large pineapple, and smells it. If they like the scent (whew!) they ask for it to be opened and the seller quickly hacks it open with a mini cleaver, allowing the buyer to poke a finger inside and test for ripeness. If it passes this second test, the seller opens the fruit a bit more and allows the buyer to taste test it. Then, if it passes this final test and the buyer accepts it, they go to one of the tables and slurp away. It's a very messy prospect - the squishy milky yellow fruit surrounds large tan pits, covered in a thin skin. The fruit itself has the consistency of custard so there's a lot of slurping going on. After awhile your nose gives out and you can't smell it as strongly as you did when you first walked up, but guaranteed that after you leave, everyone will know where you've been and what you've been eating!

They won't let you take Durian home on the bus or in a taxi...opened or unopened.

I take my smelly self back to the hotel and hope no one notices my scent.

Ciao!
The Wandering Trainer

Broken

A car, a lawnmower, a toilet and a dishwasher walk into a bar. Each was feeling grumpy and out of sorts.

"They don't appreciate me!" the car growled, nursing a Long Island Iced Tea. "I work and work and work! I take the entire load of howler monkeys everywhere they need to go, in comfort and style and do they take care of me? No! Let's see how they like it when I don't start anymore!"

"Yah? You t'ink dat's so bad? I gotta eat alla dat grass. And it ain't like it's just grass, neither. Naw, they gots weeds all ovah da place! Who the hell wantsah eat dat crap alla da time? I'm sick uv it! I'm done!" The lawnmower slams its pint of beer onto the table angrily. Beer sloshes onto the tabletop and drips onto the floor.

"Grass?!" the dishwasher cried, affronted. "All you have to eat is grass and maybe some weeds? Try my diet some time! I have to eat everything. All! The! Time! I have to work twice or even three times a day. And if they have a party?!" Dishwasher rolls its eyes dramatically. "Four or maybe even five times in a single day! They don't even rinse all that thoroughly, either. Like they expect my built in disposer to handle all of that food they're constantly eating! What are they? Gluttons? The food making never stops! All day long: eat, eat, eat! I'm so sick of it! I'm going on strike! See how they like that!" The dishwasher folds its arms over it's metal chest and leans back in its chair. The space in front of it remains conspicuously empty of drink.

A drunken snort escapes from Toilet's mouth. The other three turn and regard it with curious hostility.

"You three think you have it soooo bad. You know what I think?" The toilet slams back yet another whiskey and gestures angrily at the others with the bottle, its hand wrapped tightly around the bottle's neck. "I think you're all a pack of whiners!" The others explode with indignation. The toilet ignores them and continues pouring and drinking until they stop sputtering and wildly gesticulating.

"Twenty years I been in that house. Twenty! Years! Two different families. Hundreds of guests. I got a little somethin' to tell you about that. You think you can handle this?" Glares bounce between the affronted parties, but they wait and they listen. "I've seen more ass than I ever cared to! You!" Toilet finger jabs at the air in front of Car. "Nobody goes for a drive when they feel sick! And you! You ain't even been used this summer 'cause the grass hasn't even been growin' until just now! You oughtta be ashamed!" Guilty as charged, Lawnmower looks away from Toilet's righteous anger. "As for you," The dishwasher leans back to avoid the noxious fumes pouring out of the toilet. "You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about! At least you get to see the food before it comes out! Me? I'm signed up for 'In SICKNESS annnnd in health. 'Til death do us part!' Ain't none a'y'all can beat that! Frickin' pansies!"

-----

Yes. It's true. In the same week, my car, dishwasher, toilet and lawnmower broke down on me. We had the car fixed, replaced the toilet, shopped for a new dishwasher that will hopefully arrive before the week is out (Or my hands fall off, whichever comes first. We make an AWFUL lot of dirty dishes around here!), but Eric is still trouble-shooting the lawnmower issue. Frickin' dilletante mower!

Pasta Estate

As opposed to Pasta Primavera, which means Spring, this is Pasta Estate. Summer pasta.

A pasta dish made with veggies you can only get in the summer time, at their peak. Our star performers include a trio of tomatoes: Cherokee Purple, Persimmon and Moskovich.

This is what they look like inside.

Gorgeous!

This is what they look like sauteed with zucchini, crookneck squash, fresh basil, garlic, olive and truffle oil.

Get closer. Can you smell it?


The truffle oil is the secret ingredient. We had a dish in Italy that was gobsmackingly delicious and when we raved about it, they told us about truffle oil. Mmmm! Italy!

Pour this mixture lovingly over your favorite pasta and serve!


Yum!

A friend recently asked us if we ate like this every night. Eric and I looked at one another somewhat sheepishly and said, "Yes." Eating at home, with a garden full of vegetables and palates spoiled rotten by years of eating at fabulous places means that we like to spend our energy on eating well. So that half hour to an hour that someone else spends cleaning their house? We spend that time cooking dinner.

Seems like a good trade to me!

Just don't look in my basement when you come over for dinner, okay?

P.S. This also explains why I'm awake at 1 a.m. cooling down, pureeing and sieving tomato sauce that I've just made from 6 lbs of paste tomatoes.

Watermelon!

She asked me if I would grow her a watermelon. I said I didn't know, but that I'd try. I looked up how to grow a melon in our ridiculously arid climate, with our short growing season and followed directions.

Caitlin planted the seeds and I watered them. We watched over our babies for months (Well, okay, one of us got bored after a few days of nothing happening, but I watched over them!) and months. Waiting. Eighty three days.

For this moment.

A basket full of goodies.

Harvest.

Turns out that I could grow a watermelon. Now the only question that remained was this: Was it good? I left it up to Caitlin to tell me.

First we cut it open to peer inside.

