The Reckoning

Today, the alarm clock went off and I groaned. Champagne, ham, prime rib, potatoes of all sort and way too many desserts slowed my senses and made me weak.

A Christmas hangover if there ever was one.

But this is December 27th. Christmas is over.

I knew what I needed to do. It was time to confess my sins.

Rising from my warm slumber, I put on the appropriate raiments and went to face the only entity that could absolve me from my indiscretions.

TM* looked at me with that one cold eye. He knew what I'd been up to. The last time we'd visited had been eight days ago.

Eight days.

A lot of bad behavior can happen in eight days.

A lot of bad behavior DID happen in eight days.

There was no turning back now. I entered the confessional and slowly began my ablutions.

The iPod went into my ears and shuffle fired up. No need for a hymnal, I know the words by heart.

Five minutes passed. Hey, I thought to myself, this is not so bad!

At about the fifteen minute mark, my left calf piped up. "Pardon me, but with all that booze you had, we're a skosh dehydrated. Potassium low and all that. I believe I'll go ahead and cramp right up."

I said to myself, "just keep walking."

At about the twenty five minute mark, my lower back chimed in. "Yes, yes, cramping does seem to be the thing to do. Huzzah!"

"Just keep walking."

Then my feet had something to say, with a backing chorus from my knees.

"Just keep walking."

My hip flexors asked, in a rather snotty tone, "Why *exactly* are we doing this?"

The very sweat glands of my body began exhaling stale booze and toxins.

I replied by turning my iPod up louder and putting an ever more determined look on my face and then I...

Just kept walking.

At the fifty minute mark, I'd said all the metaphorical Hail Marys and Glory be to the Fathers I could manage. I'd done my act of contrition.

I was absolved.

Kind of.

I suspect that tomorrow, I'll need to go confess again.

You know, New Year's Eve is just there on the horizon.

And the confessional is waiting.

*TM = Treadmill

An Oldie but a Goodie

This post first appeared on the blog in December 11, 2007. It's one of my all time favorite posts. Fixed a few broken links, made some minor edits and away we go! Everything is still very true. Happy Holidays!

Top ten things I miss about Christmas in New Mexico

1) Annual shopping trip to Old Town. A mom and me tradition. Every year I'd get to pick out an ornament that was mine. I now have all those ornaments in a Thom McAnn shoebox that, yes, Sunday night I opened and hung them all on my tree. They are like a history of my life. I remember buying most of them and it gives me a good sense of continuity to have them on my tree.

2) Luminarias. I always was the one to make them at my house. My mom would drive me to an empty lot to dig up two buckets worth of dirt and I'd fold bags, place candles and light them. It was my job and I loved every folded bag and every candle and every small emergency when the bag caught on fire in the wind. I miss real luminarias.

3) The Bugg House, which, sadly, is no more. My sister lived over on Prospect and we'd go for a Christmas Eve walk in the evening to take a look at the outstanding display of holiday spirit. When I wwent to Winrock Mall to shop, I'd always swing by the Bugg house to take a look. No one does lights like the Buggs did.

4) Neighbors bringing over a plate of fresh made tamales as a Christmas gift. When there are three generations of Hispanic women in a kitchen with some masa and some shredded pork, magic happens. Yum! I also miss that people would bring tamales to work in a cooler and sell them to coworkers. I was always good for a dozen or more.

5) A ristra makes a good Christmas gift. I've given. I've received. I love 'em. They'd become a moldy mess here…and that makes me sad.

6) Biscochitos. My love for these is well documented.

7) Sixty-five degrees and warm on Christmas Day. Growin up, I think one year there was actually snow on the ground for the 25th. But it was melted by the end of the day. Oh Fair New Mexico, how I love your weather.

8) Christmas Eve midnight Mass in Spanish with the overpowering scent of frankincense filling up the overly warm church. Pure torture for a small child, but oh how I'd belt out the carols… And when we came home we could pick one present and open it. Gah! The torture of picking just one!

