Southern Hospitality

Ok, so maybe we don't have polar bears or electric eels to contend with in Texas. But we got some scary bugs. And weeds. (Can I get a witness?) And Bermuda grass, which I think I'm gonna start calling Bermuda Weed. Yep, that sounds more like it. Anyway, we have to look for our adventures around here in more modest ways than in bear conflicts. That is why we go Dale Gribble on the local fire ant colonies, trying to get inside their heads in the expensive and unwinnable war we have going with them. But this is the New American Way.

"I think they're gonna move toward the Bradford Pear and set up a strategic base camp there. They know that it'll be a weak point for us. I've just got this feeling."

I've poured boiling water on hills, knowing that it would not win the war, but wanting to make them re-think their proximity to my sidewalk. It's tough making the decision to move ahead with it, despite the certainty of casualties in my day lily bed. This is war. Sacrifices are made.

David grew up in Idaho and represents it as the land flowing with milk and honey. He paints a picture of an idyllic childhood, roaming the neighborhoods, hillsides, and forests with his little brother and sister, Mike and Debbie. There were numerous camping trips with his family, all without a single fire-ant encounter.

I even remember a time before fire ants, believe it or not. I grew up in Southern Oklahoma before they had migrated that far North. I remember plenty of other bugs to avoid while growing up, and many varieties of ants. But these usually minded their own business instead of having a preemptive foreign policy of attacking anything that moved. An enjoyable childhood activity of mine was to disturb part of an ant hill so I could see how they repaired it. Fascinating stuff. I enjoyed their unswerving devotion to perfection in making their beautiful hill just as beautiful as before.

But if you do that to fire ants, they just want vengeance, and they'll worry about rebuilding after they have demolished anything living within chomping distance. Less fascinating than exceedingly creepy is the way they boil out of their dens. Yeesh. Idaho is sounding more and more inviting all the time.

Texas is always using size as a marker for the reasons for its greatness. If we're talking beef ribs, belt buckles, or even hair, that's one thing. But insects that are large enough to be chipping in on property taxes? Or large enough to be wearing a seatbelt (nod to Larry)? Alleged friend and Boise resident Pam Blue even goes so far as to so sweetly remind me that they don't even have cockroaches up there. Probably no termites, either. Those Idaho license plates which currently say "Famous For Potatoes" should be boasting "Very Few Bugs." But I bet their beef ribs are really small. And probably tough, too.

Freeverse No. 1

Anymore, I don't write much poetry, or whatever label you'd like to attach to such a liberal use of the word. But I think it's good for people to get out those things which seem too abstract for simple prose; the things which we are still working out in the dim recesses. It also provides a memory bank for those moments which are perhaps not important of themselves, but are a marker for a time and a place that we may forget after a time. It's good to remember.

3/16/01

A life just passed before my eyes,
And another, then another, and
An unlimited number of them;
All driving to some point, all
Having a fibrous network of other lives
Intertwined with theirs,
All believing that indeed,
The world does surround--
No, that the world does spin
In a neat circle around them.

I sit here, inconspicuous
On a balcony overseeing them all,
Knowing that the world does
Not revolve around me, nor
The man cleaning the grime
From the parking garage floor,
Nor the woman cleaning
Invisible dust from the windows
Of the office building across the street.

She is in her world, in a still
And silent boardroom, surrounded
By her thoughts, busy in her work.
There is no thread between us,
Only panes of glass now, and
The static of a city beyond them.
Back indoors, the static seeps in,
But perhaps she cannot hear
Over the static of her own thoughts
The hum of living; silent and deafening.

Roadies

Hi. My name is J'Non, and I'm a roadie:



It's official, since we just purchased a couple of road bikes last Sunday from a local bike shop to replace the mountain bikes which have been taking us sweating and wheezing over hill and dale for the last year. We are retiring my old bike to Northern pastures, and I'm using David's Trek to run errands here in town, since it's still in good shape and is more comfortable for short jaunts.

The newies (nod to Aaron Blue for the neologism) are Specialized brand, Allez models, which is pronounced like "Allay". Mine is an Allez Double, which is so much of an upgrade from the bike I was riding that I cannot truly express my joy at the changes. It rides "like buttah." Oh, yeah.

