Christmas Trees and Bonfires....

We got home last weekend from San Diego, where we spent a few great days at Campus Crusade's Winter Conference. It's a whole lot of fun for us all. Lots of students, time with dear staff friends, an adjacent amazing mall (complete with after-Christmas sales! Would you believe there's no mall in the entire county of San Luis Obispo? It's true), a pool and jacuzzi for all of the junior-high-aged boys, warm-water surf - oh, the endless delights!

The down side of going away for a week right after Christmas is losing all of that time to slowly put away the decorations at your leisure. Instead, we arrived home on the evening of January 1st to a crispy tree and some droopy red ribbons on the picket fence (it rained while we were gone). Every year it's the same dilemma - what to do with that tree? In the past, we've taken it in to be made into mulch (have I mentioned that our neighborhood is somewhat insanely environmentally conscious?), and the other option, of which I am a little bit ashamed, but not really: cutting it into bits and shoving it into the green waste garbage can (do NOT tell our neighbors!). This year, however, I discovered a fabulous option number three.

I happened to be standing looking out onto the street when I saw my neighbor's son drive past with a pickup truck full of old Christmas trees, which he took into his yard. Later that day (I'm not exaggerating here - it was the same day) I was driving past the back of their property, and saw the trunks and a few spindly branches left of those same trees. "Wow, that's fantastic!" I thought, and wondered what had stripped those trees so quickly? Turns out it was 6 goats having themselves a delicious post-holiday treat. So immediately we volunteered our tree to be goat chow, which made everyone happy.

Another neighbor of mine disposed of his tree in more dramatic fashion: with a burn pile to beat all burn piles. I'm not kidding when I say that many people around here look forward to burn days with a glee that makes me a little bit uncomfortable. Country boys like to play with fire, I suppose. It gets very dry here in the summer and fall, you see, so we must await the winter rains and the all-clear from the sheriff before we can light up those piles of trimmings, leaves and brush. Anyway, the smoke from this fire could be seen and smelled for miles (all the way up at the junior high downtown). On our way down the road, coming home from school, I wondered whose barn was on fire. But no worries - as we passed by (trying not to let the 20-foot flames blind me or melt the paint on the side of my truck) we could see a happy young boy standing beside his proud papa (complete with beer can in hand) watching the bonfire. This was right before I drove into the giant cloud of smoke. It was impressive - in fact (I'm not making this up), the pile was still smoldering and spewing out smoke at least 24 hours later. Now THAT'S a fire. We ourselves are a little more demure with our fires - we only have a burn barrel (yes, that's correct. In addition to a chicken coop, a trailer, and an old station wagon, there's also a barrel in my yard. Stop humming that Hank Williams Jr song). We only use it occasionally for excess cardboard, last year's schoolwork, and our Christmas wrapping paper (it's quite a show - foil wrap makes awesome colors). And possibly a very small amount of styrofoam and/or plastic packaging may or may not have been thrown in just to see what would happen....do NOT tell our neighbors!

Thoughts While Making Dumplings

I recently made 27 apple dumplings. And soon I'll be making about a dozen more. It was my opportunity to put on some Christmas music (thank you Pandora.com) and do some good menial tasks in silence. Delightful! Almost as good as the morning I drove from our house down to Cambria along my very favorite country road (Santa Rosa Creek Rd) to get some chocolate sauce and other gift items to send back east. The dumplings remind me of my grandma and great-grandma, and maybe that's why I love making them. Also, they cannot be rushed. It is slow work making the dumplings - peeling, coring, filling, then wrapping and baking. It makes me slow down and gives me time to think. And did I mention the quiet? Except for the music, of course - side note: when you choose "Chieftans Holiday" music as your Pandora.com station, you get some great Celtic-style Christmas songs and, occasionally, a hilarious holiday Irish drinking song thrown in (there's one that tells the story of an Irish man who couldn't make it the whole way home on Christmas Eve and had to sleep in a church and woke up during midnight mass, for example). My other favorite thing about making dumplings is that there's not really a recipe. When I asked my grandma for one, she didn't know it, and just started making them, saying, "Well, you just do this, and then add some of this, and then do this, and then sprinkle on some of this...." so I gathered the info on my own, frantically writing down what I saw her doing. And they turn out all right! Just like having your own personal apple pie, and even better with ice cream. The taste of Christmas, to me.