9) New Mexico piñon, gappy, scrawny Christmas trees that cost $15 at the Flea Market and were cut from the top of a larger tree just that morning. Look, to my mind, it ain't a tree unless you are using low hanging ornaments to fill the obvious gaps. These fluffy overly full trees just ain't my bag. If you aren't turning the 'bad spot' to the wall, you paid too much for your tree.

10) Green chile stew for Christmas Eve dinner and posole for New Year's. My mouth waters. It's weep worthy. I can taste the nice soft potatoes in the stew, the chicken broth flavored just right…ouch! And posole to bring you luck with red chile and hunks of pork. Yeah……

*sigh* Now I'm homesick.

Which is not to say I don't have happy holidays where I live now...but sometimes I feel melancholy. And that's what the holidays are for, right?

Image via.

This Woman is a Saint

"Las Cruces resident Karla Barela, 38, places red chile pork on the corn husks containing masa to make tamales Saturday at El Indio Tortilla Shop. Barela started making tamales at 4 a.m. and continued to make them at 12:30 p.m. (Photos by Richard Davis / For the Las Cruces Sun-News)"

At the end of the article, Karla sums it all up:

"Without tamales...it wouldn't be Christmas."

Amen

Theme Thursday = Stone

Stone, stone...how I hate the stone.

Too much focus on the stone.

Makes people crazy.

Can't we focus on other things? But no. We're obsessed with the stone.

It's unhealthy, really.

And the holidays! Oh the holidays make the stone more a focus of conversation than ever!

Damn stone. All of them. Hate 'em.

Fight! Fight the addition of another stone!

Ahem...

You guessed, of course, that I'm using stone in that unit of weight sort of way, correct?

Stone = 14 lbs

You didn't guess that?

Oh. Shoot. I've been on too many conference calls with the Brits again.

Theme Thursday fun can be found here.

Let's Have A Brainstorming Session

I just finished reading a book called "Riding Rockets: The Outrageous Tales of a Space Shuttle Astronaut."

It is the biography of NASA Astronaut Mike Mullane, and it's a pretty damn good book, not just because it's about a kid who was raised in New Mexico (though many, many bonus points for that!), but because Mullane gets down to the nitty gritty details about what it was like to ride NASA's Space Shuttle on three separate occasions.

Add to all of that, I personally think "Riding Rockets" is a fantastic title.

Which got me thinking...if I was going to write up the story of my life so far, what in the blazes would I call such a tome?

Tell you what...let's brainstorm together, shall we?

Here we go...let me clear my mind...remember no idea is too outrageous, all have merit.

If Loving Cheese is Wrong, I Don't Want to Be Right: My Life from Velveeta to Camembert

Fart Jokes Are Always Funny: A Retrospective

Decision Points: Red or Green? (<== honestly, doesn't that truly sum up my life?)

Ain't Got Sense Enough To Come In Out of The Rain: My life, and other things my father said

It's 10:00am and I Already Ate My Lunch: The trials and tribulations of a perpetually hungry girl

Nina Karen: Wisdom of the Ages (<== I can include the time I let my toddler aged goddaughter grab onto an electric fence. Great moments of godparenting...)

I'm From New Mexico: You don't look like you're Mexican, so Find A Map @#$&hole

Mommy, Why Does California Act That Way: A New Mexican's tales of living in the craziest state in the union

Whoops!: One woman's life of "excuse me" for inappropriate bodily noises

The Audacity of Taking the Last Piece of Pie: One woman's quest to become a better wife, except when there's pie involved

I'll keep working on it....

Cartoon from Noise to Signal by Rob Cottingham

Happy Gobble Gobble Day

To celebrate the holiday, I present to you a doodle from my marker board at work.

I was on a *really* long conference call. It was boring. I got distracted.

May you and yours have a fabulous, gluttonous day!

Photo taken by Karen Fayeth with an iPhone 4 and the Hipstamatic app.

Waiter? I'd Like To Order....

The topic of Theme Thursday this week couldn't be more timely. In the lead up to the best eating holiday of the year, our topic, is: Food.

