tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92767172008-07-24T09:20:28.036-06:00barlyrupeevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comBlogger484125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-35717690094353134822008-07-23T19:08:00.014-06:002008-07-24T08:55:47.701-06:00the air up there<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfZge5HnPI/AAAAAAAABr0/PSeo8OrYWN4/s1600-h/Top+of+the+World,+Ma%21+Alpine+Visitor%27s+Center.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfZge5HnPI/AAAAAAAABr0/PSeo8OrYWN4/s400/Top+of+the+World,+Ma%21+Alpine+Visitor%27s+Center.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226385044658429170" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Top of the World, Ma!<br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Last Sunday we decided to (finally!) drive up to the <a href="http://www.rockymountainnp.com/RMNP-Areas-TrailRidge-AlpineVisitorCenter.HTML">Alpine Visitor's Center of RMNP.</a> We've been wanting to see the park up there since we first moved here, almost a year ago. Almost a year ago. Jeez.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Anyhoo, we left the house early enough to make it up there for lunch. When we left Longmont, we were at 5k feet altitude and it was about 85 degrees. When we got to the Alpine Visitors' Center at the alpine tundra level of the park, we were at 11, 796 feet and it was 60 degrees and windy. </span><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfZghipgQI/AAAAAAAABr8/KcLzPQZRWJI/s1600-h/shadows+on+the+mountains:+view+from+the+Alpine+Visitor%27s+Center.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfZghipgQI/AAAAAAAABr8/KcLzPQZRWJI/s400/shadows+on+the+mountains:+view+from+the+Alpine+Visitor%27s+Center.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226385045369487618" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Above Treeline<br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;">I found out that the high altitude affects me rather adversely. I thought I was gonna hurl, and fall down. I wasn't sure which one would happen first. Despite the spectacular scenery, I could barely summon the urge to even snap any photos, much less try to make them good, or interesting. Sorry about that. The rest of the family were all starving and wanting lunch. My stomach was growling but I wasn't about to put any food on it. Luckily for us, there isn't a picnic area up there, just a basic visitors' center and a foot trail leading higher. Yikes! A nice ranger said we could drive about 4 miles on, down to Lake Irene, where there are picnic tables at (thankfully) a lower elevation . He failed to mention the enormous number of mosquitoes living at Lake Irene.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfbpYJTE_I/AAAAAAAABsE/Xz9UdhsHtjE/s1600-h/Lake+Irene.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfbpYJTE_I/AAAAAAAABsE/Xz9UdhsHtjE/s400/Lake+Irene.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226387396489319410" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">all the photos are clickable</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfbpdgcMpI/AAAAAAAABsM/9vTe2i_HvfM/s1600-h/clouds+on+Lake+Irene.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfbpdgcMpI/AAAAAAAABsM/9vTe2i_HvfM/s400/clouds+on+Lake+Irene.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226387397928563346" border="0" /></a><br />Despite the annoying mosquitoes buzzing all around, we settled at a table and tucked in to lunch. The change in altitude did help my nausea and dizziness enough to allow for some food consumption, which further helped me improve. And our trip had, happily and unexpectedly, coincided with the peak in wildflower blooms. I didn't even get photos of the most spectacular ones because they were growing from between the rocks along the terrifying highway. But I did snap these at Lake Irene.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIffIDaFVAI/AAAAAAAABsU/EhvBelTU6Jw/s1600-h/13:+Mountain+Forget-Me-Nots.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIffIDaFVAI/AAAAAAAABsU/EhvBelTU6Jw/s400/13:+Mountain+Forget-Me-Nots.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226391222033404930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Mountain Forget-Me-Nots, which apparently smell wonderful. Sadly, I didn't know that while we were there. They are only about 3 inches tall, and I didn't realize that it would be worth my while to lie on the ground and smell them.<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIffIchSVqI/AAAAAAAABsc/60yd7FuQQys/s1600-h/mosquito%3F.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIffIchSVqI/AAAAAAAABsc/60yd7FuQQys/s400/mosquito%3F.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226391228774504098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Is that a mosquito? (above)</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIffIsQN-5I/AAAAAAAABsk/0bKW2BVfvGA/s1600-h/purple+swoon+with+bug.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIffIsQN-5I/AAAAAAAABsk/0bKW2BVfvGA/s400/purple+swoon+with+bug.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226391232997882770" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">above: another flying bug<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiKe_GdxII/AAAAAAAABs8/uCWKA9whKgA/s1600-h/purple+swoon.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiKe_GdxII/AAAAAAAABs8/uCWKA9whKgA/s400/purple+swoon.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226579632502719618" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIffI42g4yI/AAAAAAAABss/JzOCtsxV6aU/s1600-h/woodland+daisy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIffI42g4yI/AAAAAAAABss/JzOCtsxV6aU/s400/woodland+daisy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226391236379730722" border="0" /></a><br />Below you can see Mr. Man &amp; Rhubarb walking the trail around the lake. It was so peaceful and quiet there.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfgf1qMVjI/AAAAAAAABs0/asbUcZMDTw8/s1600-h/walking+around+Lake+Irene.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIfgf1qMVjI/AAAAAAAABs0/asbUcZMDTw8/s400/walking+around+Lake+Irene.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226392730171364914" border="0" /></a><br />One of the reasons for our trip had been to look for pikas, but they only live at the alpine tundra level and I didn't think I wanted to go back up there. It is interesting , though, to see what the land looks like up there above treeline. It's like a different planet. You can see why they warn you about lightening because there wasn't anything around (besides us) taller than about 4 inches off the ground. On the drive home, we drove back up and past the Alpine Visitors' Center again. The next time we make this trip, I'm gonna need tranquilizers and a blindfold. While the scenery is spectacularly stunning, so is the likelihood of death in the event your car should leave the road. I did a lot of gasping, and demanding that the Man have BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL RIGHT NOW, STOP LAUGHING AT ME AND JUST DO IT! I did have the presence of mind to ask him to pull off the road a couple of times so I could grab some photos. As you can see, there were rain clouds moving in. What you can't see is the wind, which almost blew the camera out of my hands.