In the slowed-down-ness of Christmas vacation, we are also finding time to play games and watch some of our favorite holiday classics ("Home Alone", "A Christmas Story"), and to enjoy some things that only happen around Christmas, like the Garden Farms Holiday Parade (truly a sight to behold!). Last year, Jamey got to dress up like Santa and lead the way. This year we got to dress up Sandy the '62 Rambler and drive her in the parade. I have to admit, the car was pretty cute with all of the decorations that Grace and her friend Shelly put on. There was also an assortment of old trucks, tractors, wagons, a wheelbarrow or two, a couple of horses, and a Porsche that I didn't even know my neighbor owned (what a show-off!). The parade started at one end of Walnut Avenue and proceeded all the way through the neighborhood to our neighbors' garage (which looks like an actual garage from the outside, but has couches, a wood stove, and a beer tap - probably for home brew - on the inside) for grilled sausage and tri-tip, because in Garden Farms, we're always on the lookout for a reason to enjoy some barbecued tri-tip!

Later that evening Jason and I went down to SLO for the annual Christmas carol sing-along at our church, which I love. If you are not yet in the Christmas spirit, try reading the verses of O Holy Night (2 is my favorite) or What Child Is This? I secretly sing these two songs to myself when impatient or greedy people in cars or stores make me forget momentarily what Christmas is really about.

In the words of Tiny Tim (the Dickens character - not the odd 60's singer), "God bless us, everyone!"

Hope you all have a wonderful, meaningful, peaceful Christmas!

Giving Thanks

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I've been thinking about "the Thankfulness Game", an activity I used to do with my kids when they were younger, but also something I do by myself whenever I find myself complaining too much (that means "often"). It's really good for us to reflect on all the things we can be thankful for - big, small, important, silly. A friend of mine just found out that her breast cancer is in remission (big!). Grace made it through the whole football season without a knee injury. Jason just got a "10 out of 9" on a math test (extra credit). Jamey and I had a wonderful, safe trip to El Salvador and back to visit our students, and my mom and dad were able (and willing) to come and be cooks and chauffers for the kids. This morning, about 15 ladies and I filled 60 boxes with food for needy families in our community, and there was enough food leftover for 10 more boxes. Jamey finally was able to get rid of the mole in the yard (yes, all of that damage was caused by one tiny rodent - impressive!). Grace has been driving around town for four weeks without incident. All kinds of things to make me grateful! And once you start playing the game, there's no end to the things you can come up with. We are sometimes so good at it that we can turn negatives into positives. No walnuts on the tree this year? At least I can buy a bag of them - already shelled, roasted and chopped, for my convenience. My son can't name one single thing he wants for Christmas? I am thankful he's not greedy! The house is really cold? Hey, no problem - we now have our choice of using the heater or the wood stove. The clear coat is coming off of our old Camry in a very unattractive pattern? Awesome! I really never worry about a tiny scratch on it - or that it might get stolen, for that matter. A recipe for stuffed acorn squash was deemed "gross" by the family? Woo hoo! No overeating for me! Perhaps my favorite: I found several gray hairs the other day , but I am thankful because my blonde hair makes them less noticeable, and because the gray ones are much thicker than the otherwise baby-fine blondies. See how good this can make you feel? Amazing! You might want to start keeping a list for yourself. It can make you feel humble and good, and grateful. And remind us all of why we celebrate Thanksgiving. Have a wonderful one!!

Fall and the joys & ironies of owning a dog

Orange is for fall, and finally on October 1 it began to cool off here.  One morning it got all the way down to 34 degrees!  So just when I got my more finicky plants over the heat, it has almost started to freeze at night.  We even turn the heater on in the mornings.  Now that's cold.

Crisp fall mornings are my favorite time to go out for a run, but lately I've been running alone, because of a knee injury to my faithful canine running buddy, Max  (in fact, Jason is the only person in our family who hasn't blown out a knee, but watch out - basketball season is just around the corner!).  We have given him the nickname "Limpy" (except when he trees a squirrel, or when the UPS man drives down the street; then we call him "Barky") and it makes me feel so guilty to watch his sad face in the mornings when I leave that I have taken to driving the kids to school, then parking somewhere, then running, then driving home.  Or having Jamey drive me somewhere and then drop me off so I can run home.  Horrible!  

