Anti-Consumerist X-mas Prezzies

Now that Christmas is over, I can share with the interwebz what I made for some lucky friends without ruining the surprise.

As per usual I opted not to buy gifts because I am both poor and thrifty. But this year I thought I'd step up the anti-commercial symbolism a notch - by making elegant jewelry out of high interest credit cards.

Of course, I had to be a consumer in order to get the hardware for these stunning ornaments. (Here's where I plug Dava Bead and Trade, which has every imaginable piece of hardware for jewelry making you could possibly imagine for ridiculously small prices.)

Below is a gallery of some of the pieces I made. I'd consider marketing these, but I'm (thankfully) almost out of credit cards. Unless someone wants to commission a piece using their own cards, but that might be weird.

Christmas!

I have one box of Christmas decorations, so every year I see how far I can make them stretch. This year, I think I did alright. I made a wreath from my backyard cedar tree, and a Christmas tree from some sticks.








Happy Holidays!

Fish Channel 24/7

A couple of years ago I conceived of an idea that was, just a few weeks ago, finally carried out to near-completion.

The 24-hour fish channel:



I finally found the right TV to gut at the bins about 2 years ago. We brought it home and I convinced boyfriend to take out all the innards - and he did me one better: he connected the lights to the power switch!

Then, he convinced me that it would be way cooler as a terrarium of carnivorous plants. He painted this vision of a Mario world, with Venus Fly Traps poking out of green pipes... We even put it all together and it was fabulous!

But we were missing a water delivery system, and eventually the poor plants withered and died. We decided that we needed a) a door in the top for easy access and b) a terrarium that fit the cabinet.

So, the TV sat outside in our craft-carport for a year. Until our fish pond froze over last month.

I thought all of my fish must have died, but one day, after it thawed out, I peered into the pond and saw a goldfish face! So, I bullied boyfriend into finishing up the access door and fished all the fish out of the pond.

And now they are warm and happy!



Most of them. Four of them died immediately after the move indoors. I tried my best to get them acclimated to the temperature change slowly, but goldfish can be sensitive.

Obviously, it's not yet finished. We still need a properly sized aquarium, LED light bulbs (instead of incandescent in there now), probably a filter and boyfriend wants to get the speakers functional.

But in the meantime, Whiskey really loves this show.

3 Weeks Sick and Counting...

3 weeks ago, I biked home in a rainstorm so heavy that I felt like I was biking upstream. And then immediately got sick. An annoying cold has turned into obnoxious bronchitis, which according to medical experts on the internets, should be leaving me soon.

So, I haven't been able to get much of anything done, much less blog. When I finally get well, I've got a to-do list about 3 miles long.

In the meantime, I've been using up all my sick days and vacation time and then, when that ran out, working very slowly. One of my co-workers, Super-Sweet-Shawna, has been bringing me oranges everyday and making sure I have hot tea.

When at home, I've been resting and watching old episodes of Psych (Ooh! There's a new one!) and playing a game of Secret of Mana that I started a year ago. Neither I, nor Crayon, have been getting any exercise. By the time I'm finally well enough to bike to work again, I'm going to be so ridiculously out of shape that I won't be able.

Boyfriend made me turkey stew. When that ran out, we got some Vegan Ramen.

Now I have a whole weekend to rest! If I'm not better by the end of it, I guess I'd better actually use this health insurance I've got. After almost a decade without insurance, it's not really my first reaction to call a doctor. Or even second or third.

T-Shirt Epiphany

So last week I was riding the MAX home (I know, I know, but I'm sick, and it's cold!) and as I was being thrown back and forth across the bridge, I thought about T-shirts.

I have a large collection of T-shirts. I used to wear them. My mother and my sister gave me a bunch a while back. I've been picking them up from free boxes on the side of the road (if they're kind of neat). T-shirts are made from nice material, and I thought I could use them to make amazing things: blouses, skirts, dresses, blankets, etc.

But I haven't gotten very far.

But last week, I had a T-shirt epiphany. Here's the pattern I drew as soon as I got home:

And it worked! I now have plans to cut down my T-shirt pile somewhat.

Here's my test:



And the back:



Complete with Snow White sleeves.