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiNCxjFT-I/AAAAAAAABtE/HiWRe9MfhV0/s1600-h/alpine+tundra.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiNCxjFT-I/AAAAAAAABtE/HiWRe9MfhV0/s400/alpine+tundra.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226582446363201506" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiNDFuAcuI/AAAAAAAABtM/wo7gQFIWskw/s1600-h/Alpine+Tundra+chipmunk.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiNDFuAcuI/AAAAAAAABtM/wo7gQFIWskw/s400/Alpine+Tundra+chipmunk.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226582451777729250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Some funny Norwegians had stopped nearby to take in the view and pretend to feed a chipmunk. They were shivering in shorts and tank-tops. It was cold up there! See their bare feet?</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiNDTZeElI/AAAAAAAABtU/1k-UAyo7Hek/s1600-h/Rocks+%26+Trees.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiNDTZeElI/AAAAAAAABtU/1k-UAyo7Hek/s400/Rocks+%26+Trees.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226582455449686610" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">I love how tiny the trees look beyond the boulder.<br /></span></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiQjDobteI/AAAAAAAABtc/BRMVEOt3Jpo/s1600-h/bald+mountains.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiQjDobteI/AAAAAAAABtc/BRMVEOt3Jpo/s400/bald+mountains.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226586299508176354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">bald mountains</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiQjrOMP7I/AAAAAAAABtk/qUZM0fi0oKU/s1600-h/Yellow-Bellied+Marmot.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiQjrOMP7I/AAAAAAAABtk/qUZM0fi0oKU/s400/Yellow-Bellied+Marmot.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226586310135529394" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">One alpine critter I did manage to see is a Yellow-Bellied Marmot. They hibernate all winter, so this was likely our one chance this year. Unless I suddenly feel like I must brave the nausea and highway of death so I can see the elusive Pika. Anyway, behold: the Marmot. It was about the size of a fat miniature poodle. Also, see what I mean about the flowers?? They were everywhere! At this altitude the growing conditions are so harsh that many plants only grow a fraction of an inch each year. If you step on a plant while you're hiking, you could destroy decades of growth. </span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiX0bNxK6I/AAAAAAAABt0/kyLxnst7mPw/s1600-h/Marmot,Higher+res.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIiX0bNxK6I/AAAAAAAABt0/kyLxnst7mPw/s400/Marmot,Higher+res.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226594294477958050" border="0" /></a><br />When we got back to Boulder, where we planned to eat at the wonderful <a href="http://www.sherpaascent.com/restaurant.htm">Sherpa's Adventurers</a> restaurant, it was 95 degrees. Just imagine, if you will, closing your car door at a windy 60 degrees, and opening it an hour or so later at 95 degrees and horribly sunny. Gah! it was an oven down there. But the restaurant is air-conditioned and we were all happy to have gone. We felt, for awhile, like we were on top of the world. Our little portion of it, anyway.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-74671670451851060622008-07-20T06:59:00.005-06:002008-07-20T07:10:23.353-06:00fascinating<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIM4bCAzWkI/AAAAAAAABrk/7_aCDxTLdaY/s1600-h/earthrace_200.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIM4bCAzWkI/AAAAAAAABrk/7_aCDxTLdaY/s400/earthrace_200.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225082029727767106" border="0" /></a><br />Talk of the Nation on this past Friday (Science Friday, in case you don't know) was so interesting. First there <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=92677188">the story about all the microbes</a> who live in our bodies, and how we keep destroying or altering them by doing things like taking antibiotics and having cesarian sections, etc. Did you know we have more microbes in us than we have cells??? And we haven't even identified them all, much less started to make peace treaties with them.<br /><br />And then there was<a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=92677191"> the story about the sexy-looking bio-fueled powerboat</a> which just set a world record. The creator and captain talks about his environmental mission, and about his run-in with the Colombian Navy involving high-powered assault rifles. Yikes!peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-6088078263916415482008-07-20T06:48:00.003-06:002008-07-20T06:58:51.538-06:00Farmer's Market haul<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIM0a30zd0I/AAAAAAAABrc/HJbY4JqqFbQ/s1600-h/Market+Haul,+July+19.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SIM0a30zd0I/AAAAAAAABrc/HJbY4JqqFbQ/s400/Market+Haul,+July+19.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225077628946577218" border="0" /></a><br /><u>Organic</u>:<br /><br />Huge bag o' baby chard<br />2 zucchini, 2 golden zucchini<br />green beans<br />fingerling potatoes<br />2 pounds+ peaches<br />a lot of gorgeous apricots- You guys, these are the most beautiful things I've ever seen, plus as soft as clouds. Lyra can't put them down.<br />a quart of cherries<br />a pound and a half english peas<br />half a pound button mushrooms<br /><br />Plus:<br />one bag of cardamom spiced almonds<br />one bottle local cabernet wine<br /><br />I know Jen is getting tired of seeing Barack's green face on the top of my page.<br />;-)peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-23349133484182307132008-07-17T09:46:00.005-06:002008-07-18T08:06:06.635-06:00hungry for change?<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/39182125@N00/2674396419/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3150/2674396419_52cf7c269f.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /><span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/39182125@N00/2674396419/">barackoli</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/39182125@N00/">The Mrs. Kennedy</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> from Eden's photostream.