Holiday Outing

Yesterday was such a nice day. Not the weather -- no, not that. It was chilly, grey and damp, but at least it didn't rain. No, it was a nice day thanks to a series of events, both planned and unplanned.

The planned event involved driving to Olympia, Washington -- about 100 miles each way for us -- to meet up with our daughter and her family for a belated observance of Thanksgiving. My daughter, son-in-law and 3 gorgeous granddaughters (ages 18, 16, and 3 -- yes, THREE -- LOL) drove from Bremerton to Olympia to meet us, roughly splitting the total distance between us, and minimizing the driving time for all. Daughter had to pick up granddaughter #1 from her job at 4:30, so did not expect to arrive in Olympia until around 6 p.m. We, on the other hand, were fearful of a Saturday night crowd at the restaurant, so arrived shortly after 5 p.m. to claim a table (they don't take reservations on the weekends, which I find odd).

Our rendezvous was at the Olympia Oyster House, a very well-known establishment in downtown Olympia located right on Budd Inlet. Very near the state capitol buildings, it is a popular spot for local politicos, but is also an attractive upscale smoke-free sports bar/restaurant with exceptional seafood offerings. The food isn't cheap, so we picked up the tab for ourselves and 2 of the granddaughters, and son-in-law picked up the rest -- an eminently fair divison.

Here, I must digress and mention that Mike is a HUGE fan of college football, following the University of Oregon Ducks with a particular passion. Saturday's game was the Civil War match-up against the Oregon State Beavers, and the game was televised. The game had 3-fold importance to Mike. First, it is the big Oregon/Pac-10 rivalry. Second, if the Beavers won, they would nab a spot in the 2008 Rose Bowl. And last, but not least, the Ducks were looking for revenge against the Beavers for knocking them out of Rose Bowl contention six years back. A provocative combination for any dyed-in-the-wool Duck or Beaver fan!

In typical sports bar fashion, there are numerous televisions suspended from the walls of the Oyster House, making it impossible NOT to see at least one no matter where you sit. When Mike realized which game they were showing, he moaned, "Oh, no. I was hoping they wouldn't have the game on. I can't bear to watch. I think the Ducks are going to get pounded, but I won't be able to NOT watch!" I knew what he meant. It's a little like not being able to drive past a serious car wreck without looking. It can't be done. We gawk out of overwhelming curiosity, even though we know what we see might be ghastly. And so it was with Mike.

Initially, I thought this would be a BAD thing -- and he was predictably distracted throughout the meal . . . . However, the unexpected results of the game sent him over the moon! The Ducks opened a can of Whup-Ass on the Beavers, winning the game 65 to 38 -- and on the Beaver's home field!! "Oh man, revenge IS sweet!" he said, not even trying to suppress his silly grin.

Mike's overall mood was good thanks to the Ducks' huge win, the baby was well-behaved throughout the evening (with just one very minor "attitude adjustment" -- she's THREE, ya' know), the conversation stayed civil (our daughter sometimes treads into political territory where we rarely agree, so politics must stay off-limits when we are together), AND the food was good. Our orders included the calamari appetizer, a cod & chips basket, a Rugged Ridge BBQ Burger, the broiled wild Alaskan salmon, the Saltwater Bay Seafood Lasagna, the sauteed sea scallops and the 8 oz. top sirloin, and everyone seemed pleased with their food.

Family news included:

• Granddaughter #1 and her boyfriend are moving into a larger apartment.

• Granddaughter #2 announced her 4.0 GPA this quarter.

• Three-year old granddaughter #3 called me "Grandma" for the first time!
  

Everyone appeared healthy and well-fed. The soft economy also worked to our advantage by making the normally-crowded Oyster House a much quieter place with much faster service ....

We finally said our goodbyes and left the restaurant around 8:15, but rather than heading directly home, Mike pointed our Kia in the direction of the new Cabela's store in nearby Lacey. This part is the UN-planned event.

