Food! Glorious Food!

Every week, it seems, I hear of a friend's success with The South Beach Diet. Weight loss. Cholesterol improvements. World Peace. Since I've carried my excess middle-age weight for far too long and I have a son who has steadily gained weight since 7th grade, I had to check it out. The plan seemed reasonable, so a week ago I started on the two-week restrictive phase one and Ron, as a teenager with a need for dairy and fruit, started on phase two.

This post is about food, not the lack of food. My whole family has raved about the meals I've prepared this last week. Some of our favorites are Grilled Salmon with Rosemary, Orange Roughy in Scallion and Ginger Sauce (which tonight I put on chicken breasts), Savory Chicken Saute, Roasted Eggplant and Peppers, Dilled Shrimp Salad, Spinach Frittata with Tomato Salsa, and Vegetable Quiche Cups To Go. Steve and I liked the Gazpacho, but the boys didn't. The boys liked the Surprise Mashed "Potatoes" (cauliflower) but Steve and I didn't. The flavored Ricotta Cremes are marginal. These recipes are all from the book.

I've spent more time in the kitchen (planning, cooking, cleaning-up) and the grocery bill has jumped a bit, but don't these meals sound delicious? And here's the bottom line:
Mom - five pounds
Ron - ten pounds
And it even took Ron a few days to figure out he shouldn't buy a corn dog or nachos and cheese at school. He also attended a Super Bowl party, but he took some string cheese as a snack and only had one piece of pizza.

Morning Visitors

When I visited Judy, I would drink my morning coffee in her pool room (or whatever is the proper term for the covered pool, spa, outdoor area attached to almost every house in Florida). Joining me would be this pair of sandhill cranes. They would fly in, making this amazing sound.

Sandhill Cranes have a variety of vocalizations, the most common of which is generally described as a repeated series of trumpeting “garoo-a-a-a” calls that can be heard for over a mile. One of the reasons for this remarkably loud and penetrating call is an unusual windpipe. In most birds the trachea passes directly from the throat to the lungs, but in Sandhills it is elongated by forming a single loop which fills a cavity in the sternum. It is not surprising that the louder and more harmonic Whooping Crane has a longer trachea with a double loop.

Sandhill cranes fly over our home in Indiana during migration and their call brings the whole family outdoors.

Inside the Columbia restaurant, Ybor City 

Part of the outside face of Columbia restaurant in Ybor City 

Taking a coffee break 

Judy and friend in front of cigar store in Ybor City. 

Sponge boat in Tarpon Springs, Florida 

Closer shot of the sponges hanging from the boat in Tarpon Springs. 

No-Sun-day

Where is America's #1 rated beach for 2005? About an hour from my friend's house and that is where we went on Sunday. I understand why it was named #1. Judy said that the people in the water must be from Maine. After a long beach walk, with my pockets full of shells, we drove along the beach and saw young (strong) men kite surfing. The wind was gusting 20 to 30 mph and they had to work the very large kites with both arms to keep them up while staying on the small surfboards. My pictures did not capture the beauty, grace and daring of this activity.

After crusing by the art district, the aquarium, the wharfs and other sites, we met Marty for dinner in Ybor City. We went to the historic Columbia Spanish restaurant for dinner. I've had mixed experiences with historic restaurants, but this one did not disappoint. I had Ropa Vieja, literally translated as "old clothes." Absolutely delicious. Ybor City was where most of America's Cuban cigars were made until 1963. There were a few stores where they were still rolling cigars. It reminded me, in atmosphere, of the French Quarter. Once again, I knew I wasn't in Indiana.

The trip ended way too soon. I know Judy's thinking: give me the whirlwind tour to whet my appetite and I will be come back often.

I think her plan worked.

Sanguine Saturday

I like the sound of the title, but I wonder if a day can be cheerfully confident? Perhaps Saturday was the ruddy color associated with the outdoor life in Florida. We started with a driving tour of Cheval, the gated community in which she lives, whose houses must be built according to "Florida" architecture, with nary a frame house in view. We ended up at Lettuce Lake Park for a long stroll along the boardwalk through the swamps. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny. I took a lot of pictures but am only sharing a few: egret, ibis and a black-crowned night heron, the Hillsborough River closer to its mouth (compare it to Friday night's picture), and cypress knees.