</p><p class="flickr-yourcomment">So Anon Jen (at least I think it was Jen) asked what my take is on this image. I'll answer but don't quote me because I haven't had coffee yet. I posted it because I think it is funny, and cute. I think this is the kind of parody Obama supporters can get behind, though maybe I'm wrong. As far as all the playing with his name, let's face it. His name sounds playful and sort of invites you to see what you can make of it. I think he would be the first to admit that it is fun to say and play with, all in a good-natured, affectionate sort of way. Any public figure, especially a person who is running for President, will absolutely be the subject of parody. Thank God! Would you want to live in a country where that is not true? I also see this image as a far cry from the NYer cartoon. And about that, if Barack had just embraced that cartoon straight out of the box as the parody it is and said "Look! Seriously, how funny is this?" it would have all blown over. Not that I think the NYer cover was a good idea. If they (the NYer editors) thought most Americans would get the joke, it just shows how truly out of touch with the average American viewpoint they are.<br /></p><p class="flickr-yourcomment">In fact, that cartoon was the reason I wanted to post this one: to cleanse the palate, so to speak. And to show that bleeding-heart liberal Obama supporters actually DO have a sense of humor. And if you look to your right, you'll see a graphic with both candidates gripping carrots with their teeth.<br /></p>peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-21112626550458816942008-07-15T16:03:00.002-06:002008-07-15T16:05:44.400-06:00ya'll, go read<a href="http://upfromsloth.blogspot.com/2008/07/back-in-fold.html">this story</a> at Bookhart's blog right now. I mean it, go. Incontrovertible proof of how small the world truly is.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-26988589914443630342008-07-15T08:13:00.017-06:002008-07-15T11:16:43.911-06:00big doingsThis last weekend was so much fun. Our friends <a href="http://a219758.yourkwagent.com/">Andrea</a> &amp; <a href="http://www.shaneduerksen.com/">Shane(who just won a big art prize. Yea, Shane!)</a> invited us to have Saturday night dinner at their house in Denver. Also in attendance were <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/photoked/">Ked</a> &amp; his girlfriend Tara, and Andrea &amp; Shane's friend Lao. The house is a cute bungalow in an old downtown neighborhood, very charming. Our dinner (delicious Pad Thai) was prepared by a friend of Andrea's who came over<span style="font-weight: bold;"> just to make the food</span>, and then left. She had other plans for the evening, but sweetly offered to come cook for us. How great is that? The pad thai was awesome. I brought dessert: lemon cheesecake squares &amp; homemade ginger ice cream. The ice cream was nice and spicy! We stayed up very late talking, drinking wine, laughing. It was wonderful. You might well wonder what the girls were doing while we were enjoying adult conversation. Shane had tuned the TV to the Cartoon network or Nick Jr. or something, and the girls watched ALOT of Spongebob Squarepants, and Ruby read an American Girls book during the commercials. They were amazingly low-maintenance and happy-go-lucky. Lucky for us!<br /><br />We finally got home and put the girls to bed sometime between 11:30 and midnight. On Sunday we decided to drive up the mountains, <a href="http://www.rmnp.com/RMNP-Areas.HTML">RMNP</a> or thereabouts. We ended up at <a href="http://www.rmnp.com/RMNP-Areas-LilyLake.HTML">Lily Lake</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy3ZRkz_uI/AAAAAAAABok/KUKAsUQKMpQ/s1600-h/tiny+boats+on+Lily+Lake.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy3ZRkz_uI/AAAAAAAABok/KUKAsUQKMpQ/s400/tiny+boats+on+Lily+Lake.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223251312685350626" border="0" /></a><br />We had packed a picnic, so we ate lunch before our hike. There were ALOT of chipmunks darting around. Their preferred spot for begging is right on top of your shoe, then they dart away super-fast.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy3Z4EzydI/AAAAAAAABo0/vTWxi-9s9mg/s1600-h/Lyra+with+chipmunks.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy3Z4EzydI/AAAAAAAABo0/vTWxi-9s9mg/s400/Lyra+with+chipmunks.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223251323020102098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy3aEj1orI/AAAAAAAABo8/SOMRztFjCy8/s1600-h/chipmunks.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy3aEj1orI/AAAAAAAABo8/SOMRztFjCy8/s400/chipmunks.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223251326371472050" border="0" /></a><br />After lunch we decided to hike up the higher-altitude trail to reach the lookout point above the lake. In the photo below, you can see (just above Lyra) some of the rock formations which look like a stack of pancakes turned on its side.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy8rIrIyWI/AAAAAAAABpM/RE8Q5bbRJEY/s1600-h/the+hike+up:+pancake+rocks.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy8rIrIyWI/AAAAAAAABpM/RE8Q5bbRJEY/s400/the+hike+up:+pancake+rocks.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223257117091744098" border="0" /></a><br />It isn't a long trail, maybe a mile and a half or so. But we had already travelled from 5k feet in Longmont to about 8.9k feet at the ground level of Lily Lake. The trail we chose went higher, rather quickly. We took it slow except for Lyra, who insisted upon racing ahead. You know, there is a thin line between fun family hike and death march and, according to Ruby, we crossed that line early on in the hike.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy7yw6K5II/AAAAAAAABpE/9RW8ppuaS28/s1600-h/girls+%26+vista.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy7yw6K5II/AAAAAAAABpE/9RW8ppuaS28/s400/girls+%26+vista.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223256148639671426" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy9Gz3Uj6I/AAAAAAAABpU/aXAY8E9htU4/s1600-h/one+sulky,+one+smiling.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy9Gz3Uj6I/AAAAAAAABpU/aXAY8E9htU4/s400/one+sulky,+one+smiling.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223257592542039970" border="0" /></a><br />We reached the lookout, and the view was certainly worth the climb.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy3ZtMfzQI/AAAAAAAABos/PIVftgMhCy0/s1600-h/Lily+Lake+from+above.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy3ZtMfzQI/AAAAAAAABos/PIVftgMhCy0/s400/Lily+Lake+from+above.