Instant Thanksgiving Happiness

Happy Thanksgiving!

I woke up early this morning to get us in the spirit for the best holiday of the year.

Before:




After:



On the menu:

Orange Cranberry Sauce
Mashed Punkin/Potatoes
Punkin/Potato/Ginger Soup
Turkey!
Homemade Breads
Apple Onion Dressing
Possibly Spiced Cranberry Cider Wine Punch
and whatever people may bring.

My Letter to Governor-Elect Jerry Brown

Congratulations Governor Elect Jerry Brown!

Although I am no longer a California resident, I continue to have a vested interest in California politics. My family still lives in Northern California. My sister works for the Department of Justice in Redding, and my father is a prisoner of the current Workman's Compensation laws in California.

My father used to be an appliance repair man. As a victim of the recession in the early 80s and a young father, he dropped out of college to rush into this field to support his family and, after 2 decades, ended up with myriad spinal injuries. He began his foray into the Workman's Compensation system in 1999, before the laws changed. The surgery that doctors recommended he get for his injuries didn't work (it would later come to light that the surgery he was given was inappropriate for his type of injury). He has been in agonizing pain for years, with his case still hanging in limbo. He cannot get out of the system to see doctors who will help him because of the laws Governor Schwarzenagger enacted retroactively. GAB Robins, the insurance company, will not pay for the services that do actually relieve his pain, such as massage therapy. Some people on Workman's Comp have committed suicide while waiting for their cases to settle.

I wish I had clearer details of his case to tell you, but whenever I ask him, the stress of this decade long situation comes crashing down on him and his pain gets worse. Please, as Governor of California, make Workman's Compensation a priority, for the thousands of injured Californians who, like my father, are trapped in a corrupt insurance game.

Thank you for your time, and I wish California all the best under your leadership,

Sarah Stroman
Portland, Oregon

A Day at the White Stag Building

I wish I had a camera mounted on my bike - one that clips on like a bike light. That way, I could have had a few images to go with this.

I guess you'll just have to use your imagination.

Today, I attended a workshop on some cataloging program called MARCedit at the White Stag Building in downtown Portland. Which is gorgeous. They managed to blend the original architecture with new-fangled elements without too much disconcerting clash. The element that really had me entranced, though, was the hallway that had clearly originally been an alleyway between two buildings. They kept the original windows (with new glass, I'm sure) and put a skylight at the top of the first floor so one could see the original exteriors stretching out above them.

The workshop itself was less amazing -not that it was bad. It was probably about the same as any other all-day lecture on a piece of software. Many people were fascinated. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't entirely sure how this program could be useful to me and my work - it seems to be designed mainly for editing large batches of records at once, usually records received from book vendors to go with a library's latest purchase of books. Everything I catalog is unique. Not to mention that OHS doesn't buy books in bulk. Oh well.

And the lunch provided was slathered in mayonaisse. Ugh.

Luckily I wasn't particularly hungry, since I'd had 2 large slices of delishus home-made cinnamon bread for breakfast. And I'd been drinking coffee all morning. So I just snacked on the cookie that came with the mayonaisse. The cookie was interesting - it looked, felt, and tasted like a blueberry muffin-top. It made me think of Seinfeld. Sadly, no one sitting near me got the reference.

On the plus side, with all that time on my hands today, I finished another square - this one a knit square with cables. I made one major mistake: see if you can spot it!


On my bike ride downtown this morning I saw:

A homeless man literally peeing off the side of a bridge. Thankfully, he was aiming for the train tracks, and not the pedestrian walkway below.

A sea monster! I swear! I saw it out of the corner of my eye before it dived below the water and it was scary!

On my bike ride home this afternoon I saw:

A crow using cars to crack walnuts. On Interstate Avenue. I thought it was only a small population of crows in Japan that knew this trick - but apparently it's spread here too. Though - these crows haven't yet figured out that a stop-light is the best place for nut-cracking. They were diving into traffic to pick up the nut-meats.

I Bike!

This is my bike:



This is the MAX


Saturday, on my bike ride home, the MAX and I both left the general vicinity of OHS at the same time. Well, actually, the MAX had a slight headstart (it was just leaving a stop before I crossed the street behind it).