If you've never heard of Cabela's, it is a sporting-goods retailer -- formerly catalog only -- which is opening enormous superstores in key locations. Folks, this place is the sporting-goods store from HELL, a "man magnet" extraordinaire. I think there are few males in this country who could resist its allure -- or would even want to. Ladies, if you are looking for a great place to meet/pick up a good man -- and don't mind a smidgen of red-neck thrown in -- then this is the place to go.

Anyway, Mike followed the road to Cabela's like a fish on a hook, being reeled in without a fight :-)

Christmas shopping season means longer business hours, so Cabela's didn't close until 10 p.m., and he had plenty of time to wander around the store, drooling on the merchandise. I roamed around the store, too, taking in the impressive display of stuffed animals (big game, not toys) and the large aquarium stocked with huge rainbow trout, coho salmon, walleye, perch and other fresh-water game fish. I also enjoyed seeing the wall-mounted displays of record gamefish, like a 70 lb. paddlefish (ugly and VERY strange) and a 150 lb. channel catfish (WHOA!!), among dozens of others. Educational, to say the least. I marvelled at the impressive selection of merchandise, and saw some very clever devices, things that made me wish I fished or hunted or . . . well, you get the idea.

In the end, Mike came away with a new Garmin Nuvi 250W Portable GPS for $149 (a full $100 off the retail price) and a big smile on his face. "Merry Christmas, dear," I said.

We were back on the freeway by 9:30, made a Starbuck's stop at Chehalis, stopped for gasoline about a mile from home, and still pulled into our driveway at 11:50 -- a smooth, stress-free and uneventful drive with little traffic.

Oh, and that gas up? Well, 36.5 MPG didn't hurt our feelings either. Kia. Gotta love it.

Knee-Deep in Kim-Chee (so to speak)

If the old saying "you are what you eat" is true, then who would intentionally choose to be sauerkraut?

Me.

Seems that, after all these many years, I have been enjoying one of the most nutritious (and under-appreciated) of foods. Not only do I like how it tastes, but it turns out that it also has some very remarkable health benefits like zero fat, lots of fiber, and natural probiotics which have a tonic effect on the digestion. Who'd have thought? There is one small caveat however. To reap the health benefits, the sauerkraut must be FRESH -- not in a can or jar, which has been processed at high heat. Flanagan's Krisp Kraut is the only commercial sauerkraut I know of that is not heat-processed. It is sold in plastic pouches found in the refrigerated case of your grocery store, not in a can or a jar on some dusty shelf.

At this point, I ought to say that sauerkraut -- German for "sour cabbage" -- is simply garden-variety green English cabbage, sliced or shredded thinly and fermented (pickled) by natural process for about 3 weeks in its own brine. And before you turn up your nose, I strongly recommend TRYING some, especially if you know someone who knows how to prepare it properly. Don't, for heaven's sake, run out and buy a jar of it and expect to be pleased.


Even since childhood, I remember liking sauerkraut. Both my mother and grandmother used to serve it from time to time, usually simmered in with a pot of country-style pork ribs. Back then, the only kind of 'kraut available to the suburban housewife was the canned stuff procured from that remote "dusty shelf" at the grocers. Nevertheless, I loved it. It wasn't until I was about 40 years old that I first tasted fresh sauerkraut, and -- oh, MY -- what a difference. I had spotted the Flanagan's stuff at the store, and decided to give it a try. I haven't purchased a can or jar since then. My conversion was total.

Late last month (October), my husband and I made our annual trip to a popular local produce market to stock up on winter squashes. While there, we grabbed a couple of lovely fresh green cabbages, thinking of cole slaw, Bavarian cabbage (stewed with tomatoes and bacon), and cabbage pan-fried in butter (to die for!). Immediately next to that bin was another bin filled to brimming with cabbages ... but these were without a doubt the BIGGEST I've ever SEEN!! Huge brassican behemoths! The smallest among them weighed in at no less than 17 pounds. A hand-written sign on the bin said "Kraut Cabbages 20 cents per pound", with the added notation that, if you purchased 10 of these monsters, the price dropped to 18 cents per pound. An older couple was hoisting several into their shopping basket. My husband inquired if they were planning to make sauerkraut and they said, indeed, they were. I left the market with 2 cabbages, about 30 pounds of various winter squashes, and the glimmer of an idea in my head....