But here's my sideways twist on the theme.

Over the weekend, while on a fairly long drive, I began to riff on something The Good Man said, devolving, as I'm prone, to low brow humor. The stuff of twelve year old boys.

The Good Man isn't so much a fan of the twelve year old boy humor, so his side of the car went pretty quiet.

Well. Fine. I am who I am. If I can't let my inner twelve year old boy fly free at home, I'll take the next best option...imposing it on you, my fair readers.

So, herewith, my list of food names that are unintentionally rude, just in time for Thanksgiving.

1) Head cheese. You knew I had to start there, right? I'm not going to lie, I laughed right out loud typing the words. I wouldn't laugh out loud eating it though, because congealed gelatinous meat bits doesn’t really appeal to my palate. But whatever.

2) Cacahuete. Hee, hee, giggle *snort*. You said caca! Yeah, cacahuete is the Spanish word for peanut. But still, it's sooooo fun to say!

3) Bubble and squeak. It's just fried up meat, taters and cabbage and when done right is very tasty. That said, eating cabbage *does* cause certain parts of my anatomy to both bubble AND squeak. In addition, I rather like saying the name. Repeatedly. Like a toddler. Bubble and squeak! Bubble and squeak! Bubble and squeak! (making a squeaky noise as you say the word squeak is mandatory)

4) Rump roast. Yeah. Unh huh. And I'm supposed to ask for that at the butcher shop and not laugh? I've always been curious about what names were rejected in that marketing meeting. Ass brisket? Booty beef? 'Tocks steak? I mean, what exactly do you call a cut of beef that is sourced from, well, here. (link is TOTALLY safe for work)

And finally...

5) Spotted Dick. I think the gold standard for rude food names has to go to this British fare. It's a spongy concoction of dried fruit that is usually served in pudding. There is a version manufactured by Heinz available at my local grocery store. I always chortle inappropriately when I see it there on the shelves.

I mean, come on, Spotted Dick? Who thought that was a good idea?

You got any others I forgot? Leave 'em in the comments!

The Big Blue Chill

Ok, I'm bouncing back from complete blogger lock up yesterday with the assistance of the idea generator.**

Today's topic: Name five things in your freezer

So without further ado, here are the first five things that came to mind while sitting at my desk at work:

1. Green chile

Only a small amount, but those few bags of the good stuff make me ridiculously happy.

Roasted it myself!

2.A bag of really, really good coffee

French roast. Ground for a melitta. Just. Yum.

Honestly, I'm not really supposed to drink coffee. It doesn’t agree with me or my tummy (or my esophagus, actually).

So when I indulge, it better be the ding-dang good stuff.

And this is it.

Served with real half and half and brown sugar, if you please.

3. A bottle of Siberian vodka

Hand carried to The Good Man by our friend who grew up in Siberia and made a visit home to see family. We coddle this one bottle of the good stuff like a colicky baby. It's deeeelicious. Smooth. Perfect.

Best when sipped straight from the freezer.

4. Frozen fruit

I'm a little bit obsessed with making smoothies. Fruit juice, almond butter, a little egg white powder for protein, and a bunch of frozen fruit.

Blend!

Totally addicted. Now...there is a LOT of sugar in there, so I have to limit it to only one or two a week. I could have a smoothie three or four times a day if I'd let myself.

Gah!

I get twitchy when we are out of frozen fruit. There is a Northwest Triple Berry Mix you can get at Costco that rocks the house. Marion berries, raspberries and blueberries.

Yes, please.

5. Several of those blue freezer thingies that you put in an ice chest.

What the hell is that blue stuff made of anyway?

Seriously. I've never had one break on me, but I always wonder what sort of biochemical hazard would occur if one of those bad boys was leaked out upon the world.

Hmm...maybe that's the basis for my new blockbuster screenplay. A truck carrying a load of those blue packs overturns. Through a series of unfortunate events, thousands of the blue packs are burst open.