Then we drove toward the beach, but ended up in Tarpon Springs, the sponge capital of the world. It is touristy but still functioning as a working center for the sponge boats and it has retained its delightful Greek flavor. Speaking of Greek flavors, we enjoyed a pastry in a Greek bakery before heading to the beach to watch the sun set. Alas, the gates closed just as we got there. Back home and then out to dinner at a wonderful fish restaurant where I had my first Lemon Drop and fresh Florida snapper. Home again for another late night of just talking. By now we had about fifty half-finished conversations that we had to complete.

Friday in Florida

I didn't take too many pictures on Friday evening. First we visited Judy's corner office, which is on the umpteenth floor with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides and even a balcony. And then she took me to the University of Tampa, with its odd, but garish, combination of Moorish and Victorian architecture. The Hillsborough River runs by the campus. Compare this picture of the concrete channel river with the picture of it running wild and free I took the next day. We then went to South Tampa for dinner. We were going to eat at her favorite Italian restaurant in old South Tampa, but then we got a call from her husband who had just been released from the emergency room. So we grabbed a quick bite at Ciccio and Tony's (I'm no longer in Indiana) where one of Marty's students drove him. Judy and I talked late into the night, but she had a short night as she had to take her husband back to the ER in the wee hours of the morning. I think he's OK now.

Tampa Trip

Just a week ago I was eating dinner in Ybor City (first picture). Today I shoveled snow. I had such a good time in Tampa. I'm posting some pictures but since I can't seem to format text and pictures in Blogger, you may have to guess on some. (I think I may make this several posts.)

I drove to Indy and left my car at my niece's house where my brother was watching his granddaughter for the weekend, so the next pictures are of Aimee holding Sophia and John with Sophia.

Packing Light

I pulled my summer clothes from the hinterlands of my closet and packed them in an undersized carry-on bag with room leftover. No need to pack long underwear, multiple layers, wool socks, bulky jackets, fleece hats, gloves, boots and all that other winter gear. The low in Florida is 15 degrees higher than the high in Indiana...and we are having a heat wave in Indiana.

All that's left to do is to print my boarding pass, pack up my toiletries in the morning and drive 3 hours to the airport. Oh, and shave my legs. I'm not so diligent in the winter when my legs don't see the light of day.

I'm leaving my car at my niece's house, which is convenient but also an excuse to visit my newest (until Jennifer's baby in April) great-niece, Sofia, born in October.

Then it's off to Florida to spend Friday evening through Monday morning with my girlfriend. Her husband is out of town, so we plan on talking, walking the beach, talking, talking some more. I'm not sure what Judy has planned, but there will be no hectic schedule.

Come summer, we'll be on the river

Here's our river boat and look closely at the seond picture for a typical river sight. Yes, the boat is one of a kind and people do stop on the iron bridge to stare when we come round the river bend.

My Office in Winter

Here's my office in December. The Garden Shed is one of the original structures.

Morning Madness

Whew! The boys finally left. Late night call telling us Ricky needs to bring his show choir outfit (do boys have outfits? Ok, costume or perhaps tux) to school today. He couldn't find it this morning. He couldn't even find his travel bag. "They are at school," he insisted, but still tore apart his closet trying to find it, so he wasn't too confident about this assertion. He finds two black shoes, both right feet. Finally, he finds a left shoe under his bed and one dress sock. I find the other dress sock in my Single Sock Basket in the laundry room.

Ron asks for money for his lunch account and I write the check, totally forgetting that we told him no more lunch money. A few weeks ago, school called to inform us the boys were spending $10 to $15 a day for lunch, probably treating others at their table. They sent us a print-out of what they bought everyday; a typical day included 4 slices of pizzas, 2 large salads, 2 cans of pop (yes, I'm a Midwesterner.), 2 large cookies, and nachos and cheese or perhaps 2 lunches plus the other junk. So when Steve asked him for the check, an uproar from both boys insisting they did not abuse their lunch money. We gave Ron $5 and he decided to pack his lunch. Two ham sandwiches and an apple are sitting on the table.

I totally expect several calls from them this morning asking that I run things to school, despite the fact that my day is already full.