Here is the route I take vs. the route the MAX takes:
(you can tell which is which by the handy key I drew)


The MAX costs $4.75 for an all day pass. Almost $1,000 for a whole year.

My bike cost me $200 3 years ago. I bought a bell for it (with a dinosaur), and recently had to replace a tire... so all in all, that averages out to about $80 a year, $.22 a day.

Saturday, both the MAX and I reached the Rose Quarter at exactly the same time (represented on above map by where the two routes meet on the east side). I pulled ahead for half a block but then the MAX blasted past me... until I caught up to it again at the Albina/Mississippi stop (a few blocks before the route crosses the freeway marked 30). I managed to keep up for another block, before it lost me again, right around where Interstate Avenue become a 30 degree incline. I reckon the MAX beat me home by about 8 minutes (that's including the amount of time it would take me to walk from the Prescott station to my house).

I've seen other people fly past me up that hill where the MAX lost me - on their fancy 5lb bikes with more than just the one gear and wearing aerodynamic helmets... So, somewhere, out there, are people who can beat the MAX in a race. So why should I take the MAX (aside from the rain)?

Sure, a car would beat us both, but that's kind of like cheating. Plus, you miss all the scenery, like the geese swimming in the Willamette and all the trees turning bright red. You miss the smell of the Widmer Brewery (which kind of smells like Grapenuts soaked in whole milk covered in sugar). You miss the feel of the rain soaking through your stockings, and the incredibly satisfying feeling of trading them for dry jimmie jams as soon as you get home (dry clothes never felt so good!)

Also, you had to buy gas. Sucker!

And there's all that stuff about the environment too, but whatever. Biking is just way funner and infinitely more satisfying. Like finishing a New York Times crossword without looking anything up.

Another Disappointing Halloween

How many of us have fond memories of Halloween, trick-or-treating in packs of 10, with maybe 1 to 2 chaperons, usually teenage siblings, in tow? I remember the excitement of the house a half-mile away that always had a crazy haunted house set-up that you had to go through to get to the witch with the candy (King size Hershey bars, no less). I remember the frustration when a house with lights on wouldn't open the door, and the joy when someone did answer, in an amazing costume or with a crazy party in the background. I remember the mystery of the candy - sometimes money or toys. My favourite was Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, but sometimes you got something new and unusual - like rice candy or home made cookies.

I remember all that, and I feel pity for the children of the last decade.

I think it began when I was in high school with all those urban myths about poison candy. Suddenly, children were advised to not take home-made goodies, because someone might be handing out strychnine laden cookies, without a care of how easy they would be to trace. Then they couldn't eat their candy before getting home, so that their parents could check to make sure the wrappers weren't tampered with - because child-murderers hold in their animus all year to let loose on Halloween!

When I was finally old enough to stay home and hand out candy (at least, that's how I saw it), my mom was grateful to have some help. That first year, I barely got more than 10 minutes to myself between Trick-or-Treaters between 6.30pm and 9pm. We had no candy leftover.

Sometime between then, and now, people became scared of Halloween, and not in the fun way. For years, we kept buying tons of candy, and then we'd be forced to eat it ourselves over the next month.

In 2006, I lived in Van Nuys, California. On Halloween night, my roommate at the time was going to some huge party in West Hollywood, but I declined to go along because his friends seemed like douches. I was all set to spend the evening watching episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer with my giant bowl of fun-size candy, dressed as a zombie. I thought I might get 2 or 3 Trick-or-Treaters, but Oh was I wrong!

That night, I blasted through all the candy reserves (my roommate, having lived there in years past, was prepared). There were teenagers not even in costume! There were young mothers with babies in strollers! And of course, adorable children in fairy and ninja costumes. It was amazing.

Last night, I rushed around, last minute, trying to get some candy. It's the first year since Van Nuys when I have lived in a house. I've always thought that having candy on Halloween was one of the most important responsibilities of home-ownership (or home-rentership). I considered making cookies, to cut down on candy-related trash, but I know how paranoid people are about that now. So I went to Cost Plus and picked up some Botan Rice-Candy and Kinder Chocolates. I got home just as dark fell. Crayon was dressed as Dracula, I was dressed as his victim. I put candles on the front porch, drew scary bats on our punkins, and waited.

