Why Have Two?

Are you kidding me? Just look at them.

Twice as much beautiful all in one place... and they live in MY HOUSE!

There are times, like when I watch them sleep or make up stories together, I wonder how I lived without them as long as I did.

I'm so grateful God chose me to be their mommy.

"I must have done something good..."*

*You know... from the Sound of Music? Von Trapp and Maria... Singing to each other in the garden when they realize they're in love...?

Oh, never mind. I'm in love with my kids. 'Nuff said.

Forty Years to "Getting It" - Part Three

The last (?) in a series of long-winded expressions of gratitude.
Okay then!! Hopefully the pictures will stick this time.

Read on, Folks...


Before I even start, I want to apologize to my friends and family for the amount of time it has taken me to assemble this post. It's big. It's important. It took time to (hopefully) get it right. Your patience, and your presence in my life, are greatly appreciated.

WARNING! This is the longest post to date. If you plan to read it in one sitting, you may want to clear your schedule and grab yourself a hearty snack... and maybe a beer, too, just to be on the safe side.

It all started at Grace's Fifth Birthday Party in May.

During the course of the evening, the inevitable topic of my impending chronological progression cropped up. When you're nearing a benchmark year, it's to be expected.

The subject of The Party was soon raised and I informed *my gals* that James had asked me if I wanted a big party or a romantic getaway. When your husband asks you that question in a rare moment of quiet solitude together, of course you say "romantic getaway." However the spoiled little brat inside my head was jumping up and down screaming, "I WANT BOTH!!" (I lovingly refer to her as "Veruca.")

My sister-in-law, Dawn, piped up and said, "I don't THINK so! James can do the romantic thing. We'll throw you a party!" Veruca and I hopped around, clapping like a preschooler.

Beth chimed in with, "Hey, I want in on that!" and I'm pretty sure my sister-in-law, Betsy, and maybe Renee (it's hard to remember between my heightened state of excitement and a couple of glasses of Pinot under my belt, not to mention my advancing age) responded similarly.

I immediately began feverishly looking forward to this party!

These girls know what they're doing.

The next several weeks were shrouded in mystery. There was so much going on in our family, namely Dawn's family, that, had the whole event ended up getting scrapped in favor of a frustration-fueled kegger on my in-laws' pool deck, I would have totally understood.

Then, one glad morning in June, the email I had been so eagerly awaiting finally arrived.

It was from Dawn and she was asking for a guest list.

I was not allowed to ask questions, just fork over the names and contact info for the people I wanted to invite.

A few weeks later: my instructions plinked into my in-box.

"Saturday morning....just wake up, shower, get dressed in nice casual type clothes, and be ready by 9:45. At that time you will be notified of what to do next!" ("Saturday" meant the 7th of July. Yes, my birthday was June 20th, but like I said, folks were busy and that was the soonest it could happen. And, besides, 07/07/07! Common!! Postpone away, Dear People!!)

A couple of days before The Day... another email from Dawn. A list of (seemingly) random *getting to know you* questions. I laughed out loud. The woman has *known* me for 20 years. I figured it was mostly her way of finding out what coffee drink to order for me. So clever!

When the fateful day arrived, my beloved nephew, Jacob, Dawn's 17-year-old son, showed up on my doorstep at precisely 9:50 AM and presented me with two gift bags. One contained a glitter-encrusted tiara with the number 40 in a heart at it's pinnacle (which I was instructed to wear the entire day). The other, a pair of black, Nike flip flops (see opening photo).

He informed me my ride would arrive in about five minutes, hugged me, and dashed back out the door.

I was totally stoked! What a way to start this day!

Shortly before 10:00, Dawn, Betsy and my mom-in-law, Fran, picked me up and took me for... you guessed it... PEDICURES!! (My mom had planned to come but, sadly, wasn't feeling well and stayed home to rest in hopes of joining us later... which she did. Yea!)
Our toes hadn't been soaking more than five minutes when Jacob arrived with coffee drinks all around. How cool is that?!

