Corporations are not people and I have the story to prove it. I accidentally threw out my replacement debit card and I'm suffering the inconvenience of waiting for the replacement and forced to use the archaic method of writing checks. Today, with the gas tank empty I stopped at the Kroger grocery store on W Jefferson, the same one I've shopped at for the last 20 years. I bought about $13 of groceries and wrote the check for $20 more than the total to get cash for gas. APPARENTLY (you only find this out at your inconvenience) you're only allowed to do this once within a 10 day period. I asked to talk to someone in management at the store, told him the situation I was in, and despite the fact that he was very SORRY, he was not able to deviate from the corporate policy. So, despite the fact that I've been a customer of Krogers for at least 20 years and work less than a mile from the Kroger store, management is unable to make a decision that deviates from corporate policy. Hmmm... despite what Mitt Romney says about corporations, don't expect any empathy, compassion or independent thought when interacting with them or their lackeys, they're just not capable of it. I made it back to work without running out of gas, now all I have to do is get to the gas station with the $5 borrowed from a co-worker. She definitely is a person! Thanks Shelley! As for Kroger's, they've annoyed me so much it's going to be quite a while before they see any more of my money whether it be cash, check, or debit cards!

I've just been going through the pictures that I've taken over the last month and here are a few of my favorites. The first and last are of this year's Christmas tree which is a blue spruce and being planted in the backyard in honor of Dad.

Well, this will be a true test of my little car and my courage. I'm heading to Indy to pick up Chocolate Eyes at the airport, with winds of 27 mph and blowing and drifting snow. Then, if I hurry right back I may beat the extra 2-4 inch accumulation coming this afternoon. I hate driving in snow. AAAAaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhh!

He's gone.

My father, Sylvester Ross Whitenack, died on Monday January 9th, 2012 without pain. Mom, with the help of hospice and my sisters and I, was able to care for him at home as he wished. It will take a long time to adjust to his loss.

More with less... it's the trend of the day for the 99%

I find it strangely ironic to be reading George Sand right now for a number of reasons... J is such a kind, empathetic man, so when he says something that cuts, it  feels as though the rest is all a charade; that he only goes through the motions of showing love and doesn't actually know the real emotion. It hurts so much that each time we sit down to have a " talk", he threatens to leave. He knows I don't want him to go and will compromise greatly to have him stay. Thank goodness the compromise is only money and not some other soul crushing need or  even worse, addiction. I've escaped unscathed from that situation once already and know that I don't have the fortitude or tolerance to endure it. So, thank goodness it's only money.

Gustav or Fish Out of Water

I was flipping through the pages of  the newly published  Bippolo Seed and Other Lost Stories when I found the story of Gustav the Goldfish. While reading the first few lines, I realized that it was  the same story as Fish Out of Water by Helen Marion Palmer. Now, I knew that Theodore Geisel used several pseudonyms, most famously Dr. Seuss, but also Rosetta Stone, and Theo Lesieg; but I'd never seen Helen Palmer mentioned as a pen name. I just know in my gut that Theodore Geisel would never have plagiarized another author's books,  so a-googling I went. It didn't take long to learn that Helen Marion Palmer was Dr. Seuss's first wife. They were married for 40 years but it was not a good ending for Helen. She committed suicide after battling cancer and chronic pain for thirteen years. Eight months later, Theodore Geisel married Audrey Dimond, who had been the wife of his friend, Dr. E. Grey Dimond. In Seuss's own words, "My best friend is being divorced and I'm going to Reno to comfort his wife." This whole story is interesting on a number of levels. Who wrote the story of Gustave the Goldfish/ Fish Out of Water? Dr. Seuss? his wife? or was it a joint writing project? Whoever wrote it, Dr. Seuss is getting credit for it now. After all,  if you published a story by Helen Palmer, everyone would say, "Who?" The other thing that makes this bit of trivia so delightful is that I was in the workroom filing books and talking to a co-worker about  Gustave the Goldfish and the Fish Out of Water , when the boss chimed in,
"Helen Palmer, that's another pseudonym for Theodore Geisel. Helen Palmer and Dr. Seuss are the same person." I dropped silent and then just as pleasantly as possible,  said, "Actually they're not, Helen Palmer was Theodore Geisel's first wife." as I watched her face turn bright red. And that's the way our society worked in the fifties,  men always got the credit, whether they were the ones claiming their spouse's intellectual property or whether it was just assumption made by society. 