Our only visitors were the children from next door.

Someone posted on Facebook last night how when they went out, people answered the door just to say they weren't giving out candy. It's a sad cycle. Children don't come, so people don't have candy ready. So the children who do come get disappointed.

And it makes me wonder, why is Halloween still so alive in Van Nuys? Van Nuys is a predominately Hispanic community, and I wonder if the nature of ethnic communities makes the residents more trusting of each other, more like actual communities. I talk to my neighbours, but not everyone does (I'm looking at you, people across the street who won't even make eye-contact).

I'm also reminded of a few years ago, when I went back to my home town and stopped to look at my childhood home. Boyfriend and I took a picture for my parents, because it had changed so. Then we walked to the park that was my favourite childhood haunt. When we walked back to our car, we were stopped by the police.

Fearful suburbanites had reported hippies taking photographs.

The residents of the house were most abashed when they learned that I, too, was once a middle-class house dweller. Their excuse? A car was broken into a week ago. The neighbourhood had become "dangerous." So, of COURSE they had to assume that we had a nefarious purpose for taking a photograph of a house in broad daylight.

I guess my conclusion is this: talk to your neighbors. Share cake recipes or whatever. We need to remember that we all live on these streets together, and that it is extremely unlikely that the couple down the street will try to murder your children any day of the year, much less Halloween.

Let your children have fun again. I cannot, in my wildest imagination, think that getting candy from minimum wage workers in a fluorescent-lit mall is anywhere near the same experience.

Oishii Tabemono

Received in the mail this week: Bird Nest Drink
Ingredients: Rock sugar, ginseng, bird nests

It's really not so bad. It tastes a little like mild dish soap, with sugar. Boyfriend actually really liked it, which works out, because according to the box, bird nest drink is supposed to increase manly vitality. And as Boyfriend has a show every night this week alongside work, he needs all the vitality he can get.

Eaten this week (several times): vegan ramen
From:Miho Izakaya

Miho Izakaya, my favourite restaurant in town, has a menu full of delishusness, with occasional specials that are even more delishuser-such a this week's vegan ramen. They say it might become a permanent part of the menu, since it's soon to be "soup weather." Nothing would make me happier. I'll probly be eating dinner there nearly every day!

Eaten every morning this week for breakfast: vegan cake
Main ingredient: coconut milk.

We are out of sugar, so we made the cake with brown sugar, which is way better than regular sugar. Specially when home-made from regular sugar and molasses, though that's part of the reason why we're out of regular sugar.

What extra-oishii foods have you eaten lately?

A Pillow with a View

Knits with Wolves

Of my winter knitting project, I have already finished 2 squares. But now, I have been stuck on the same knit sample square all week. I can't seem to get past the first row. The pattern wants me to increase by 4, then decrease by 5, and that just feels wrong to me. I'm sure the stitches come back in the next row, but as I've been working on it piecemeal on breaks at work, I just get flummoxed and give up. But now that I have a weekend ahead of me, maybe I can finally figure it out.

In other news, temperatures in the mornings, when I bike to work, have been consistently in the 40-46 F range. So, I've put away my summer clothes and busted out my winter clothes. What a sad summer! I'm pretty sure I only just put away my winter clothes less than 3 months ago.

Whiskey "Dolla Dolla Billz" Burkle, the kitten, has been most confused by the change in weather - especially by that thing we call "rain." Even though her first tender weeks were spent outside in the cold mountain air, since Boyfriend and I brought her home she has only known artificially heated domiciles and summer sunshine.

She still wants to be outside all the time, but once she goes out and feels the frosty chilliness, she cries to come back inside. 5 minutes later, she wants back out, as if she expected something to change. Rainy days are even worse.

Maybe I'll have to knit her some sweaters.

Crayon Been Blogged!

By someone other than me! Finally, world-wide stardom is within his grasp.





A fellow librarian just started this blog, starring animals in sweaters (because when you take regular animals and add sweaters, you increase their natural cute levels by a factor of OMG).