We sat there and frantically attempted to arrive at a good name for our little group... well I did, anyway... I do stuff like that. We came up with a few really funny ones... none of which can I remember with any reliability at the moment, dang it.

I sure hope I'm not already having "Senior Moments!" YIKES!


But, I digress...

With toes polished and calves amply massaged, we piled back into the van and headed to Fran and Doug's back yard for a beautiful brunch.

Fran's homemade raspberry jam from just a day or two before, scones, three kinds of chicken sausage, juice, fresh fruit... it was heavenly.

Before we could dig in in earnest, my little brother, Kelly's wife, Laura, peeked around the corner, and gleefully joined in the proceedings.

Sister-in-law (I have a *lot* of sisters-in-law), Linda, who had been quietly working behind the scenes, and Jacob, enjoyed the delicacies with us until it was time to head out once again.


This time, Jacob offered me his arm and handed me yet another gift bag containing two organic dark chocolate bars and a magazine article I was not yet allowed to read. He escorted me back to the van, very gentlemanly open the passenger door and deposited me inside, then took his place at the wheel. At this point, he's reeking of "Designated Driver" and I have a pretty strong feeling that we're going wine tasting! YESSS!

Laura, Dawn, Betsy, Fran and I continued the festivities with our first stop at Domaine Serene. Jacob dutifully escorted us to the tasting room, took some pictures, then planted himself in the shade while we sampled expensive wine on the majestic hill-top.

It was all quite a lot for me to absorb. Such an open and genuine expression of love and affection had me rather overwhelmed. Tearful.

It hit me, with full force, exactly how much love surrounds me every day of my life. Don't get me wrong. It's not like I've felt *unloved* or on the outside all these years, but I never, fully *got it,* to the marrow of my bones, until the drive to the first winery.

I felt sick to my stomach. It was almost like I couldn't accept such an outpouring directly focused on me. And, I think the thing that was as hard to absorb as anything was that my 17-year-old nephew chose to be such an integral part of this day. He had to work later and could have chosen to do anything else with his precious free-time. He wasn't coerced or guilted into it by his mom. He wanted to be there and expressed to me his sincere disappointment at having to miss everything that would come after he left for work.

I love all my nieces and nephews like they're my own, but Jacob has always had a very special place in my heart. On this day, I definitely felt like I also have a special place in his.

I banished the thoughts and feelings of unworthiness, claimed my gift from my amazing family and, finally, the acute nausea that threatened to undermine all their efforts subsided. We then carried on, with great relish, to the next stop: Wine Country Farm.

Here we enjoyed a vast array of wines in a more casual, unpretentious venue. The setting was warm and relaxing as we tasted about 10 different wines... everything from Pinot Gris to Pinot Noir and a Late Harvest Müller Thurgau that really caught my attention.
Just as we were wrapping things up, I thought, buying wines we liked and getting ready to move on, Jacob, once again, offers me his arm and hands me an open bottle of the Pinot Noir upon which I had, only moments ago, commented favorably.

He escorted me to a most beautifully vine-enshrouded gazebo that had been *mysteriously* well-appointed with a host of wine-friendly delights. Triple-Cream French Brie (my favorite!) crusty bread, huge, sweet grapes, chocolate... so many things I like enjoyed in the company of, and thanks to, a good sampling of my favorite people on the planet.

It was mind-boggling.
Once again, I was nearly moved to tears.

It was hard to leave such a pastoral and soothing scene when it was time to go, but there were more joy-filled experiences to be had.


Jacob and the gals deposited me back at home with instructions to take it easy and cool off for a couple of hours while preparations were polished off up the hill at Doug and Fran's. I was to report in at 5:00.


As I rested in the semi-coolness of my bedroom and listened to the kids playing in and around my house, I continued to attempt to comprehend all the effort so many people had exerted to make a party, that actually was more on the scale of a bridal shower and wedding reception, for me.

