Pot Training

Tea: Yunnan Gold

Music: Weezer, "Buddy Holly"

Time: Night

I'd been putting off this talk with my youngest daughter. I don't know why. She's been old enough for a while now.

Her 17-year-old sister has shown no interest in the subject whatsoever. In fact, it repels her. Their brother, almost 16, has tried it. He can take it or leave it. But at 14, the youngest can't get enough. She has whole bags of the stuff.

I guess I finally figured out that I have two choices: Let her work things out on her own, finding her own way by trial and error, or give her some fatherly guidance.

So today ... I taught her how to run the coffee maker.

She chose caramel, one of 12 flavors she got as a gift. I showed her how to put in the filter, measure out the coffee, fill the pot with water and pour it into the machine.

Then she flipped the switch, and the running commentary began.

"How long is this going to take?"

"It's taking too long."

"Is it done yet?"

"How can I tell when it's done?"

(No, she hadn't been hitting the caffeine before that. She just has little patience when she wants something.)

Finally, the pot was done, and she got down her gigantic mug from Alice's Tea Cup in New York. (We've both been there, but she likes to gloat about being first by several months.) This is her mug. She doesn't share. She has the youngest child's ethic -- she might have had to share her living space all her life, but her stuff is sacrosanct.

She filled the mug, got out the milk and then stopped short.

"If I put milk in now, it's going to go all over the place," she said. "You want some of this coffee, Dad?

"You sure? It's your coffee."

"Yeah."

"Can I wait until you're done, wash out your mug and then use it?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she clutched the cup to her chest.

"My mug. Get your own."

I got out another mug, poured some of her coffee into it, and sipped. Could have been stronger. Couldn't have been more pleasurable.

"Thanks for sharing."

"You're welcome."

As Hallmark moments go, it was pretty darn good.

Next week, maybe the week after that, I'll get out my ibrik and show her how to cook up the hard stuff.

Who knows? Maybe I'll even let her use one of my little cups.

A Little Common Sense, Please?

Tea: Apricot

Music: Potato Moon, "Ghost Man"

Time: Night.

So the president's bailout plan went down in flames, and fingers are pointing every which way. The way I see it, though, it's a chance for Congress to do the right thing (for once).

I didn't come up with this idea, but it's brilliant:

Instead of bailing out the big lenders, use that $700 billion to pay off the home loans themselves. Then let homeowners pay the government back, as they can. If it takes a while, it takes a while -- but people don't have to worry about losing their homes, which lessens a huge stressor on the middle class.

Obvious benefit: People who aren't desperate are less likely to do desperate things. As home foreclosures soar, watch for the crime rate to shoot up, too.

Okay, so maybe expecting that many people to do the right thing for the right reason is unrealistic. So put it to them as Bill Murray might have phrased it in Ghostbusters:

"If this works, you will have saved the homes of millions of registered voters."

Radio, Radio

Tea: Jacob's Dream

Music: Gorillaz, "Feel Good Inc."

Time: Night.

I don't know if I've plugged this yet, but you seriously have to check out Pandora if you haven't already. (Yes, I did mention it once, here, but that was a setup for ghost story posting.)

Someday, I want to be able to afford all the music I want. (Yes, that's a wish for a runaway bestseller or two, or a killer career giving workshops on creativity.)

But in the meantime, this is a pretty cool way to hear music by artists I like -- and artists who mine the same musical veins. For example, I brought up Gorillaz when I signed on tonight (yes, I have it turned down so as not to wake anyone), and after "Feel Good Inc." it played "Who Cares" by Gnarls Barkley and R3D2's "Beyond the Beyond."

And while I still miss progradio.com, which had some killer obscure tracks (Giles, Giles and Fripp, anyone, or perhaps something from Camel or Gentle Giant?), my Yes, UK and King Crimson stations produce some fairly tasty morsels from the Realm of Long Songs in Weird Time Signatures. (I think that was a Yes album, but I'm not quite sure ...)

Hey ... beats most of the crap on the commercial stations.

Hop and Stretch

Tea: Earl Grey

Music: 21st Century Schizoid Band, "21st Century Schizoid Man"

Time: Night.