Now it's Official!

Finally, I'm a real librarian! I get to catalog manuscript collections at the Oregon Historical Society - collections that have been briefly cataloged once before, in card form, but now need to be brought into the 21st century!

Yes, this is the very same job that I didn't get two months ago - but luckily for everyone, the girl they hired over me got an even better job (for her) at the county archives, so, as the second person on the original 2 person short list, I got the call. I'm really glad it worked out this way, because I like my predecessor, but it was hard for me to overcome my jealousy and be nice when she had the job I wanted. So now we both have jobs and everyone is happy!

So far I've gotten to catalog some interesting stuff, including some letters from President Buchanan to various people, including President Polk, about the "Oregon Question."

By far the MOST interesting item I've come across I didn't actually get to catalog myself, the former Project Cataloger cataloged it as she was training me to take over: a paper purporting that many, if not most, Pacific Northwest place names that we generally accept as Native American in origin are actually Russian. Including Sacagawea, which he asserts is actually Russian for "Fat Bitch." The author makes these claims without any citations whatsoever, without even using the international phonetic alphabet to back up his claims of similar pronunciation, and finally, without anything even resembling a historical linguistic analysis.

Perhaps that's why it has been sitting in the OHS vault uncatalogued for 60 years. In any case, it's sure to be a fascinating read for students of either linguistics or the racism of the 50s.

The Weather Turns

Now that the temperatures are beginning to dip below 50 and the rain keeps me indoors, its time to turn my crafty attentions back towards the type you can do whilst cuddled under a blanket in front of a roaring heater duct: knitting and crochet.

I tend not to do many yarn crafts in the summer. I think its because it feels too sedentary for nice weather and because the pile of yarn that must sit in your lap is much too warm. But it's perfect for winter. I can knit and crochet while cuddling with Boyfriend and watching movies (I do like to multi-task).

For the past few winters I have been ever so slowly working on a large collection of sample squares which I have been combining into a giant knitty-crochet quilt:

I figure its a good way to develop a feel for the different types of stitches more complex patterns may call for. It also develops my pattern reading skills, which I may say is quite good at this point. I can read almost any pattern with only an occasional call to my mother.

I've just printed up a thick new stack of square patterns for this winter (downloaded for FREE! from Knit and Crochet Now). I'm ready for you now, Winter!

The Adventures of Sara and Jessica: Episode 1

Obviously, Jr. High School in California taught us a whole lot...

...about killing time.

High School Photography

Halfway through my senior year of high school, I decided to drop French and take up Photography. Many of my friends were taking photo, and it seemed like a fun way to ride out the end of high school with minimal work. I was also taking yearbook class that year and had learned early on that a camera in hand was as good as, and oftentimes better than, a hall pass.

I had so much fun that I also took Photo in college, and discovered that it was a lot harder than high school made it out to be. I could never get the film to develop correctly on my own, and in college I could no longer depend on my friends to do it for me. My borrowed camera had a broken light meter, so I never got the exposure quite right. Most of the assignments were about nature and since I worked when I wasn't in school, I didn't quite have the time to drive out to the countryside to take photos of cows. I didn't do as well in the college class.

I wish I had stuck with it though, it was a lot of fun and I'm not terrible at it. And now if I want access to a dark room, financial aid won't cover it.

Here are a couple of my favourite high school photo class works:

The assignment was patterns or something. All I know is that the photo teacher liked this one so much, he made me submit it to a photo show. Sure, it was just at a bank, but in Concord, CA that's probably about as prestigious as it gets.

The assignment was shadows. This isn't the one I ultimately turned in - I thought it was too obvious what the shadows were shadowing, but over the years I've decided that I really like this one.

And the requisite Murray photo. Printed in reverse.

Profit Model : Lie to the Customers

Today, as I was walking from the Oregon Historical Society to the Multnomah Public Library, as part of the Portland Archives Crawl, I stopped in a store which advertised bulk vinegars and olive oil, Benessere Oils and Vinegars.