The blue stuff takes on the world! Freezing things on contact. Sort of "The Blob" meets Medusa meets Outer Limits.

I like it!

**The idea generator has been pretty maudlin of late. Questions of death and dying, faith, etc. It just wasn't working for me. I need fun, silly and weird to get The Muse off the couch.

Continuing a Theme

Yesterday I talked about being nice to yourself by packing a good lunch, if packing a lunch for work is the kind of thing you do.

Today I thought I'd take it a step further and talk about a guy where I work who has taken this self-care thing to a whole new level.

I've encountered this gentleman, an older fellow, small, slight, and very nice, several times in the hallways and break room. What's unique about this man is that every week he brings a half gallon of ice cream to work.

Not just any sort of ice cream, but a half gallon of Baskin Robbins. The good stuff.

He brings in a variety of flavors. One week it was mint chip, another it was strawberry. There has been rocky road, plain ol' chocolate, and a cherry concoction that looked yummy.

Every afternoon around 3:00, you'll find him in the break room scooping out a small bowl of ice cream. He has a ceramic bowl and a real spoon and he serves up a nice treat for himself. I can tell he really enjoys it.

There is almost a ritualistic quality to this process of scooping out, consuming and later cleaning the dishes.

I gotta say, I have mad respect for the guy.

Personally, all will power goes out the door for me when in the presence of ice cream, so I couldn't make a half gallon last all week. I'd be eating the entire container on Monday and crying my eyes out feeling fat Tuesday through Friday.

But I respect that he can limit himself to a small bowl and can *really* enjoy that bowl once a day.

There's something so right about living that way.

A Little Bit of Kindness at the Office

Last night, before going to bed, I took some extra time to prepare a batch of my delicious chicken salad.

I took care to make it a good batch, filled with perfectly grilled chicken, not too much mayo and my secret ingredients that make it, in my opinion, the best chicken salad ever.

Then, when the batch was made, taste tested and found to be perfect, I loaded it up into a container.

I packed that container along with an already packed container of soup, a bag of my favorite chips, and a bit of cough syrup into a small shopping bag.

This little bag of goodness was meant to go to work with me Monday morning.

I'm not trying to save money, although packing my lunch meets that goal.

What I AM trying to do is take good care of myself.

How many people think they *should* take their lunch to work, then pack a dried up lunch meat sandwich, a mealy apple and a bag of pretzels?

Or, even worse, they toss a Healthy Choice frozen entrée into their work bag and think that will satisfy them for the afternoon.

No.

I approach packing my lunch with all the care a doting mother would shower upon her cherished child.

It's like a love letter from Sunday Night Me to Monday Morning Me. A gift. A bit of home to remind me that even though I must work in a standard gray cubicle farm, I'm still an individual. I’m different.

I matter enough to have Sunday Night Me go to the effort to make something nice and not just something slapped together.

I actually look forward to my lunch today. I'm not looking for ways to get out of eating what's in the office fridge. Nope, I can hardly wait until noon.

And I'll eat my meal prepared with love and I will feel loved and I will know that I did a very good thing for myself.

Heck, caught up in the swell, I almost want to write myself a note to surprise me at the bottom of the lunch bag.

"Have a good day, dear. Someone at home loves you."

The Next Phase of Cold & Flu Recovery

Ah yes, I've hit rock bottom. The worst has passed and healing is on the way.

I've achieved that next, all-important phase of any decent common cold cycle:

Today I recovered my dignity.

I looked down at the same clothes I'd been wearing for 36 hours, front dotted with chicken soup stains, collar reeking of fever sweat and said to myself, "For the love of all that is decent! I need a shower."

And shower I did. The first time in three days I felt like actually cleaning myself up a bit. The first time in three days I'd cared.

This may sound like a small thing, but it's a big step on the road to recuperation.

Emerging from the shower, I felt like a new woman. It was one of those showers that not only cleans the skin, but refreshes the soul.

And then...I took a big step...I actually left the house. For only an hour, but it's progress.

