Bite My Tongue

Birthday 41

Camping in Kings Canyon National Park

I Go To Bed Soggy And Forgetful

Holy crap, that was fun.

No "Blue Spark," but plenty of other faves as you can see. (Click for big.) The band sounds as good as ever. I mean super good. Was kinda surprised they pretty much stuck to the Slash catalog only. Thought there would be some Knitters stuff. Not disappointed, though; not at all.

And no, I didn't show Exene the tattoo because I'm not a creepy fangirl. And I couldn't get a good shot of JD - or DJ for that matter.

If you think Exene looks haggard or whatever, just keep it to yourself, ok? She still rocks harder and writes a better songs than you ever will.

Graham and Sam

July 4th Hijinks

You said there would be fireworks.

Yeah. OK, fun. Where are the fireworks?

Now THIS is what I'm talking about!

Hey, Sam's on fire! Cool! (Sam is not even close to being on fire.)

Now we're cookin' with gas!

Yay for Independence Day! And fire!
   

And yes, there were actual exploding-in-the-sky, big kaboom fireworks. And more fireworks in the alley. And dropping expended fireworks in a bucket of water. But the boys thought their own personal hold-in-your hand sparkley fire-on-a -stick was the best part.

we're here for the food

We're not big on manufactured holidays, but they are a good excuse for a decadent breakfast. I just took Elise's banana bread out of the oven and oh my! It is a beautiful loaf and it smells fantastic. I added some semi-sweet chocolate chips and a shot of espresso (add extra flour to compensate) to the recipe and we'll have it in the morning with whipped cream cheese.

I just went with what I had on hand since Roger and I have an agreement to keep it simple on mother/father's day. If I had planned ahead, we'd be having praline bacon with eggs and cottage potatoes. There's always next year.

For father's day dinner, I'm making a meal usually reserved for colder months, but it's one of Roger's favorites and it's easy and super-tasty. I don't even have a real name for it - we call it the dutch oven dinner and it goes like this:

4 or 5 uncooked sausages of your choice. Italian works great. I'm using Trader Joe's basil & garlic pork sausage tomorrow because that's what I had in the freezer.
2 leeks - just the white and light green part - cleaned and cut into 3 inch pieces
1 large yam, cut into  2 inch cubes
1 large bell pepper, quartered
1 large root vegetable of you choice - cut into 2 inch cubes. Russet potato, turnip and parsnip are good choices.
Olive oil
Rosemary, basil, thyme, savory - or you favorite Italian-style herbs - in whatever combination you like.
7-or-so cloves of garlic, still in the skins.

Put an oven rack in the next to the lowest position. Heat oven to 400.

Pour a couple tablespoons of olive oil in a ramekin or small dish. Get a little oil on your fingers and coat all of the veggies and the garlic with oil using your hands. Messy. but fun. place all the veggies (and garlic) except the leeks in a dutch oven big enough to hold everything. sprinkle a generous amount of herbs over the veggies and stir the pot with a wooden spoon. Place The leeks on top of the veggies - they're delicate and cook quickly. Place the sausages on top of the everything and touching the sides of the pot - they'll brown better that way.

The lid goes on the pot; the pot goes in the oven for 50 minutes to an hour.
Remover the pot (carefully!)  Check the leeks. If they're done  - and they probably are - take 'em out of the pot. Give the veggies and meat a good stir.
Return to the oven for 30 mins and then check the pot again. 
If the veggies are done, they your done. If not, stir the pot, return it to the oven and check again in 15 mins. The aroma will be unbearably good and dinner will not disappoint, I promise.

Makes 4 servings.

Serve with french bread and a simple green salad.

Whoops! I forgot one thing - squeeze the now-roasted garlic onto the veggies and/or bread. That's my favorite part :)

OK, I just sample the still-very-warm banana bread and it is awesome! And speaking of food, I had no idea cold soba noodles and white wine tasted so good at 11pm.

telepathic you

A long distance friend emailed me a couple of days ago - concerned because I haven't posting in a while. She said she missed reading the secret messages I relay to her here. This was especially dear because she knows I'm not sending secret messages; she just likes to read what she will in between the lines. And that's the beauty and the curse of this format of communication. Absent the paralinguistics - the nuances - we are free to infer.

