PlazaJen: The Blog

Riding the Bike with One Pedal.

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Oooops….

Soooo Crazy Cat Lady has issues. She’s like an octogenarian collector’s back room of National Geographics, to be exact. The cray-cray is strong with CCL. We found out she doesn’t “socialize with mean people,” as she waved at our house; what’s hilarious is the notion of her socializing at all, given that she seems to subscribe to my mother’s newsletter on “Social Drinking” and has her own subset of drugs she takes. ANYway, a couple days ago, BING-BONG, there goes the doorbell. James went to answer it and I could tell the crazy times were ON just from the tone of his voice. “WHADDYA NEED?” he brusquely said, through the barely-opened door.

WELL. Turns out she had a small fire (good lord, I can only imagine how that happened) and it somehow rendered her land line useless. Could he call Donny and let him know that her phone’s not working. O-kay, 10-4, CCL, will do. He followed through, and back to her hovel she went. The fire does explain the random furniture showing up in the ditch by her house, though none of it appeared to be burned. And she’s somehow called the action line to have it removed, but I haven’t spent to much time puzzling that one out. ANYWAY.

UPDATE: DOUBLE OOPS! I neglected two minor details – she came over with one of her feral lovelies, AND was carrying a roll of toilet paper. Let the mystique and intrigue continue!!

Next day? BING-BONG. (Really, I don’t plan to stay in my jammies all day so I can avoid the door, but hey, look who’s dressed to answer it this time? NOT ME!)  We thought it was the guy fixing our lawn mower; as James entered the breezeway he said, “Nope, it’s Crazy Cat Lady.”

And CCL? Says through the door, “YES, IT’S CRAZY CAT LADY.”

(Thus the aforementioned, “Ooops…”)

This time she’s got her corded phone with her. CLEARLY her phone does not work, can you not see this? (Um, sure, because there IS NO PHONE WIRE.) But she needs a phone. Can we give her one? She’s had a fire.

Uhhhh.

No.

I think had we given her a phone, it would have been akin to when my co-worker started bringing McDonald’s for the homeless guy who lived in the stairwell at work. And the feral cats she feeds. They will only stay longer…..and keep coming back!

Plus, now she knows she’s got a nickname. Whups. Given the back story on her, though, I think she’s had that label waaay before she moved in across the street.

Happy Mother’s Day

To those who are mothers through their love and actions. Biology can define you as a mother, certainly, but it doesn’t mean you’re doin’ it right.

 

Mine is in rehab for the second time, claiming she’s “just a social drinker”. Clearly she is quite misunderstood, as going on an eleven-day bender, drinking after getting out of rehab the first time, and being confronted by your peers and colleagues and having to “retire early” because you’ve been “socially drinking” before/during work, why, that’s not alcoholism, it’s just being really, really fucking social. Life of the party!

To think I was worried about how I would handle her making amends as part of the Twelve-Step program.

Perhaps the one good thing to come out the past six months of angst has been a freshly-developed relationship with my uncle (my mother’s brother.) He is, in many ways, like my mother as I knew her – quick to laugh, optimistic, hard-working – yet not as plagued by his family of origin issues and at the core, a loving and forgiving person. We have had countless conversations, and I’ve learned more painful things about my mom than I imagined possible.  One of the things that I’ve done, through the dwindling silence after my father died, was to always make sure I sent her a card, note, email, gift on the main holidays. Mother’s Day, Birthday, Christmas. Many of those gifts were hand-knit items – socks, hats, lace scarf, etc. In my naivete, I imagined she at least showed them off and told people they were from me. What a fool – letting my inner ten-year old hang on to that dream. Nope. I am not a topic. That one nicked the bone, I must say. A more neutral perspective pointed out that much of her behavior probably centered around maintaining her own victimology, for to be cut off from her only child works better as a sob story than ownership in the dance.  And a good reason to “be social.” That helps, but of course it doesn’t change a thing. My poor uncle initially pushed for me to visit, to help, to try to intervene. Ten years ago, I might have done that. Now, I recognize that I am powerless in this situation, and until my mother decides FOR HERSELF she really wants to quit drinking, all the rehab and interventions and talking will be for naught. I have learned from watching a dear friend go through the whole process of recovery, and while I’m sure she would rather have not had to go through it, I am grateful for what she taught me.