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223251320099556610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy95y0MMYI/AAAAAAAABpc/OYlf-NklWbk/s1600-h/admiring+the+view.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy95y0MMYI/AAAAAAAABpc/OYlf-NklWbk/s400/admiring+the+view.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223258468433801602" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy96O5SKhI/AAAAAAAABpk/uK3HaKqHr1k/s1600-h/clouds+in+his+eyes.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy96O5SKhI/AAAAAAAABpk/uK3HaKqHr1k/s400/clouds+in+his+eyes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223258475971357202" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy96mL2laI/AAAAAAAABps/b1VGCFC--ck/s1600-h/Lyra+%26+flowers.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy96mL2laI/AAAAAAAABps/b1VGCFC--ck/s400/Lyra+%26+flowers.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223258482223256994" border="0" /></a><br />We saw tons of little flowers along the way, some growing right out of the boulders, others growing in the sandy soil and gravel along the trail, and still others growing in a marshland beside the lake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy97EiZMaI/AAAAAAAABp0/8wQaDhUN1k8/s1600-h/flowers+growing+from+boulders.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHy97EiZMaI/AAAAAAAABp0/8wQaDhUN1k8/s400/flowers+growing+from+boulders.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223258490370863522" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzDUyZEPFI/AAAAAAAABp8/TXv9w2yahE4/s1600-h/little+yellow+flowers.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzDUyZEPFI/AAAAAAAABp8/TXv9w2yahE4/s400/little+yellow+flowers.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223264429734640722" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzGfBwa4GI/AAAAAAAABqU/5Js-z4syGno/s1600-h/columbine.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzGfBwa4GI/AAAAAAAABqU/5Js-z4syGno/s400/columbine.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223267904192700514" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzIVbRjdEI/AAAAAAAABrE/qbHUxfk85t8/s1600-h/conifer+blooms.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzIVbRjdEI/AAAAAAAABrE/qbHUxfk85t8/s400/conifer+blooms.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223269938267124802" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">conifer blooms<br /></span></div><br />There were just a few times when Ruby decided to join in on the fun. This was especially true after I offered to pay the kids a penny a shot to let me photograph them.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzEgZLVk9I/AAAAAAAABqM/6SK20FMU_wE/s1600-h/climbing+a+boulder.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzEgZLVk9I/AAAAAAAABqM/6SK20FMU_wE/s400/climbing+a+boulder.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223265728636228562" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzHKvm9IlI/AAAAAAAABqs/1u7LOXroPdg/s1600-h/ruby,+mugging.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzHKvm9IlI/AAAAAAAABqs/1u7LOXroPdg/s400/ruby,+mugging.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223268655235408466" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzHK-cZdQI/AAAAAAAABq0/2gKZjZ685VQ/s1600-h/ruby.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzHK-cZdQI/AAAAAAAABq0/2gKZjZ685VQ/s400/ruby.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223268659217659138" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzIVt8K21I/AAAAAAAABrM/wo9wmzBCfsY/s1600-h/bunny+teeth+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzIVt8K21I/AAAAAAAABrM/wo9wmzBCfsY/s400/bunny+teeth+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223269943277706066" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">a water bottle lid helps to display little bunny teeth<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzDVEFkuNI/AAAAAAAABqE/g2QfymX1C2w/s1600-h/no+photos%21.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzDVEFkuNI/AAAAAAAABqE/g2QfymX1C2w/s400/no+photos%21.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223264434484721874" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzGfbJnhcI/AAAAAAAABqc/Dn_3pBsLJ4o/s1600-h/lookout.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzGfbJnhcI/AAAAAAAABqc/Dn_3pBsLJ4o/s400/lookout.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223267911009273282" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzIVII51EI/AAAAAAAABq8/zUAXn1nqIcc/s1600-h/boats.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzIVII51EI/AAAAAAAABq8/zUAXn1nqIcc/s400/boats.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223269933130568770" border="0" /></a>Apparently this lake is a great place to catch <a href="http://waterknowledge.colostate.edu/trout/journey.htm">greenback cutthroat trout</a>, which were once believed to be extinct but have returned in abundance. It is believed they may actually benefit from global warming. Go, nature!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzHKQ6pqYI/AAAAAAAABqk/5gdcaMmXHSo/s1600-h/duck.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzHKQ6pqYI/AAAAAAAABqk/5gdcaMmXHSo/s400/duck.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223268646996519298" border="0" /></a><br />In the end, what really served to coax Ruby out of her sour mood was an early dinner in Estes Park at <a href="http://www.smokindavesbbqandtaphouse.com/">Smokin' Dave's Barbeque</a>. After my big plate of St. Louis style ribs and red beans and rice, I'm off meat for awhile. But it was awfully nice to see Junebug back to normal.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzIV-OObnI/AAAAAAAABrU/I1Mi6FaAbtI/s1600-h/ruby%27s+lid-holder.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHzIV-OObnI/AAAAAAAABrU/I1Mi6FaAbtI/s400/ruby%27s+lid-holder.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223269947648405106" border="0" /></a>peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-35197403773215350202008-07-08T08:06:00.008-06:002008-07-08T14:13:48.275-06:00local sightsWhat a glorious bike ride I had this morning. After a grey, cool and slightly rainy day yesterday our weather returned to Colorado-normal, which is to say magnificent. When I set out on my ride, the temperature was about 60 degrees. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and all was right with the world. It soon warmed to the mid-sixties, and when I stopped halfway through my ride to remove my hoodie, I was swarmed by Canada Geese who assumed I would feed them. They were wrong, but I did whip out my Lomo and snap some shots of them. In fact, I used at least half a roll of Precisa this morning because The Golden Ponds were so freakin' gorgeous. AND I was finally able to identify that type of black water bird that is usually too far out on the ponds for me to see clearly. One was very close to shore today, and I could see enough of it to look it up: Hello, Double-Crested Cormorant.