So what would Helen Palmer think of the newly published Bippolo Seed? I'm guessing she would have been just fine with it;

Helen's last note to Ted: "Dear Ted, What has happened to us? I don't know. I feel myself in a spiral, going down down down, into a black hole from which there is no escape, no brightness. And loud in my ears from every side I hear, 'failure, failure, failure... I love you so much ... I am too old and enmeshed in everything you do and are, that I cannot conceive of life without you ... My going will leave quite a rumor but you can say I was overworked and overwrought. Your reputation with your friends and fans will not be harmed ... Sometimes think of the fun we had all thru the years ..."
Source: Judith and Neil Morgan. Dr. Seuss & Mr. Geisel: A Biography. pg. 195.

Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Cinnamon Pecan Crunch

We're trying out a new  recipe  that I found in the newspaper, Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Cinnamon Pecan Crunch. It's torturing us with wonderful smells from the oven right now, lots of cinnamon and ginger. Yum! It seems like the perfect dish to celebrate the first snow of the winter.

Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Cinnamon Pecan Crunch

Prep Time: 15 minutes
Cook Time: 1 hour

3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar, divided
2 tablespoons orange juice
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger, divided

1/2 teaspoon salt
3 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 cup dried cranberries
6 tablespoons butter, cut up, divided

1/2 cup flour
1 cup chopped pecans
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Mix 1/4 cup brown sugar, orange juice, vanilla, 1/2 teaspoon each of the cinnamon and ginger, and salt in large bowl. Add sweet potatoes; toss to coat well. Spoon into 13 x 9-inch baking dish. Sprinkle evenly with cranberries. Dot with 2 tablespoons of the butter. Cover with foil. Bake 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, mix flour, remaining 1/2 cup brown sugar and remaining 1 teaspoon each cinnamon and ginger in medium bowl. Cut in remaining 4 tablespoons butter with a fork until coarse crumbs form. Stir in pecans. Remove sweet potatoes from oven and stir gently. Sprinkle evenly with pecan topping.
Bake, uncovered, 25 to 30 minutes longer or until sweet potatoes are tender and topping is lightly browned. Makes 8 servings.

Screwed!

Well, my riding season is now officially over. I just don't have the extra $2-300 to have it replaced. I don't think you're supposed to plug motorcycle tires, but I bought a plug kit to limp me into the bike shop when I'm ready. I guess I'll invest in a lift and worry about the tire next year. Of course I had to discover it just when the planets had alligned and J and I finally had a day off together to take a ride. What a bummer.

I think she's trying for a all new world's record for calling in sick on Mondays while still keeping her job. I was  lamenting the fact that I decided against going to the doctor and instead took the last stashed pain pill for a strained back that I injured a couple of weeks ago, when I arrived at work and my co-worker told she'd called in again. The injury was long enough ago for the boss to have stuck me with two solo Mondays since, so I guess I'm calling to make an appt. with the doc. That and the cold temps have kept me from doing much  riding and the impending winter season always dampens my spirits. J and I had plans to get a couple of things accomplished over the weekend, we wanted to get the topper on the garden bed,  and even though that didn't I happen, I did get all my geraniums pulled up and stored for the winter. Since I was trying to rest my back I spent the whole day Saturday curled up with Haruki Murakami's IQ84. J went to Tim's to barter skills, computer help exchanged for help with a tire that needed plugged. He was gone for so long that I had gone past worry to muttering under my breath, "What?! Is his finger broke!" and on the way to being righteously pissed when the phone rang. It was J and he immediately passed the phone over to Tim to explain that he'd been sitting there with his coat on ready to leave for the past two hours. I let Tim sweet talk me for awhile and then invited him over to share freshly made chili and cornbread. It was pretty funny when Tim started teasing J about being a vegetarian and eating chili made with ground beef. J just stood up walked to the kitchen and retrieved the veggie crumble packets from the freezer and pointed at the chili. J had a big grin on his face so I guess he enjoyed turning the joke.

I had a wonderful day off Friday, just abandoned all the "shoulds" and had a lovely hike in the woods. I saw small groups of bluebirds throughout the woods, a huge raptor hanging out around the lake, and one of my favorite ferns. Here's a few photos that don't come close to showing the glory of the day.

The boss is sick and it's Monday!

I know only a couple of reasons why someone would be chronically ill only on Mondays;
       -either you're unable to work an entire week and you need a  part time job or need to consider retiring
        -or you're tying one on every weekend and you're too hungover to make it in to work
         (even if you don't schedule yourself in until noon).

Perhaps I'm overlooking some other possible reasons. Does anyone have any suggestions?

Well,  the big cheese is chipper despite having called in sick for the last two days in a row, and who wouldn't be after a lovely relaxing 4 day weekend?

My brown eyed boy called a couple of times yesterday to keep me informed on his progress.  He arrived safely in New Orleans and is moved into his apartment. He pronounced it nice, but also said it was surrounded by chain link fence and cameras. He doesn't have anything other than a bed, a chair and a couple of lamps so I'm sure he's feeling very displaced and possibly homesick. I did mention that he called a couple of times, right?... I went to bed thinking about him being in a city where he doesn't know a single person in an apartment without furniture,  then woke at 2 AM worrying about him and composing a short grocery shopping list for him in my head.

This was definitely a momentous weekend. We spent last week shopping for a bike for J, and found one for a fair price in Wabash. Of course it had to be at a farmhouse on a long gravel road! (thank goodness it wasn't freshly graveled). We looked at the  2009 Honda Shadow Spirit and I think the seller was surprised when I strapped on my pretty pink helmet to take it for a test drive, I heard J explaining as I headed down the lane that I'd been riding for 16 years and I would be the best person to evaluate it. When I got back from my zippy little joy ride I pronounced it straight and true with good brakes and smooth shifting. The next night we both rode my bike back to Wabash to pick it up, and by the weekend it was plated and insured. J rides as though he was always meant to, with very little newbie stress. I'm very proud of him.  Then Ben announced that he would probably be leaving for New Orleans on Monday. He meant leaving from Indy on Monday, leaving home from home, Sunday. So, I scurried to mix up an enormous batch of cowboy cookies, full of oatmeal, raisins, and walnuts, and sent him off with a batch right out of the oven. My brown eyed baby is on the way to New Orleans, finally starting his first job in his career field  but with no family nearby for back-up. Please beam any spare positive energy you have his way during his long drive down.

My  first baby's moving to New Orleans. I'm excited and terrified for him at the same time. If any of my readers have experience living in the New Orleans area, do you have any sage words of advice to pass along?

Kokiwanee Colors

 I have time off work, but no money to go anywhere. That doesn't stop me from going out for a good cleansing stomp through the woods at one of my favorite Acres sites, Kokiwanee. There was a sign posted at the entrance that invasive plants were going through eradication and I'm happy to say that I didn't see nearly as much garlic mustard as I have in the past. I always  do my part and pull it from alongside the path, but am so allergic to poison ivy and oak I don't dare stray too far for picking.  The lovely purple flower is ironweed, reviled by dairy and beef farmers because it will take over a cow pasture since the cows won't touch it. Goats eat  both that and another invasive species, multiflora rose, so that's another good reason to do away with the monoculture mentality.

Cosmos

I've come to realize in the past few weeks that I have a political agenda and a way to promote that agenda. I am a humanist, a somewhat misanthropic humanist, but still... I don't think you're being honest if you say you can come away from 25 years as a public servant un-scarred. My current agenda is teaching the younger generation  that the natural world is valuable and worth protecting. So, does that make me  a deist? All I know is that the politicians who are hiding behind their public profession of Christianity while attempting to disenfranchise the poor with the eradication of minimum wage, the old with the eradication of social security, and the sick with their rejection of universal health care, cast shame on the name of Christ.

This is fantastic!  (insert dripping sarcasm). The search feature of our work software isn't functioning. When I called our IT department, their diagnosis was about the same as mine, "It's not working!" I'm sure it's much more comfortable for them to say that from the seclusion of their work space. I on the other hand have to face the public with their incessant questions and need for assistance without the proper working tools, and of course I discover this on the second hour of a very long 8 hour shift. Only three more years of working on Saturdays, actually I'm only responsible for 144 more Fridays or Saturdays until I'm eligible for retirement. No, I won't actually be able to retire, but hope to at least only work part-time. It'll probably mean foregoing health insurance, but why in the world would I need that in my sixties? 

After watching Inside Job, having any HOPE of CHANGE sort of fizzles out like a week old party balloon. I don't care if you identify yourself as a republican, democrat, progressive, tea- partier, we all benefit from the truth being laid bare.

Almost a vacation day

Does anyone else say it's almost like a vacation day for yourself when the boss takes a vacation day?  That's true in my case, even if in taking the vacation day the boss goes against her own policy of only allowing one person off per day. One of my co-workers noticed the boss was gone and did a little happy dance as she read the schedule. Surprisingly, today's hit an all time high  grand total of  three people vacationing! and yes, of course the boss is one of them.

Unsettled

I just finished reading Incognito : the secret lives of the brain by David Eagleman.  I made the mistake of reading some of the reviews on Goodreads before finishing it. It bugged me that some of the  reviews labeled it as pop science, which seems dismissive of David Eagleman's  career and education.  I had encountered some of the contents before (Phineas Gage, synesthesia, subconscious/conscious mind) but what made this book so great was that he was able to convey his ideas so well that they were easily understandable.

I've learned a whole new appreciation for the good works of my mother's hands. Yesterday, I chopped, cooked, and canned 6  half pint jars of Bruschetta, and blanched and froze 8 quarts of tomatoes. All this bounty from our  little 6 x 12 garden! It would have been a lot easier day if I'd realized that I needed pickling salt, and sea salt wasn't a good substitute the first time I went to the grocery.. Pickling salt contains no iodine and won't discolor or cloud your canned food. So, that meant a second trip to the grocery for the day. They had the pickling salt but no fresh basil , which meant taking a longer ride around the city to the west side where you could count on the groceries to stock such luxury items as fresh basil.  It was a beautiful day, so it wasn't a great sacrifice to take the longer scenic route on my bad motor scooter. I have my own basil but the poor plants been almost whittled down to a nubbins from the convenience of just being a step out the back door from the stove-top. It was just a little scary trying out the new pressure cooker, but it worked exactly as they said it would from start to end. While reading The Feast Nearby I learned that the canning jars containing store brand  spaghetti  aren't good enough quality to reuse, so I recycled all the ones I wasn't using to contain dried beans or nuts. The possibility that reused store brand jars could break inside the pressure cooker was incentive enough to go out and purchase new jars, lids, and rings.

I did pick up one indispensable tool that made the work easier.


I like the way it had rubber at both ends, so if you left it resting in boiling water, it didn't burn you the next time you picked it up. Can you tell I did that?

I also found the  Ball Canning site that has  useful canning ratios under the heading fresh tools. All in all the project was a huge success and since the garden is still  producing tomatoes at a furious rate, I'm hoping to wrestle the recipe for the pineapple salsa from my sister, Carol. She gave me a jar last Christmas that I still remember, ummm, ummm, ummmm! but she's being fairly secretive about her recipe.

They should be called stinking nettles

I’ve been thinking a lot about our garden and my reasons for having one.   I don’ think I’ll even break even on the investment this year; I’m hoping next year will be more productive, since the garden bed will ready for planting spinach, kale, broccoli and onions in March. It was still in the planning stages in March of this year. This coming year I plan to be dining on spinach and kale before the summer vegetables are even planted. We have had quite a number of meals right out of the garden this year, tasty, fresh and entirely free of pesticides or chemical fertilizers (used borders of marigolds and cosmos to repel garden pests) I also did a little experimenting with organic fertilizer this year. I’d read a couple of gardening sources that said stinging nettles make excellent fertilizer. So, I decided to try it.  I took a large sack and gloves  to a nearby woods  and picked nettles alongside the path.  I made sure not to pick large quantities in any one spot, mostly due to the fact that if I stopped walking for more than a second the mosquitoes threatened to carry me off.

 When I got home I packed the nettles tightly  into a 3 gallon bucket and filled it to the brim with water.  The instructions said to soak the nettles for least 2 days and then strain off the liquid and dilute it to the color of tea. They also warned  to carefully consider the location of your nettle stew because it would be smelly. They weren’t kidding. It smelled like cow plops and attracted every fly on the block. It was so smelly and the bucket so unwieldy that I was afraid I would spill it on myself while straining the leaves from the tea;  so, I drilled holes in another bucket the same size and gently pushed it down while dipping out the liquid to my watering can. I had enough to water all my new plants and flowers twice. I didn’t see miraculous results, but all my plants look strong and healthy despite the withering heat, and the baby ferns I planted this year are finally starting to grow.  

The summer squash is producing fast now, faster than our taste for fresh summer squash can keep up.

So, four quarts are blanched and cooling to go into the freezer. They'll be a great addition to soups and stews this winter. Aren't they pretty?

I've been reading a great book, The Feast Nearby: How I lost my job, buried a marriage, and found my way by keeping chickens, foraging, preserving, bartering, and eating locally (all on $40 a week) by Robin Mather. If you have a food garden, you'll enjoy this book. The recipes are interspersed rather abruptly, but the techniques she very plainly explains would build confidence in anyone who wants to preserve their garden bounty.

I love South Haven, Michigan

J and I took a couple of days for ourselves and rode the bike up to South Haven, MI. I chose to take 69 only as far as Angola and then find a more scenic route. We took 20 w to 9 n, then took 12 w to M40 and then M43 to South Haven. It would normally take about three hours to get there, but since this was the first long distance bike trip we've taken together, we stopped a couple extra times to get gas, something to drink, and to stretch our legs. The weather was gorgeous close to the lake, the air so cool,under a beautiful sunny sky. We were both pretty ruddy before we even arrived. We spent the rest of the day at the beach slathered in sunscreen and munching snacks, drinking iced white wine and wading out into the chilly water. The beach was crowded and the water was moiled, probably because there were a couple of yachts anchored just beyond the swimming buoys. We both remarked on the wide range of ethnicity, age, and income of people strolling the pier walk and sunning on the beach. Close to where we'd pitched our sand claim, a group of Slavic/Russian young bloods started a game of volleyball. J asked me if I wanted to move, but even though I was reading I enjoyed watching all those young men in motion! As we were making the long trek back through the sand,
J started having some stiffness in his hip. By the time we got back to the motel, he had a lot of trouble getting off the bike. He'd strained a muscle in his hip, and I started worrying about the trip home the next day, or even if we were going to have to find emergency care for him that night. 

On the way to dinner at Clementine's(ho-hummy) we stopped for some analgesic. After dinner we were both whipped and headed back to the room. J didn't sleep well, and I was beginning to worry that the next day was going to be disastrous, but J was determined to try to walk it off. We spent the morning breakfasting at The Phoenix Street Cafe the food was yummy and the wait staff were very friendly despite their busyness for the holiday. I was relieved to hear that J wanted to walk and that I wouldn't have to maneuver endlessly around the pedestrian busy streets at slow speed with him on the back. I had a good excuse for visiting one of my favorite shops in South Haven, the Perfect Setting.

They told me I could bring the silver bracelet(I bought it there on one of my first solo bike trips) in anytime to be polished. They were true to their word and said it would be ready in a couple of hours. While shopping I did find this little guy

who just had to come home with us. J didn't think I could cram it in the saddlebags, but I've been doing this for awhile, and I have my ways.

Next we wandered over to Black River Books to chat with the proprietors, Dick and Pam. It was nice to meet her, since the last time I'd talked to Dick, she'd been out of town for a week and he'd been pining for her. Then J and I wandered and window shopped until we got hungry and thirsty. The last time we were in South Haven camping, J and I had noticed a new restaurant preparing to open, and since it was now open for business we decided to check it out. It was one of the best parts of the trip. Su Casa has a very unassuming storefront, but the inside was lovely with minimalist decorating, beautiful colors, and the whole atmosphere was very pleasing.

I wanted a frozen cocktail and ordered a strawberry margarita, which was very good, but I wished I'd gone with my original plan of ordering a mojito. When I saw the one they brought J with the crushed fresh mint and raw sugar, I just had to taste it. It was to die for delicious, the perfect summer drink. It was so good that J ordered another to share with me. We tipsily wandered down to the marina to rest in the shade and watch the boats go by. J fell asleep, and I was just settling in with my book and telling myself not to worry about riding home in the dark through Bambi land, when J woke up and said it was probably time to head home. Although I wasn't enthusiastic about leaving that idyllic spot and donning the leather chaps for the ride home, I saw the wisdom in it and we headed out. We were almost home, when we ran into the glitch. I spontaneously decided to head south on 327 instead of taking 69. I thought the variety of road terrain would help combat my tiredness, but just outside of Corunna, we came to a state police roadblock and were diverted to a county road detour. J and I had a little difference of opinion about turning around to ask the state officer the best way to proceed or to just try to find our own way. I didn't want to have to make two u-turns with J on the back, so guess who won that one! We wandered our way to 8 and back to 327. We stopped one last time for gas, and for the second time on the trip, some random \ man felt obligated to point out how unusual it was to see a woman taking a man as passenger on her bike. I just gave him the barest grimace of a smile. J had his headphones on, so he pretended that he didn't hear it. The first time, some guy stopped at a traffic light in a truck said, You don't see that very often!" I just quipped back, "It's something we should see more often!" By the time I got to the north side of FW, I was exhausted and still had to battle through the stoplight capital of the world. All in all it was a wonderful trip and a welcome reprieve from the worry with my Dad, but it's taken both of us a day to recover!

Brain cancer isn't painless

Dr Desjardins from Duke told us that brain cancer is painless, but he's definitely in pain now. Maybe we should have let him go without any treatments, because the pain is a result of the myriad medical interventions. Avastin is responsible for the blood clots in the leg and lungs, and the coumidan and heparin given to dissolve the blood clots caused the painful hematoma in his abdominal wall. Dad had another seizure last night, and has been vomiting since. My sister called and hospice is advising that someone needs to be there with Mom round the clock now. Carol will be there this weekend and I'll start my vigil on Monday. There's still a possibility that Dad will rally temporarily with another increase in his dosage of steroids. I'm not ready for him to go, but I'm ready for his suffering to end.

I came home expecting to find J here, but he's over at Gretel's ( his daughter newly moved here from Arizona) I'm glad that he's making such a solid connection with his daughter, son in law, and grandson, but the house seems empty without him here. I think I'll go to bed and read Anna Karenina.

The New Garden

This is the first time I've grown this lettuce

or  these scallions

or asparagus,

I finally found my first sassafras photo. I had to wrestle it out of my computer since  flickr somehow made it disappear. I finally found it as one of my profile photos on Goodreads. If you're a reader and you've never checked out Goodreads, you're really missing out. Not only is it a good way to keep a list of books that you've read and books that you want to read, but it's also a great way to meet other people who love reading. I've met some interesting people w/o hardly even trying.