Caitlin's Sugar Baby watermelon.

Ayup. Appeared to be a melon, alright! It weighed in at 6.2 lbs and it had an urgent date with our tummies.


She took the first bite.

Munch, munch, munch.

And came up smiling.

I guess we'll be making room in our garden for melons from now on, huh?

It was good. As in gooooooood. Drippy. Juicy. Sweet. Just the way a watermelon should be!

It was (Dare I even say it?!) even better than a tomato. Gasp!

What's the best thing you've had out of your garden all season? Or from the market for those of you without gardens?

Growing Challenge: Veggie Parade

Just so you know, this isn't one day's haul.

It's two day's hauls. On Saturday, I pulled in a load of tomatoes, beans, basil and tomatillos while friends were over for dinner.

Caitlin shows off four Sungold cherry tomatoes.

We had fresh pesto over linguine with sauteed crookneck squash. Caitlin, being allergic to nuts, had linguine with butter and grated parmesan cheese with fresh tomatoes chopped on top. She liked it so much she had four helpings. Yay!

Emma shows you her flood of tomatoes.

I gave away a bunch of stuff, too.

Persimmon (left), Caspian Pink (right) and Principe Borghese (small) tomatoes.

We chopped some up into a spaghetti sauce Eric made last night. Some were eaten as a caprese salad.

Tomatillos, waiting to become salsa.

The green beans were devoured by one and all. The twins really like green beans.

A veritable sea of tomatoes.

Sometimes I just like looking at them. All of those colors! I was aiming for a rainbow of tomatoes and I think I managed it!

Yellow = Candy's Old Yellow. Purple = Cherokee Purple. Yellow/orange = Pineapple. Small oval red = Principe. Small round red = Stupice. Orange = Persimmon. Pink with green shoulders = Casian Pink. Small orange = Sungold.

Green beans are delectable.

Eat me!

They're not always perfect. I have plenty of cracking going on. Some were hard to get to and rotted on the vine. Some are on the edge of being over ripe. Too many are watery - I'm still fiddling with my watering system.

Big yellow.

But even when watery, they're still yummy. Especially drizzled with balsamic vinegar.

Cherokee Purple and Pineapple.

All of that? That was just Saturday. This is today's haul.

Basket o' goodies.

Except that I forgot to photograph the first basket that I'd brought in. This is the second.

Purple tomatillos and cherry tomatoes.

This was my beast tomato. Twenty one ounces. Hopefully the watering issue is worked out and this will be as yummy as it is pretty.

How shall I eat thee? Let me count the ways!

I loved watching Caitlin's reaction to this pile of cherry tomatoes.

Yellow = Snow White. Red = Gardener's Delight. Orange = Sungold.

Did I mention that I can't get to the tomatoes in the middle of the bed? I'm going to have to do something desperate to get in there.

Crookneck squash.

Hidden on the bottom: zucchini.

Yup. I seem to be in the middle of a tomato glut. Must be time for soup!

Eleven Months

Eleven months is a tough time, isn't it? Everyone is waiting for the big one year mark next month. Eleven months gets the shaft in the scheme of things. Well, not this time!

Emma and Logan are now clapping (They started around 10.5 months.). Emma started it and Logan joined her after two days. It's terribly cute: they applaud after nursing. Yay, milk!

"Yay for milk! Good mommy!"

Caitlin likes to play with the twins, although it can be occasionally nerve-wracking for me. When she starts cackling, I'm certain she's up to no good. The twins are crazy about her and terrified by her in turn. It's a rollercoaster.

"What she doin' now?"

"I see you under dere!"

Queen of the Blanket.

The twins like books. Perhaps a little too much.

Emma in the reading corner. Those books never stay on the shelf for more than 10 minutes at a time. Sigh!

Five days ago, when I first started this post, I wrote:

Still no walking going on, much to my continued surprise. I suspect the twins just like to crawl. No teeth, either. (For which I am quite grateful.)

Things sure do change quickly these days! You just have to provide the right motivation.

"Want dat!"

Who knew lens caps were so powerful?! Or maybe it was the deadline - this happened today, while Misty was visiting, so there is a witness!

"Hey Logan, check dis out: I walkin'! Taah-dah!"

Ayup. You read it right: Emma is walking. She took her first three steps while I was camera-less and then refused to walk again for the video camera, but finally deigned to give us a repeat performance once I did have a camera in hand. Logan, of course, is devastated.

"Noooo! Dat's no fair! First she gets da clapping and de teef and now dis?!"

"Hey Logan, I t'ink I see you problem. You gots hamhocks."
Logan: "What?!"

Emma: "Hamhock thighs. Hee hee!"

Hamhock thighs may not be so great for walking, but they're excellent for nibbling.

We figure he'll walk when he's ready to. Perhaps he's saving it up for their first birthday party? Crowd pleasin' first steps. And trust me, there's a crowd a-brewin' for this party!

"I can't walk first? Fine! I take over deh world instead. Now 'scuse me while I praktiss my 'puter hackin' skills. Caitlin, hep me turn dis on!"

I also take back what I'd said about teething going pretty easily the other day. Today was rough: no napping and lots of crying. I think Logan's tummy was upset and Emma may have been in pain from teething because she calmed down after I dosed her with pain killer while he threw up at Caitlin's first soccer practice. Nice intro to soccer, huh? Bleargh!

So yeah, our dance card seems pretty full: signing, teething, and walking. Next thing you know, they'll be talking! Not too soon though, I hope! Not too soon.

"I not make any promises 'bout not talkin'. A girl's gotta do whatta girl's gotta do!"

Don't worry, Logan. You'll always be two minutes older.

The months have flown past. I can hardly believe that in another month they'll be one.

And you know what that means:

Caaaaake!