This is getting to be a habit. I went bug hunting today.

I didn't start off to do that. My son had a strings gig at a park with some decent wooded areas, so I took along a couple of plastic bags in case I was able to find some nuts (including acorns) or mushrooms.

Total forage: One edible hickory nut. The acorns were (a) small and (b) wet, and the only fungi were either (c) unidentifiable or (d) clearly not for consumption.

So, finding an area of long grass outside the woods, I spent a half-hour pursuing (and in about two dozen cases, catching) grasshoppers. They got the usual preparation, with the added step of pulling the legs off the larger ones. (Spiky, those legs are.)

In the meantime, I made a small pot of rice. When it and the bug/chile preparation were both done, I fluffed the former and stirred in the latter.

Hey, if you've only got a small amount of a good thing, you stretch it how you can.

Cinematic Cheddar

Tea: Chinese Melon Seed

Music: The Afterparty, "Girl with All the Cool Names"

Time: Night.

Weird not to be at a gallery opening tonight. There were a few going on, but the timing just didn't work out.

Oh, well. I'm thinking it's a good time to commandeer the DVD player and grab something reaaaaaaaaaaaally cheesy -- and no, I don't mean the presidential debates. (Cheese is sort of a recurring theme today. Unfortunately, there's no Piave Vecchio in the house, nor aged Gouda, nor even a big freakin' hunk of Halloumi for grilling.)

I'm thinking Japanese -- subtitled, not dubbed -- or maybe something with both cowboys and dinosaurs. Heck, why not go for both and then throw in a 62-minute pro-smoking spot featuring bloodsucking worms with arms and legs?

Tonight, it's all about quantity over quality. Pass the popcorn and the Jujubes, and cue the snarky commentary. It's showtime.

Another Dollop of Catch-up

Tea: Blueberry

Music: Metallica, "Enter Sandman"

Time: Night.

My computer has gotten over its latest bout of being stupid. My brain's still fogged, but it's a start and I'll take it.

So, recapping (because I'm vagueing too much to reconstitute three days' worth of posts):

1. This week's forage: Apples from a tree in front of the high school. (I see this as an extra yield on my tax dollars.) Stewed six of them tonight with honey, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg and a pinch of ancho pepper. This would be good alongside roast pork, ham or even sausages.

2. The chipmunk needed to be rescued again, this time by my son. He came home from school and found it trapped in the drainpipe, squeaking frantically. He helped it out and it scampered away. My guess is that it thinks if it keeps getting rescued, we'll keep giving it acorns. Sorry, only the first release comes with free food.

3. Speaking of acorns and foraged apples ... I'm thinking that dried apples and acorns would be pretty darn good together in a stuffing (even better if I can get bacon into the mix).

Great. Now I'm hungry again ...

Catch and Release

Tea: Vanilla

Music: INXS, "This Time"

Time: Night.

I trapped a chipmunk today, which I kind of sort of intended to do. Then I helped it escape.

It's a sticky story -- literally. The rodent in question got into the garage the other day, most likely while I had the door open to get the laundry out. We already had glue traps in the space, because mice like to come in when it's cool. I hoped the chipmunk would encounter one of those (not so I could do it in, only so I could get it out), and it did.

I heard a skittering and unmouselike squeaking. I went into the garage, hoping the chipmunk had only gotten one paw stuck long enough for me to get trap and rodent outside, after which I'd gently pry the paw loose and send the critter on its merry way.

No luck. It was four paws, its tail and the length of its belly's worth of attached -- and frantic, its struggles only getting it stuck worse. I picked up the trap, carried it outside, and began to ponder.

For a while, things looked grim. I didn't see any way of detaching animal from adhesive without causing serious injury, and I was starting to mull the most humane way of dispatching the chipmunk. (I didn't want to, believe me. I hunt, I eat meat, etc. -- and yes, I trap mice. But this small death would have served no purpose. It wasn't the start of an infestation; it was trapped at, in effect, my invitation at leaving the door open.