So, onward we go, and focus on the things we can control and change, appreciate the people who put in the effort, who talk and listen and support. Honor those who love you; remember to honor yourself in the process.

 

Tomatoes in the News!

Our good friends, Todd & Julie, have photographed everything tomato-related, including plants, the finished product, James’ hands separating seedlings…. and this past Sunday, those photos were a major feature in the House + Home section of Sunday’s Kansas City Star! Along with an awesome interview with my husband, who doles out all the growing advice you can get regularly over on his blog.  Since the pictures aren’t online, I snapped the two full-pages with my phone:

 

As much as I detest sweating, I’m ready for some fresh, tangy, delicious, home-grown tomatoes!

View from the Tripper

Tripper: Hullo. Hullllooooo, we came right back this morning, yes, did you notice?

Me: Good dogs! Very good. Sit.

Tripper: We were so good. Now let me show you with my nose where the real treats are, ok, lady? OK?

(Tripper counter-cruises the stove, snuffling like a truffle pig. I see the pork shoulder that was in the smoker overnight is wrapped in foil and parked squarely – safely – on the back left burner, which also happens to be the furthest accessible point from either direction.)

Me: Laughs.

Tripper: Oh my god, so, like, can I have that? I’d really like that. That smells AMAZEBALLS, and you know, you did take my balls away from me. I’d really like that meat. (SNUFFLES DEEPLY) I mean, ok, I sound selfish. I’ll share. With her. (looks at Polly) Like, so, can WE have that? We’d really like that. We’ll be super good. Swear.

Later, I discover Mr. Tripper paid Polly with false promises of future treats to go in his kennel last night (in the dark hallway, after they came in from their nightly constitution) instead of him, so he could have free-range of the house for just one night. James got up at 2 am and realized the mistake, as a waggly happy Tripper was ready to go go GO outside (I smells meat!) and poor Polly was in the crate. Guess I need to turn the light on tonight to make sure this sort of mischief doesn’t continue! And no. No meat treats for breakfast. They got plenty of bones yesterday, and a rib bone tonight, so no matter how pathetic they try to act, we are ON to them.

Church of Stove

I got up this morning & hit the ground running!

James got a Weber smoker a week or so ago, and we had a turkey in the deep freeze, so we arranged to have our gardening friends Julie & Todd over to have a late afternoon meal. The turkey will be smoked, along with a large pan of homemade baked beans, and greens are simmering on the stove. Grandparents are also rumored to be showing up as well, so it will be a full table!

The beans are my first attempt – and a salesperson I was dining with on Friday sent me her recipe, as she also loves to cook & these beans are requested over and over again from her friends and family. I modified it a little bit (of course) by adding in some frozen Serrano peppers, and omitted the bacon because we had about half a pound of smoked pork butt that I chopped and added to the mixture. I doubled the recipe (of course) so hopefully these freeze well! Three kinds of beans – pork & beans, red kidney beans, and butter beans, plus ketchup, molasses, brown sugar, vinegar & mustard.  Here’s a shot of what didn’t fit in the pan:

Moving on from there (as I was cutting up onion after onion!) I sliced up some hot Italian sausage, and got that cooking with an onion. Added chicken broth, a huge bag of fresh spinach, and about five potatoes, cut into chunks. That’s simmering on the stove, and will get a last-minute addition of some half-and-half before serving. That’s going to be “early brunch”. Homegrown spinach is so fantastic!