In the days leading up to the event, I remember observing my father-in-law string-trimming the edges of their yard where the juniper bushes meet the front field and recognizing why. "He's getting ready for my party" I realized to myself with a broad smile and a very warm feeling.

James was given assignments by the crack team of party planners known as Betsy, Dawn and Fran, which he dutifully carried out to his usual level of precision and expertise... in addition to the things he already had in mind to do.

A veritable banquet was planned, prepared and laid out by many, many loving hands.

The pool was cleaned and treated and cleaned again to make sure it was at its pristine, refreshing best by the time the guests arrived.

Game courses were set up and meandered across acres. Lights were strung, flowers snipped and floors mopped in a flurry of preparation...

... All because I made it to 40 and they love me.

Wow.

At the appointed hour, I strolled leisurely up the hill to see the guests from my list begin
slowly trickling in. My brothers and their families, my folks, Uncle Monte, the Foxes, the Skaggses, Londons, Phillipses, Havleneks and the whole Umfleet clan... everyone who could be there, eventually, was.

Friends and family played together, talked, laughed, swam and of course, ATE with rapturous abandon.

All together, there were 40 people in attendance, the number a coincidence, I can assure you, but a fun bit of trivia nonetheless.



As the evening wore on, all the planning and execution of culinary perfection reached its moment of glory. Dinner was served!

When this group gets together, you better be packing an empty stomach and a clear artery or two because we know how to cook.

There were *five* chickens and a spiral-sliced ham roasted on Dawn and Jeff's Traeger grill, two kinds of potato salad, bruschetta and mushroom caviar on crusty bread, baked beans... oh, goodness, there was so much amazing stuff I can't even remember it all. My apologies to everyone whose contribution to the loveliness my lagging mind is omitting. It was all phenomenal!
The sunset was one befitting such an awe-inspiring day, the surrounding hills and trees striking sharp silhouettes in its vibrant pinks, oranges, and pale blues.

Perfect.



Eventually, there was, of course, dessert! Five or six kinds, as I recall. And me with only one stomach. DANG!
Farm Girl does like her sweets.



Beth's Chocolate and Vietnamese Coffee Tart, or "Chocolate Porn" as I dubbed it, was this chocoholic's highlight of the dessert buffet... which is saying something next to Fran's Spelt Chocolate Cake. (Spelt flour makes *the best* chocolate cake ever. You should try it.)


With sugar comas at full tilt, it was time for gifts... and there were some great ones!

My brother, Doug, and his wife, Paula, (yes, *another* sister-in-law) gave me a very clever gift of forty little pieces of paper with different facts about my birth date written on them, each one rolled around a one-dollar bill. Topping it off was the brilliantly chosen card that played "Everybody Wang Chung Tonight!" Sweeeeeeeet.


There were candles, and pasta bowls and bottles of wine and bath salts, a kickin' purse, home-canned preserves... each item as well-thought-out and appreciated as the last.

The unavoidable, core-jarring truth here is: These people *get* me.

No matter how loved, accepted, protected we feel, how often are we actually convinced that the people in our lives really know what makes us tick? I mean, are they really tuned-in to what's knocking around inside our cranium?

Well, this event and all the days since May leading up to it have crystallized for me, in no uncertain terms, that my people do know exactly what I'm all about.

I could not have planned a more satisfying experience had I spent weeks on the endeavor personally. But beyond the amazing events of the day, I am most grateful for finally *getting it* myself. The *spiritual two-by-four-upside-the head* realization of the depth and breadth of how much I am loved. There is no better gift.

For all the words the English language lays at my disposal, I still run out of all the right ones to express my gratitude. I use that word a lot as I feel it is one that best expresses my perpetual state of being, but it never seems to communicate quite enough.