Since they were out of his size in the Double, David got a discount for an upgrade, the Elite, which has a bit more carbon fiber for a softer ride and slightly better hardware all around.



I'm gonna be honest, I had my heart set on the bike designed for girly sensibilities--the Dolce, which was yellow and white with flowers on the frame and seat. Sigh. It was very pretty. But, unlike most women, I do not have a compact torso. I'm of above-average height, at 5'9" and my proportions are much better suited to men's frames. No flowers for me. But I've decided that I will probably live over this injustice, and I do love my bike.

We rode about 17 miles for our first trip and felt the vast differences in the aerodynamics, the energy economy of using these gears and skinny road tires. The seats take a little getting used to--they are...ahh...firm. I'll have to check the specs again to make sure, but I think they are made out of granite. This is why you buy those bike shorts with the padding in the rear. We don't yet have these, so we have some very bruised rear-ends instead. But hey, the air conditioning is great when you're in a tuck, snacking on your handlebars down a steep hill between 30 and 40mph. A little bruising on the old caboose is totally worth it.

We definitely shaved about 25% off of our previous time, and weren't even totally exhausted when we got home. We'll be trying to increase our stamina and speed so that we can ride with a local group on Sunday mornings. They leave at 6:30 am and go about 34 miles, averaging about 15 mph with no rest stops. These group rides are organized by the shop where we purchased the bikes--Rockwall Cycling. It's a fun place--the people working there are really knowledgeable and passionate about bikes and cycling. You get a sense that they are genuinely excited for you that you are getting this awesome opportunity to ride decent bikes. Welcome to the biking club--it's gonna be a good run.

I love the camaraderie of people who bike. And the calf muscles. You take a few steps into the biking world and you'll start to pick up on the humor, the culture, and the love. And the opportunity for developing amazing calf muscles. You'll see a twinkle in the eyes of those who say with obvious joy, "I'm a roadie," like Kamps, the stocky, athletically-built manager of Rockwall Cycling. He's a Rockwall local who, as of July 2007, does not even own a car. He cycles wherever he needs to go, and probably has a more pleasant daily commute than most people I know. I commented to him that it must be liberating to not have a car payment, and his eyes lit up as he said "And no insurance!" I'm right there with ya, Kamps. Say on, brother.

Tall, cyclist-thin, and twenty-something, Tyler is the sales guy who sold us the bikes, fitted us for them, and answered the million questions we had along the way. He usually commutes about 20 miles to work in Rockwall from Plano on a big bike with fat tires. He says it takes him about an hour each way, which is pretty amazing, considering it takes me about 40 minutes to get to Plano by car. I stole the "snacking on your handlebars" phrase from him without remorse.

I'm thinking that the shop must have a shower facility in the back, because for all this physical commuting, these guys look awfully fresh and squeaky clean. I know what I look like after cycling for 17 miles, and it's not anything that should ever face the public. I'm usually red-faced from exertion for an hour or so afterward, and the sheer volume of sweat is pretty spectacular compared to any other form of exercise I've ever tried. This is not for people who need to look like they have it together. The pictures I included earlier in the post are taken only about 1/4 of the way into our ride. For honesty's sake, I should probably include one of the end of the trip if my vanity will allow it. We'll see.

Farewell, Trans Am

We sold the Batmobile last week, courtesy of a Craigslist posting, and I feel that a farewell is now in order.


Though we will miss the sounds of your snarly exhaust, the adventure of your racing suspension, and the wind and gnats in our hair from the open T-tops, we know that you will have many years of adventures ahead of you in Finland. Perhaps even now you are on a huge boat, sailing across the seas to your new home--a place where your beauty and American muscle will be appreciated even more for its rarity.

Do not cry, dear. You will need your wiper fluid for removing the remains of the numerous Finnish insects that you will exterminate with blunt force trauma by your gleaming brow. Even now, these insects are gamboling about the Finnish countryside and mocking with abandon the teeny cars which swish quietly along the highways. Cheer up, Love--how many of your friends can say that they've flattened Finnish bugs? Hmm? This is the adventure of a lifetime! Bon Voyage!

Support Local Agriculture!

Since reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, a fascinating book by Michael Pollan, I've become more aware of the underlying costs when I buy "cheap" food that has come an incredible distance. While perhaps more convenient to me personally to buy something that was produced in Chile, shipped here on a refrigerated semi-truck, and placed in a tidy stack at Kroger, it's probably costing me more in a larger sense.

I am competing with my own long-haul produce for fuel, after all, not only in the transportation costs to store it and then bring it to me, but in the natural gas required for making synthetic fertilizer and the petrochemicals used for producing pesticides. I'm also competing with that juicy steak, too, since the corn that either fattens him up or ends up in my car as ethanol is heavily subsidized by the taxes we all pay.


Ok, ok. But what can we DO about it? Well, ok, I'm still shopping at my local Kroger, and the incredibly cheap organic bananas I buy are not grown in the U.S., but I feel increasingly compelled to support local farmers when I can by purchasing directly from them throughout the growing season. I hope that they are able to actually make a decent living without sacrificing responsible methods of farming or becoming dependant on subsidies which we support through taxes.

There are some very helpful websites out there designed to help you find out where the farmers are in your area. Two that I have used recently are www.pickyourown.org and www.localharvest.org.

This past week I had an opportunity to go on a circuit to 3 different farms which are relatively near my home. The first stop was Akin Farm in Terrell to get beautiful red potatoes, yellow onions, garlic, and pick-my-own Roma green beans. Proprietor Wendy Akin threw in some fresh bay as a gift. She and her husband are retired, and they've been farming those several acres organically for twenty-two years. The prices were very reasonable, and it felt good to know that the exchange of their good produce for our money was helping both of us and hurting neither.

From there I went north to Commerce to pick up some fresh organic blackberries from a small, family-run operation that the owner is developing slowly as a retirement project when he no longer drives a truck for a living. The berries were incredibly huge, flavorful, clean, and ranged from perfectly ripe and sweet to slightly tart. The price was way below what you would pay at the grocery store--even for conventionally grown berries. The seeds were large, but unless my appendix tells me otherwise, it was worth it!

And by the way, the blackberry cobbler we had for dessert that night was top notch. My mom made a traditionally southern crust, which is a butter pastry crust with a lift, courtesy of a little baking powder. She always sinks a layer of crust inside the pie, so you get this bonus layer enveloped by a thick, luxurious filling of whole berries, sugar, and flour. Mmmmm.

The rest of the berries I tossed with some sugar and put into freezer bags to wait until I decide to make preserves, desserts, or fruit salads in the coming year. Eating more locally also means eating more seasonally--buying when things are ripe and putting up surplus to enjoy later from the freezer. There's something very satisfying about seeing your freezer full of food that you put up yourself!

Also in Commerce was Windy Meadows Farm, which offers organic-pastured chicken, eggs, beef, and lamb. This is also family owned and operated, with a processing facility on site. They actually encourage people to come out and look at the facility--it's spotless. I haven't had a chance yet to cook the chicken I purchased, but will let you know how it turns out. I've a hankering for fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy that will not be denied! The prices are similar to what you'd pay at the grocery store for organic meats, which could be affordable if families make meals which are more often vegetarian than meat-centered.

I was pleased with my first foray into the local food scene; it's very encouraging to see people making an effort to grow food responsibly and sustainably.

A happy Jersey calf at Windy Meadows Farm
(Jerseys are used for milking, not meat, so this happiness should continue for a good long while).

The Embodiment Of All That Is Cute In Adolescent Goatiness

Cuteness Notes--This goatlette has a variety of cute factors in its favor.

1. A gratuitous parting of the hair at the top--just like my oldest brother's senior picture from the late 80's.
2. Nibbular lips. For nibbling. And for looking cute in photographs.
3. Proportionally skinny, pre-pubescent neck.
4. Ears which appear genuinely excited to be attached to this goatlette. Look at them--they exude goat satisfaction and could probably serve very well as dual-action ladles should the need arise.

Biking Keeps Me Humble

David and I have been biking for exercise since last fall, with a lull during winter while we lived on our fat stores and supplemented any possible loss with hot chocolate, coffee, lots of whipped cream, pies, and ice cream. When the time came to come out of hibernation, we were raring to go.

Ok, ok. David was raring to go, and I was feeling like my muscles were made out of some really gooey pie. Mmmm...piiiiiiiiiiie. Maybe a chocolate pie, with a little caramel drizzled over the top. Mmmmm--No wait! These are post-hibernation legs...better make that a Coconut Cream. Mmmmm...piiiiiiiiiie...

Ahem, where was I? Ah, yes, I have always a bit on the non-muscular side. One of my illustrious nicknames in school was "Pebble" because a girl said that when I flexed my bicep it looked like a pebble was lodged under the skin. And calves? Oh, isn't that sweet that you think all humans have them! No, I had legs perfectly resembling the number eleven, descending from knobbular knees all the way to bony ankles and ski-like feet. With this kind of physical makeup in my past, it even now takes me a while to work up to an endurance level that doesn't leave me wheezing after the first mile. But, David says my calf muscles actually poke out when I'm going up hill now, so I've got to say it's worth it.

The first opportunity for developing my humility was getting passed by an older gentleman who was on foot. Granted, this was in the middle of the "hill of death," as I named it for its steep and punishing grade. On the upside, this was probably a boost to his confidence, and really, I'm just happy to be out here doing good works. Motivational cycler--that's me.

We've just recently increased our distance to between ten and fifteen miles on a new route that takes us through some very pleasant country. There we see horses of varying models, rotund cows, and all kinds of wildflowers this time of year. On the way down a very lovely hill I had my first encounter with a wasp as an adult, and one in which I ended up with more collateral damage than he (you may read about this in the previous post).

This particular exercise in humility happened as I was gaining speed down a big hill about six miles from home. I had trouble stopping while trying to rid myself of the unexpected passenger, who seemed much more calm and collected than I. I was one second away from leaping off the bike while still in motion to rip off my t-shirt and perform a couple of minutes of impromptu Riverdance on it--I did have appropriate sportswear underneath, so it seemed like a plan perfectly suited to being in the middle of nowhere with only the cows to look on me in judgment. But then I saw the couple slowly cycling up the hill to meet me and already looking at me with some amusement at the show of wild antics wherein I steered heroically with one hand while whapping myself on the back with the other. I decided against the disrobing idea.

When I finally opened the bottom of my t-shirt and flapped it to encourage my angry little pal to leave, he flew out and appeared unscathed, a large fellow who was an irate shade of orange. As I and the couple passed each other, I offered an eloquent explanation. "A wasp totally just flew into my t-shirt! He got me four times!" They laughed as they rode by, which was not really the reaction I needed at the moment. Sympathy? Horror? Shock? How about an "are you ok?" or "can we call CareFlite for you?" Well, I lived, as it turned out. Perhaps with a few throbbing spots on my back and neck, and with less dignity than before, but that just meant I had all the less to lose in my next humility lesson.

On Wednesday evening, we again struck out for a little biking adventure, and this time I was wearing a shirt with a small neck opening. Ha, ha! It's like I'm learning or something! We had gone a full two hours of biking, covering about 15 miles of hill and dale. It was a good run, if exhausting. We were almost home but my usual way of getting up on the sidewalk to go through the park was blocked by some teenagers milling around their truck, talking and laughing. I'd have to stop and walk my bike up over the curb, or jump the curb like David had just done. In my weakened mental state, I thought, "Oh, I really don't want to, but I'll just do it!"

This is one of those times where it would have paid dividends to be a weenie. As it was, I gamely got myself ready to face it head on and was so ready to feel that wheel up on that sidewalk. Instead, I didn't quite get the height that one needs to retain dignity, so my bike crashed into the curb, I crashed into the front of my bike while making a lot of sounds like "Ooooof!" "Hhcckk!" and "Unnggh!" and fighting Sir Isaac Newton himself. I'm gonna call it a draw. He's a wily old dude.

Cue the awkward moment of silence where all six teenagers are staring at me as if I had just sprouted antennae from my forehead. Once I found myself to be alive, if currently the object of unwanted onlooker interest, I got back on the bike and attempted to roll on out of there as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the chain was thrown, so after a few more awkward moments, I had to dismount and put the chain back on (I think with David's help at this point).

Cue more awkward moments. I don't know those kids, probably will never see them again, doesn't matter. Amazing how it's still humiliating, despite all of that logic! So, are developed calf muscles really worth it? Yes, indeedy.

Excerpt From The Diary of Winston B. Waspington

Introduction:
This snippet of diary was recently discovered in Rockwall County; exact location unknown.

May 4, 2008

Today I went out for my daily trip to the grocery for my dear Mrs. Waspington, as she requested that I pick up a fresh garden spider needed to complete the insect soup she planned for our dinner. I was happy to oblige, but as I was on my way, my day took a most extraordinary turn.

Without warning, I was struck by a large mammal which was perched on top of a two-wheeled metal device. It must have been traveling at a great speed, and I was barely able to get my bearings after the collision in order to cling to the backside of its neck, which was sweaty, warm, and overall a very disagreeable surface.

Before I had time to even consider how to safely escape, it tried to kill me by crushing me with one of the two long forelegs attached just below its neck. I managed to defend myself with two stings, though the second was interrupted as a second attack by the foreleg caused me to lose my grip and fall inside the large tent covering its thorax.

Once inside this tent, I could see clearly that this was designed to be a trap for such innocent persons as myself. The opening at the top was held open by the rushing wind which sucked in any victims as the creature sped along on the metal device.

Not willing to be eaten alive with poor Mrs. Waspington left alone to protect our nest of youngsters still in their pods, I gathered my courage. This time I gave a mighty jab near the base of its right foreleg where I thought it would be difficult for my attacker to reach me. I underestimated the reach of those giant, mantis-like forelegs, which now attempted to crush me in the tent material.

Narrowly escaping serious injury yet again, I dropped down and over to the other side and clung to a more stable section of material which fit closely to my attacker's body and which spanned across the back of the thorax. Undetected there, I made one more effort to save my life, and stung with all my might, down through the material and into the flesh of my attacker.

At last, my defense had worked! A secret hatch was opened at the bottom of the tent and I was able to fly out! Disoriented, but with all my wings and legs accounted for! Shaken, but alive! When I returned home to the nest, Mrs W. made such a fuss over the incident and would not be satisfied until my wings and legs were each inspected to a millimeter. We each agreed that one could not be too careful when these sort of mammals are around, and that ultimately, the best defense is "sting first, ask questions later."

Garden Crime Report: 5/7/08

Case # 542096

Officer J. Whitlark first noticed heavily nibbled collards and radish tops during a routine watering in the lower West side.

The suspects: Two caterpillars, approximately .75" in length and wearing black running suits were sighted about an aphid's throw from the community at Collard's Crest.

Case Notes:

The two suspects did not appear to trial, and are considered missing. Investigators fear that they are victims of vigilante justice, but no witnesses have come forward.


Case # 542097

Officer J. Whitlark observed the results of vandalism to one Cinnamon Basil structure on the Southern corner of Herb Square. After a shakedown, one Mr. Inchwormpants, of light green color and approximately 11 mm in length was taken into custody for booking. The primary officer on the scene noted that the suspect smelled strongly of basil and seemed disoriented.




Case Notes:

After mug shots and feeler-printing, the suspect escaped during prisoner transfer. Location is currently unknown. The suspect is armed with .77 mm mandibles and considered very dangerous. All basil should use extreme caution if encountering this individual.

Stealth Salad: Operation Spring Roll

Let's face it, shall we? Humans can only have so many salads without feeling listless over lettuce. Miles of lettuce. Endless munching. Pausing to chew our cud, we reflect on how the wrangling of lettuce leaves and the mess which ensues as we stuff untidy piles of dressing-covered leaves in our mouths can seem a smidge undignified, if not embarrassing. "Darling, there appears to be some vinagrette on your temple."

I hate to disparage salad, though, as it can serve useful roles at the dinner table--like creating a platform on which to eat large quantities of croutons, cheese, and ranch dressing. And let us not forget perhaps the greatest service of all, which is to dispense with any residual guilt which may be loitering around our consciences from the recent ingestion of cheeseburgers, steaks, and/or plates of al dente carbohydrates smothered in heavy Italian cream sauces.

To break the monotony, sneak in all the components of a clear culinary conscience by making cold Vietnamese spring rolls with an almond-curry sauce sometime. I'm going to be honest--at first, these are pretty time consuming unless you already have some mad burrito-rolling skills and a totally awesome blog to walk you through the steps. One out of two isn't bad. They become very simple over time, and the texture and flavors are worth it. Not to mention the crystal clear conscience. "Yes, I do believe I will have another pat of butter on my cheesy baked potato, thank you."

Secret Agent Parsley, pictured with other operatives:


Step 1: Locate Ingredients!

Much of this you may already have on hand, but there are a few items that you wouldn't have unless you make sushi at home. Check the recipe for the almond-curry sauce at the bottom of the post for some of these items, and don't forget to substitute wildly from your own pantry and let me know how it turns out! Or, purchase the items and plan to go nuts and make sushi at home, too! Look at you, being all adventurous in the kitchen!

Rice Paper (found in the "Ethnic Foods" section--those without wheat flour work best)
Rice Noodles (thin rice vermicelli is best)
Cucumber
Carrot
Lettuce
Sugar Snap Peas (just a handful will do)
Herbs of your choice
Mung Bean Sprouts
Whatever else you have in the crisper that needs to be consumed


2. Prep ingredients!

Have the vegetables washed, sliced--ready to go. You can use whatever you like--we typically use cucumber, carrot, fresh cilantro and parsley, green onion tops, mung bean sprouts, romaine lettuce, sugar snap peas, and even young collards. For protein, you can also include tofu or chicken.

Rice noodles take just a few minutes to cook in boiling water. Rinse them under cool water to stop the cooking process and make them easier to handle--less sticky!




3. Assembling!

I use a small plate, turned upside down with plastic wrap draped across it for my rolling station. Wet one sheet of rice paper under the tap, making sure that all surfaces area comes in contact with the water. One dip'll do--the sheet will soften as you add ingredients. For presentation, be mindful that whatever you arrange in the center of the roll will be visible when you are finished.

Cilantro is a nice start, placed upside down:


You can add ingredients in whatever order you like, but I like to play with the presentation by adding a canvas of cucumber for the cilantro, with maybe some carrot for color:


Sugar snap peas add a nice crunch and flavor:


Crisp lettuce on top of that:


Then, add some mung bean sprouts. Yes, mung bean sprouts look pretty hideously unappetizing, but they are very good and add a satisfying crunch to the rolls. Top the hideousness with pleasant-looking rice noodles (these may still be warm from cooking):


Fold over one end and bring down the upper part of the wrap. The rice paper sticks to itself when damp, so it seals itself if you help it make the right connections:


Fold in the other end. While holding the ingredients in with your thumb and forefinger, roll the whole business down on top of the front side of the paper:


Now you can see how your design worked out! Pretty, but not too pretty to eat:

You can refrigerate the rolls overnight or even a couple of days without much compromise of taste and texture.


4. Get Saucy!

The sauce that we typically have with these is made primarily with almond butter, also adding some protein. Curry, garlic, and a little chili sauce adds a great kick. Just stir together all the following ingredients (or whatever you have that seems similar enough to these ingredients). Substitute at will--I certainly do. No cooking required:

1 heaping Tbs brown sugar
2 Tbs rice wine
2 tsp rice wine vinegar
1/4 - 1/2 tsp curry powder
2 tsp soy sauce or tamari
1/4 tsp sesame oil
1/2 tsp chili sauce
1/2 tsp minced garlic
1/4 C coconut milk
3/4 C nut butter


You may need to stir the sauce again before serving:




5. Revel in a Clear Conscience!

The continuing search for clever designs and compelling ingredient combinations will be fun experimentation. I'm thinking already thinking ahead to my next batch: a little red pepper...some beet greens...some blackened ahi tuna? Hmmmm... would ranch dressing be good as a sauce? Hummus? See, people? These are the questions which will drive the planning of my next not-so-covert SaladOp.

Now, get me my creamy Fettuchini Alfredo and garlic bread with extra butter--stat!