On to the last onion… James went out in the rain and picked a giant tub trug of Siamese Dragon greens… basically a huge mixture of all sorts of greens, including bok choy, mustard/turnip greens, some crazy escarole-like fronds, and I started sauteing the onions and browning the delicious-looking smoked ham shank. I added a pitcher of water, a few cubes of vegetable bouillon, and got to work cleaning and stripping the greens from the tougher stems. Once a sink basin was full, in to the pot they went, and the process began again. Eventually, the huge bucket of greens compressed into a stockpot, where they will simmer all day – to be dressed at the table with some Serrano vinegar!

The house is redolent with savory smells… rain is falling outside, and it’s time for another cup of coffee. Enjoy your Sunday, no matter how you spend it!

 

An Open Letter to Andrew and Dan:

In the recent issue of “Kitchen Notes” in Cook’s Illustrated, you told us all how AWESOME it is to cook bacon this innovative way: put bacon in pan, cover bacon with water, turn on the heat and let it go! According these dudes, the water keeps the bacon meat from shrinking, and then as the water dissipates, you just let it sizzle and crisp up and ZOMG you have bacon like you used to have in your Easy Bake Kitchen Suite, only your real-life bacon is made of meat and not rubber! OMG! This is so not how it fucking works! Let me save you from this experiment! Right after I go choke these foodie dudes to death with a set of circular knitting needles.

Because what happens is that the meat bubbles along in the water, and it looks nasty-ass and foamy, but you think, ok, you’re essentially par-boiling meat, it’s going to do that, it’s MAGIC, remember, and then? The water cooks off and you don’t just float into nice-and-crispy with a Zoey Deschanel ‘I’m-so-twee’ skipping move, no, my friends, you now see the fat start to render and cook off the bacon. Which is what bacon does in a frying pan. But what did we have in the pan already? Yes? Are we following? WE HAD WATER. Have you ever accidentally gotten something with too much moisture into hot oil before, have you? Do you know what happens?

BURNING HOT FAT EXPLOSIONS is what happens, that’s what. Good thing I didn’t do any tours of duty or it would have been ALLLLLLL torn up in there, what with the spattering cracks of pain and PTSD and the flashbacks and the napalm and the screams.

And, because your meat has absorbed water at varying levels, you will now balance hot burning fat explosions with the fact that parts of your bacon are charring while other parts are looking like parboiled rubbery white fat. So you try to hold the over-cooked parts out of the pan with your tongs, while the blubber tries to catch up, and you dodge esplodyness of epic proportions.

NOT FUN. Bacon, we used to be good friends. I know it’s not your fault. It’s the endless pursuit of foodiness and trying new things, but I’m never going to do it again and Andrew and Dan better never pop out into a back alley to get a quick smoke, because I’m going to be waiting. And maybe not with knitting needles. With a pan of hot bacon fat. We’ll all have matching arm scars!

Sure, Fern.

We went to a draft party last night at Arrowhead – had a great time, except I brilliantly put my (full) bottle of water into my purse, only to discover after I sat down that said bottle  had been opened and then semi-re-shut – so at least half of it poured into my bag. Fortunately, I’m vigilant about putting my phone in its little side pocket, so no iPhone died, and my iPod was in a case that soaked up the water before it reached the electronics.

It did make me think of this, though, one of my all-time favorites from classic SNL. And with some  of the things I see that get posted on the internet it’s certainly still germane today, in that we masterfully protect people’s rights to Extreme Stupidity. I’m just glad when my own doesn’t cost me money!

UDPATE: Guitar Obtained!

Kansas City Hospice needs your help – they have a patient, and her father would like to play the guitar for her during her final days. He discovered his was warped. A friend of mine & I were all set to go with a Yamaha guitar from Craigslist, but the douchecanoe has failed to follow through. (KARMA! It comes around!) Anyway, I will refrain from posting more identifying details but may a thousand stinging bees descend on his heart.
To that end, if you have a guitar in playable condition that you are willing to donate, PLEASE call KC Hospice (816.363.2600) and ask for Kenyon, who will make sure it finds its way into the hands of this dad. My heart breaks every time I think about this, on so many levels – first and foremost, I wish no parent ever has to witness their child’s passing, followed by the fact that despite our country’s reluctance to acknowledge death and even allow people suffering in pain a dignified choice to end their lives, people who work in hospice are angels on earth. They at least provide a level of grace to a painful situation.

