in celebration

Today, SAR was born. Back in the day, that is. I have now known her longer than I haven't known her. We met, back in the day, that is, in high school and I will swear on everything I hold holy that she was blond then. Or at least, she had some very natural blond hi-lights. And, no, this does not mean, as some have said, that I think she is secretly a lesbian. It just means that she was blond at an early point in her life.

I hosted this party for her on Saturday (you have been keeping up with your reading, haven't you, Internets? Remember? If not, go back and read it before you continue. *sigh* We'll wait....). Well, it was really more like housing a party for her, there was very little prep, or actual hostess work, or even clean up. There was some fucking fabulous butter, though, because that girl does love butter. But I think I ate most of it. Anyway, it was great. It being the party, not the butter, although that was also great, clearly.

And there have been other, equally great, or even some lesser, parties I've hosted or attended with SAR. There was the one for my birthday, out at my folks' house that was sort of a surprise, but we were late, because while SAR is really the best at keeping secrets, she's not so good at lying, and so she had a hard time getting me out of the house early enough and so all the other (surprise) guests were either already there, or arriving as we did.

There was the one that was supposed to be a dinner party, but we never made dinner. Some folks showed up and we ate bread and cheese and artichokes and drank (oh, the days of living 3 blocks from the wine shop), and ran out for more bread, but then some other folks showed up after a rehearsal and we realized it was really too late to cook dinner, so how about some more bread? And wine.

And then there was the time I sort of drunkenly invited the entire theater community over for brunch the day following an event at the theater. Poor SAR, I think she really only intended for us to have one friend of hers over, but I got a little carried away. The next morning, I could not for the life of me remember who I'd invited, nor could I think what we would feed them. Luckily, they all brought nice breakfast-y things. They just kept coming.... knock after knock on the door. And SAR just kept making coffee as the kitchen filled up. There are pictures, somewhere.

You know you want to hear about the one involving lots of wine and a cd of Madonna on repeat and changing in and out of dress-up clothes....but there are people whose careers might be hurt if word got out about that one, so I'll hush now.

There were others, like the going away party where folks seemed to materialize out of the night, with baskets of food, and the porch was so crowded people stood out in the street (ok, so it was a small porch). And the ones that were so common as to be lost to my memory, the ones where folks just came by and stayed for a bit - you couldn't even call it a party.

She's the tops, this one. She'll say something snarkier than you thought could even be, but she'll keep up with you when things are bad and she'll do it so carefully you'll not even notice, you'll just realize you feel a little bit better. She can wear a dog collar like nobody's business; she can find herself 50 cents anyplace; she knew the kids on the mall back in the day when those kids didn't go home to the suburbs. She sings like to make you feel like home and she damn well better be at my birth, because nobody writes like her and I'll trust that story only to her.

Happy Birthday, girl.

Teh Weekend

It was Teh Busy.

Friday, I went to the theater and saw a play, that was really pretty good. Mamet, I love him. I do. Anyway, since I have buried my self at home since starting ttc, I have just not been at the theater, and, as things do, it has changed. Not a lot, but also not a little. I used to be there all the fucking time, but then my job changed and I started ordering sperm.... you know how it goes. So it was good to be there and to see folks and get a little visit with my friend JG. I'd not told him I've been chasing after a baby lo these many years, but I mentioned it (while we waited for a looooonnng train to pass, so we could walk to his car) and that was good. I've tried to be careful of myself , with whom I tell, but there was no good reason why JG didn't know - we're tight, when we see each other, that is - I just don't see him so much, what with the buried at home thing, and it never came up.