Together, google.com and my computer are a wonderful thing: within 10 minutes of arriving home, I had googled for "sauerkraut" and found that making sauerkraut at home could not be much easier. All one needs is a 5-gallon food-grade plastic bucket (lid unnecessary), a 12" glass/ceramic dinner plate, a 1-gallon jug of drinking water, non-iodized salt, and -- of course -- cabbage. Oh yeah, and a clean towel, too. My curiosity was piqued. I HAD to try this for myself. A mere $1.50 got me an empty pickle bucket from a feed store, and one final trip to the farmer's market got me TWO of those enormous cabbages, approximately 37 pounds worth. The other items -- jug of water, box of coarse Kosher salt, dinner plate, clean towel -- I already had at home.

Inexperience quickly reared its ugly visage. After about 30 minutes of standing at the cutting board, slicing (and slicing and slicing and slicing...sheesh) one of the monster heads, I realized that ONE cabbage would have been plenty. Yikes. Once cut up, a single head filled that 5-gallon bucket about 3/4 full! No WAY could I ever fit both of them in there.... Well, one head it would have to be then. For now.

I sliced the cabbage one quarter at a time, this being all I could fit on my cutting board. As I added the shreds to the bucket, I salted it (about 3 tablespoons per 5 lb. of cabbage) and stirred it well with a large cypress roux spoon purchased in New Orleans (it is important NOT to use metal implements). Eventually, all of it was salted, stirred, and packed into the bucket. I then scrunched it down as tightly as possible with my hands, and placed the dinner plate on top of the pile. On the plate, I placed the plastic jug of water, which is just a weight to keep the cabbage pressed down. Finally, I draped a clean towel over the top of the bucket to keep out dust and insects.

The very next morning, I got my first inkling of the miracle beginning to take place in that bucket. Where there had been only salted cut cabbage, there was now cut cabbage submerged in its own juice, drawn out overnight by the action of the salt! It was working "as advertised" :-) Now all I had to do was be patient, and let nature (and wild fermentation) do the rest.

Initially, I worried that this would stink up my kitchen for-EVER, but there has been surprisingly little odor even when I remove the towel to check on progress. After the first 4 days in the warm kitchen, I did move the bucket to the garage where it is considerably cooler, as suggested by the information found on the 'net. It has been 16 days now, and this morning I took a sample scoop from the bucket for a taste test. It still has a noticeable natural sweetness from the raw cabbage, but is progressing nicely. I estimate that the fermentation should finish in about another week. According to the information I found, as long as I keep the 'kraut submerged in the brine (an anaerobic environment), it will keep nicely for many weeks.

There is something that appeals to me about this whole process, something very basic about the do-it-yourself deal. I'm enjoying the HECK out of this new experience AND the concept of self-sufficiency. I have promised myself that, next spring, I am going to have a substantial vegetable garden in my back yard, and I am going to freeze, dry and/or preserve everything we don't eat. I think I would have made a good pioneer. I know it was a hard life, but it certainly wasn't a LAZY one, nor was it filled with all of the artificial worries and stresses of "modern" life that take their toll on our health. I long for simpler times. I would much rather sweat at the end of a hoe than sit at a desk to earn a paycheck. I need the more direct connection between the earth, the work I do, and the food on my table.

Maybe I was born a century too late.

Publish Post

Oh, My Aching Ego

A photographer friend of mine put me onto a new website: OneExposure (1x.com). Wannabe artists can submit their work for online publication in the OneExposure "gallery", but submissions are "screened" by a panel of resident experts who are very particular.

I thought, "So they're picky, eh? I like an occasional challenge."

After a quick sign-up and sign-in at the new site, I went through my archives in search of my "best" photo. I have always been very proud of this one (above) so figured I'd give it a go.

Whew, it didn't take long. I submitted it last night, and got the email this morning. This is what it said:

This e-mail is sent out to update you on screening results for pictures you uploaded.
Unfortunately the following picture(s) were not published:
* #82796 (Blades & Bottles)
It's a good photo, but it doesn't stand out that much. A photo might be technically perfect, but it also has to affect the viewer.