If you can help, and need to get in touch with me, email me at plazajen – at the good ol’ gmail.com and I will do whatever possible.

 

Update: a guitar came in to hospice yesterday, so this has been taken care of. It hadn’t been confirmed when I posted this, and I didn’t want to lose any more time. I appreciate the support – within ten minutes we had two guitars being offered, and that means a ton. Balances out the struggles of yesterday/this morning, trying to get one. Most people are really, really good peeps. Love when that gets re-affirmed. BUT – if you still would like to donate a guitar to them, they’d love to have one around Hospice House, for families to use. Phone/Contact still the same as listed above.

 

Random Orts

  1. I’m amused? Bemused. I have discovered narcissists don’t fall very fall from their trees… and when you systematically find problems with every single person around you? It might be time to point the analysis inward. But, as the saying goes…. not my problem. All I have left is pity. And, admittedly, a little condescension. I’ll own that, and that alone.
  2. My job is awesomesauce. It’s a lot of work, it’s new and different challenges, new industries. Lots of new people and new interactions – learning is lifeblood. Energizing, invigorating. Add to the equation that I am working with some familiar faces and some new ones – laughter and shared experiences go a long way to building the backbone of a strong, successful team.
  3. Lip Service is all that it is. Actions speak louder than words. As much as I love words, they truly only go so far. I’ve learned now, to wait and see.  And even when I don’t like the result – well, at least I know.
  4. The garden is thriving. I made those kale chips, we’ve eaten crazy volumes of spinach, and the lettuce is pouring in. James is an amazing farmer! We were talking about fresh pico de gallo this morning, and as much as I don’t love summer heat, I sure can’t wait until it’s time to make that first big bowl.
  5. One of my favorite movie quotes (yes, there are many, and most from Pulp Fiction) comes from an earlier Tarantino gem, “True Romance.”  It reminds me of my father, who told me everything would be ok, even in those darkest times:  “That’s the way it goes. But don’t forget, it goes the other way too.” And it’s true. There was some drama this week, and I felt beaten down and worried, and then, as I always do, I pushed myself into action, decided to tackle some of my to-do’s, and encountered a completely unexpected gift, saving some money, getting things taken care of, finishing off my week on a higher note.
  6. In related news, we finally got rid of the land line. It took years for me to let go of that convenience, but the savings will be awesome, especially since the expected costs for our alarm system did NOT go up! Bonus!
  7. For my KC peeps on the Southside – have you tried Ward Parkway’s AMC theater lately? The remodel job is AMAZEBALLS. We actually are returning to going to the movies! They have new seats, a new policy (under 18? got to have a parent/guardian, and no minors at night), and just recently completed – a new bar.
  8. Being the adult/parent/better person sucks, but what’s the alternative? Descend to a level you know is unhealthy? Show your ass all over the internet? You can’t engage to disengage; you can’t argue with crazy. Or diseased. I’ve learned a lot over the years, and one thing I’ve grown to recognize is the warning light over the tunnel of victim interaction and it says “NOWHERE”. So while any hole in one’s heart can hurt, packing it full of conflict and prolonged interaction is only a temporary salve, and it rots away at things, prolonging healing. So I just pay attention to the core, of what is important, what is healthy, and just keep moving forward.
  9. Still knitting! And I set a new World Record for myself, too – didn’t buy a single skein of yarn in Q1 of this year! In other knitting content, we had Franklin Habit as our guest teacher this year for the Sunflower Knitting Guild’s Knitting in the Heartland.  He was a terrific teacher, and it was great to connect/re-connect with people I hadn’t seen in a while. Learning some of the history of lace styles from around the world, working on lace, and designing knitted tessellations was very cool (the tessellations kind of bent my brain, I will confess!)
  10. Life is good.
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