I took Sophie, my pretend child (MPC? - I love the acronyms) to a weekend sleep-away camp on Saturday. Over by the mountains. We drove south on the Parkway. And jesus christ. It was so pretty. Like to make you weep pretty. And I'll be damned if the company in the car wasn't pretty, too! After a week of mostly moody tweener angst, we had a delightful and fabulous drive. She did Mad-Libs and and read them aloud to me; she gleefully told me to guess what music she picked when I handed her the i-pod (The Be Good Tanyas, which bring up their own host of bittersweet memories - wow, could that have been a cheeseier phrase?); we talked and talked and interrupted each other to point out especially beautiful views or trees just turning; she spotted a red-tailed hawk that I had already dismissed as a turkey vulture; we saw tiny chipmunks scurry across the road and spent a good half mile laughing about how cute they were; she was put in charge of directions after we got onto rt. 56 and handled it masterfully. Whew. Maybe we'll make it through the storm of hormones and the culture clash after all. So long as I plan long drives through the mountains every couple weeks or so.

And then I hosted a party for dear, dear, SAR, who will, very briefly be only one year younger than me. It was a nice low key sort of thing. Although it did get raucous enough for my porch swing to break. Again. Oh, well. It is time to find a new handy-person anyway. You can leave your resume in the comments. It was a treat to have the house full of folks - or rather the porch full of folks. That may have been the last good porch night of the season. I had the chance to talk shop (Come on, what is the blog about, other than me? Getting knocked up - duh.) with a friend of SAR's who's in the throws of it herself. She works in L&D and so had interesting things to say about the REs in town. Plus, she is cute.

I went looking for pee-sticks for my good friend, old Clear Blue today. Remember her? Yeah, I knew you did. There was Shit Going On today - a trip to work (unpaid - ahem), lunch with my daddy, a trip to the health food store, laundry, making of dinner for friends with a new baby, etc, etc. In the midst of this, I remembered that old CB would be asking me to pee on a stick tomorrow or the next day. But I have no sticks! Ack! What's a ttc girl to do? Well, run to C.V.S, of course. So I did, but they had none. And? The sign where they should have been? Yeah, the one with the price. It said $49. For sticks to pee on. Now, you tell me, is it only ok for rich folks to have babies?

For those of you playing along at home: it's CD 8, and I've got a low reading on the monitor (good old Clear Blue). Mood-wise, it's been the usual ups and some sightly more intense downs, but I think those are circumstantial, as opposed to hormonal. But next week- woo and hoo! - the estrogen should show itself for real and everything will be great! Interestingly, after a week on the crazy Chinese herbs, my pre-o temps are a good 3-5 tenths of a degree higher than usual. Stay tuned for exciting news about my post-o temps!

not-so-false idols

I dream of blogging like this. So brilliant. I *love* her.

late as usual

Didn't everybody else do this days ago?

My pirate name is:

Mad Mary Bonney

Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

many days you have lingered around my cabin door

Today is good.

I got to work with CHO-girl at school. Yay! Just like old times.

My folks from Teh Internets were everywhere. In my email. On my blog. Everywhere. Yay. My folks IRL were everywhere, too. At my school. In my house. On my street. Fab.

Sophie was her usual charming self and delightedly told me to read a sad but beautiful passage from a novel she'd just finished.

And there was wine with the kids from New Orleans.

And there was dinner with the girls from New York.

And there were crazy Chinese herbs, listed here, for your edification:

• hoelen/ fu ling
• licorice/ gan cao
• astragalus (processed)/ zhi huang qi
• atractylodes (white, cooked)/ chao bai zhu
• tahn-kuei/dang gui
• cortex moutan/mu dan pi
• codonopsis/ dang shen
• white peony root/ sheng bai shao
• rehmannia (cooked)/ shu di huang
  

And then there was sleeping and great joy.


Oh, hard times come again no more.

cd 3

Yep. I'm done. Or, rather, I was done, but now I have started again.

To re-cap: that's 2 years ttc (with winters off, stupidly), 7 cycles with frozen gayspermbank-sperm, 6 with fab French gayboy sperm, 2.5 cycles with the addition of progesterone, countless cycles with over-priced pre-natals (although I was given a bottle and a half of really great, full of herbs as well as vitamins, mid-wife prescribed ones by a friend) and fertilitea, 1 cycle with baby aspirin, 1 cycle with cough-syrup, too many opk's, a couple packs of htp's and one loaner Clear Blue Easy monitor.