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHN_shUz5MI/AAAAAAAABoE/ZZN5DRCpBE4/s1600-h/double-crested+cormorant.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHN_shUz5MI/AAAAAAAABoE/ZZN5DRCpBE4/s320/double-crested+cormorant.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220656795889165506" border="0" /></a><br />I also saw a black squirrel, which ran across the trail in front of my bike. Is that a portent of some kind? This is probably the fifth black squirrel I've seen since we moved here. They aren't any more shy or elusive than the regular grey/brown kind, there are simply far fewer of them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHOAG-IGzZI/AAAAAAAABoM/K2kChEqie18/s1600-h/black+squirrel.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHOAG-IGzZI/AAAAAAAABoM/K2kChEqie18/s320/black+squirrel.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220657250297105810" border="0" /></a><br />I often see rabbits hanging out within clumps of prairie dogs, and I wonder if they ever go into each others' homes. Sometimes, when the prairie dogs &amp; rabbits see me or someone else coming and they scatter and run to the dens, I can see the rabbits trying to decide which way to go. Their warrens are farther away from the trail, where as the prairie dogs would put theirs right in the middle of the trails if they could. Today I saw a rabbit sitting on the mound outside a prairie dog den (p.d. porch?) and I imagined the rabbit calling down into the hole "Can Dilbert come out and forage?".<br /><br />What else is on the agenda for today? The children are painting with watercolors right now, as we wait for the temperature to rise to today's high, an expected 85 degrees. At that point we will head for the swimming pool. After that, who knows? The library, maybe. Ah, the lazy days of summer.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-43177038063170183952008-07-07T12:42:00.006-06:002008-07-07T13:51:14.932-06:00what I am is a dirty list-maker1. Why does Firefox keep crashing on me??<br /><br />2. I heard <a href="http://www.theendoffood.com/">this guy</a> on <a href="http://www.bobedwardsradio.com/bob-edwards-weekend/">Bob Edwards Weekend</a> yesterday. More alarm bells.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHJkPXmDWkI/AAAAAAAABnU/UJziae6xCeQ/s1600-h/Foodcover.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHJkPXmDWkI/AAAAAAAABnU/UJziae6xCeQ/s320/Foodcover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220345133270260290" border="0" /></a><br />This guy's book scares Michael Pollan. Holy Cow!<br /><br />3. We celebrated the 4th by going to our quaint little 4th of July picnic downtown with our friends Erin, Liam, and Nathan. Nathan is Liam's uncle, and the current love of Lyra's life. The last time she saw him (maybe 2 months ago), she literally <span style="font-style: italic;">wailed</span> inconsolably when he left. When I told her on Friday afternoon that he would be joining us, she said "Who's Nathan?". Anyway, after she had re-kindled her affections, we listened to the local symphony orchestra playing the usual round-up of patriotic tunes, plus (go figure) Star Wars and The Phantom of the Opera, after which canons were fired. Fun! Sometimes when I look around here I realize that we really and truly have moved to the Heartland of America, all Norman Rockwell and shit. Which is heart-warming and nice alternating with conservative and scary. The rednecks have different accents, but they are still rednecks. Which makes it sound like we didn't enjoy the picnic, which is <span style="font-weight: bold;">not at all true!! </span>We totally did. Partly because, unlike Texas, it was about 90 degrees with a cool breeze. Delightful! Everyone was very friendly. I saw a Labradoodle (adorable. I totally want one.). We will for sure go next year.<br /><br />4. But, about what I just said regarding conservatives here, and rednecks, etc.? Well, Thursday evening, I caught up with my friend Kerry, and her friends Maaike &amp; Pat, in Boulder where they had attended a conference. We ate at Centro on Pearl Street and drank Damselflies, yum! (Grey Goose pear vodka, fresh lime juice, fresh ginger, ginger soda + plum preserves) And! While we were eating, seated at a window table, we got to watch an (apparently) Almost-Independence-Day! bike parade which went right by our window.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHJzD8khHiI/AAAAAAAABn8/uHP-XPYfBww/s1600-h/boulder300.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SHJzD8khHiI/AAAAAAAABn8/uHP-XPYfBww/s320/boulder300.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220361429711920674" border="0" /></a><br />(**Amendment: I think it was a weekly Thursday night Cruiser ride, made more festive because of the July 4th holiday atmosphere**) There were somewhere between 100 and 150 lighted &amp; costumed riders who stopped traffic and flashed peace signs and sported tutus and crowns. Guess what, ya'll? There was even a picnic table on wheels. Basically there were 4 riders on each side facing each other, pedalling a table down the street. Can you believe it? So, as conservative as Longmont sometimes feels, crazy-assed Boulder is only 12 miles away. Thank God.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-75308465677305084432008-07-02T14:36:00.000-06:002008-07-02T14:37:15.550-06:00I'm not a dirty hippieBut I am totally gonna <a href="http://angrychicken.typepad.com/angry_chicken/2008/07/homemade-deodor.html">do this</a>.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-10391865339824650062008-07-02T11:04:00.004-06:002008-07-02T11:07:54.530-06:00from a reporter beloved by me & Sinda<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SGu1jBkN4cI/AAAAAAAABnM/967OaSAorZw/s1600-h/chef200.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SGu1jBkN4cI/AAAAAAAABnM/967OaSAorZw/s400/chef200.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218464206559240642" border="0" /></a><br />Eleanor Beardsley reports for NPR from France, <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91687769">this time about school lunches</a>.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-79865749771382135252008-07-02T09:40:00.008-06:002008-07-02T11:16:20.262-06:00alarm bells<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SGujDSyihnI/AAAAAAAABnE/0NdIS5FXykE/s1600-h/OmnivoresDilemma_med.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SGujDSyihnI/AAAAAAAABnE/0NdIS5FXykE/s400/OmnivoresDilemma_med.