I'm feeling kind of uninspired today, which is too bad, as there's lots to do. I went out and watered the garden, and picked me some nice ripe tomatoes! There are tiny, tiny beans that will be ready in a week. I'd say two weeks at least on the snap peas. The basil and thyme are growing like mad, and there are peppers just barely starting to fruit: bells & chilies both.

Everything I attempt today has road blocks, except bill paying. Of course, it's always easy as pie to give someone money. I suppose it leaves me with some satisfaction at having paid my bills, some. Very little, really. I made some headway filing bills and things, attaching reminders to the calendar.

I have many thank you notes to write, and I collected my various notes but cannot find my address book so I'm a bit stuck in that department.

Yesterday I took in oodles of dry cleaning, prepping the winter stuff. I went through the laundry.

I guess that's all. Looking to see N in two hours but a few minutes, then off to work.

Well, I have returned from the Maine-land. In fact, we came home about forty-eight hours ago, but let's stop right there, because I'd hate for you to hear about the disaster we encountered upon our return. Let's talk vacay instead.

Too much to remember here, but there was really good food to be had. There was a trip on a boat to a little island for clambakes and raspberrying. There was that annual dinner at the best Thai restaurant in the world. Many Italians were consumed at Amato's. An anniversary party was thrown for N & me by my mom. There was a drive on the Kancamangus highway to view the White Mtns of New Hampshire (and more [covert] raspberrying), there was a Moxie parade. There was parading around Portland. A trip to Popham Beach. Meeting up with friends I haven't seen since 1999 and 1988. Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream. Visiting with another friend, The Goat Cheese Lady. Regarding my sixteen-month-old nephew in awe as he communicates so effectively with such a sparse vocabulary.

Hauling home six pounds of honey. In a glass mason jar. In my suitcase. Yup.

To ease the shock of our return, after a full day at work yesterday, N and I met up to dine at the Cellar Bistro and splurged on a very lovely dinner. We began with bruschetta (so much!) and a spicy sangiovese, then moved on to salads. He had salmon with a mustard dill sauce and asparagus, polenta. I had chicken slow-cooked with prunes, capers, brown sugar, and other delights. There were some so-so carrots and lovely roasted potatoes. We had glasses of pinot noir. There was another menu I might want to try on another visit. You make your own little plate by choosing various cheeses, breads, nuts & olives, vegetables, and condiments. The owner of the joint worked the bar and brought us our wines in tiny carafes. He was very pleasant and attentive, focused on bringing natural, healthy cooking to the area: no preservatives, lots of local produce, cheeses & meats, organic when possible, no microwave on the premises. Yes, my kind of place.

So much running around...yesterday evening I threw together some "Moroccan" food; quotes are necessary, as I've never had true Moroccan food, so who knows what I truly made: some chicken with olives & lemons, saffron, cinnamon, & garlic; couscous with roasted tomatoes & peppers, wilted onions; a salad of oranges and roasted beets. We fed Ek & Michelle. Oh, there was also a strawberry-blueberry pie, but the whole wheat crust lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. Later I got my ass kicked in Scrabble. The humiliation!

The neighbors have a mulberry tree. The mulberries just fall on the sidewalk. These are the unfriendly neighbors. I'd like to pilfer the mulberries (they're damn jewels)...they wouldn't care...but there's never a good opportunity.

Tomorrow I go to work, then turn around, come home and pack. We'll be in Maine for a week. It's about time I had a vacation. Seriously, I just run and run and run, as does N. I can't wait to relax. Spending time with my parents is rarely relaxing, but a day or two at the beach could be pretty chill.

By the way, these are like my dream flowers. They're all warm and harvesty. I think my tastes are really quite simple.

Today I met with the florist, and that was quite lovely. I talked about my impatience with gerber daisies and red roses, and she seemed to be on the same page. There will be glads and belles of Ireland and hypernicum and spray roses and lilies and stuff. I did not dig in my heals and insist on dahlias, because I know they can be pricey. Ooh, we talked about my favorite kinds of asters, and she told me the proper name for them...I forget. I'll have to check my notes. I did not tell her about my desire for basil in the arrangements. Professionals don't respond well to that. There has to be a give and take with these creative types. I'm the client, not the creative, so I try to let them do their job. The problem, of course, is that I want to be doing their job. I try to be gracious, though. They are doing a service so I can just hang out and relax.