Moving on, as the kids say.

I went for an acupuncture appointment today, which was great. The accu-guy was very kind and also a little funny, and thought my charts looked good (why don't good charts get one a baby?). He stuck me full of needles and sent me home with a bag of nasty-tasting herbs. (I am all about the nasty-tasting medicine - it doesn't work if it doesn't taste bad.) He was very optimistic, which sort of turned my mood around.

In other news, it is CHO-girl's birthday! Hooray! What would I do without her?

Here's a question for all you FF kids who stop by (some of you stop by, right?) - why doesn't any one use full url's for the websites for internet cheapies?

cd 3

Oh yeah!

I almost forgot!
Today is the International Day of Peace. Yay! Peace!

Since we are sooo ahead of the game at my school, we celebrated it... yesterday! Ok, really, it's because that's how it was on the school calendar, and who am I to argue with the school calendar? No Body, that's who.

Anyway. It is the very early and tender beginning part of the year for toddlers, and so our version of the Day o' Peace is somewhat modified. The primary classes light a candle at the given hour, pass it from child to child (it's all very safe, quit calling Social Services), and have various discussions about peace. I think. I've never seen it because, as I said, it is a very tender and early point in the school year for my toddlers and, well, if I leave the room they cry. Anyway, our school had a lovely picture in the paper of children carefully passing the candle around a few years back (like 12) and we still milk the crap out of that picture. It's in every piece of promotional propaganda we've got.

Since I can't link to the over-used old newspaper photo, I'll give you a couple pictures from the toddler version from last year. (I don't have pictures from this year, because I was so busy Being Peaceful, I forgot my camera.)


First, I make a big to-do about how fire is hot, and the matches are "my work." Only after we go over this a million times, do I light the candle and get to the goods, which is me saying, "Today is Peace Day. When you look at our peace candle, you can say, 'Peace'." And all (ok, a few) of them say "Peace." And some of them look at me like I am crazy. I get that a lot this time of year.

Then I show them the Peace Crane, and say, "You can hold the Peace Crane and then pass it to your friend. You can look at your friend's eyes and say 'peace'." Insert some version "the candle is *my* work/ the candle is *hot*" in there wherever you see fit, 'cuz you know I was.

See, they actually do it.
Lovely.
And no burns.
Don't forget to add your blog to One Million Blogs for Peace, if you haven't already.

Happy International Peace Day!

HerSpace

Sophie announced to me and her mother, quite randomly, that she wanted "a MySp@ce." Read all the pre-teen attitude and psuedo-angst into those quotes you want. Poor kid, she got a no from both of us, immediately and with no qualifications. She wheedled and cajoled to the best of her ability (which works well with some of the adults in her life, but not with me, nor with her mother - we are a strong and united front), and gained no ground from either of us, but did get a crash course on how weird and dicey the internet can be. Plus, more noes (is that right for the plural of no?). The agony. Oh, wait....

****** there is some man walking through my neighborhood, singing to himself, something about, "give peace a chance, and see what happens, bum, bum, bum....." not the John Lennon version, but something entirely of his own making - fabulous*****

Anyway. I really think it is clear she's not old enough to navigate an adult social/hook-up network by herself because she's still naive enough to think that she should ask her mother and me. I guess this is good, the keeping open of the lines of communication, but really, I think if she were savvy enough to pull off registering on her own, she'd be savvy enough to tell the difference between people who want to be her friend and people who want to be her "friend," or at least savvy enough not to tell these "friends" too much about herself.