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218443870217602674" border="0" /></a><br />Two or three weeks ago I finished <a href="http://www.michaelpollan.com/indefense.php">In Defense of Food</a>, and now I'm finally reading <a href="http://www.michaelpollan.com/omnivore.php">this</a>, which we thought was lost but now is found. And, while much of its message isn't new to me (eat fresh, local, seasonal. Check.), what <span style="font-weight: bold;">is</span> new is the idea that we are all, to some extent, participants in a giant experiment to see just how much of one or two foods (corn &amp; soybeans) we can consume and still (more or less) live. Apparently, while we were asleep, there was a coup and now ADM &amp; Cargill run our country. Ha! And you thought it was Exxon! Certainly none of it would be possible without fossil fuels, so the oil companies benefit as well. According to Pollan, one-fifth of our oil consumption is used in agriculture. I'll bet most Americans don't know that little factoid.<br /><br />Anyhoo, this morning I was thinking about how well all this ties in with <a href="http://disney.go.com/disneypictures/wall-e/">Wall-E</a>. In that film, the humans have all become huge, helpless and blubberous lumps who just float around on their hover-chairs watching TV and talking on the phone all day. Meanwhile all the advertisements (for BNL Corporation: Buy-N-Large) show svelte and fit models who don't even exist anymore. Yikes! Apocalypse now, ya'll! Or soon, anyway.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-62342186256184443692008-06-29T19:57:00.005-06:002008-07-02T10:09:35.236-06:00the critics are right<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SGhAyXnitAI/AAAAAAAABmc/VMtu4q8oB64/s1600-h/walle_200.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SGhAyXnitAI/AAAAAAAABmc/VMtu4q8oB64/s400/walle_200.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217491402386224130" border="0" /></a><br />We took the girls to see Wall-E this morning. We went to the first showing we could find, at 10:15. Here's a tip for the annoyingly peevish couple with no kids seated directly in front of us. If you want to go see a G-rated movie on opening weekend and don't want to share the theatre with little kids, go to the 9:30 <span style="font-weight: bold;">PM</span> show. Actually I noticed lots of people there with no kids. That's the power of Pixar for ya.<br /><br />Anyway, the first hour or so, before Wall-E leaves the Earth, is just heartbreakingly good. The animation has taken a giant step forward, yes, but it's the story and characters that really grab you. The simplest moments are the absolute best, and you just wish there were more of them. <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91894500">Bob Mondello</a> said “The first hour of Wall-E is a crazily inventive, deliriously engaging and almost wordless silent comedy of the sort that Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton used to make.”<br />Once the humans come into the story, it loses its human touch, which is funny, right? The robot with his pet cockroach express more humanity than any of the human characters. Point taken, Pixar. Sadly, much of the film was too intense for Junebug, who is still processing. Lyra though, was fearless throughout most of it, only getting worried when things looked the worst for poor Wall-E. But of course a happy ending was assured. Which is good, because I would have been verklempt if anything had happened to that little tramp.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-72237940951691563462008-06-29T17:08:00.005-06:002008-06-29T17:19:00.638-06:00I know, but sometimes Reno 911 makes me laugh out loudLike in that episode where the buxom blond cop talks the other cops into helping her marry her aged and rich fiancé before anyone finds out he's dead. While one of them goes to get the judge with cataracts, she says she'll go get her wedding dress from the trunk of the squad car. Then the, uh, let's say slightly mentally impaired brunette cop asks "You carry a wedding dress around in your squad car?"<br /><br />Blonde cop: " Sure. I like to be prepared. I also carry a saddle, a bee-keeper's hat, and a couple of flower leis."<br /><br />Brunette cop: "Wow, half the time I'm caught without a tampon."peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-17467872547754994682008-06-25T11:27:00.002-06:002008-06-25T11:32:07.624-06:00rivetingOmg, I'm listening to <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91861432">Jill Bolte Taylor right now on Fresh Air</a>, and she has quite a story to tell.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-38357585530918021072008-06-24T09:14:00.006-06:002008-06-24T09:41:50.311-06:00I could almost hear it whistling "je ne regrette rien"Instead of simply adjusting the tally sheet on my sidebar, I thought today I would elaborate on my morning bike ride because it had a rather unusual start. Moments after leaving the street and entering the bike path, I witnessed a squirrel (daft, probably a close relation to a prairie dog) dash right in front of a car. Both car and squirrel were directly to my right and just ahead of me, positioned so as to afford the best possible view of the accident scene. It was quick and dirty, accompanied by a loud crunching sound. The driver did what little she could to avoid the collision but the swerve didn't work-the squirrel was already too close. I saw the squirrel working up to it just before. I could almost read its wee thought-balloons: "Not yet...not yet...NOW!". There were no other cars around. It could have waited 5 seconds to cross an empty street instead.<br /><br />This made me start thinking about how the so-called circle of life has changed so much. How cars are such strange, brainless players in the circle. They aren't predators exactly, because they don't eat what they kill, and neither do their drivers. Surely the animals notice this. I wonder what in the world they think about them?<br /><br />**UPDATE** As I was finishing this post, I heard a scratching sound at the window of this very room. I looked over to see a squirrel hanging on to the window sill. It peered in at me as it made a few confused passes back and forth before hopping up to the roof. I felt like it was saying "Yes, please tell our story to the World!"<br />I didn't have the heart to tell it that only about 4 people would ever read this.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-81231203631486243252008-06-21T10:20:00.004-06:002008-06-21T10:29:14.669-06:00this is what 45 dollars at my local Farmer's Market looks like<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SF0sVh4pxrI/AAAAAAAABmU/moM6EaH4xVg/s1600-h/%2445+at+the+Farmer%27s+Market.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SF0sVh4pxrI/AAAAAAAABmU/moM6EaH4xVg/s400/%2445+at+the+Farmer%27s+Market.