Ouch.

Well, I've always been a huge advocate for honesty in matters such as this, so I got what I asked for. The email states that I can "appeal" the decision, but I can't see much point.

I spent some time reviewing the images that have been published there, and then waded thru my files to see if I had anything I deemed equal to those already accepted. Yeah, right.

I think being summarily shot down in flames has "adjusted" my point-of-view to the extent that NONE of my photos now look "good enough". What was I thinking??? Well, nothing like a good slap-down to put things into proper perspective.... Or could it be that I am simply my own worst critic? Even if that is true, I still cannot see the forest for the trees -- or perhaps I cannot find that one special "tree" within the "forest". I know this is a self-esteem issue, but how does one overcome this nonsense? Maybe my photos aren't world-class great, but wouldn't you think that ONE out of some 10,000 shots would be "good enough" for something like this? I think yes, but how the heck do I find that one grain of wheat in a virtual mountain of chaff?

Oh hell. I think I'll just go sit in the corner and pout.

Got Twinkies?

It is Saturday, and my DH is away at a football game. I should be catching up on household chores long neglected, but instead I took a long luxurious nap in my recliner. I never sleep so well as when I plop into my magic La-Z-Boy and flip the lever. Add one ultra-soft throw to warm my body and one lap-whore feline companion to warm my heart, and a deep sleep is the inevitable result.

I awoke just before noon feeling lazy and oh-so-relaxed, and more than just a little guilty. I felt guiltier still when I had to jettison the cat from my lap in favor of a trip to the bathroom.

My life as a rural hausfrau affords me little to write about. The truth is that my life is BORING. Even I am bored by it, so how can others NOT be bored?

I often wonder how others perceive me. If they think I'm weird or stupid or that I laugh too loud, etc., etc., they are likely too polite to tell me. On the other hand, if they think I'm amusing or interesting, would they think it important enough to say so? How exactly is a person to know? Asking is not cool, because it is usually viewed as fishing for compliments. Besides, people won't usually say bad stuff to your face.

It ought to be a rule that others are required to advise you of how you are generally regarded. If the info is embarrassing or disappointing, at least one would have a chance to adjust as necessary. But it is the affirmative responses that are most valuable, since it helps us to feel more confident about ourselves.

I don't know about everyone else, but those rare and elusive positive strokes make me better able to deal with life's shit-filled Twinkies. You know what those are, right? That's when something GOOD is compromised by something BAD. For instance, "Gorgeous dress, Marge, but it's rather tight, isn't it?" or "Nice report, James, but your spelling sucks." (My mother could deal out the stinkiest Twinkies ever without batting an eye, all in the name of "helping". Arrrgh.) Get the idea? This same principle can be observed in many everyday events, like a perfect commute to work . . . except for the part where you got a speeding ticket. Everything was grand up to that point, and -- whoosh -- the air was sucked out of your sails as surely as if God himself was pointing a giant Hoover at you. They happen to us all, in varying degrees, life's ups and downs. The trick is learning to recognize which ones are important enough to put a twist in your knickers.

Some days, it's not the SIZE of the "Twinkies", it's the sheer number. You know, a colossal pile of dumb little things gone wrong.

Other days, a single mega-Twinkie will ruin your entire week, if not screw up the entire rest of your LIFE. These are the BIG things, like learning that your spouse is cheating, or the death of someone dear to you.

Okay, so now you know the truth about Twinkies. Bet you never eat another one without at least thinking of this :-) I know I can't. Besides, I don't eat anything with a shelf-life longer than my own.

Tulip Time

Each April, tulips carpet many parts of the Willamette Valley. They tempt me from my cave, camera in hand, in the hope of capture the definitive photo. The image you see here may not be 'the one', but I like it very much.

The artsy ink outline effect was added using Photoshop CS3, as were the border and frame. The basic image is not of sufficient size or resolution to support a decently sized print, so it only gets enjoyed on my computer screen.