Gradually, the chipmunk calmed down (or more likely, just wore out from all the wriggling), and I could see that if I could get its paws loosened, it likely could get away, little the worse for wear. So I got out a pie pan, put the trap in the bottom and ran some warm water (with a little dish soap) into the pan. Then it was back to the porch, where I went to work. Occasionally, the chipmunk would struggle, and I would stop and stroke its fur until it relaxed again. I worried early on about it biting me, but it never even tried. (Maybe it was afraid it would hurt me and I'd fall on it.)

After the better part of 20 minutes, the front paws came loose. The chipmunk stretched out, grabbed the edge of the pie pan, and pulled. Soon, the back paws were free -- and finally, the tail. It jumped away, looking bedraggled and exhausted, and hid under the car.

I went back in the house, got some of the acorns I'd collected and dried the other day, and hulled them (figuring that it might be a little much work for the chipmunk to get the shells off at that point). I took the acorns outside and set them on the driveway, near the car. They were gone this afternoon.

I hope the chipmunk's doing all right tonight. And I hope it stays out of the garage from now on. I don't think either one of us wants to go through this again.

Equinox

Tea: Christmas.

Music: U2, "Bullet the Blue Sky"

Time: Night.

The seasons shift once more, and my favorite has come around.

There is much to enjoy about other times of the year, but autumn is unsurpassed in my book: the cool, crisp days, the hint of woodsmoke in the air during a night walk, the colors of the leaves.

It's the waning of another year, the dotage of another Green Man ... but it's always such a lovely passing.

Invalid Response

Tea: Chrysanthemum.

Music: UK, "Night After Night"

Time: Night.

Grrr. There are so many ways this rubs me the wrong way.

There are plenty of valid reasons to vote for or against any given candidate. Don't feel he's experienced enough? Fine. Like her position on environmental issues? Wonderful. Not fond of his skin color or her XX chromosomes?

Hold up.

Gender and color are lousy reasons to vote for or against any candidate. They only feeds two noisome creatures: the "We've Got to Support Our Own" monster and the "Vote for My Candidate or You're An -Ist" beast (often depicted in paintings on velvet as playing poker with race and gender cards).

Sigh ... one of these days we're going to figure out that people are not their containers.

Itsy Bitsy, My Hindquarters

Tea: Caramel Lapsang

Music: Weezer, "Buddy Holly"

Time: Almost midnight.

A number of cool things happened today and tonight:

1. Not only did I get in a hike with my son, but the forage was most excellent. We got grasshoppers for supper. (Yes, you read right. We're insectivores, from time to time -- well, at least the males in the family. The females do much nose-wrinkling and making of the "eww" sound. The recipe's from Oaxaca, by way of Brooklyn.) We also got a few pounds of acorns (yep, those are edible too) and a handful of hickory nuts that the squirrels somehow missed. I'm going back next week with a big basket to get more acorns, look for more hickory nuts and fill out the remaining space with black walnuts.

2. The weekly arts outing provided much interesting viewing and conversation. Don't ask me to pick the best of the night -- as far as I'm concerned, it was pretty much a continuous highlight. (On the "latest news" front, Spencer Musser -- who opens the front room of his Columbus Park apartment as Yakamoz Gallery on Third Fridays -- now has a website.)

But the coolest thing that happened today was totally unplanned. It happened during the grasshopper hunt. My son made a grab for a likely-looking specimen in some long grass. It jumped away -- straight into the web of a freaking huge yellow-and-black spider (scientific name: Ginormis holicrapus). Within seconds, the insect was neatly packaged in silk for later consumption (and the spider had a great story for his buddies: "I was just sittin' there, mindin' my own business, and this giant sent me food.") And there we stood, repeating "Whoa ..." over and over.

Okay, so sometime my inner child is kind of ghoulish ...

Hither, Meet Yon

Tea: Lemon

Music: The Doobie Brothers, "Black Water"

Time: Night.

Wow ... just looking at my weekend schedule has me wiped out, and it's only Thursday.

I'm solo parenting Friday and part of Saturday, because of a women's retreat at the church.

These are my whenabouts so far -- and because my life is what it is, they are always subject to change:

Friday morning, ca. 8-9 a.m.: Rouse son for ten-mile hike (still have no idea where we're going).

Friday afternoon, upon returning: Trying to get out some pitch letters before ...