I ran an errand to the post office, then went to Trader Joe's for some sort of food other than broth. While there I scared the beejeezus out of an old lady when I got on a brutal coughing jag (it sounds ugly even though I cover my mouth).

As soon as I got my breath back, I left the store quickly and retreated back into my home triumphant, but weary.

I'm not 100% but I'm making good progress.

Hey, I might even feel good in time for the weekend. Imagine that!

What's Your Go-To Remedy?

So yeah, it's Tuesday and I'm still nice and sick.

This whole cold thing has settled deep into my chest. I have that raspy almost smokers cough sounding voice, and when I laugh, I get on a wheezing cough jag that doesn't resolve until I see stars in my eyes and my ribs hurt.

Fun stuff.

And so as I do when I feel poorly, I begin to remember all the suggested home remedies that friends and family have provided over the years. Many of them do actually make me feel better.

Here's my top five, in no particular order.

1. Pho Noodle Soup

This was the remedy I went with yesterday and it did help for a while. The uber hot beef broth cooking the thinly sliced meat paired with the yummy rice noodles. It just screams hydration and the protein in the soup is good nutrition.

The warm soup always makes me sleepy, and getting rest is good for my immunity.

Add a healthy dose of that Sriracha Rooster sauce, and it all just says to me "oh yeah...I'm on the mend."

2. Sopa de Camaron

I don't know what it is about Mexican shrimp soup, but it's like a cure in a bowl. The veggies, the hot broth, the shrimps and a bit of avocado to smooth it all out.

Very satisfying, filling and warm. Again, it puts me right to sleep and gives me nice dreams.

3. Chicken Soup

Known colloquially as "Jewish Penicillin" there has actually been some research that suggests that chicken soup inhibits inflammation which helps a weary cold sufferer endure through the inevitable cycle of the common cold.

I'll take chicken soup in all forms including with veggies, with noodles, or with a big beautiful Matzoh ball floating in there. It's all good!

4. Pinto Bean water

This one is recommended by frequent commenter Ephraim. There have been times when, struggling to find something palatable to eat, I've dished up a bowl of beans and added a lot of the water that the beans were cooked in to make it more like a soup, thus easier for me to swallow with a sore throat.

Can't deny it, it helps. And what's not to like about bacon flavored bean water? Am I right? I think I am.

5. Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup, Dayquil, Sprite

Parodied in the South Park SARS episode, there is no denying the "middle class white man's cure" is helpful.

I think with the addition of some saltines, this is the perfect comforting treat for when I am down on the couch with the crud.

It's especially comforting when brought on a TV tray by a doting mom (or husband) who will check my temperature with closed lips applied to my forehead.

Really, at the end of the day, the best "cure" for the common cold is rest, hydration and managing the symptoms. All of the above help toward that end.

Meanwhile...*hack coff* I'm still in the middle of the indignities of this upper respiratory attack.

Bleah.

Customer Service Has Not Died

Despite all appearances to the contrary, customer service has not died.

Nope, there is still a small patch of wonderful service to be found in Southern New Mexico.

You'll recall a week ago, I wrote of my joy and my subsequent despair regarding buying actual New Mexico grown chiles here in Northern California.

In that blog post last week, I mentioned that I wrote a rather terse letter to the New Mexico Department of Agriculture, complete with photographs, about my sorrow.

In fact, I'll let you in on the text of my actual letter, sent to Mr. David Lucero at the NMDA:

_____

Dear Mr. Lucero - I found your email address from the www.nmda.nmsu.edu
webpage, though I'm unsure if you are the right person to contact.

I am a native New Mexican now living in Northern California and while on
a Southwest Airlines flight, I was happy to see an ad in their inflight
magazine for Hatch Green Chile coming to a long list of supermarkets in
my area.

My husband and I plan to buy a lot as we enjoy our green chile
throughout the year by finding kind friends back home to bring us the
good stuff.

While at Whole Foods recently in (town name redacted), California, I saw a sign for "Hatch peppers" and I was very happy (Whole Foods was on the list of stores that would carry the product).