But back to the plot, or lack thereof. So I told her I'd see if I could find any teen social networks for her and we let it all go at that. And I did, but she didn't mention it again. Until today, when she asked me what year she would have been born in if she was 13 now. As background, when we set up her now-defunct h0tmail account, we faked her birth date, so she'd be old enough to join. So I opened my mouth to prompt her to do the math herself, and then thought to ask what she wanted to fake her birthday for. Nothing, she said. Uh-huh. So I told her she was on her own to figure it out and went back to the comics page (I am a *very* attentive caregiver). I reminded her a little later that I had, as promised, found some teen versions of MySp@ce, and showed her the link to one that I cannot remember the name of the save my life. Whatever it was, she jumped on it. Jumped in an I-don't-really-care-about-this-tweener way. (Lord) Which means that she set herself up an account and fussed around with it for the better part of an hour. She even showed me her avatar.

Score! Puesdo-angsty pre-teen - 1! Me - 1! We're all winners chez Starrhill!

aye

I'm still using my Quilt of Summer™ - a very light down comforter in a too small European-style duvet cover. It's the exact size of the area of my bed and is great for summer because it does not cover me fully. When you have no AC, it is crucial not to be fully covered. Especially crucial not to have one's feet covered - this is somehow related to the old "wear a hat to keep your whole self warm" thing. Anyway, my feet are footloose and fancy free with the Quilt of Summer™ and that is a fine thing in a Virginia summer.

So I woke up to temp this morning (or rather the whiney cat woke me up), and it was low, low, low - 97.3ºF low. Not below the coverline, because there isn't one this cycle, since I hand-set the ovulation day on old FF, but also not high enough to my mind at 5 am. I wrote this off to having slept with the Quilt of Summer™ - leaving my feet exposed - even though it is no long summer sleeping weather and let it go at that. (Really it is time to put old QS™ down for it's long winter's nap. But I am loath to let go of summer.) But then, just now, I looked at my chart over-lay, and damn, those falling curves of past failed cycles look awfully similar to the curve made by this morning's drop.

Better luck next time, right? Right. This was really and truly the last of the "good" cycles, the well timed cycles. A pregnancy that starts next month will put me back at work next school year with a 6 week old baby. Fuck. That is not enough time. Not enough.

So unless I get a nice bounce back in temps tomorrow, I think I am out this round. Fuck.

CD 28, 12 dpo.

and in the other corner

So school is its usual first-few-weeks-rough-edged self and my ass is kicked. Is it Fatigue or is it An Early Sign? Only my uterus knows for sure.

You'd think I'd be too tired to think about the 2ww, but you'd be wrongity wrong wrong, as Catherine has said for years. Just wrong. I've got phantom symptoms (Headache? With a side of sort-of-weirdly-timed-but-not-really-maybe-normal CM? Thanks, I'll take mine to go, please.) and quickly squashed fantasies (Do I have my positive HPT blog post written in my head? Why, yes, I do - I mean, no! No, I don't! That would jinx everything!), and hours of chart-obsessing and ttc blog reading under my belt.

Between the start of school and the ttw, I don't know if I'm coming or going.

CD 28, 11 dpo *sigh*

my own personal jesus

While I don't so much believe in god, I do have a close and personal relationship with The Lunch Gods. (Or, at least, a close and personal relationship with the High Priestess of The Lunch Gods.) In years past, The Lunch Gods (TLG?) have rained manna down on Their followers and all us followers had to do was sacrifice the occasional virgin. Good deal, no? There would be burritos, or mmmm... Irish Seafood Chowder and sometimes steak (!) and always the avocados. It was - yes - heavenly to live in the Kingdom of TLG. For there was the power and the glory of bountiful food in recycled tupperwares. TLG are nothing if not eco-friendly.

But then, as all good things do, the Age of TLG ended. I imagine other peoples have felt the same kind of emptiness and spiritual hunger when they find themselves suddenly afloat in the cold and lunch-less world, their gods' time having passed. Bereft is not too strong a word for the feeling of my very soul without TLG. Oh, the weeping and gnashing of teeth! Oh the longing for a well steamed burrito!

But, lo! Behold the Power of TLG!