My dress came today, too. Months ago, I'd thought about busting out a few bucks on something from Anthropologie or Betsey Johnson, but back in reality, I bought a simple little shift kinda thing from Eddie Bauer (waited 'til it went on clearance), all dobby weaves and A-lines. It's a really flattering shade of blue that I frequently forget is a good color for me, will be a nice contrast around all the orange and yellow flowers. It's sleeveless, though, and I will need to get my arms back to human proportions. Seriously, the dress fits well, but I don't think I can afford to gain another pound.

I worked a bunch, and now I'm wired. N was up at 3 a.m. and passed out twenty-two hours later. I hope he's not overdoing it. He works so hard, and I worry about him.

Any moment now, I'm going to get ridiculously tired and fall into bed.

*bruschette alla romano
*assorted pizze

*insalata della casa

*gnocchi con ricota

*pollo alla romano

*tiramisu

montepulciano/pinot grigio/san pellegrino/caffe


Done? Now back to flowers.

Oh, dear, long time, no post. Let's see, last weekend we went to Springfield for N's grandparents' sixty-fifth anniversary party, and what a party it was. A day-long catered event complete with pool and lake access and many small children. The whole weekend was well-timed, less rushing than some visits and time with the grandparents, of course. We also spent a bit of time with N's father's cousin, Cheryl, who is introducing us to a slew of cousins of that side of the family via facebook. Her son and his wife are graduates of the CIA and apparently great foodies. We may head south to Kansas City soon to meet up with some of these cousins.

Whether it was meeting up with these cousins, talking to the grandparents about their families, or watching so many episodes of John Adams, something rekindled my interest in my own genealogy. My mother's grandparents (all four) came to this country at the turn of the century from a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire that would soon become Czechoslovakia and is now Slovakia (which has no relation to Slovenia, by the way, despite common confusion regarding this matter). Aside from some reported dialogues with my great-grandmother during childhood, I don't speak Slovak, and I don't know exactly where the family is from, so I wouldn't know how to start researching my family over there.

Closer to home, we have the other side of my family, the paternal side, which I always thought would be even more challenging to dissect. As some of you may recall from the occasional mention, my biological father chose to walk out some time within the first year of my life (though reportedly not before kindly kidnapping me for two weeks, but that's a whole other adventure for another time), and as a result I haven't had any connection with him or his family for the last thirty-six years. A few years after his disappearance, my mother remarried, my stepfather adopted me, and I've had a new last name ever since. I do think about contacting James on occasion, but I can never identify what I hope to gain from such a reunion, so I never make the quest a priority, despite curiosity about my own heritage if nothing else.

And my real last name, it's not super common. You don't hear it a lot. Still, I started playing around on various websites of public records, and I found records as far back as 1757. Even today, there's a great concentration of that family in Essex County, Massachusetts. Back in the day, I had family who gave their lives in the Revolutionary war. I had family who worked as blacksmiths and "morocco colorers" (as best I can tell, this is someone who dyes leather, perhaps for shoes?). I first find record of my family in Marblehead, but then also there's a branch in Plymouth County whose roots I trace back nearly as far. Marblehead was a great port and the forerunners of the US Navy actually sprung from there. Naturally, building sea vessels became a successful industry there. It seems that Marblehead was also one of the first slave ports, having built the first slave ship, and while I haven't studied trade routes very much, perhaps this relates to the large population sharing my last name in Trinidad, Tobago, St. Vincent, and the Grenandines.

Marblehead was originally a plantation of Salem, and eventually got its independence from it, as many fled the wrath of the Puritans leading that settlement. A generation or two later, though, you see my family in Salem. They remained cobblers, soldiers, couriers, and oh, yes, they would have been present for the Witch Trial hysteria, though I've seen no record of their involvement on either side. They had common first names like John, Annie, Hannah, Mary, Abby, Benjamin, Charles, Eliza, Thomas, Robert. They died fighting for the Union again during the Civil War. In the twentieth century, while many have moved away, there are still plenty in Beverly, Danvers, Winthrop, Salem, Lynn, Wenham, and Peabody. A disconcerting detail is that many in the twentieth century have died young. Indeed, Anthony who was born a mere two years before me died in his early thirties. Arthur died in the 60s at 45. Francis in 1971 at 43, Paul in 2004 at 48, and Thomas in 1994 at 49. To hear my mother tell it, they were all alcoholics, but perhaps there is some genetic reason why many in my family have lived seemingly short lives.