Even if I could not revisit the beauty of spring via my photos, the images would live in my memory. There is something spiritual about flowers. Perhaps it is their amazing colors? Or maybe the mysterious and captivating array of shapes? The heady fragrances? Surely it must be all of those things, yet there is more. They tell of sunny days replacing the dull grey of winter. They are indisputable evidence of the fulfillment of nature's unspoken promise: new life, every year, no matter what.

It humbles me to see how most life persists in spite of our best human efforts to the contrary. When mankind's time on earth is through, will the flowers not continue? I think they will, but who will appreciate and admire them then? I don't consider myself a tree-hugging Birkenstock-wearing eco-nut, but I do hope we as a species can figure out how to stop soiling our own nest so that future generations may continue to enjoy the magical spell cast by tulips and all their floral cousins. Not to TRY is to fail.

Fools & Money

Apt beginning.

My husband and I are fools. Huge. When it comes to money, we are hapless and hopeless. How the hell did we come to this? My husband was forced to retire this year, after 45 years of service. Reorganization. Common these days. The old guys get bumped in favor of the young. Not that the company wasn't generous enough, but the buy-out package will not get us out of debt. No, we were counting on our 401(k) account to do that. We were going to use it to continue to pay off our credit cards after the paychecks stop. We're seeing our savings lose value on a daily basis, and have NO idea what to do to stop the bleeding. Do we cash it out and lose all chance of recovery? Do we leave it and risk losing it all? Damn . . . talk about the proverbial rock and hard place. I can tell you it is a VERY tight squeeze.

So, now what? Both of us are too old to get jobs other than as Wal-Mart greeters or pushing burgers at a local fast food joint. Neither option has much appeal. Things around here have been pretty gloomy.

Part of me is angry. I am angry at myself for my willful contributions to our indebtedness over the years -- credit cards are so EASY to use -- but I am also angry at the credit card companies for being so GREEDY. Credit cards are clever traps, designed to suck people in and never let them go, something most people do not come to appreciate until it is already too late. Like us. It never seemed important before. We always made our payments on time, and usually more than the minimum due, but all of a sudden it is WAY too little WAY too late.

My grandmother had a rustic wall-hanging that said, "Too zoon oldt, Too late schmart." Boy, ain't that the truth.

So, what to do? Probably bankruptcy. Not right away, but as I consider our options (few), it looms large in my thoughts. Five years ago, I would have called you crazy if you'd said we were headed in that direction, but now I see. Ah, the clarity of hindsight . . . .

I'm not trying to justify our situation. It is our own fault, and no one else's, but our future is looking rather grim, and it takes a toll on me emotionally and psychologically. For what it is worth, I have resolved to not expect, want or ask for more; to conserve and preserve what we already have; and to do so with a modicum of good cheer. I taught my children to take responsibility for their own actions. Now it is time for me to walk the walk.

At this point, I'll be happy if we don't end up living in a cardboard box.

Dressmaker's Corner

The photo above was taken this past September in South Pass City, Wyoming, a mid- to late-1800's gold mining town which is now a well-preserved historical site. Some TLC in Photoshop allowed me to soften the overly-bright sunlight streaming thru the window while maintaining the lovely natural lighting effect overall. I also wanted to emphasize the "period" feel of the image, so added a bit of digital graininess.

I think it was Ansel Adams who said that photographers don't "take" good pictures, they "make" them. I totally agree. Peering through the viewfinder of a camera and activating the shutter doesn't always produce the desired results. In the old days of film photography, the artist could work magic in his darkroom and finesse the "art" from his or her photos there. How lucky I am to live in the digital age! My photos often get a fresh face using Photoshop CS3, in my opinion the finest photo-editing program available. There are those who would challenge me on this point, but if Photoshop isn't the BEST editor, it must at least be the most POWERFUL program of its kind. Well, suffice it to say that I love the freedom it affords me when I can work on a favorite photo and end up with a piece of art that I would be proud to hang on my wall.

Preface

Yes, as the name of my blog implies, I'm an old dog and blogging is a "new trick" for me . . . but here I sit, determined to learn how and to make it good in the process. We shall see, eh?