How do I tell so many people in a few feeble syllables that your verbalized and wordless expressions of love have reached those dark little pockets of my soul that I never quite realized needed filling until you touched my life?

I can say, "I am finally glimpsing how much God loves me through your unending support and continual demonstrations of kindness and generosity" but the words can't ever fully transmit how it feels in my being.

All I can do is live in hope that you all grasp just how much I love you and how grateful I am for you and all the things you do. Great and small.

Now, at the end of all the celebrating, and about *ten pounds fluffier* for it, I will carefully guard the "Tiara of Forty-Tude," until the day in the not too distant future when I can dutifully bestow it upon Dawn...

...It may be hard for me to part with, though. It goes so smashingly with my overalls...

I only hope I can recreate for her the kind of experience she orchestrated for me. She's one tough act to follow.
07/07/07 was as perfect a day as the number would promise. It was, in a word, transcendent. I will cherish the memory until the day they plant my thoroughly-spent carcass in the good, sweet earth... after which, I can only imagine, there will be yet another great party.


So, now you know why I so confidently assert that "I am the luckiest girl in the world..." though, "blessed" might be a better choice of words...

It only took 40 years, but I'm glad I finally *got it*.

Farm Girl Does Créme Brulée

Farm Girl like blow torch.


Blow torch goooooood.


Even if I didn't absolutely *love* custard with a crisp, candy crust, I would have to get myself one of these! EDIT: This one is currently on loan from my father-in-law.

Recruiting something from the shop into useful service in my kitchen renders me giddy... especially if it involves an open flame and potential spontaneous combustion.

Pliers? Super!

Wire cutters? Brilliant!

Air compressor? Fabulous!

Fire extinguisher? Not so much!


What's even better?

A recipe made for Engineers!

I am NOT joking! I got this stellar recipe at CookingForEngineers.com and it totally rocked.

One of the main reasons I love Alton Brown's show "Good Eats" on the food channel is, not only is he very smart with a brilliant sense of humor (and I have a very tiny, highly-secret crush on him *shhhhhhhh*!) he explains WHY stuff does what it does when you're cooking it. I'm a girl who likes all the information I can get my greasy little hands on so I know exactly, in excruciatingly precise detail, how things are going to work. I want to know enough about what I'm doing to decide whether or not to follow the recipe to the letter (which I almost NEVER do). I'm spontaneous and like to improvise with the best stuff I have on hand. More importantly, however, I DETEST FAILURE AND WASTE! I buy/grow super-good ingredients and I cannot abide wasting my time, effort or money on inedible disaster.

The Cooking for Engineers recipe had pictures, great, detailed explanations and even a super-cool flow chart...

A FLOW CHART!

I totally geeked out.

My Créme Brulée is different from the recipe in two ways:

1) I only had about a cup of heavy cream so I had to use some very heavy whole milk to round out the two cups of liquid. To rescue the richness from the lacking fat content, I used a smidge less milk than called for and threw in another egg yolk.

2) Into the two larger dishes I tossed those fresh berries from the last post.

The result?

Absolutely, THE BEST FREAKIN' CUSTARD I'VE EVER HAD! Not a lump. Not a grain. No "custard sweat" to dab off the top!

Sprinkled with some organic cane sugar and torched to kingdom come, they were a thing of beauty so irresistible I couldn't keep my girls off 'em long enough to get a picture of the plain ones.

You want Créme Brulée, Beth?

I'm aaaaall over it, Sister!

Pastured Primadonnas and Produce Porn

Alright, Angelina, I am here to prove myself a woman of my word.

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's BOSSY!


She got that name because she IS.

Bossy is the mother of the calf we lost back in May and, I'm reasonably sure she holds me personally responsible for her tragedy. I was, after all, always doing *something* with her baby every single day for about six weeks.

Must be my fault.

Even if she doesn't think I killed her sickly offspring, I still feel guilty about it. It's the first calf I've lost on my watch and that's really hard for me to take.