The place looked nice, filled with row upon row of urns filled with myriad flavours of balsamic vinegar and olive oil. The employees seemed friendly. I was greeted immediately upon my entrance by a smiling woman who invited me to sample as many of their wares as I desired. The prices seemed outrageous - most being $10 for 6.76 fluid ounces. But I like to support bulk vendors, so I asked the smiling woman how they felt about people bringing in their personal bottles to fill up... and got a stuttering non-answer about the health department and how I'd have to buy a bottle from them.

Now, I can understand if it's their policy not to allow personal bottles. Some places want to force you to give them extra money. It sucks, but if that's how they want to play, you can't argue. You just don't shop there. But to pretend it's health code? That's insulting and manipulative. I have entered many a fine purveyor of coffee and used my own mug. I have entered many a grocery retailer and filled my own containers with bulk goods. If that's a violation of health code, then a lot of establishments are in great danger of getting shut down.

I simply smiled sadly and said, "that's unfortunate" and walked out. At least I got to sample a couple of vinegars.

Oh, and the Archive Crawl was fab. I didn't win the raffle, but I got a free Buffy comic book! And knowledge. Lots of knowledge.

What it means to be Polish

According to the annual Polish Festival in Portland, being Polish apparently means:

Beer, sausage, dancing and Chopin.

I can get behind that.

I've often felt, as a white American, a strange dearth of culture. Sure, we Americans have our contrived consumer culture, with our Christmas and our Fourth of July and all the requisite plastic trimmings. We even have our national heroes and our legends, with our George Washington and our Johnny Appleseed. But it all seems so bland, so saccharine and so... recent.

I don't know if I'm the only one who is left empty by the vapidity of most American "culture", but the result for me is that I've always been really interested in learning about other cultures, especially those that belonged to my great-great grandparents.

As far as I know, bits of me belong to the Irish, the British and the Poles. Part of being American means that most of my ancestors came here running from something, be it famine, persecution, or war. On top of that, the pressure to assimilate to American ways has always been great. So, much of my family history stops about 2 generations back. I have one great-grandfather who was a run-away and never spoke of his family, and another who escaped communist Russian rule in Poland to buy a dairy farm in Vancouver. And that's where the knowledge ends.

I've always felt closer to the Irish side of my family, mostly because I spent more time with my Irish grandmother than any of my other grandparents. But she was more southern than Irish (she grew up in Mississippi) and the cultural wisdom she imparted to me was limited to Jesus, Yams and racism (seriously). So it was interesting to learn a little about Polish culture, even if it was just in a form easily digestible for the masses (i.e. kielbasa).

The dancing was great, the beer was amazing, and who doesn't like a little Chopin? I think I'll join the Polish Association, and see if i can find an Irish one too. At the very least, maybe I can learn a few new dance moves.

Quilting Fun: Update

I put anything cozy looking on the floor for 5 seconds, and Crayon curls up on it.

It's almost done! Now I've just got to do the fancy quilting stitches to connect all the layers and put a border on it to cover the edges.

How does it look for a very first quilt? Better than Abigail Duniway Scott's?

It's Monday Morning...

...And there was no coffee!!!

Well, no roasted coffee. So, that's what I did, still bleary-eyed and tousled-haired. This time, since I wanted my coffee 20 minutes ago, I made medium roast.

Sorry it's blurry. The coffee was cooling, so I couldn't drink it yet. Cameras are difficult to use.

While it was cooling (it's still brewing right now) I decided to take a photo of a recently finished project to share with the world: My Bottle Path.

An entire summer in the making, I've finally finished it! There must be over 300 bottles in the path, beer and soda - and maybe a hot sauce bottle thrown in for kicks. It involved many many weeks of asking neighbours, party hosts and parents for their glass recycling. Then it took trench digging, bottle placing and finally a lot of sand and dirt and sweeping. But now it's done! And we can walk on it! Just in time for the rain to keep us inside for the next 6 months!

(I took an overall shot of the path this morning, but it was blurry too. Sorry!)

Now that we're talking about re-using excessive packaging, I'd like to talk a little about plastic grocery bags:

STOP USING THEM!

Roommate has a habit of going shopping and coming home with 10 plastic bags (sometimes double bagged). I've tried offering him the use of our canvas bags, of which I have more than enough for him to borrow, but to no avail. Earlier this year, the collection of plastic bags in our house got so insane that I macaramed a lampshade out of all of them (it had to be at least 100).