And yea, though I've walked through the crappiest valley of the shadow of pre-school this week, I will fear no mid-day hunger; for They are with me; Their burritos and Their recycled tupperwares comfort me.

Tomorrow. Praise be.

The Lunch Gods are risen! Truely, They are risen!

not carless

So I have this thing, for lack of a better term, about my carbon foot print. Similar and closely tied to the whole Counting of Local Food Stuffs thing. You know how it is: (somewhat) obsessively turn off electrical things - ceiling fans, lights, stereo; floggings for excessive air travel; shopping at the farmer's market; not driving whenever possible; and so on and so forth. The driving is the big one. I really don't do it much. I have gone close to 6 weeks without buying gas. So every now and then, I begin to wonder if I could do without a car. Could I arrange things so I simply didn't need one? I could, I think. I come close in the summer, when Sophie is at camp. (The World of Sophie would have to change dramatically for this to happen for real.) I can walk or take the bus most places I need to go. Now, I love my car - for its great mileage, its longevity, its great handling, its kindness to me in still running after all this time and abuse. Love is really the word for it. But could I do without?

Yesterday, my pregnant friend from the Valley (PFFV), called to tell me she was coming over the mountain for a trip to the fancy market across the way from me. Was I up for a visit? Why, yes, I was. I always am. So I did some weeding on the north side of the house, waiting. And waiting. I was just sort of starting to worry when I checked the messages on my phone. Just how many things can go wrong when you're a PFFV and you're driving over the mountain to come to the fancy market? Many, in my imagination. But in real life, generally the most obvious thing goes wrong - car trouble.

Poor PFFV's car had stopped, not 8 blocks from my house and she had left me a message saying so. I called her back, keys in hand to go pick her up, and when she answered her phone, she said another friend of ours from the Valley, had just pulled up behind her. Their town in the Valley is close to an hour away, and, as I've said, over a *mountain* so it was funny and fortuitous that he was suddenly right there behind her. I am quite sure he relished his role of white knight, because he's that kind of guy. Anyway. After lots of twisty and roundabout phone calls (between us and to my dad, who I am still convinced can tell me how to fix anything - romantic little girl notions never die) and thoughts (drive it? to where? tow it? to where?) and phonebook perusals in search of open service stations, I walked down Main street to meet them.

Now, the obvious plan would be for PFFV to do her fancy market shopping and then have our other friend carry her back over the mountain when he went, and this was the intended course of action when I arrived on the scene. But in the course of watching the tow truck guy (who later told us he has 8 children ages 2 to 33 - jesus fucking christ) hook up the poor dead car to the tow truck's towing apparatus, it came out that said other friend from the Valley had plans to go to a party *on* the mountain, which he was postponing to continue his role as white knight ("every party needs a bachelor," he told me - this is where we smile indulgently and shake our heads). Well, I'll take as much time with PFFV as I can get, so I said I'd drive her over post-fancy-market-shopping and we'd all be just as happy.

Just to clarify, this was not as selfless as it may seem. PFFV can cook like a house on fire and I was angling for some dinner made in her beautiful kitchen and a short visit with her ever charming husband. Plus, the weather was the kind that makes a girl like me think maybe there is a heaven and we're in it (oh, wait - I think that all the time) and there is not much that can rival a trip to the Valley for looks.

So off we toddled to the fancy market and over the mountain and to the regular grocery and right on to Church street. PFFV was buying things to cater her own baby shower. Because she loves nothing better than feeding people. And we had dinner, and looked at baby things and prepped treats for the shower and her ever charming husband was ever charming and gave me sawdust for my worm bin (Oh, the worm bin - it gets a post all its own!) and we talked and talked and ate and cooked and it was perfect.