As I picked a few from the pile, I looked closer at the sign and I
noticed it said "grown in California." (see photo attached)

Now, I'm confused. Is this the "real thing" as advertised by the NMDA
and just mislabeled? Or has someone appropriated the Hatch name for
not-Hatch peppers?

I chose not to buy any that day as I'm unsure.

Hence why I'm coming to you for advice and guidance.

Are Hatch chiles going to be available in the Northern California Bay
Area? Also, is someone perpetrating a terrible fraud by selling
California grown peppers under the branded Hatch name?

On behalf of my family, we thank you and appreciate any guidance you
would provide.


All my best,

Karen Fayeth

_____

Honestly...I expected no reply.

Imagine my surprise when not only did I receive a VERY nice email from Mr. Lucero thanking me for providing this information, he also told me that he's taken up the issue with his national Whole Foods buyer (who was cc'd on the email) and also with his shipper, Seco Spice (also cc'd on the email).

Then, and here's where my mind gets blown, Mr. Lucero indicated that a Mr. Ogaz from Seco Spice would be happy to send me along a box of roasted and peeled chile if I'd be willing to pay shipping.

Holy jumping jehoshaphat!

So I'm currently getting shipping costs from the very kind Mr. Ogaz.

That's amazing.

I want to publicly thank both Mr. Lucero and Mr. Ogaz for helping a poor New Mexico expat find her way home via the ol' dinner plate.

By the by, I checked with my friends down in the greater Las Cruces and Anthony metropolitan areas and they know the Ogaz family and Seco Spice and can vouch that they are top notch people and growers.

So here's a HUGE public thank you and a plug for the good people over at Seco Spice and the NMDA.

: sniffle : It makes me very proud to be a New Mexican.

Roast, My Pretties! Roast!

Can't think of a better smell.

Oh...wow...speaking of Fall....great photo of the burning of Zozobra from the ABQJournal. (you are right, NewMexiKen, my gloom might have been in the Zozobra. I'm feeling better just looking at that photo.)

The Delicious Eagle Has Landed

So there I am, sitting on a Southwest Airlines flight, headed for El Paso.

As we haven't yet cleared 10,000 feet, I can't use my Kindle, so I'm idly flipping through the pages of the Spirit in flight magazine.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but an ad for the beautimous Hatch green chile.

The copy claims that this precious commodity will be for sale in many grocery chains near me!

Look!

I unceremoniously tore the ad out of the mag. I had to clutch it to my heart!

I showed the ad to my friends there in the southern part of New Mexico, and they told me that due to NAFTA, the local farmers are getting beat out on selling their beautiful crops.

The New Mexico Department of Agriculture is putting on a marketing drive to try to stir up some sales.

The tagline? "Get Your Fix."

Why yes, I think I will. Thankyouverymuch.

So I was in my local Whole Foods store, perusing the fresh produce, when my peripheral vision locked on the word, "Hatch."

There, in my very store, shiny green peppers stacked high.

I RAN over to the display.

But my brain said, "hoooooold on a minute."

I looked a little closer at the sign.

Can you read the sign in this image?

It says, "Hatch peppers" and just above that it says, "Grown in California."

What the @#*$%@&*^%$!!!!

No.

Just no.

This is not right.

This is NOT correct.

This is definitely not ok.

So I laid the waxy green vegetable back on the pile and walked away.

This was not the treasure I sought.

Over this Labor Day weekend, I wrote a terse email to the NMDA asking them if the word "Hatch" can be applied to California grown chiles, or if this sign is in error.

I await their reply.

Yesterday, during my lunch hour, I ran to the Nob Hill Foods (also known as Raley's) near where I work to pick up a couple things. I never shop at Nob Hill, but it was the closest grocer near work.

Once again, my "Hatch" radar picked up something at the periphery.

I fear I couldn't get excited.

I slowly walked toward the word "Hatch" and sniffed the air near the display.

And I looked closely at the sign. They spelled "chile" wrong.