In the middle of this, I plucked the confirmation for my weekend jaunt to Florida off the fridge and transported myself south. Just three more days until my break! Poor hubby.

One Dog Night

Sam, our yellow lab, our watchdog, our constant companion, our big gelunk of canine, was put on medicine this week for low thyroid. Part of the symptoms are weight gain and excessive hair loss. He's already looking thinner, and after I swept this morning, I'm hoping that is the last time I sweep up bushels of hair.

At the vet, Sam weighed 98 pounds. Ricky weighs 118 pounds. As we headed to bed last night, we couldn't find the dog. We checked every room in the house and he was missing. We checked the boys' rooms again and Ricky's lump of blankets looked odd. Steve went over and patted the lump and sensed a tail wagging under the blankets. Rick wrapped the dog in blankets with only his nose showing and the dog was laying on top of Rick. We unwrapped the dog and got him off the bed...and Ricky never woke up.

First Snow of 2006

When I went to bed last night, 2 inches of snow covered the ground and it accumulated to 4 inches this morning. Because of the rain, then the snow and then the freezing weather, roads are slippery and school is delayed for two hours. I'm letting the boys sleep in for one hour and then they can use the other "extra" hour to study for their final exams today. But right now the house is quiet.

I'm meeting the other gardener at the Gene Stratton-Porter (she hyphenated her name on her marriage certificate about 100 years ago) historic site to decide what plants and seeds we order for the garden this year. There are only a few things I'd rather do on a snowy day (that don't involve my husband.) I did a master plan and am overwhelmed by the amount of work needed. I'm definitely creating a volunteer program. We need some specialized expertise in the garden -- for the roses, the water feature, the wisteria, and even design. I'm still struggling with how to balance the formal layout of the garden with the numerous beds. How should I plant it so that the overall design is discernible, but let each bed stand by itself? How should I plant it to draw visitors into the garden (they tend to stay in the arbor) with a sense of mystery and discovery? How do I keep it historically accurate, but still use today's improved cultivars?

First Flower of 2006

Poor pathetic thing. It looked so bright and cheerful in the back lawn, but it really is kind of scraggly.

The Fours

Hey, I've done the Thursday Three on occasion, but I've been tagged by Jordana for the Fours. I couldn't respond to two questions, because I'm truly not interested in popular culture. It is difficult to say you don't watch TV without sounding superior. I'm not superior, just different because I've learned to make choices best for me.

Four Jobs I've Had:

1. Historic Garden Director (This is not my official job title, but it is the title my boss uses for me. I started last fall and I love it.)
2. Marketing Director
3. Reinsurance Account Executive
4. Product Manager
And in 1995 I started my most important and hardest job - Mom.

Four Movies I Watch Over and Over Again:

We tried to remember the other night the last time I watched a movie! I was a movie freak in my younger days but am just not tempted now. Even when we rent a movie, I'll curl up with a good book (or go online.)

Four Places I've Lived:

This is so boring: Indiana, Indiana, Indiana and Indiana...and in only two counties! When I was young, I thought I would move around the states and the world, but that didn't happen. And I take it back, it's not boring. I love my life here.

Four T.V. Shows I Watch:

1. Antiques Road Show every other month or so
See response to movies. I'd rather read. So I'm changing this question to Four Books I Read Over and Over Again. Hey it's my blog and I can do what I want!
1. Anything by Nelson DeMille
2. Country Year by Sue Hubbell
3. Giants in the Earth by Rolvaag
4. Bible

Four Places I've Been on Vacation:

1. My parents' house in Arkansas was our vacation destination for 20 years
2. Oregon (I love it)
3. At least twice a year, we go to Lake Superior.
4. I took a three week train trip across the northern plains, down the Pacific coast and home through the central plains, stopping in Montana, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, San Bernadino, Needles, and Denver to visit family and friend.

And best of all, in two weeks I'll be in Tampa Bay visiting my girlfriend over a long weekend.