Even though I'm totally aware that every reader is going to project a bit of themselves on what I write, this is a weird idea to me since I've made a real point to be straightfoward and transparent here and in my everyday real life. After years or subterfuge, deceit and generally shitty behavior meant to disguise my assorted shortcomings, I have surrendered to honesty. Not out of some new found virtue ... I just couldn't live like that any more.

So there are no hidden messages here. I'm still riddled with shortcomings. But I like my life right now and, on most days, I can accept myself.  And I know I keep writing about this, but it's a really big thing for me to process, deal with and accept. I'm going through another bout of depression right now and I'm angry about that because after 20+ years, I'm disappointed to be here again.

But 20-some-odd years ago, I didn't even know what was going on. I hurt a lot of people I loved. I hurt myself. For years, I hurt myself. And now I have the tools to beat it into submission. I'm just tired of it. Keep going. That's what I tell my friends M and S when they are fighting this beast. Keep going.

Besides, this is my life now. Roger and I have our own mantra. It goes like this: Lucky lucky lucky lucky. I am so freaking lucky.

This is Graham and his betta. The fish's name is Nupit tu Nupit. He's an Inuit betta. Or Tibetan, perhaps. Nupit (for short) is a classic Graham name. For a while, he had an imaginary pet polar bear named Rupey tu Dupey. That's my boy.

See what I mean by lucky?

Roger knows that I hate flash photos and up-the-nose photos. Does he care? Oh, hell no. He's going to have fun in spite of me and that is just one of the eight gadzillion reasons why I love him. The little hairball is Miss Minnie Pearl, who has come to live with us. She was living behind a Burger King and eating out of dumpsters.  She sends y'all a great big Howwwdy!

it can't rain all the time

This is going to be a sad post, so skip it if you're not in the mood.

We had to put Rupert to sleep two days ago. There was a serious problem with his liver. We did everything we could. Our vet did everything she could. He was just too weak. I don't like saying we put him to sleep, but the other terms and phrases are no better. We helped him die. He was dying and we eased him into death. He spent his last two days in Roger's lap and in my office - right next to me. He wasn't suffering; he was just so, so, tired.

We are very sad - heartbroken, really. Roger said he couldn't believe how attached we were to that little dog. He was with us for two months and we were so in love with him. I can't believe how much I cried this week. I haven't cried like that since I figured out my mom was dying.

That cough I had turned out to be walking pneumonia, known in my house as the cough-until-you-puke disease. I was sick for a month but I didn't pay much attention to that because Rupert was so much sicker.

Yes, the grammar is bad, but I'm really tired and past caring.

And my friend Andi has kidney cancer. I fucking hate cancer. You have no idea.

It rained here for six consecutive weeks, which only enhanced the pall. But we've had a wonderful view of the Sierras and our yard is lush. We have lavender and tadpoles. We have our joyful boy.  We soak up beauty where we find it.

yes, it's true. i usually keep it pretty light here - writing about dogs and shoes and posting funny pix of the spawn. apparently, some folks forgot - or perhaps, not familiar with my livejournal incarnation - didn't know  that i do, in fact, have convictions and opinions.

and generally, i don't write about the heavy stuff here for self-conscious reasons, for the most part. plus, i don't want to devote the amount of time it would require to do a full-on serious me-against-the-word kind of blog. my heart isn't in it.

but, judging from the amount of email (never comments - always email. one day, typepad will have threaded comments and then you kids had better step up) from the vexed and perplexed, people are  flabberghasted to discover that i am a feminist and quite possibly a law-breaking socially liberal one at that.

in order to avoid further confusion and animosity i heretofore spell it out for the readers in short-list form...

things i strongly support and/or promote:
family dinner time
farmers markets
community involvement
responsible development
volunteerism
backyard vegetable gardens
simple living 
the fossil record
local music
beer

things i strongly oppose and/or mistrust:
circumcision
consumer culture
mainstream media
myspace
trans fats
high fructose corn syrup
disney princesses
coldplay

now back to the usual frivolity.

two photos i received today from two of my favorite music freaks with cameras. yeah, it's work related and i said i'd never write about work, but fuck it. see? i broke two rules in one sentence. i am dangerous. oh, and not only did i breastfeed graham for 24 months, he slept in our bed for a whole 'nuther year after that. so there.