But still...could it be? Have I found the good stuff? Did I just accidentally stumble upon The Precious?

Yes. Yes I did.

I filled a produce bag to bursting and made them mine. Those beautiful chiles sat in the backseat of my car all afternoon, and they made the inside of my car smell heavenly.

This year, The Good Man finally gets to know what the smell of roasting green chile (and the smell of Autumn) is truly about, because it will permeate the corners our home.

Aw. Yeah.

A Happy Labor Day Quote of the Day

“Thanks to the combination of mayonnaise-based foods and sunshine, your Labor Day celebration can actually last for several days!”

This thoughtful quote brought to you by Shoebox Blog.

When Hugging a Coworker is Totally Appropriate

As a manager of employees in the State of California, I am required, by law, to attend and complete some very lengthy and detailed courses designed to keep the workplace "appropriate."

The courses are always very alarming because they teach to the worst possible examples, things that make you think "do people really do that?"

But it's good. Having a safe, conflict free work environment is essential. Everyone has a right to feel comfy at the place where they spend the majority of time during their weekdays.

As a new hire, I recently completed the mandatory training for my new company.

It's made me all very aware, very sensitive to potential "situations."

That said, I almost walked right through all my training to drop a big hug on a coworker.

That coworker is the nice man working the grill at the company cafeteria.

Today's special is fish and chips, one of my fave meals.

I figured they'd pull a pre-battered fish plank out of the freezer, dunk it in the fryer, and serve it up.

Fair enough, I'd still eat it.

But no.

After placing my order, the gentleman at the grill pulled two fresh fish filets out of the refrigerator. They were real fish filets, not some amalgam of fish parts.

Then he hand dipped them in batter and laid them gently in the fryer.

He then he served them golden brown over fresh-from-the-fryer, made just for me French fries he's hand seasoned by tossing them in a big bowl.

When he handed me the plate, he smiled and said, "enjoy."

Really, I almost wrapped him in a big bear hug.

He deserved it, California laws be damned!

Ain't No Poetry Like Bad Poetry

So I hit up the idea generator today.

And it suggested I write a limerick.

A limerick?

Really?

*sigh*

Couldn't I just take a stab at Haiku?

In fact, here's a Haiku I wrote during a painful interleague game between the San Francisco Giants and the Oakland A's earlier this season:

Jack Cust at the plate
Hits ball three for three today
SF fans Cust too

See? I can do Haiku! Can't I just try another like that?

No, the prompt said limerick.

I remember in grade school we had to write limericks for an English assignment. I didn't like it then either.

Not even writing the naughty limericks.

Whatever.

Ok.

Fine.

Here's my attempt:

There once was a girl from the 'Burque
People found her to be quite quirky
     To California she fled
     No green chile she did dread
Homemade chile rellenos keep her quite perky


Or how about:

There once was a singer named Buck
His songs make a nice rattle in my truck
     From Bakersfield he hailed
     "Tiger By The Tail" he wailed
That acoustic guitar he sure could pluck

(Betcha thought I was gonna get naughty on that one, huh? It was very difficult to restrain myself.)

All right, I'm on a roll now

From a bag of pinto beans I did remove
A handful of rocks and a piece of dry bean root
     Soak 'em I did
     Rinsed, boiled and added a lid
Because if not cooked right, dem beans will make you toot


Ok, ok....I'm done.

Somebody stop me before I try to rhyme Nantucket.

Anyone for a Mojito?

So let's see, I moved to this odd and fascinating Golden State of California in 1997.

This is now 2010...

So that would make it...let's see, do the math...carry the one...

Ah yes. Thirteen years that I've lived here.

Thirteen. That's a lucky number!

And you'd think that in thirteen years I would have arrived at the place where I no longer pick hayseeds out of my hair.

You'd think.

But you'd be wrong.

What a yokel I am.

Here's the latest.

Brace yourself for another backyard adventure.

Today I was out in my side yard. There is this scrubby, invasive, grows too fast tree/bush thing out there that I *hate*.