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

1. Chris at The Big Yellow House
2. Jordana at Curmudgeonry
3. Elizabeth at Motherhood is not for Wimps
4. Waiter Rant
And because I have seven unused answers from popular culture (movies and TV):
5. The Food Whore
6. Tales From my Tiny Kingdom
7. Lucy's Island
8. Althouse
9. The Other Side of the Ocean
10. Seraphic Secrets
11. Instapundit

Four Favorite Foods:

1. Homemade Bread
2. Mom's Chicken Salad
3. Fruit
4. Coffee
(I could have used my 7 extra answers here also!)

Four Places I'd Like to Be Right Now:

1. Cross-country skiing
2. Touring some great gardens in the world
3. Scotland (I like that answer, Jordana)
4. I'm pretty comfy right where I am.

Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:

1. Lucy
2. Mom to the Screaming Masses (and I read this one daily also)
3. Full Fathom Five (and this one too)
4. Anyone who wants to join in

In the Woods

I took Jordana's suggestion to my last post and went outside this afternoon. I spent several hours making a dent in the garlic mustard. I've heard if you pull every last plant out by its roots, it will only take seven years to rid a woods of garlic mustard. I posted six times in 2004 about garlic mustard and 3 times in 2005. Does that mean I can only post 1.5 times in 2006? If so, this is my half post.

Clouds

During the last twelve hours, my computer malfunctioned, I had emergency root canal, and the school put us on alert for the boys' grades. I'd go back to bed if the sun wasn't shining for the first time in weeks.

Dinner, y'all?

Or would they call it supper in the South?

There is not an ounce of southern blood in me, in my husband or even in my adopted boys. We live at 41 degrees and 14 minutes. My mother was born and raised at 41 degrees 19 minutes. Dad was born at 43 degrees 13 minutes and raised just north of the 40th parallel. Steve's parents were born and raised at 41 degrees.

But we enjoyed this dinner last night: BBQ country-style ribs, spoon bread, and spinach (greens).

Tried and True

Last week hubby asked me if I wanted to ride to Grabill to buy some corn for our corn burner. (I love the corn burner. Check out how beautiful the fire is in the photo and, according to the propane delivery guy, we are using 1/3 of the the gas.) The feedmill is not my idea of a hot date, but spending time with my hubby is always enjoyable. After picking up a half ton of corn, in 50# bags, to my shock and delight he suggested we go through the antique mall.

Now I'm a kitchen gadget addict. These gadgets lure me with promises of quick, easy or pretty food, and then languish in my drawer. Declutter my closets? No problem. Clean out the garage? Take it away. Touch my kitchen drawers? Over my dead body.

So it wasn't surprising that I spent time looking at the antique kitchen gadgets. I was just appalled, though, to find them selling as antiques kitchen tools I'm still using, specifically my flour sifter that I use to sift powdered sugar and my potato masher that I prefer to anything electronic because it leaves nice little lumps and the skins don't get caught up in blades.

There are, however, newer gadgets in my drawers waiting for their glory days when it is the only thing that will work, such as the crinkled carrot cutter, the baked apple dishes, the donut cutter complete with hole, and the little round sandwich crimper from Pampered Chef. I think I've used each one only once.

The microplaner, though, is a new gadget that I adore. It adds zest and spice to my life.

Annoying and Anonymous

Notice to those readers who love Faulkner and may have been annoyed by my post about As I Lay Dying, I did not mean to annoy you and please do not sue me. I feel this is protected speech under the First Amendment, even though Earth Girl is a pseudonym. In case you do not know why I'm writing this post, check out the latest gem embedded in recent legislation.

As I Lay Dying

I avoided reading Faulkner for many years. I'm not sure why, just that I had a sense that his writing was difficult to read. But reading books that I might not otherwise read is one reason I enjoy my book club so much.

This month's book is As I Lay Dying. I read it almost in one sitting. It was compelling. Compelling like watching a train wreck.

His style is not difficult to read. In fact, he writes beautifully. Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre--now that was some difficult reading.

Architect Louis Henri Sullivan said, "Form ever follows function." This doesn't mean that function is more important than form, but as Frank Lloyd Wright said (although he didn't practice it), "form and function should be one, joined in a spiritual union." Applying that to As I Lay Dying, the form (writing) is beautiful but the function (plot and characters) is repulsive.

When I finished the book, I was desolate. I don't need happy endings in a book, but I do need a sense of hope.