I intend to get to the bottom of this if I can.

I was of the impression that I was accent-free. Um, but if it's accurate, why complain?


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So, I put more tomato, basil, and thyme in the ground. I did this because I bought the plants yesterday, and they need to go somewhere. My concern is that the nearby tree, which the City of Wheaton says has Dutch Elm disease and must come down within thirty days (thank you certified mail from yesterday), will land on top of these tender plants and I will be angry, angry, angry. Angry because that's not where I wanted to put the garden, but where the landlord insisted it would get the best light, angry because at every turn this garden has been a challenge: first I don't buy seeds to start because I get a message from said landlord saying his family is starting seeds at home to put into the garden, then angry because said seedlings never seem to make it over here, so it's suddenly my responsibility after all. Ugh, and now the peas and beans are gorgeous and six inches tall, what's to be done? Theoretically, the tomatoes, peppers, and herbs might survive a transplanting into pots, but not the peas and beans! I give up. Am I never meant to have a garden?

I also picked up branch after branch after branch that fell from the trees during our Sunday weather extravaganza. I think some of the piles of brush and wood in our backyard should be dry enough to use as firewood this winter. How sweet would that be?

Now I am thinking about getting cleaned up and walking downtown to chat with a florist. My step-mother-in-law would like to help out with the flowers for our anniversary party this summer. Going on-line was fairly useless, most places default to a FTD list of bouquets. I wish I knew of a wholesale flower supply around here. I miss the Bay Area sometimes. Maybe I can just order some flowers and do it myself. What I want are some pretty summer reds and oranges: dahlias, calendulas, an aster or two, and nice bits of green, some spicy basil and a few other herbs maybe. That is really what I want. No corsages, but flowers on the tables, and maybe a big monster of an arrangement when you first walk in. I know what I don't want: no gerber daisies, no carnations, no roses. Ooh, gladiolas might be nice, especially for the big arrangement.

So many things to think about.

I am exhausted! N's getting up at 3:30 to open the Starbucks drive-thru is kinda intense, but he's doing it! No pity party for me, 'cause I slept in 'til 6. I went in to work for just a couple of hours this morning to tie up a couple specific things. I'm now off 'til Wednesday afternoon, then I work for two days and get a four-day weekend. I may have induced a mini-coma by indulging in leftover sesame chicken from yesterday's takeout experiment. I haven't eaten Chinese food much over the last few years, having had my tastes redirected during my stint in the Bay Area. This was decent, though, and they deliver, always a plus. They also delivered it very quickly.

Our power was off for most of the day yesterday, following the hurricane treatment we received in the morning. Aggressive rain coupled with violent wind meant many a branch was dumped about the street and such. At work, a tree branch went through someone's car window! I'm still trying to determine if the liability is with us, the property owners, or if we're talking "act of God" here.

Fortunately, sandwiched between a week's worth of humid thunderstorms and yesterday's tsunami was Saturday, pleasant and lovely, and that was the day my boss got married. She looked stunning and radiant on the arm of her groom, and her little shih tzu wore a tux, too. I am alarmed and amused to report this, but mostly amused, because you know if my cats would tolerate such adornment, I might try to similarly torture them. Cats know better, though, and dogs might but are more interested in pleasing humans, so they do what it takes. Another great detail about this wedding: my boss wrote a little fairly tale about the incident that initiated the courting/engagement/marriage, and it was read by a dear friend of the couple. Also, the pear tatin with berries, vanilla bean ice cream, and caramel drizzle: delightful.

I think I'll pass out until N comes home from job #2, though just writing that makes me feel guilty & lazy.

Today's productivity so far includes eating the rest of yesterday's cherry purchase, and they were pretty delicious. I'll go out and put some basil and thyme and hot peppers in the ground in a bit. We weeded the peas & beans yesterday. They're growing like mad. In the evening, after several hours in the car, delivering books to US Cellular Field for a big corporate order (I was glad to have the White Sox fan with me, as I don't know that part of town well), we ate stuffed peppers and went for a walk and watched the first segment of John Adams. I adore that Laura Linney as Abigail Adams. Or maybe I just adore Abigail Adams, so wise.

I am reading rural life blogs more and more lately, living vicariously. The suburbs wouldn't be so bad if there were a grocery within walking distance. I don't know. I just need to be out more on my feet, walking around, not driving. Though my commute is fairly short, driving to and from work every day is just monotonous. If I don't squeeze in a walk, I feel uninspired, robotic.

I have the weekend off. My boss's wedding is Saturday, and I have Sunday to play as well. Then we go to Springfield the following weekend. I would like to drive up for a visit in Wisconsin, too, but damn that gas! We shall see.

In less than four weeks, we'll be in Maine!

It's hot. I want to be happy about that. OK, I'm glad that the garden is growing like crazy, but seriously, it's a bit past uncomfortable, humid, with tstorms and a tornado or two nearby over the weekend. Our original intent to leave off the a/c until July or later was stopped short when the basement walls appeared to be condensing, leaving pools of moisture on the tile. So we programmed the a/c at a modest setting. Of course, now it seems to be cooler outside than in, so I've opened the windows, but we'll see how long that lasts.

I should go. I need to have my blood tested at the doctor's office, and I need to get to work early. So much to do.

I'm kind of in a cranky mood, can't put my finger on it. Coffee may help. I work tonight until ten. N works at four tomorrow morning. It kinda sucks.

Thoughts on happy things later.

Humidity has come to town. Last night I had the genius idea to buy a chicken to cook up, then came home and realized I was NOT turning on the stove. We ended up eating frozen pizza (OK, the stove was on, but only for a few minutes), lots of greens, and some corona. Then we set about to watch that Todd Haynes movie about Bob Dylan. I hadn't had a beer for a bit, and I was super sluggish, and it was not metabolizing, and the sluggishness and nonparallel form of the movie and all sought to put me to sleep. I fought it. We went for a walk. My body was acting like I'd imbibed a pound of salt. Everything was sticky and puffy. My wedding ring, usually a tad loose, was cutting into my finger. What the hell? Still, we had a lovely walk, came home, finished the movie, then I crashed on the bed pretty fast.

We are trying to resist the temptation of the A/C. We just barely stopped paying for heat; isn't there supposed to be more than one or two down months? I usually like a little heat, but this time it's turning me into a bitch. It got too sticky too fast.

I just accidentally stumbled upon this article in the NYTimes from twenty-two years ago. The lettuce guy, the plum, apple, and bok choy guy, that's my dad.

Finally, yesterday, almost spontaneously, we started the garden. I came home in the afternoon, and the weather was perfect. N had picked up a couple of tomato plants at the farmers market. We went to Whole Foods for lentils, broccoli, kale, parmesan, and orange juice and grabbed another tomato plant there. We came home and took a hoe to the soil, chopped it up, weeded out the pesky grass, and mixed in some phosphorous, magnesium. Then we put down a weed barrier mat with some stakes, and cut three holes in the mat for the tomatoes. We dug great holes in the ground for those tomatoes. We also sowed two rows each of green beans and snap peas. If we take home a plant a week each time we go to the grocery store, we should be able to afford to grow the garden. We have more space. I want to put in a fall crop of broccoli. There'll also be herbs and greens and more tomatoes. Maybe peppers.

At work yesterday, we hosted Valerie Bertinelli. That was kind of nuts. She seemed pleasant enough, and then she bought a bunch of stuff at our store. I could tell you what she bought, but then I'd have to kill you, so I won't. It was a quick event, and a Van Halen photographer was there (yeah, not sure about that one either). The rumor was they were headed to Wheaton later, as her boyfriend is from the area, then off for some ribs somewhere. Needless to say, I did not see them at Whole Foods.

I look forward to the day that whatever is setting off my allergies, allergies previously unknown to me, stops blossoming. The runny nose and watery eyes are getting old.

I think I have rhubarb in the backyard. What don't I have in the backyard? is a legitimate question of late. These big leafy plants, I thought they sort of looked like rhubarb, thought they were a cousin, but as the stalks turn red, I wonder if they're the real deal. The rhubarb I grew up on had much darker leaves, but apparently there are several varieties out there, so this could be legit. Too bad I didn't figure that out before I spent ten bucks on the stuff last weekend at the farmers market. Still I think I'll call my dad for a consultation before I start imbibing the stuff. The leaves are quite poisonous. For all I know, the stalks are too, if you eat the pretend rhubarb.

I'm very lazy today. It's the weather, though Astrud Gilberto & the chardonnay aren't helping. I am making a lovely chicken stock for braising lentils in later. We roasted another chicken on Monday, and it was delightful. This may be the best stock ever, too. We have a good rhythm going with roast chickens and lentils and scrambled eggs. Oh, yeah, on Monday there was also a strawberry-rhubarb pie. N used to be skeptical about fruit pies before he met me, but he's coming around.

I think I'll plant some little haricots and snap peas soon. I'm jonesing for stuff in the garden. I planted vinca by the front stoop today to distract from all the droopy tulips going by. I must have a dozen jack-in-the pulpits in the backyard, and some tall flowers like stock maybe? And at least a dozen rhubarb plants, if that is what they truly are. There are also lots of thistles, which I find evil, and I'm trying to take them out one by one. I need to get herbs in the ground. I have basil & thyme in pots, and a planter full of various lettuces, planted too thick, so I can harvest a few microgreens.

Maybe later I'll extrapolate on weddings...the one we went to, the ones we're going to, the one we never had but are marking with a summer of fun as an anniversary.

Maybe next installment I'll remark upon my latest career decision and how that all came about.

It has been great having N around with down time over the last five days. He gets to decompress and hang out with his friends, but he also does things like cook me dinner and do laundry and clean the kitchen and cook me dinner again. How lucky can a lady be?

On Saturday we had eggs inspired by Gordon Ramsay, scrambled in cast iron next to some lovely tomatoes, and served on baguette, similar to what you might see here. I first learned of this delightful video in gfrancie's posting here. I just checked out his latest cookbook for future inspiration. It's bursting with color photographs and homages to various ingredients. Last night I came home, and N had roasted us a chicken in a manner suggested by Aliza Green, with a whole lot of garlic jammed under the skin. There was also farmer's market asparagus, more Ramsay tomatoes, a lovely herb salad, and big glasses of Pinot Noir. We got kind of drunk and watched a Rocky movie. This is like our dream date night, so lovely when it comes along.

We have been pinching pennies lately. I was looking forward to receiving a little economic stimulus last week, but it seems to be MIA. My mom is sending us some money to help with tickets to visit. If I shop around and we fly into Boston and worry about how to get up to Maine later, I can probably score the tickets with the check she sends. I was pleasantly surprised to find a reimbursement check in the mail from my flexible spending account, but I think that will fill our cars with gas, buy a wedding present for the weekend, and allow us to enjoy a few other nice groceries.

Tonight I'll make the Zuni cafe lentils. I saved six yogurt containers (quarts?) of broth made with last night's chicken carcass. I'm nothing if not crafty that way (crafty meaning clever, not good with crafts).

What else will encompass the day off? Reading? Cleaning? Laundering? Sky's the limit. All I know is that I won't be working the Mario Lopez event tonight! I have to run the off-site book sale at the Stedman Graham event for McDonald's on Thursday, though. I can't get out of everything. And we get Valerie Bertinelli next week. My job really cracks me up sometimes.

Yesterday the Barenaked Ladies performed at our store, and it was total madness, but in a good way.

Tomorrow morning we will get up early & drive down to Springfield, maybe check out the Lincoln museum and see N's parents in the evening. The next day we'll head to Danville at some point to watch American Idol and have pizza with the nieces on Emma's birthday. Then we'll high-tail it back, because I work again Wednesday morning.

N finished exams and paperwriting this week, learned he got accepted into a conference where he'll deliver a paper in the fall. He'll be working for a professor this summer, but only a few hours a week, so he's trying to supplement with work from Whole Foods or Starbucks. He's been celebrating the last couple of days by seeing his friends and pursuing manly endeavors like eating burritos and playing Halo 3 or drinking pitchers of cheap beer at Miss Kitty's and heading to the record store. I'm glad he will have time to see his friends again. For a while it was just dinner with the wife and quality time with the laptop and books and books and books. You need balance.

Last night I sat in the driveway for a long time after I got home, watching the two bunnies in the front yard. They were so still and beautiful, one had the most remarkable mottled fur. Eventually I went inside where N was cooking up artichokes and roasting garlic, reheating some black beans. I sat by the window, transfixed by those bunnies. They hung out on the lawn for hours.

Today I'll make some Mothers' Day calls, whip up a frittata, and head off to work.