Even though she can be kinda grumpy, I still think she's just beautiful.


I eagerly await the arrival of her next calf in February. I hope her new baby is much sturdier than the last and perhaps she'll find it within her big bovine heart to forgive me.



This is Princess MaMaKau.

She came to us with the name "Princess" but my mom-in-law can't bring herself to call a cow by a royal designation.

We added the Hawiian-inspired spelling and pronunciation to give Fran the ability to call her just "Mama Cow," but still have at least a little flair to go with her "pedigree."

Princess is quite a nice cow and is *very* pregnant with her second calf which she will deliver around the end of August.


She's SO round! I remember those days. UGH.

Right now we have to keep her separated from her nearly-year-old heifer calf, Sparky, who insists on continuing to NURSE!

Little piggy.

If we keep them together she'll suck up all the new baby's colostrum and we'll have another sickly calf on our hands. Been there. Done that. NOT doing it again!

This means we get to endure a LOT of bellowing from both sides of the fence. Thankfully, it seems things are beginning to quiet down.


Meet Sparky, who also came pre-named. It was kind of like "fate," though, that these two came to live with us. Grace is *very* into princesses and James's pet name for me, on good days, is "Sparky." Cute, huh?

And so is she. I just love her.

She's very bouncy and fun to watch.




"I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille!"

OH! And, don't worry. We won't be eating any of these ladies. They are strictly for making more baby cows... and eating garden scraps and lawn clippings...





Luscious and Divine

WARNING! If you find the sight of succulent, dewy expressions of fertility offensive... look away NOW!





These are my mom-in-law's Marionberries.

Mmmmmmm.






Hey. You were warned.

She also has raspberries and blueberries...

...right next door.


One of the MANY reasons I LOVE living so close to my in-laws!



The last of the potato blossoms.












The FIRST of the potato harvests!


















I can't get enough zucchini flower shots.






This little baby stopped me dead in my tracks.

Look at that precise, simple beauty.










Again with the bean tendrils...













... and their loving embrace.














Ohhhhhh... do I have future plans for YOU babies!

A little olive oil, some fresh basil from just over there... cool mozarella...

... wait a minute... do I hear Barry White?







Red-cloaked vigilance.







This is something we are very excited about and proud of every single Summer.

We call it our "Home Grown Meal."

The steak, potatoes, lettuce, green onions, and garlic ALL came from our garden, raspberries from my in-laws'.

One day, we hope to add the wine to our gleeful demonstration of self-sufficiency, but for now, vino from a couple miles down the road will have to do.

Life just doesn't get any better than this.

We are so blessed and so VERY grateful for our amazing, bountiful life.

God Bless the Rainy Weekend

With the glut of Mid-Summer zucchini well under way, I would likely have made bread of the over-abundant squash anyway, but fresh, clean air and abiding temperatures makes this ritual infinitely more enjoyable for me, despiser of indoor ambiance exceeding 80° Fahrenheit.



I adore the crispy-outside-cakey-sweet-inside thing... especially studded with crunchy, pecan-y goodness. I'm all about texture... and flavor, too, naturally.

My people are not the nut-ophiles I am, however, so I inevitably end up making two batches of nearly everything. (Mine is the taller one on the left owing the additional volume to the nuts, of course.) I will NOT be denied my tree-borne gems that I love so. One more thing I inherited from my Grannee. She put nuts in everything.

My other project this weekend is Creme Brulée... or variations on custard. Whatever.

I learned over an awe-inspiring dinner at Cuvée in unassuming, nearby Carlton, that my beloved really likes custard. I had no idea. I mean, I knew he would eat it, as he eats every morsel I put in front of him, but he's not so much a "dessert guy."

I was about to order the Creme Brulée (Beth!) when the waiter, STRONGLY suggested, I opt instead for the "fresh berry tart that just came out of the oven... well, it's not really a tart because it doesn't have a crust, but it's really good. You want that." Okaaaay.