Friday afternoon, 4 p.m.: Pick up Mrs. Steep from work, drop her off at church.

Friday evening, 5 p.m.-whenever: Arts stuff, arts stuff, arts stuff. There's an opening at Leopold Gallery in Brookside, and the usual Third Friday things downtown and in Columbus Park.

Saturday: The two oldest kids have things going on at Mission Arts and Eats, here in the home'burb, plus my son has play rehearsal. So, basically, morning to early afternoon, I'll be getting them where they need to go and trying to check out the artists. Then I'll try to catch part of Holly Swangstu's opening at J. Bird Studios in Kansas City, Kansas, and then I'll bail to cover a 7 p.m. Kansas City Wizards game. (I have to be there well before kickoff.)

Oh, did I mention the Plaza Art Fair is this weekend? I'm going to have to cram that in Sunday afternoon, in between church stints.

Then Monday brings three deadlines, 1,300 words total.

I need a clone. Why should I have all the fun?

Ow Part Whatever

Tea: Lapsang Caramel

Music: King Crimson, "Providence"

Time: Night.

Cluster headache again. Caffeine usually helps, so once I finish this tea I'm going to add some coffee to the mix (not my own idea, but good advice from a friend). Tea caffeine absorbs quickly, coffee caffeine more slowly, so that should get me through the night.

Let my stomach grumble. Better than feeling like the Alien is coming out of my left eye.

And so to bed, perchance to sleep ... and hopefully, not to dream that one weird dream again. (Although watching the spaceships link up was kind of cool.)

Seasoned with Unseasonability

Tea: Christmas

Music: Elvis Costello and the Attractions, "Accidents Will Happen"

Time: Night.

In a couple of weeks, it'll be October -- which means it will be time to put away all my Hallowe'en gear away for a month.

See ya, Gashlycrumb Tinies sweatshirt. Hasta Novembre, black T-shirt with the little glow-in-the-dark Reaper and "I see dead people" lettering. Hiatus for the Great Pumpkin boxers.

Come the day after Thanksgiving, I'll have to stash the Charlie Brown Christmas tee (and the one with Snoopy in a Santa suit). Same goes for my Christmas Story shirts, my Garfield Christmas sweatshirt and all my Grinch stuff. After January 6th (the 12-day statute of limitations for Christmas), it can come back out.

February means no candy-hearts underwear, and the Cat in the Hat socks with shamrocks go away in March.

I don't get the unwritten rule about not wearing a music group's T-shirt to one of its concerts. Never have, probably never will. I do understand not rocking the colors of a hometown coffeehouse, burger joint, etc., unless you're out of the area. (So, for example, I can wear New York (or Manhattan, Kansas, for that matter)-themed shirts here, but not in the respective Theres.

So I'm ignoring one rule, obeying another -- but I like things in threes, and so I have my own rule to complete the set: "Thou shalt not wear holiday clothing during that holiday's season, because enough people are doing that already. Besides, it will give thee a laugh to see the doubletakes."

Notice I said "clothing." My Gashleycrumb Tinies lunchbox is exempt.

Because it's cool, that's why.

A House in Peril

Tea: Mandarin Green

Music: The Beatles, "A Day in the Life"

Time: Evening.

This, I hope, will be free of ramble.

Being a freelancer myself, I know that it can be a tenuous position. But at least I have my health and am in no immediate danger of losing the roof over my head and the heads of my family.

I've never met Lori Hall Steele. Until today, I hadn't heard her name -- although chances are, I've read something she wrote and am not making the connection.

Anyway: Short version of the longer story, which can be found here: Lori Hall Steele, a freelance writer and a single mom of a young son, is confined to a hospital bed because of ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) and Lyme disease.

Her medical bills are skyrocketing and she's about to lose her house to foreclosure. But the American Society of Journalists and Authors is trying to do something about it, with a blogathon to draw attention to her plight -- and to this site, where people can donate to her cause.

Read the links. Read her work and her story. Do what you can.

Pass it on.

A Rasher off the Old Side

Tea: Ginger Peach with Honey

Music: ABBA, "Dancing Queen"

Time: Night.

