Monkey see, Monkey do.

Well, the trepidation is over. The pre-visit worry that a five-year-old gourmet might reject my meager offerings was quickly dashed when she said "OhIrememberthis place, youhaveapool,canIswim?Isthisbread?Ilikethepearsyourdogiscutewhatisthisplant?CanItaketheseedsoutwewentcamping
canIhavesomelemonade."

I was pretty sure she was comfortable. Iris is a truly engaging, precocious, poised, self-confident blue-eyed sweetie. Her parents were ok, too.

I thought I'd give her an aromatic visit to the herb garden to wow her olfactory senses. I grabbed an obscure green leaf, crushed it gently in between my fingers, "Do you know this herb?" She smelled it and said "OH, That is Lemon Balm." Then she went on to correctly identify, Tarragon, Sage, Fennel, Parsley-differentiating between curly and flat leaf, Oregano, Thyme, Tomato, Chard, Beet, Zucchini, Acorn Squash, Raspberry, Chive, Basil, blueberry and strawberry.

Not to be shown up by a learned child, I grabbed some catnip, mixed it with poison oak, and said, "Smell this!"
She said, "Do I look stupid?"

Her beaming parents loaded her into the car, thanked us for the visit, and drove off to Grandma's house.

I'm having a sip of the new vintage McCarthy's single malt beverage made by Clear Creek Distillery , and watching the alpine glow on Mt. Hood.

How Hungry is the Monkey?

I'm sitting here in the semi-quiet, hearing the sounds of the Ever-Hungry Teen Boy pouring his second bowl of Krunchy-Krap since we got home from the Mahvelous Mexican Restaurant where He had 2 Chicken Burrrrritos con frijoles y arroz y ensalada less than an HOUR ago. The bottomless pit also asked if I had gotten any ice cream at the store today in case he had a small empty spot near his big toe in the next 15 minutes. My background music is Amy Winehouse... Rehab.

Multiple thoughts are running through my head, first did I go wrong telling Ever-Hungry Teen Boy that the first taste was free? Second, if he is already 6ft 2in does he really need to be any taller? After all, only 3 presidents in our history have been over 6ft 2in.

My other thoughts have to do with our brunch guests tomorrow. They are 3. Mom, Dad, and Hungry Monkey.
Dad and HM are co-authors of a cookbook called Hungry Monkey I'm not worried about cooking for Mom and Dad, but I've seen HM on t-v, and she is a food critic. She also loves to be involved in every aspect of the cooking process, and may well call me to task for any indiscretions I may perform. Perhaps I will just send her to the garden to pick her own brunch, and let the prep and finish be on her shoulders.

I've cooked for princes and Presidents and was not intimidated, but gosh ... a 5 yr old food critic with 'tude...

As I type, my Ever-Hungry Teen Boy just went for another bowl of Krunchy-Krap...sigh

It was like sow, but wasn't

My garden will be the analogy for this and some future posts. This theme is not new for sure, but it does encompass everything that I like to talk about, food, medicine, sex, order, and art. I could probably name my garden Maslow. The garden is doing exceptionally well this year. There is an abundance of food because the sex was so good. All the bees, spiders, hummingbirds, worms, beetles and butterflies have put in their collective 10,000 hours, and have helped produce enough food for eating, sharing, and putting by.

The "putting by" part is really satisfying, but it seems to only work well with food. In my case, it certainly doesn't work with money..there is never quite enough to put some by. Have you ever tried to put sex by? Can't. Gotta be used in the moment. Putting food by is like getting a royalty check in the winter, you weren't really expecting it, but you open the freezer and raspberries popped out. To paraphrase Thoreau "Everyman looks at his freezer and pantry with a kind of affection"

In this day of soundbites and tweets a garden stands firm for long term satisfaction. A passerby will ask how the garden is doing, hoping for a "Great", or "Lovely". I, as a philosopher, will begin to perorate on the virtues of front yard-organic-gardening-instead-of-lawn right up to the "eyes glaze over" stage, but when I offer said passerby a taste of something approaching perfection, the glaze goes away and is replaced with a sensation not expected.

Yea, Maslow! Peak Experience Achieved

It was the breast of times, it was the wurst of times

It was a hot August day, the naked people were in the pool, some floating face up, some face down. We ignored the face-down floaters, why spoil an otherwise idyllic day. The shadows were getting shorter, because it was still before noon...after noon, the shadows lengthen, the days shorten.

I looked in the skimmer basket to see what had happened during the night. Have you ever emptied the bucket from your vacuum cleaner and looked closely at what makes up household dirt? Our container is dog hair, cat hair, bits of carrot peel, fingernail clippings, beads, bead wire, bead needles, bead glass, bead magazines, bead earrings, an occasional Oreo cookie, never anything of mine, a sock or two-never a matched pair.

Sorry, back to the skimmer basket. Drowned insects, bees, flies, dragon flies, damsel flies, dog hair, cat hair, bits of carrot peel, fingernail clippings, beads, bead wire, bead needles, bead glass, bead magazines, bead earrings, an occasional Oreo cookie, never anything of mine. Leaves, bits of the face down floaters, and other flotsam.

Last night we went to hear Curtis Ebbesmeyer talk about his his book "Flotsametrics in a Floating World."

http://flotsametrics.com/reviews.php

That is what got me thinking about our little gyre in the pool, in the house, on our street. I wonder if I am part of the problem?

"`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."

Initial blog post, The Launch

It was a Stark and Burnside night, when mi esposa showed me a book in the library whose thesis pondered if a couple should stay together on account of the dog. She wondered, given this thesis,

"Do you have a book inside you?"

I pointed out that we were in a library, and it is still ok to check out the books for free..I didn't have to steal them.

This conversation coupled with our family motto of "Never, Ever let the truth get in the way of a good story" led to this posting.

This story will be a living testimony to my fabricated life, and will be affirmed mostly by deceased relatives who can vouch for the absolute authenticity of my every word. Stay tuned, this is a rudimentary stage, an early period..a beginning, a start...It was a Start and dorm room night. Hmmmm, Start was a high school somewhere in my memory.