We are waiting for Max's knee to 'calcify' and kind of heal itself where the cartilege has been torn.  I know this because I saw the xray.  Dog xrays on Max are quite a production, because the vet has to put him under to do it, and then he acts loopy from the anesthesia for a while.  Oh, and it costs us $220, which is why we tried to put this one off for a while, but the injury (alas) did not "heal over time".

So, as the vet explained, our options are: 1) A $1700 surgery (no), 2) a $3000 surgery (never), or 3) keeping Max as comfortable as possible while his knee heals itself, for free (bingo!).  To help, I actually purchased, on-line, a large bottle of  "Roast Beef Flavored Canine Buffered Aspirin" (gross).  The vet told me (with a perfectly straight face) to inspect Max's droppings (I can't believe how much of my life involves other creatures' poop in some way or other) for blood, which would mean the aspirin is too hard on his stomach.  This is the ironic part.  I'm pretty sure that Max's original injury came from maneuvering his way into and out of  the compost pile that I no longer have, so that he could eat our rotten old food.  And this is the dog that I had to train not to eat horse poop while we are out on a walk.  This is the dog who once found a fried chicken leg by the side of the road and ate the whole thing.  And, as his grand finale, over the summer, he ate an entire beef rib bone.  Crunched up and swallowed the whole thing (I was pretty sure that night that I would be taking him to the vet, but no!  Not even a little discomfort).  Oh the irony of that nasty tank of a stomach being taken down by a small aspirin.

So I'm left to run past the turkeys, deer, and cows on my own, while Max spends his days recuperating in the sun, keeping guard over the yard, and happily licking chicken poop off the back porch.

Echoes Of Gardeners Past....

I could have sworn last week that I heard my grandfather's voice coming out of my own mouth.  We were getting ready to grill some hamburgers and I grabbed a tomato from the garden and began to slice it.  Now, if you've ever seen or enjoyed a home-grown tomato, you will know exactly where I'm coming from.  But the sight of the insides of it just about brought tears to my eyes.  Red all the way through, not too hard or chalky, not too soft or mushy.  It was perfect.  It was kind of a tiny affirmation to me that I am living my life right.  Yes, I am doing my part to tend the earth, and to be a good steward (it sounds melodramatic and silly when I write it out, but I think things like this sometimes.  I'm a little absurd this way.)  

And then, as my son watched on, I uttered a phrase that I distinctly remember my grandfather saying time and time again, and that I suspect is said perhaps more than any other during the summer.  I pointed to the plate and said, "Now, THAT"S a tomato!!"  Jason, of course, rolled his eyes.  He and Grace have way more important things to do than listen to me gush about tomatoes, or peppers, or pumpkins, or plums.  Oh well.

For all of you gardeners, I have a hilarious book to recommend.  It's by William Alexander and it's called (and here it's frustrating because I don't know how to make it underline, so I'll just put the title in quotes - I know it's not grammatically correct), "The $64 Tomato".  My favorite chapter was the one on deer and other garden enemies.  As Jamey and I battle moles in our yard, I can definitely relate.  A great read at the end of the summer.  Now I'm off to go check on the tomatoes.....

Corona as Currency In Garden Farms...

A few years ago, we cut down about 15 trees in our backyard.  Yes, 15.  These trees are called "trees of heaven" by arborists, but we consider that to be a huge irony since they basically spring up quickly and then, when they reach about 10 feet in height, simply die and stand there looking hideous in the yard.  They are more like giant weeds on steroids.  So "Charlie The Tree Guy" (it's his real name) came and cut them down, but because 1) I am a cheap miser, and 2) Jamey loves his tools, we thought we would do the rest by ourselves.  It saved us money and Jamey got to wield the chain saw, so it was all good, until it came time to actually move all of the debris off the property.  Too much stuff to move one truckload at a time!  Enter our neighbor, "Mike The Dump Truck Guy" (yep, that's his real name too, and yes, my neighbor has a dump truck.  Full-sized and everything) who agreed to come down and take away the offending branches to the dump.  His price?  A case of Corona.  No kidding!  We thought at the time that this was rather an anomaly, a one-time occurrence, but apparently Corona is worth more than I would have thought, because it was the price of another service this summer.  This one involved Jamey's beach-wagon, Sandy, and a part that he needed to have something done to (I can't even begin to explain it.  I just know 'she' had to go up on the racks for a couple of days.)  I guess a case of Corona will buy you some car parts and service or a dump truck.  You might try it on your own mechanic the next time you need some work done!  