Church picnic this afternoon. (I made potato salad with not one, but two secret ingredients. Because I stink at keeping ingredients secret, I will tell you that one of them was Honey Bar-Bee-Q Sauce from Anthony' Beehive.

Going through the line (for the second time -- I'm Baptist, you see, so seconds are mandatory and thirds are allowable, as written either in First Impressions or Second Opinions), I found a pan of baked beans, near empty, with a strip of bacon lying atop.

My first thought: "Mmmmmm. Bacon." My second: "I shouldn't take all of it. I should cut the strip in half."

The bacon had other ideas. The whole strip wanted to be on my plate. So, of course, I obliged. Good thing, too. It was maple-smoked bacon -- rich, sweet and covered with the sauce from the baked beans. My arteries forgave, nay, blessed me for the indulgence.

On the way back to the car, I thought I'd score some gloat points with my 15-year-old son.

"I got a whole piece of maple bacon off the top of that pan of baked beans," I said.

"So did I," he said. "I tried to cut it, but it didn't want to cut."

I looked at him, did a doubletake and gave the only fitting response.

"Dude," I said, and we bumped knuckles.

Headache Hotel

Tea: Chinese Melon Seed

Music: Elvis Presley, "Return to Sender"

Time: Night.

I've recovered enough to make an arts opening tonight, in my home 'burb in Mission. Go check it out if you get a chance. It's here.

Met a few people, collected business cards, signed up for a mailing list or two -- and then got whacked by the headache double whammy -- cluster through the left eye, caffeine withdrawal (24 hours without and the trouble starts) in the left rear of the skull.

"At least you're balanced," a friend said.

"They're both on the left side," I said.

"You'd prefer diagonal?"

"Good point."

So the stack of business cards (to be entered into the database I've finally started to assemble) is taller and won't shrink until tomorrow. It'll still be there in the morning. If it's not, or I'm not ... well, then, I'll have bigger issues than a few tardy keystrokes with which to contend.

Don't Give Me No Blue-Eyed Wimpy Jesus

Tea: Chinese Melon Seed

Music: King Crimson, "Elephant Talk"

Time: Late afternoon.

One thing about being ill is that it's let me catch up on my reading. (Small blessings must be taken where found.)

I finished Christopher Moore's "Lamb" this week. This may get me in trouble in Sunday School, but I liked a good deal of the book.

As a history? Not so much, but it doesn't aim to be a history. It's a story -- funny in some parts, touching in others and surprisingly more reverent than ir. Joshua (that's Jesus to you and me) is presented as more human than He is in the Gospels -- but no less divine, to my eyes.

(And I'm not saying that humanizing Jesus is a bad thing. Too often, He's portrayed as overly soft and serene, not to mention Caucasian-- what I call "Blue-eyed Wimpy Jesus." No, thanks.)

Don't read "Lamb" if you're easily swayed from beliefs. It's not theological truth. And don't read it if the idea of Jesus doing anything but looking tranquil (even while kicking moneychanger butt and/or being crucified) makes you break out in hives.

But if you can take what you know and believe, and sift through a work of fiction to find the truths in it ... well, then, happy reading.

Stuffed

Tea: Lots of kinds, lots of cups.

Music: David Sanborn, "The Dream"

Time: Night.

I had a long, catching-up post written. It's nowhere to be found.

I'm sitting in the driveway, in weather I normally would love (unseasonably cool) but which now aggravates my stuffed head and lungs. Why am I in the driveway? Because the house 'Net is out, and I can't pick up the neighbor's unsecured wireless network from inside.

Oh, and I've been sick, in varying degrees, since late last week, in case I hadn't mentioned that.

Yes, I'm trying to do everything right. I'm drinking tea, eating soup, bundling up and sleeping a lot. I megadosed on Vitamin C, which did interesting things to my insides. I've taken antihistamines, which make me alternately jumpy and stupid but haven't done anything to open me up.

Then again, I'm still out of the hospital, still breathing on my own, still able to sit up and write this. That puts me ahead of a lot of people, and for that I'm grateful.

And I'm wide open to the possibility, the likelihood even, that the antihistamines and the C and the tea/soup/sleep have kept things from getting a lot worse.

And now, if you'll excuse me ... it's time for the pill that makes me stupid.