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214372691949766322" border="0" /></a><br /><br />One dozen free-range eggs<br />1/2 pound of organic button mushrooms<br />1 pound org. asparagus<br />1 pint org. strawberries<br />1 pint org. sugar snap peas<br />1 pint org. snow peas<br />1 pint of the most phenomenally delicious honey evah!<br />a generous 1/2 pound org. salad mix<br />a generous 1/2 pound org. baby red chard<br />1 small bunch org. pak choy<br />4 ounces chevre with cranberries &amp; walnuts<br /><br />All local, all fresh, all transported home on my bike. Yum, ya'll!peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-44432285340986561872008-06-18T15:56:00.004-06:002008-06-18T16:01:24.657-06:00perhaps a nickname is in orderIt turns out the temporary boy next door is totally cool. And his charming grandfather was home the whole time, and knew where he was. After about an hour, though, I knew I needed to get this crew out of the house. We walked over to his Dad's house to see if he could come to the pool with us. The answer was yes, so we just got back. It was awesome. He entertained the girls for me and I didn't even have to get in once. Yea!<br /><br />Now if Lyra could just pronounce his name correctly, we'd all be happy.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-44642591475218076932008-06-18T11:46:00.002-06:002008-06-18T11:51:05.931-06:00pray for meMy next door neighbor's 7 year old son is visiting from Florida, and he showed up at our doorstep half an hour ago, with no adult in attendance. The girls are delighted. They are all enjoying each other, despite the fact that Lyra can! Not! seem to remember his name.<br /><br />I don't know if anyone even knows he is here. He said something about his Dad having to take a long drive for a business deal. <br /><br />...peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-51079815860793169372008-06-17T10:06:00.011-06:002008-06-18T07:13:07.928-06:00guess who's seven??<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfhYTD9FFI/AAAAAAAABks/hg3YX4-Z5U8/s1600-h/ruby+drawing+a+bee.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfhYTD9FFI/AAAAAAAABks/hg3YX4-Z5U8/s400/ruby+drawing+a+bee.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212882901254607954" border="0" /></a>That's right, my Junebug is seven years old today. I find it so hard to believe, considering how well I remember that day 7 years ago. She was such a luscious baby, right out of the box, so to speak. She was huge (8 pounds), plump and so very pink she was the definition of pink. A healthier newborn you never saw. And here she is just last evening, adding a bee to the giant flower she drew on our backyard patio. And then, after bath, she read to us from Ramona the Pest. She amazes.<br /><br />We threw a Birthday Party for her last Saturday at our local gymnastics palace. She said her favorite part, aside from the cake and gifts, was the trapeze.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfm4eSfP9I/AAAAAAAABlE/RkOuSl2yrDw/s1600-h/DSC_0036.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfm4eSfP9I/AAAAAAAABlE/RkOuSl2yrDw/s320/DSC_0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212888951582310354" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfkfNjARsI/AAAAAAAABk0/A_apvIpOp7A/s1600-h/balance+beam.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfkfNjARsI/AAAAAAAABk0/A_apvIpOp7A/s400/balance+beam.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212886318568195778" border="0" /></a>She looked pretty cute on the balance beam, too.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfrIm7vU3I/AAAAAAAABmE/LdYDiLxiQd4/s1600-h/crab-walking+lyra.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfrIm7vU3I/AAAAAAAABmE/LdYDiLxiQd4/s320/crab-walking+lyra.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212893626827232114" border="0" /></a><br />And it turns out that Lyra is fearless and a complete natural talent at gymnastics. We have got to find the money to get her into some classes. Here she is doing a forward roll on the beam.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfna9S_-CI/AAAAAAAABlM/4O7a0lx22J4/s1600-h/lyra+on+the+beam.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfna9S_-CI/AAAAAAAABlM/4O7a0lx22J4/s400/lyra+on+the+beam.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212889544021506082" border="0" /></a><br />The party was loads of fun, and I even (foolishly) got in on the action. Note to self: WTF were you thinking??<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfkfY9SNII/AAAAAAAABk8/jiODAZthjqg/s1600-h/handstand.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfkfY9SNII/AAAAAAAABk8/jiODAZthjqg/s400/handstand.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212886321631212674" border="0" /></a>Wow, the simplest handstands are sofa king harder when you are 43 and fat and out of shape than when you are 12 and, well, just 12. I'm a lucky dragon indeed that I managed to avoid surgery-inducing injuries. My friends Erin and Trisha totally talked me into it, and I've always been spineless when it comes to peer-pressure. Also, the floors at that gym were irresistibly springy, I tell you! But Lordy, I was not-surprisingly sore for the next 2 days after just a few cartwheels, round-offs and handstands. Damn, I'm old.<br /><br />Well, I'd better dash now. I have a cake to bake before Ice Age is over (I"m sure you were wondering why it's so quiet in here). I'll leave you with some more photos. The girls did lots of drawing last night, and embellished a drawing I made to inspire my little tomatoes to grow. My drawing was just a black line. Ruby decided some lurid color would improve it. She was right.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfplI69YZI/AAAAAAAABlk/tEOQAltyc0s/s1600-h/embellishment.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfplI69YZI/AAAAAAAABlk/tEOQAltyc0s/s320/embellishment.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212891917963846034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfpuA9zF9I/AAAAAAAABl8/-DQZx-5R8YU/s1600-h/ruby+drawing+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfpuA9zF9I/AAAAAAAABl8/-DQZx-5R8YU/s320/ruby+drawing+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212892070447093714" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfpkpXLQMI/AAAAAAAABlU/UR7zcOHZL98/s1600-h/blowing+the+chalk+dust.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfpkpXLQMI/AAAAAAAABlU/UR7zcOHZL98/s320/blowing+the+chalk+dust.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212891909492261058" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfpk3ZFpII/AAAAAAAABlc/Vd67fsMaYOY/s1600-h/drawing+outside.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfpk3ZFpII/AAAAAAAABlc/Vd67fsMaYOY/s320/drawing+outside.