It's so unlike me to have vitriol for something that is only a plant. But I do.

So I was out there hacking away at the damn thing because if I don't stay on top of it, soon it will grow taller than my roof and the neighbors will complain. It tends to invade the nextdoor neighbors yard as well.

Ticks me off.

So I trim the crap out of it.

Here's how it looks now:

Never fear, oh mighty plant lovers. In a month it will be back at roof height. Gawd I hate that thing!

Anyhoo. After I was done committing gross violence to a bush/tree type a deal, I looked down and saw a few huge weeds. Well...I had my gloves on and the ground was soft, so I started wiggling them durn weeds out by the root.

At one point, I noticed a row of different looking weeds growing from the crack where the outside wall of the house meets concrete.

So I gave them a hearty tug.

Suddenly, all I could smell was this minty odor. I smelled my hands. Leather gloves and mint.

Weird.

So I took a small plant sample inside so I could Google it.

Sure enough. We have mint growing wild in our yard

I have no idea where this came from and I don't recall mint growing in the yard before. It just, I don't know, appeared out of nowhere this year.

Look, I'm from New Mexico. I'm used to coaxing things to grow in the yard with a lot of vigor and pleading.

Not here. This sh*t just grows wild! There ya go! Something magical. Didn't even have to try.

Next up on the list of fruits ripening in my untended backyard:

Figs!

Yes! Love fresh figs.

I'm ready for 'em!

Anyhow. This has been a very big day. Maybe I need a nap.

Oh, and in closing...this for my friend Natalie who likes bird of paradise.

That's a biggun!

I swear to god that thing blooms all year long. That shouldn't happen. And yet..it does.

And so...what exactly is this creature? Vol. 2

You'll recall I first asked this question back in November.

The answer then was: persimmon.

Today, in my continuing quest to understand what in the sam hell is growing in my own backyard, I bring you the next installment in the series.

Ladies and Gentlemen...ask you. What exactly is *this*:

(no fair answering first, Natalie!)

I have a tree laden with these little guys. The birds fight over the fruit that bears a color and skin resemblance to an apricot.

The neighborhood squirrels will come running up the power line, put their little paws together over their head, and swan dive into the tree to sample of these fruits.

The bugs love this tree so much, a spider has moved in and built one hell of a web. This allows him to freely sample of the bug buffet. There are bug carcasses strewn all over the place. I haven't seen a spider web like that since Hawaii!

The fruit on the tree looks a little bit like a small peach or a big apricot. But they aren't.

Curious, I pulled one that looked ripe from the tree and split it open.

This mutant fruit has not one but TWO stones at the center!

Another I opened had not two but THREE stones!

What the hell?

I didn't sample the fruit right away. The saliva-evaporating tannin in the under ripe persimmon I ate first and asked questions later taught me a huge lesson.

Nope, I was going to do some research before biting in this time.

With a little help of another overheard conversation between my landlord and his elderly father, I remembered them discussing the old man's love of something called a loquat.

Hmm. Loquat. It sounds like a concatenation of a couple other words...like lemon and apricot. Or lemon and kumquat.

Is this one of those weird hybrid fruits? No. It's not.

Loquat is actually an Americanized spelling of a Cantonese word, lou gwat, or the words mean "reed orange."

This is another tree that is found mainly in Asian countries and was brought along to the Bay Area. It's a very hardy tree!

Evidently the fruit has a mild sedative effect.

Evidently the seeds have a mild bit of cyanide. Yay.

Note to self: eat the fruit, not the pit.

Okay!

So today I dove in like a squirrel and picked a couple ripe samples.

It's very tart like a citrus fruit but a consistency much like an apricot.

I like it!

Ok, mystery solved! Off to find recipes for loquats!

Oh, by the by, I also have this creepy creature in my backyard:

It's almost a foot across and it looks like it could devour small animals.

Fortunately, I know what this bad boy is....

It's an artichoke that my neighbor grew and forgot to pick.

If it gets any larger, I may have to move.

Just sayin'.