Besides Corona, which I would prefer never to drink or buy, there are other items that are frequently bartered in the neighborhood.  One of the favorites is eggs, which can be traded for homemade bread, jars of jam, or pretty much anything from the farmers' market.  Of course surplus produce is always handy to trade - tomatoes for walnuts, persimmons for apples, etc.  Except the dreaded zucchini, which is like old pennies in the neighborhood currency.  Everyone has too much of it (the annual zucchini game is on - see June 18, 2008 blog entry).

Note - Sandy the beach wagon was having work done to prepare her for her debut in the famous 'El Camino Cruise Night' next Friday.  This is an annual Atascadero event where some people with really nice cars, some people with really old cars, some people with really unique cars, and some people who probably have spent way too much real money on Corona, drive their vehicles up and down El Camino Real, while other people sit and watch, ooh and aah, occasionally snicker, and smell lots of carburetor fumes.  I will be in a chair along the route, hopefully with camera in hand, ready to snap some pictures of the big event.  And in my other hand, probably an icy cold coke zero.  Or perhaps an A & W root beer float.  But definitely not a Corona.

Pappas Clan vs Mickey, Minnie, and friends

Let me start with some background...as you may know (see July 15, 2008 - "The Cat's Big Adventure"), Hunter the cat got whipped by a crazed raccoon and will no longer enter/patrol/chase mice out of our detached garage.  In addition, our chicken coop, containing a huge 40-lb container of delicious poultry lay pellets, is attached to the back of said garage.  And, most recently, cat number 2, the unfriendly but astute-hunting "Oreo", disappeared and was never seen again (it happens in our neighborhood).  So, when a pair of field mice apparently entered the garage a couple of months ago, they obviously found a wonderful cat-free home, with abundant food, soft bedding (car rags, beach towels, wet suits) and fun things to scamper over (paint cans, camping supplies).  And the humans on the property were quite oblivious.  Enter one Jamey Pappas, a few weeks ago, to get some old car rags.  This is where the story gets pretty gross.  For when he pulled them off the shelf, several hundred (thousand, perhaps?) mouse droppings scattered all over the garage floor.  It seems that Mickey and Minnie can have an awful lot of babies in a really short amount of time.

One of the worst jobs in the entire world, I've discovered, is "mouse exterminating".  Ironically, I collected mice as a little girl...who knew?  Sticky traps are so far my weapon of choice, although removing them involves donning rubber gloves, a bandana around the mouth and nose (can you say, "hanta virus"?), and poking the trap with a long-handled tool that also doubles as a weed-picker in its other life.  But it seems the mouse army is getting smarter - I have had several traps just up and disappear.  I'm imagining a group of mice, all working together to push the thing under the wall or big shelf, or even down into the creek.  Lately everyone has been helping out with a different job.  Grace's job is "scream".  Max's job is "catch mouse and toss it about before eating it" (he has 2 so far).  Jamey and Jason have (with a little too much excitement, perhaps) taken to heading outside late at night with headlamps and a bb gun.  They have also bagged 2 beady-eyed vermin.  Sadie the kitten (our latest addition - still too small to be outside all the time, and not-yet-spayed) is a "hunter-in-training".  She has the killer instinct, but because of the hawks' nest in the sycamore tree out back, she is honing her skills on flies and moths that get inside the house.

I kind of like it that the big event on my weekly planner is "visit hardware store, browse rodent removal section and ask advice of older clerks".  Keeps me from being 'uppity'.  And if it's not the mice in the garage, it's the birds trying to eat our plums and grapes.....always something out here in the neighborhood!