That was, seriously, only 3 months ago. The collection has gotten ridiculous again. I guess I do have another lamp in need of a shade... My original plan was to make it out of fabric (I have some old silk slips just dying to be repurposed). Oh well.

I remember when I bought my first re-usable canvas bag: Summer, 2001 in Stuttgart. My travel-friend Kelley and I were taking a German-language immersion class for a month. The first time we went grocery shopping we had a little bit of a culture-clash:

As we went to pay, we were informed that we either had to buy a canvas bag or carry our food out in our hands. So I bought a bag (picturing a turtle kissing a frog and the words: Schützt unsere Umvelt) and NEVER forgot it again. We desperately need such a policy here in the US.

For the next 6 or 7 years back in California I used that bag, and others added to my collection, while getting hard looks from most cashiers and heavy sighs from baggers. Only in a Mexican grocery store in Van Nuys did I ever receive praise from a cashier for bringing my own bags.

Until I moved to Portland, that is. Not everyone in this town uses canvas grocery bags (i.e. Roommate) but it's not just accepted here, it's generally expected and encouraged. A lot of that may be due to environmental-responsibility suddenly becoming hip, but I'll take it!

In conclusion: seriously folks, STOP USING PLASTIC BAGS. It's wasteful and unnecessary and an easy thing to do for the planet.

Murray at his Finest

Murray Von Staunch was very brave and he would never, NEVER, give up until he was absolutely SURE the threat was completely annihilated.

Make sure all small dogs are out of the room before playing.

The First Dozen

Meet Nyneave and Egwene (from left to right).
Yes, we're big Wheel of Time nerds.

Egwene is a Black Minorca and Nyneave is a Dark Brahma. We got them both this May. Egwene recently began laying eggs, but Nyneave just hangs around looking worried whenever Egwene starts squawking. I started to worry about her, but a little bit of research revealed that Dark Brahmas can take up to 2 years to become real women!

Egwene has finally reached her first dozen! We're very proud of her. I decorated an egg carton specially.

Her eggs began very tiny, almost golfball sized (it was very cute). But now she lays real sized eggs.

She's laid a great many more than a dozen by now, but she's finally caught up to our egg usage. I'm gonna have to make dozens of cookies today to keep on top of it! Once Nyneave begins laying, we'll have to start giving eggs away!

Rosemary Vinegar: Success

It's as delicious as it looks. Kind of sweet, actually. Which surprised me, but it shouldn't have, because I am a huge fan of the Rosemary Mochas from Pix Patisserie.

(For a few months I was adding rosemary to my coffee every morning, until I switched to cinnamon and nutmeg, until I switched to ginger, until I switched to cardamom, until I switch to roasting my own coffee).

In fact, I threw a splash of this vinegar into my morning coffee. Yum!

I'm sure this vinegar would also be excellent for marinades. I've yet to try making marinades with any of these vinegars, as I don't really cook meat all that much. But eventually I may try marinating some squash or tofu... What else does one marinade?

This was the last vinegar to be made this summer (my vinegar shelf is quite full now). I'm moving on to canning for the next few months (hmm... rosemary vinegar for pickling?).

In the meantime, here's my rosemary vinegar recipe (I don't remember where it came from):

A bunch of rosemary
White vinegar to cover

Wash rosemary and place in a tight-sealing jar. Cover with vinegar. Seal, and let steep in a sunny window for 6 to 8 weeks.

6 to 8 weeks later, strain contents into a saucepan and bring to a simmer (DO NOT BOIL) for 5 to 10 minutes. Allow to cool, then pour into a pretty bottle. If desired, place a sprig of rosemary in the bottle for extra pretty-ness and identification. A label works too.

Since rosemary is pretty much an evergreen (at least up to zone 9, such as Portland) you can gather enough herb to make this vinegar any time of year... although the sunny windowsill might be problematic for cloudier climes.

The Murray Song

Today is officially Murray's first Death Day.

Listen to the song that I (and Jesse Rimler from Kapowski) wrote about my dog, circa 2002.

And enjoy these photos: