Tuesday Tunes

Summer concerts in the park.
Some people are all about the food.

Some are about the booze.
Oh, and don't forget the Farmers' Market.

Me, I'm all about the music.

Tonight, Igor's Jazz Cowboys at the park, on a perfect summer evening.

With Bethany and four of my favourite kids.

Come and see what you missed.

Or were you there and saw me making a fool of myself?

Daniel did not deign to dance, but sat wrapped in a blanket, eating his free popcorn.

Then Sule Wilson, the percussionist, started a conga line.

I was right there behind him.

Natalie was game and tripped along beside me.

Kenzie was embarrassed.

So was Josh.

A new high note, don't you think?

Embarrassing my grandkids.

I'm the one in the old lady straw hat.

And yes, of course I bought a CD!

Gracias amigas

I kinda like to bike. In the summer, when it's not too hot, I bike around town as much as I can. It makes me feel virtuous for not using fossil fuels and I optimistically think that it also uses calories.

Although the second thought may be fallacious.

Sometimes I ride just for fun, or exercise, or both.

My favourite riding buddy is Ellen, of  The Other Foote fame. 

She rides a little bit faster than me so it challenges me.

Which is good. 
Most of the time.

Brenda came along this time. 

Brenda, whose middle name is Superwoman.

We were riding a lovely winding road through farm country. Things were going pretty well until we passed the rose gardens and picked up a sweet chocolate Lab, who thought his ultimate destiny in life was to be our riding companion. Brenda picked up some speed and the Lab matched her, pace for pedal. The faster she went, the faster he went, tongue hanging out and spraying slobber as he slipped her adoring sidelong glances.

"I love you, I love you, I love you. I want to run with you forever and ever and ever."

Ellen and I hung back, laughing all the way and me wishing I was clever enough to take photos on the fly. Only I knew if I tried I would end up in an ignominious heap on the side of the road. We were a little worried that maybe someone would miss him, but he stoically ignored our pleas for him to Go home.

A rather fast mile or so later, we were passing a couple of houses surrounded by fields and out ran not one, not two, but three rather fierce-looking dogs, barking and baring their teeth. Brenda kept pedaling fast, Ellen found hidden reserves (apparently) and there was I, surrounded by snarling canines.

I yelled at them, but they were un-fazed.

I was afraid that they would lunge at me and knock me off my trusty Trek, so I slowed down, all the time yelling at the dogs and my so-called friends.

Eventually, I got far enough past their house that they let me go free. 

The dogs, not my friends.

So-called friends.

When I finally caught up to them, the so-called friends, they told me that it was the fate of the slowest rider to deal with mad dogs.

Gee, I guess I forgot to read that memo.

Chocolate Lab stayed with us for a bit longer and then decided we weren't fun any more.

Or something.

Heck, I decided we weren't any fun any more.

Some of us didn't want to face the dogs on the return trip, so the consensus was to do a loop. In my imaginary loop, we would follow the highway (the nice, flat highway) back to the car.

But no, I was misled. 

We did the big loop home. 

The longer, hillier loop. 

Against the wind. 

Shanghaied, I call it.

I moaned and complained all the way.
I know it was only sixteen miles and for some of us that is only a stroll in the park, but me, I have to fight for every mile of it. 

If, if, I say, I go riding with these two again, I shall carry mace.

For the dogs, you ask?

Sure, that's it. For the dogs.

Here we are, mission completed, looking about as bad as we ever look.

Sweaty, flushed, bedraggled.

Brenda, of course, hardly broke a sweat or ruffled her hairdo.

P.S. Hi girlfriends, did you like it? See you next week? I'll bring the mace.

P.P.S. I am off to Utah with one of my CCNZ buddies and his wife, to see a couple of other friends whom we have not seen for 35 years or more. Should be interesting. I'll keep ya posted.

Orts of the week

Crossword puzzle makers love the word. Ort. It means a small scrap of food left over after a meal. The list of synonyms is rather delightful. Atom, butt, chicken feed, ship, crumb, dab, dash, division, dollop, dose, dot, dram, driblet, drop, droplet, end, excerpt, flake, fraction, fragment, grain, iota, item, jot, lick, lump, minim, mite, modicum, moiety, molecule, morsel, niggle, ounce, parcel, part, particle, peanut, pinch, portion, sample, scale, scintilla, scrap, scruple, section, segment, shard, share, shaving, shred, slice, sliver, smidgen, snatch, snip, snippet, specimen, speck, splinter, sprinkling, stub, stump, taste, tittle, trace, trickle, trifle, whit.

I often complain about the foibles of the English language, but think how colourful our prose would be if we consulted the thesaurus more frequently. Although, I have to admit, I fail to see what some of the words in the list have to do with an ort. And why is Spell check not recognizing the word ort? 

It's been a hot week and for some reason, although I've been thinking lots of deep thoughts (really, I have!), they haven't translated into any action on my part, blog-wise. But here, if you care, are some of the things that are still rattling around in my brain.

I finished Traveling with Pomegranates, by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter. I loved her books, The Secret Life of Bees and The Mermaid Chair, for their "mothering" themes as much as her storytelling skills. This book alternates chapters between mother and daughter, telling of their travels together as well as the growth of their relationship and their individual struggles to know themselves. While I don't have much patience for Sue's ideas of feminism and female deity, I like some of her thoughts on finding wholeness by accepting the old woman she would some day become. I don't admire George Sands or even think I would have liked her if I had met her, but I do like this statement of hers that was quoted in the book. The old woman I shall become will be quite different from the woman I am now. Another I is beginning. This is how I feel sometimes.  Maybe having Mum living with us has made me more aware of how I have changed with each new season of life and I wonder what the next change will be like. 

The nights have, thank goodness, been fairly cool and the mornings pleasant. I walked out of the front door one morning and saw several perfect spider webs in the last stages of construction.

See how his (her) little feet (hands) are pulling on the web filaments.

One night, I thought the sunset looked promising. We can't really see the sunset any more from our back yard. Our neighbours have built a big old second story that blocks the skyline and their trees just keep getting bigger. What's with that? So I walked down the road and had to climb the pile of dirt and weeds that road construction left behind before I could really see. The reality was tame, so I clambered back down the pile and was almost back to my house when I turned around and saw this...

....so I clambered back up the pile of dirt and got my photo.

Sunsets change in a heartbeat.

I hope you appreciate it.

My Mum is only here for another five weeks. In some ways, I am excited to have my house back to my selfish little self. But a part of me is sad and wants to take care of her for the rest of her life. 

I am conflicted about many things.

My buddy Lori gave me these exotic day lilies a few years ago and this summer they have come into their own, which almost makes up for losing one of my hibiscus plants. The best things in my garden first grew in Lori's garden. 

I am currently reading In Defense of Food, by Michael Pollan. I may write a whole post on some of his findings and ideas, because they confirm some of my long-held beliefs about the food we eat in America. As in so many other subjects (can you say "global warming"?) scientists tend to promote their opinions as fact, in this case to the detriment of the health of whole generations of Americans and, increasingly, the world. A few examples are margarine (the "healthy" spread), eggs, low-fat foods, and dietary fat. If you want a good reason to eat less processed and unnatural food, read this book and you will find it. You'll thank me later. Another book related to this topic is Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, by Barbara Kingsolver. She is rather liberal but eminently sensible on the subject of food.

Now, if I could just learn to love my vegetables.

Bethany and the kids came over a couple of times this week. 

Josh became captivated by the bin of cars and spent a few quiet moments in the living room.

I really enjoyed church today. I go every week, but I have to admit that some weeks it's just out of habit. Then once in a while I am rewarded for my constancy by some actual upliftment. The Sacrament Meeting topic was Hope. The speakers all tied faith and hope together and told stories of real people and their own experiences and feelings that made me feel truly blessed to have hope in the resurrection and that all things are in God's hands. One speaker quoted the words of Be Still My Soul. I love the hymn, but it is hard to think about the words when I'm singing them, or, more often, accompanying on the piano.

Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side;

With patience bear thy cross of grief and pain.

Leave to thy God to order and provide;

In ev'ry change He faithful will remain. 

Be still my soul, thy best, thy heav'nly Friend

Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

And then, in Relief Society, I had been asked to teach the lesson on the atonement, which I found to be a daunting task. But this morning, I latched onto the horizontal aspect of the atonement, that is, showing Christ's love by reaching out to our fellow men. And sisters. Which opened up a whole new level of understanding to me, even though I knew it before. There is so much pain and suffering in the world and we can be God's hand  in others' lives.

So there was that. A little glimmer of gospel understanding in my sometimes skeptical life.

Tonight, we had a dessert social.

You know I love dessert socials, for the camaraderie as much as the sweets. And there was this sweet little guy making eyes at Jeff.

 

Life is uncertain...

...eat dessert first. Ernestine Ulmer.


It's true, I am a social creature, in spite of Jeff's efforts to the contrary. So on Saturday night, we had a party. It was a kind of an un-4th of July party, complete with no fireworks. Here was how the invitation read:
Come and eat scrumptious food, engage in scintillating conversation, and not watch fireworks with us on Saturday night. Jeff will fire up the barbie and we'll try to keep the mosquitoes away. This is an evening for adults, so bring your spouse. Small babies are allowed. We love small babies. Bring a favourite side dish or dessert if you want, like salad or baked beans. We'll supply the meat and buns.


I was a maniac all day Saturday, cleaning house and tidying up the garden so that everyone would think that my house always looked at least this good. I put chicken thighs in Tupperware, one in honey chipotle barbecue sauce and the other in teriyaki sauce, so that the flavours could ripen. I defrosted several different kinds of sausages.  I cleaned a mountain of strawberries (always with the strawberries!) so that we could eat them with homemade ice cream. I grilled up a bunch of Walla Walla onions and red peppers. I went to the store to stock up on cans of pop.  I made a double recipe of hoagie rolls shaped into hamburger and hot dog buns. 
Oh, and did I mention that the main bathroom's toilet broke on Thursday so I also had to spiff up our bedroom so that people could walk through it to get to the only working toilet? 


So Saturday night rolled around and Sandi was the first to show up, minus her S.O. who was off shooting rats in Eastern Oregon
Don't ask.
She was toting a couple of extra  chairs and a delicious rhubarb/blueberry custard cake that I had given the "okay" on. I had a strawberry cake in my neighbour's fridge (no room in my own) that I was also planning to serve, but I figured, what the hey, can't have too much dessert!
Right?
Then Lori and Lige arrived, with a delectable blackberry cheesecake pie thingy.
Yahoo! we exclaimed, that looks yummy.
And Doug and Ellen walked in, carrying some gooey chocolate-y Texas sheet cake.
Mmm, we said, laughing.
And Steve and Sue came bearing tasty gluten-free tollhouse bars.
Then Bryce and Brenda delivered the ice cream makings, as per my request.
And Laurie and Dave walked around the side of the house and came up to the deck bearing a cooler filled with ice for the pop and.....a watermelon!
Anne and Justin came with a scrumptious cake, decorated as a fruity flag.


Wait a picking minute!
What part of "side dish" do you guys not understand?
I guess I never should have given the word "dessert" any space at all.
So we ate meat and buns and dessert.
With lots of condiments.
Which, come to think of it, is just about my idea of heaven!


Oh yes, Betty and Bill turned up late (which if you know Betty is not unusual but they had a good excuse, Bill having nobly attended a pre-party Imax showing of Eclipse with his nuts-about-Twilight wife) and thoughtfully provided an ambrosial fresh fruit salad. Which could almost count as vegetables.
We decided that at the next party, everyone will probably bring salads, which won't be half as much fun.


Several people requested the hoagie roll recipe, so here it is:
Hoagie Rolls
5 1/2 tsp yeast
3 c warm water
2 tbs sugar
1/4 c oil
1 tbs salt
8-8 1/2 c all-purpose flour.

In mixer bowl, dissolve yeast and sugar in water. Let stand about 5 minutes. Beat in oil, salt and flour until a soft dough forms. Knead until elastic, about 5 minutes.
Cover in the bowl 45 minutes, then punch down and divide into 18 pieces. Shape into ovals (or circles for hamburgers) and place 2" apart on a greased baking sheet. With scissors, cut a 1/4" slash on each (or not, if for hamburgers) and let rise for 20 minutes.
Brush with water and bake at 400 degrees for 13-18 minutes till golden brown. Cool on racks.


We love to slather these with pulled pork, which is the easiest thing in the world to make. Just put a pork roast (and maybe some onion and sweet peppers if you're feeling fancy)  in the crock-pot and cook on high for about 5 hours, by which time it should be tender. Shred with a fork, remove the worst of the fat, and stir in a bottle or more of your favourite barbecue sauce. This summer I really like Baby Ray's, because it's been on sale everywhere! Cook without the lid for another hour or so to evaporate some of the liquid and intensify the flavours. Bring out the heavenly rolls and dinner is served!

Independence Day, added upon

Let music swell the breeze and ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break, the sound prolong.

Happy Independence Day, on this cold and windy 4th of July, from this ex-pat Brit/Kiwi and my favourite little Peruvian boys.

Of Aztecs and didgeridoos

On Saturday, I dragged Jeff and Mum down to Salem to the World Beat Festival. I was a woman with a mission. First, I wanted some new ethnic instruments, and this festival is a great place to buy instruments. Second, I wanted a skirt and blouse that would make me feel pretty and still be comfortable. Plus, I wanted to indulge in some funky world beat music experiences.

So off we went.

The day was a little warm, but quite perfect for the occasion. The venue is the Riverfront Park, which I would love to show you in photos only I ran out of battery. Or rather, my camera did. It is gorgeous, overlooking the wide, flowing Willamette River, which is spanned by several bridges and flanked with trees. I spent some time ogling various offerings from the many vendors. Bamboo outdoor screens and furniture, tatami purses, flowing clothes from India and Africa, garden art and indoor art and instruments galore! I bought four little maracas from Peru and a drumhead from Africa. 

Then Jeff said No More Shopping. 

What would you like to do? I said sweetly. Listen to music?

Listening to music it was. 

First off, the Aztec Dancers.

My goodness, their costumes were astounding, their head dresses extreme.

Downright studly, if you ask me.

Then we entered the tent where the Zimbabwe Music Workshop was being held.

I have a fondness for music from Zimbabwe.

Marimba bands, don'tcha know?

Plus, I love typing "Zimbabwe".

The great Musekiwa Chingodza, straight from Zimbabwe, accompanied by Bud Cohen, played their mbiras and taught us a couple of "call and response" songs. I had a blast, passing out my newly acquired instruments so that we could jam as well as sing. We sang and sang and played and played, until Jeff had had enough and left to get some lunch. Mum would have left too, but her favourite daughter was still jammin' so she stayed till the bitter end. 

I will spare you from the video.

Just know that it exists.

Those big round things are resonators for the mbiras.

Next, to the Asian stage, where these gorgeous young things were getting ready to dance. Mum and Jeff were very taken with them...

...and I must admit that I liked the dancing more than I expected.

It is very precise and visually appealing.

I set off to find the didgeridoo.

But I kept bumping into these two.
Yes, those are drawn (tattooed?) stocking lines on the back of her very white legs.

Then I found him.

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Jake Duncan, Didgeridoo artist extraordinaire.

He was sitting on the grass under a tent, surrounded by four enormous didgeridoos. I was blown away by his playing, I had no idea that the instrument was so versatile. Didge players use circular breathing and can sustain continuous playing for some time. Wikipedia has an entertaining and informative article on the instrument, if you're curious. I sat in the shade and listened to him until he took a break, then I ran off to the next arena to find Hubby and Mum. You've got to hear this, I told them, so they trotted along after me. 

Sadly, he ran out of time and didn't play again.

Happily, I had thought to buy a CD before they disappeared.

Jeff was getting grumpy.

Mum was tired and hungry.

I wanted to stay till it closed....at eleven.

Grumpy and Tired won the day, so we went home.

I made them listen to the didgeridoo all the way home.

And I told them that next year I'm going with my friends.

What about the outfit, you ask?

Success is measured in very small doses around here!
Wanna come next year?

Moving on

Elder O. left yesterday. He's been in our town for six months and we (I) got very attached to him. He loves my cooking. Therefore, I love him. Every time he saw me at church he would ask, When are we coming to your house for dinner again? And then he would eat everything in sight. The missionaries came over for dinner a lot. We had them over the day after Father's Day because no one else had signed up to feed them. I told them no one else wanted them. We had leftovers: pulled pork on homemade hoagie rolls. Goodbye leftovers. More to come on that topic, but enough of food already.

Elder O. is friendly and sweet-natured and smart and funny and kind to his companions even when they're slightly weird. So I will miss him. 

Darn that obedience thing! 

You know, the "I'll go where you want me to go" thing.

For you non-LDS readers, that's an inside joke.

Sorry.

I'm thinking about writing his Mom and asking if I can have him.

Think she'll go for it?

Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together?  I guess that wouldn't work.  Someone would leave.  Someone always leaves.  Then we would have to say good-bye.  I hate good-byes.  I know what I need.  I need more hellos.  ~Charles M. Schulz

Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would I'd never leave.  ~A.A. Milne