It was still-warm, perfect custard bejewelled with blue-, marion-, and raspberries and my husband ate HALF of it! "Oh, I LOVE custard!" he announced in apparent reaction to my stunned expression.

So. Having been denied my Creme Brulée AND this new slice of information on the man with whom I have shared exactly half my life, perfect custard has become this weekend's quest.

Like I said, I'm LOVING this most unusual late July drizzle... though, with the workout I'll be giving my oven, I'll have to actually duck outside to benefit from it.

My apologies to all the sobbing brides frantically scouring the phone books for the last white tent available to save their shower-sodden wedding reception, but I'm happy.

Cloudy days are better for photography anyway and you're a silly, silly girl if you think the Farmer's Almanac is filled with information any more accurate than questionable guesses and amusing trivia.

This is Oregon. It rains here.

Following your tear-choked exclamation of, "YES, Brandon, of COURSE I'll be your wife!" the very next words to leap from your lips into your shiny, pink Razor phone should have been, "Hello? Tent rental guy?"

This is garden GROWING weather and will stave off the inevitable lettuce bolt a little while longer! It's cool and delicious, but still shorts weather. This is MY kind of Summer.

It's Time for "Lunch Break Fun," Starvin' Marvin!

EDIT: You know, I can only abide the limitations of online animation programs so far before I must take action. It bugged me to have both the magic wand AND the cup of coffee in the same hand. (Everyone KNOWS you'll spill your precious java all over yourself, and maybe someone else, if you try to wave your wand WHILE holding your coffee cup and that's just plain irresponsible.)

I also reeeeeally wanted that cow on my overalls.

So, since I happen to do this stuff for a LIVING... I "PhotoShopped" it.

Too bad I can't do that to my driver's license picture...

Just letting my inner moron out for a gulp of much-needed fresh air.

You can blame Beth.

Let your Id loose here.


Problem is, I now have an overwhelming desire to eat chicken pot pie... DANG!!

Forty Years to "Getting It" - Part 2

The second in a series of long-winded expressions of gratitude.


Today seems especially appropriate for this post as it is our 15th wedding anniversary. So, Happy Anniversary, Honey! And thank you, once again, for making my life such a beautiful place to live. xoxo


As if to prove my assertion that I am, in fact, the luckiest girl the the world, for my 40th birthday and our 15th anniversary, James took me on a little overnight getaway to the Channel House in Depoe Bay.


It was the most we've ever spent on a room for one measly night, but as James said, "I'm buying memories."

Boy was he right.

The room was perfect. With an amazing view and nicely appointed, it was the ideal venue to accomplish the instantaneous shrugging off of stress and making the most of very, VERY little time.

Even the whales were cooperative! They were supposed to be done migrating by such a late date in June, but there they were. We had so much fun carefully watching the swells for signs of them.
(You knew there would be food shots, didn't you?)

I was very disappointed to learn that there is no such animal as a good bakery in Depoe Bay so I had to make our St. Andre Triple Cream French Brie work on water crackers instead of crusty peasant bread, but we made due nicely. Of course, with the 2004 Maysara Jamsheed Pinot, I could just about eat a slug and find it tasty. (Not a pairing I would encourage, mind you, I'm just sayin'...)

Eventually it was time for dinner and James left me there in my plushy, white Channel House robe (which I didn't change out of the entire time we were there... ahhh, the lush life!) while he dashed out to get it. I didn't take pictures of our meal because it wasn't as pretty as it was delicious, what with the white cardboard boxes and all, but we enjoyed it quite a lot. He had a Thai prawn dish (I swear those prawns were the size of adolescent lobsters!) and I dined on green curry halibut. Just a tad on the spicy side for my taste, but that's good for me every now and then.

Once our dinner had settled, it was time to take advantage of one of our favorite amenities... the jetted tub on the deck!

Now, doesn't he just look like he's got something up his sleeve?!