And if I had no car, it would have played out very differently. So tonight before bed, I will put on my Certified Fair Trade Hairshirt™ - made with real hair shaved from organic nuns and guaranteed to itch enough to cause a rash bigger than your carbon footprint and to remind you that internal combustion engines are fucking up the planet faster than you can say the Hail Mary. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

revisited toast

CHO-girl seems to think something is lacking recently in my posts (length? depth? thought?). Really, I am just so motherfuckingtired. So tired I can't even hit the space bar enough, let alone pull a new really and truly post out of my ass.

So. Just for you, CHO, I've added my favorite food and cooking blogs in their very own linked-up list. Because I live to entertain you. Because I know the lunch gods need their sacrifice. Because Food Is Good. And because it is lamer than lame for a 32 year old to go to bed at 8:30.

CD 17, 5 DPO - generally more irritable and "fatigued" (as FF puts it), but maybe that's because it is the second week of school.

toast

School is kicking my ass.

a bazillion blogs for peace

Really, it's called (almost) One Million Blogs For Peace.
Sign up, yo. Everybody's doing it.

i has teh popcorms

mmmm....popcorn.....

From CHO-girl:

Microwave or pan-popped?
Microwave?! Are you fucking kidding me? Starrhillgirl, on the stove, with a pan. Every time.

Dinner or snack?
Both

Sweet or savory?
Salt rules the world. (Although, yes, kettle korn at the craft fair is good, too.)

Eat out of a bowl, bag, or out of the pan?
Bowl. The special popcorn bowl.

All popped or leave some kernels?
Well. That all depends on the age and freshness of the popcorn one buys. If it is new and fresh, there are no un-popped kernels (Old Maids, as the kids say - where the hell did that come from? Oh, wait, I know....) hence one should eat lots of popcorn so it does not have time to get stale and thus none is wasted.

During a movie, would you throw it or do you prefer to make out?
Make out. Duh.

What is the weirdest thing you have put on your popcorn?
When I was a kid, we would put garlic salt on it - but that's not weird, right? As an adult, I used to put nutritional yeast (called "east" by Sophie when she was small - interestingly, I did not find this cute) on it every time, but I got a new roommate recently and her stash of yeast is - I swear - not really yeast. I think it is malt - very grainy, not flaky, and sweetish. Bleh. I haven't be able to bring myself to throw it away yet. Someday I will have yeast on my popcorn again. I might venture into the world of bacon, but other than that, weird things do not belong on popcorn. Popcorn stands alone.

What's the best popcorn addition experiment that worked out well?
CHO-girl's New and Improved Popcorn Popping Method ™ - put all your oil and kernels in the pan, set over low heat for simmering, turn up to med-high when you hear the first pop, proceed as usual with popping and pan-shaking, salting and buttering. Oh, wait - that's not an addition. Well, as I said, popcorn stands alone. See above.

Who do you share your popcorn moments with?
In chronological order: my dad, the pet doves we had when I was a kid, Hard Girl (but that was waaaay back in the day and now I am a little sorry for it), Jess, my cat Natasha, and, of course, Sophie.



Hmmm.... I tag - ah, does anybody read this anyway? - Elsie, Trista, SJ, Shauna (who is far, far too busy, but you should go and check her out anyway because a) hot, b) good writer and c) wow - food!) Evren and Cali.

not so surprising

You Belong in 1956

You're fun loving, romantic, and more than a little innocent. See you at the drive in!

What Year Do You Belong In?

must see

This is so great. Entertaining and sweet and full of girls.
(with all credit to Alison Bechdel for posting it first)

cd 15

Monitor reading high as of this morning.
Temps still down.
No LH surge as of this morning
More mucous than you could shake a stick at - the watery version.
First visit from Fab Gay Boy Donor (FGBD - F can also be for French - perfect!).

Meanwhile, school is kicking my ass.

last days of summer

It's over. School starts tomorrow. I'm *so* 'cited!
I crammed as much summer into the past week as I could:

* forced Sophie to mow the grass in the heat. I did yard work, too! She offered! The girl loves to mow the grass, what can I say.