Wayne Coyne of Flaming Lips at last week's Langerado music fest in Florida - by my good friend, the gentleman photographer John Davisson.

holy heck- it's Mike Watt! somewhere in SoCal, by the esteemed rock 'n'roll animal Paul Parks.

and kids, if you really love music, for dogsakes, avoid Arctic Monkeys and The Living Things. they're crap.

must. learn. to. knit.

dude. i have got to get some new hobbies. lactation peer advisor and needle exchange volunteer are just ... uh... not relaxing. 

you'd think that the lactation gig would be fun - babies and boobs - but for the most part, it's dealing with women who are looking for any excuse not to breastfeed their babies. "I had to take cold medicine so I can't nurse."  "It takes too long to get him to latch on." "We were out shopping and we went to dinner." 

so i get a lot of calls after the problem is way out of control and ... ugh. every once in a while i do get a mom who is totally committed to making it work. so i keep going. hoping that the next call is going to be from one of those moms - the one's that say, "i had to pop her off 20 times, but we got a good latch!"  "we nursed every two hours today - it was great!" oh, how i love those women.

and the needle exchange? been doing that for nine years but the meth epidemic is making it really hard to stomach now. i don't even want to get into it. i think i make have witnessed my fill of sick, ugly, violent shit.

graham and i continue to cook together. that's fun. and we're starting to train rupert, and that's good. but i need to find something to do for me, something i can do at home and that doesn't make me feel like a selfish jerk.

my creative repertoire is limited and filled with 'i shoulds.' i should sew. i should embroider. i should  make nice photo albums and scrap books.

then there are the things that i really think i should be doing, like raising the next john muir, blaming the patriarchy, going back to massage school and composting. there's always composting. i'm good at that.

but all that sounds like work. i'm good at work. i'd like to be better at FUN. roger is good at fun, thankfully. he plays with graham for hours at a go. i suck at fun unless it's somehow tied to some kind of work. which totally makes sense. even when i was a kid, i wasn't really a kid. i didn't get much practice with the fun stuff. and for the longest time, i thought that was good. i thought fun was overrated - a waste of time.

yes, i was an idiot. i think i'd rather be a fun idiot, though. i need to work on that.

the scurvy dogs

(click for big)

Arrrrgh. Here we have a pack of miserable curs. The sorriest pack of scoundrels ever seen on this fair sofa.

A bunch of lolligaggers. Lily-livered muttonheads, the lot of 'em.

As you can see, Rupert is having a such a tough time adjusting to his new digs. Bella and Aka torment him so.

Rupert was fortunate to join two dogs who are completely ignorant of dog pack protocol. These are laissez faire doggies; you don't bother them, they don't bother you. Sure, they compete for attention, but there are enough belly-rubs for everyone. Just find a comfy spot on the sofa, bed, chair, or sun-spot of your choosing and relax. Your hostess will be along shortly with a cool drink and some snackies.

Rupert's a bit confused by the congeniality - it's obvious that this kind of canine camaraderie is foreign to him, but as you can see, he's getting used to it.

the new guy

This little slip of thing came to live with us today.
His name is Rupert. We thought his name might be Joey Ramone, but it's not. He's Rupert.

Rupert was saved from death row at a high-kill shelter 10 days ago by the angels at Animal Rescue of Fresno (ARF). He was emaciated, covered in fleas and had kennel cough. ARF took great care of him, helped him get his strength back, gave him his shots, wormed him and had him neutered.

There is a story - of course - about how we met Rupert. We went to the shelter at the urging of a family friend who is on the shelter's board of directors. In the past month, two pit bull fighting rings were busted in our area and many "bait" dogs had been placed in shelters, stretching the facilities to their limits. We were hoping to adopt one of those dogs, but the ones we met were very skittish and unfortunately weren't right for our family.

Then I saw Rupert.
It was the underbite. Over the next week, we spent more than six hours visiting Rupert while he was recuperating from his near-death experience.

That was quite an education. I learned so much about dogs, animal rescue, and people  - wonderful thing and horrible things.

And at 7:30 this morning , I brought Rupert home. And he is home. I mean, he has moved in.

He gets along with our other dogs, and he loves all us people, too.

These photos were taken after he had been here for about an hour. About an hour after that, he had a much needed bath. Not only did he let me bathe him and cut his matted fur, he let me blow-dry him. I think he liked it. He is sooo soft and silky.

We're working on getting some meat on his little chicken bones. Rupert appears to about a year old and he weighs maybe five pounds. He should probably weigh 10. In six months, I bet he'll be a beautiful dog with a beautiful coat. He such spirit already. I'm so glad he's home.