Little did I know, but he DID... literally!



... and right about...




... NOW...





... He dropped THIS in my lap!

It's really hard to get a good shot of jewelry (one of the very few hardships I share with Paris Hilton) but, if you look closely, you can make out ten princess-cut diamonds in a platinum channel band. One diamond for every two years we've been together (or one for every year and a half we've been married... take your pick.)




The clouds robbed us of the red and orange sunset we so desired, but enveloped as we were in appreciation of each other and the perfection of every other aspect of the experience, we forgot to notice.

We woke up to a spectacular, clear morning.


























Then, we went to the "continental" breakfast!













Especially for you Seinfeld fans... The brown disk on the left is a banana nut MUFFIN TOP! I HAD to get it.

Next to it is a cherry and cream cheese pastry, I'm sure you recognize a hard-boiled egg when you see one, and under that mountain of whipped cream are fresh strawberries!

The management offered us another night at half price... we contemplated it for about 10 seconds then returned, kicking and screaming, back to reality.

In stead, we bargained for 90 more precious minutes to draw out the inevitable.

We watched whales a while longer, then made our way up to Lincoln City where we had a delicious lunch at Kylo's before heading back to our darling little people and life as usual.

"Life as usual" is wonderful and I wouldn't trade it for the world, but this time alone with James was so very precious to me. To enjoy each other's company without interruption and bask in our "couple-ness" for 27 short hours was sheer joy. Best of all was the fact that he planned it. He took the initiative and was excited to do this for me... for us. He took pleasure in making it happen and proved to me, once again, that I am more to him than chef, baby-sitter and (occasional) housekeeper.

I have always known that my husband is devoted to our family and will love me to the end of my days. But in the fray and chaos of "Life as usual," it can be easy to feel like what we do for each other goes unnoticed.

In those 27 bliss-filled hours, I felt loved completely, appreciated fully and that there was no place that he would rather be than right there with me at that moment.

That was the best gift he could ever give me.


... though I have to admit, I haven't found myself able to part with that ring long enough to get it sized...

By Request

Though I still owe you some cow shots, Angelina, here is a Garden Gallery to tide you over until I can get my Bovine Beauties to show up for a photo shoot. (They're such primadonnas...)

Can you tell this garden was planted by an Accountant? Just look at that neatness and precision. Sun flowers in all four corners. Peas and beans grow on the fencing on the left, corn across the back, potatoes on the far right, tomatoes, green onions, carrots, lettuce, beets, lemon cukes, acorn squash, pumpkins and zucchs in between.

Please note James's very creative row markers... though with the cats around they can end up just about anywhere. In the picture they look like eggs, I just realized... they're golf balls. A blatant homage to what he'd RATHER be doing...

So pretty.

I just love the graceful dance of bean and pea tendrils climbing a fence. I need to get a good close up.

The raspberry bushes are not in the main garden but off to the side a bit and out of the picture. Sadly, their season is quickly waning.

Birthday Beauties, Bashful Bovine and the Blessed Bounty

My delicate, tiny, little preemie...

... turned NINE on Wednesday.

I can't believe that sweet, fragile baby now has talents and thoughts and friends of her own.

*sigh*

At the risk of sounding like a totally typical parent... Where does the time go?

Well, it DOES fly when you're having fun... again with the clichés... so we seriously contributed to the speed of its passage with a small but exceedingly enjoyable celebration. It began with a trip to our favorite nail place where Anna, her two best friends, Julia and McKinzie, and Grace got their toes done... which seemed as much fun for the folks doing the pedicures as it was for the recipients. With sparkling, colorful toes, we went back to our house for HUGE cupcakes and pizza... then I had to go to a STUPID MEETING... while James supervised swimming and lots and lots of Wii gaming.

Julia spent the night which was Anna's very first sleepover ever. Once the excitement died down, everyone slept like rocks... in my bed... with me in it. Actually, it was pretty fun, all four of us girls piled in together. (James retreated to Anna's bed for a much more dignified and predictable night of slumber.)




