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212891913258378370" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfpllL6cFI/AAAAAAAABls/_Pc53YeFby8/s1600-h/girls+drawing+outside.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFfpllL6cFI/AAAAAAAABls/_Pc53YeFby8/s320/girls+drawing+outside.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212891925551149138" border="0" /></a>peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-37860920124330399222008-06-13T09:09:00.004-06:002008-06-13T09:18:55.726-06:00Girl Drink Drunk<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p><object height="350" width="425"><param value="http://youtube.com/v/epa5YZIJU8I" name="movie"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://youtube.com/v/epa5YZIJU8I" height="350" width="425"></embed></object></p><p>Ever since <a href="http://teeteringbetween.blogspot.com/">Sinda</a> introduced me to the delectable spirit <a href="http://www.stgermain.fr/story.php">St.~Germain</a>, I feel a little like Dave Foley in this old sketch. I can't get enough St. Germain cocktails. And look, Ma: no blender, coconuts, fruit, or parasols required! Or paper clips. Okay, well, yes there is a lemon twist, but honestly I never twist a lemon. That unnecessary step would only delay the trip to my lips. So light, so refreshing, so floral, so perfect for summer.<br /></p></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFKORE0eyhI/AAAAAAAABkk/beNFq-X4TLY/s1600-h/Cocktail.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SFKORE0eyhI/AAAAAAAABkk/beNFq-X4TLY/s320/Cocktail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211384142823868946" border="0" /></a>peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-79743334782926722872008-06-09T10:28:00.004-06:002008-06-09T10:46:58.109-06:00Old FilthThanks to <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90588540&amp;sc=emaf">Maureen Corrigan, book critic extraorder</a> on <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/rundowns/rundown.php?prgId=13">Fresh Air</a>, I have a new favorite fiction writer. Her name is Jane Gardam, and I just this morning finished her novel "Old Filth". What an amazing story, what an amazing set of characters she created. Most especially Eddie Feathers, the titular hero of the book who, tossed about by the tubulent waves of personal tragedies and historical circumstances, manages to always miraculously rise to the crest. I feel as if I knew him long ago. I wish I had.<br /><br />Here is a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2006/07/23/books/review/23gray.html">NY Times review of Old Filth</a>, and more about Gardam.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-13953246739387999792008-06-09T10:27:00.001-06:002008-06-09T10:27:21.394-06:00David Soul - Black Bean Soup - live 1977 <div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><p><object height='350' width='425'><param value='http://youtube.com/v/d6u4KfwoOTw' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/d6u4KfwoOTw'/></object></p><p>That's right, people. The song is: Black Bean Soup. <br /><br />Eat it up. </p></div>peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-77525261204100497312008-06-07T07:28:00.005-06:002008-06-07T11:26:13.931-06:00give us a cuttle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SEqO1KcEAHI/AAAAAAAABkU/kmgDRg2YrSk/s1600-h/cuttlefish.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0suSQw1ZVvw/SEqO1KcEAHI/AAAAAAAABkU/kmgDRg2YrSk/s320/cuttlefish.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209132962993668210" border="0" /></a><br />Mr. Man sent me <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/7435757.stm">this news story</a>. He knows the depth of my affection for the humble and adorable-if-not-quite-huggable cuttlefish. It turns out they are far more cunning than we ever imagined.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-30596705763563818812008-06-05T11:29:00.003-06:002008-06-05T11:39:10.299-06:00David Soul - Don't Give Up On Us<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p><object height="350" width="425"><param value="http://youtube.com/v/YY8APrYU2Gs" name="movie"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://youtube.com/v/YY8APrYU2Gs" height="350" width="425"></embed></object></p><p>How scary and/or disturbing is it that I not only know this song very well, but can also name the b-side of the 45 rpm single (which of course I owned as an au courant 12 year old)? Check my sidebar for a little quiz on this topic. And no Googling, cheaters!</p><p>A little more info about Mr. David Soul, star of Starsky &amp; Hutch, from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Soul">Wikipedia</a>: Soul first gained attention as the mysterious "Covered Man" on several appearances on <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Merv_Griffin_Show" title="The Merv Griffin Show">The Merv Griffin Show</a></i> in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1967_in_television" title="1967 in television">1967</a> in which he sang while wearing a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ski_mask" class="mw-redirect" title="Ski mask">ski mask</a> and explained, <i>"My name is David Soul, and I want to be known for my music"</i>. </p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9276717.post-82682067986999295042008-06-04T16:19:00.005-06:002008-06-05T10:45:56.029-06:00optimismI planted some plants. This is a big step, in our teeny, tiny garden. I had sort of given up on it, as it seems like so much work for a short season. But our financial situation makes the idea of growing food pretty attractive. So last Saturday I rode my bike to the Farmer's Market and rode home with 6 tall plants in the front basket. Fun! And I got lots of smiles from the people I passed on the way home. The other plants came from our local nursery. Anyway now we have 4 tomato plants (sungold cherry, brandywine heirloom, celebrity &amp; a new one for me: yellow taxi. I keep singing Joni Mitchell songs!), along with some herbs, peppers, eggplant and salad greens. I also planted flower seeds. It has been raining off and on all day, and we will probably have more rain tomorrow. Yea! The rain here is so unlike Texas rain. It rains for about 15-20 minutes and then stops. The rain actually soaks in, ya'll! And if you get caught out in it, you know it's gonna stop soon. We've taken the rainy day opportunity to watch <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0067992/">Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory</a>. I love it still.<br /><br />Also, <a href="http://www.veryshortlist.com/home/">VSL</a> showed me<a href="http://www.behance.net/Gallery/Alison/49837"> this</a>. I'm still thinking about it. Haunting.peevishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135920853307511091noreply@blogger.com