*had drinks on the porch with Sianey and Jim - twice in fact (stay tuned for our new trendy restaurant idea; it will be fab and we'll be rich - it's Top Secret - don't ask me about it).

*put up produce for winter, somewhat frantically, as if I could hold on to some last small bit of summer if I had enough sun dried tomatoes and frozen peaches.

*almost equally frantically hung laundry on the line - not out of any sort of pre-nostalgia for summer, but because I had no clean clothes.

*had dinner with my old friends who are back in town and sat around in their air conditioned living room after the baby went to bed. There will be no energy for leaving the house once school starts, so this was a particular treat.

*planted a fig tree on the south side of the house. Yay figs! Ok, so it is not really *my* fig tree, it's Kaity's but I will get some of the figs as rent for housing her tree. If I don't kill it.

*got visited by my friends from DC (one of whom now lives in Richmond) and got treated to dinner by them. I love them. I do.

*saw my New Fab Assistant (NFA) out of the house - without her children and with her husband! At night! He had his hand on her thigh..... It was cute.....

*had brunch with Best Actor, featuring Real Coffee Not Decafe. Delicious, but it did fuck with my nap plans.

*raced to Mono Loco for The Last Sangria of Summer (TLSS) with the CHO-fam and Their Lesbian Friends From North Carolina (TLFFNC). The smallest CHO shared his calamari with me. *swoon* I heart him. Teh Sangria must have been Friday night's sangria, and I was served it on Sunday and, god damn, it was good - all saturated fruit and chilly wine.

*played a rousing game of Apples to Apples after the children went to bed with the above mentioned CHOs and TLFFNC. So much more fun than you'd think. There was also popcorn, which deserves its own post.

*napped. Everyday.

*stood on the porch looking blankly ahead. This would sound more "spiritual" if I said I stood on the porch looking at the sky, but really, I was just staring ahead, blankly. Again with the everyday.

*rather obsessively charted my temperature; monitored my pee with my partner-of-the-week, old Clear Blue; plotted how to do some opk's at school; emailed with my sperm donor (the man needs a blog-name); mentally and emotionally planned for pregnancy and simultaneously for the crash and burn of not being pregnant; thought about how I'd.... oh, wait, I do this shit all the time, not just when summer is ending, because I am not fucking knocked up yet.

putting up

I had to send a friend my great-great-grandma's recipe for pickled peaches yesterday and so I got all motivated to put up some food of my own.
You know you want to watch.
Tomatoes from the farm. So good, but how many fucking cherry tomatoes can a person eat? So I've been sun drying them. In my car, which doubles as a solar cooker.
After cutting them in half, they went on this old window screen and then into the car/solar cooker and stayed there until they are dry - about 2 days. Some times I am attentive and I flip them over after the first day. If you put them cut side up at first, the screen stays clean.
And the chiles. Spicy and delicious.

Roasted on the stove until they are all charr-y. Use tongs to turn them. Really.


Sweatin' to the oldies. Or actually sweatin' to Girlyman and my long-ass conversation with Sian about sustainable food choices. I did some in a paper bag and then got lazy and put the rest in a bowl and threw a plate on top for The Sweating Process. They had their sauna time for about 10 or 15 minutes, I think. Then I rubbed and rinsed all the charr-y skin off and they were beautiful roasted chiles.



All ready for the freezer.

who is this?

So, you might remember that I had a Night o' Sangria sometime last week. Remember? It was fun. And there was this new girl to be my new friend. Well, I made an emabrassing social faux pas this week involving inviting her to something and then not being there myself because I got there early and became convinced said something was not happening and so I had to leave. Because a room full of people I don't know is to much to handle. Clearly, I have not been leaving the house enough. Or too much. Maybe I should just stay home all the time. I'd bet Sandy would bring me groceries. Anyway. So there was the missed connection with this nice new friend and now she is out of town for the weekend and I kind of want to see her. WTF? I am Teh Girl of Steel. I want to see no one. Lord.