The woman (PhD in English) who is leading the discussion of this book has asked me twice about the humor in the book. I just didn't see any humor as I read the book nor as I think about it. She suggested that setting Cash's leg in cement was both tragic and humorous. I thought it was only tragic. It was stupid and harmful. This is a crippled family and all of Faulkner's beautiful words did not change that underlying sense of hopelessness I felt. And I can't think of anything I "learned" because of reading this book. I already know that there are crippled people in this world; I am not tempted to set legs in concrete; I know to bury a dead body before the vultures track it; you don't cross a raging flooded river; a father doesn't steal (horses and money) from his children; you don't beat children so you can feel; and a promise to a dying loved one should be tempered by the reality of those who live.

About the only "example of language that you think is particularly poignant, or beautiful, or philosophically perspicacious," as we've been asked to note, is Cash's thoughts about Darl:

"Sometimes I aint so sho who's got ere a right to say when a man is crazy and when he aint. Sometimes I think it aint none of us pure crazy and aint none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-way. It's like it ain't so much what a fellow does, but it's the way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does it."

Oh, and Darl's drinking stars out of the gourd at night created an especially beautiful word picture.

So am I missing the boat on this book? Should I try another Faulkner book? Are all his books desolate and repulsive?

UPDATE: Here is review of the book. I'm not sure I agree with the reasoning, although it gives me some things to ponder, such as the implied relativism of the form of the narrative. However, perhaps the conclusion, that it is not only bad but evil, would explain my sense of desolation after I finished the story.

What I learned last year

From Barbara Johnson's book, Laughter from Heaven, a gift from one of our second grade Sunday School students:

I learned two things last year:

1. There is a God.
2. I am not God.

Christmas Presents

Given the teenageness of my sons, I wasn't too excited about buying them a lot of Christmas presents. A piece of coal and a stick seemed just about right. Of course, their desires were of the expensive electronic variety: PCs, ipods, cell phones, games.

Hubby and I finally faced shopping for them the Wednesday before Christmas. We reminisced about their younger days as we strolled through the toy aisles and decided it was much easier to buy for an 8-year-old than a 16-year-old.

We bought mostly functional items, exciting items such as underwear, grooming products (AXE, yuck, but the boys douse themselves with it), new sunglasses to drive in winter's glare, umbrellas so they can stand at the bus stop (yeah, we're too mean to let them drive to school and too lazy to drive them to school every morning), battery operated toothbrushes (an impulse buy), and electric shavers . They have razors but they wanted to try shavers. Oh, and a pro-sized football and a new skateboard.

On Christmas morning they found that Santa did indeed stuff their stockings and set wrapped presents under the tree. They emptied their stockings before breakfast and then we went to church before they opened their presents. They are such cool kids. Each present was greeted with enthusiasm (even the boxer briefs) and thank yous. There were no complaints about the lack of electronics, but they took pleasure in what they received.

So the next day I ordered a Dell computer powerful enough to run their games.

College Days

Overhead at Christmas Eve services: Pastor's wife asks my niece, who attends Purdue University, how school is going. Niece responds, "I'm having fun."

My sister-in-law was aghast, but that would have been my response also at age 19.

Corporal Blair

Thursday, Corporal Jonathon Blair, 21 years old, was laid to rest. I met him when he was just a toddler and I last saw him at a campfire by the river before he went to basic training.

My tears were for the loss of a young man. A young man who planned to marry his sweetheart and become a chef when he got back. A courageous young man killed by the terrorist cowards in Iraq. A young man full of laughter who invented veggie baseball at the river.

My tears were for his mother. A single mother who did a marvelous job raising a son. A mother who drove over 400 miles last September to give him another hug when his deployment was delayed two days. A mother who brought home medals instead of a son Thursday afternoon.

My tears were for the rest of his family. His grandmother and grandfather who helped raise him in his youngest years. His aunt, one of my best friends, who is grieving for herself and for her sister's incredible pain. His six-year-old niece who decided just to pretend that he was still alive.

My tears were for my son who wants to join the army, who only sees honor in a fallen soldier, especially a soldier honored by his comrades. My need to let my son go, make his own decisions, become his own man.

And as I followed the funeral procession, my tears were for the outpouring of respect and thankfulness by the community. Staff Sgt. John Beville, who trained Blair and served with him during his first stint in Iraq, said "I wish all soldiers got this."