Farm Life Follies

"Exactly what kind of cow are you?"

"'COW?' What kind of CAT are YOU?"

Midna (the kitten) and Sparky (the heifer) meet officially for the first time.

Clearly, neither is sure what to make of the other.











My first zucchini of the year and my first garlic EVER! Woo hoo!
Honestly, we forgot the garlic was even there so it was a very fun surprise.



















Another brilliant sunset here on the ranch. Ahhhhhh.














Stay tuned for part 2 of "40 years to 'Getting It."

I Tried...

... I tried so hard to put them away, but I just couldn't.

So pretty. So perfect. So full of potential.

Beth's preserves are just about the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

They're cuter than kittens.

There. I said it.

I want to do this someday.

For now, I'll just leave those tempting little jars out on my counter where I can stare at them and dream... and drool.

Thank you, Beth, for the birthday beautifulness.
OH! And that Chocolate Porn you called dessert... I'm still recovering.

Forty Years to "Getting It" - Part One

The first in a series of long-winded expressions of gratitude.


When most people say they have known someone their whole life, the farthest back that usually goes is, what, like Kindergarten, if they're really lucky?

Well, Cheryle and I have known each other since day one. Literally. We were born on the same day in the same hospital. She is exactly, to the minute, four hours older than me.

In a flurry of baby dressing activity, a nurse even delivered Cheryle to MY mom... Fortunately for all of us, my mom was awake when I was born and could tell that the baby being handed to her was a full two pounds heavier than the one she gleefully popped out just a short time earlier. *whew!*

Well, eventually, the "Baby Weber" bracelet probably would have given away her true identity, but it's kind of fun to pretend we were almost, dun, dun, DUN... "SWITCHED AT BIRTH!!"

Now, it's not like Cheryle and I have remained in constant contact our entire lives, and that's part of what make our story so cool.

We had a couple of birthdays together, then, as often happens in life, the families kind of drifted and lost track of each other.

I grew up hearing the story of Cheryle's and my hospital "close-call," but completely forgot about her by the time I was ten... kind of.

In eighth grade, and living in a totally different town, I started talking to a girl in my Commercial Art class and our conversation turned to star signs.

"You're a Gemini, too? Cool. When's your birthday?"

"June 20th"

"NO WAY! ME TOOOO!" (Be sure to hear this entire conversation in your best 13-year-old-girl voice)

"Where were you born?"

"Portland."

"NO WAY! ME TOOOO!"

"What hospital?!"

"Good Samaritan..."

Long pause...

"OH MY GOSH! YOU'RE 'CHERYLE!'"

I had found my long lost "birthday twin."

We went to junior high and high school together and were good friends, but hung out in slightly different groups that occasionally overlapped. I didn't really fit into any particular group, so I built my own with a rich variety of other kids who also didn't match any pre-determined mold.

She was on dance team, in the choir, went on trips to Europe and such with said groups... I was on swim team, hung out in the Library with my hodge-podge people and missed my chance at a trip to Germany when the restaurant where I worked after school closed without telling anyone.

By the end of high school, we both were highly distracted with serious boyfriends and upon graduation, once again, we lost track of each other.

Then, after spending my Freshman year at U of O, I ran into her in the common area of Portland Community College. We decided the universe was telling us something and vowed to never be parted again.

Each was the other's maid of honor (no, we didn't marry the high school boyfriends) and the couples hung out together from time to time... and then our lives took different turns... again.

Years passed... again.

This time, Cheryle was deep in crisis.

When I'm in trouble, I rally my people around me and cry out desperately for help. Cheryle is much more stoic and turns inward. I had no idea what she was going through, though I felt something was seriously wrong. I called repeatedly, but couldn't reach her. My messages went unanswered.

I worried.

When she was ready, she "Googled" me and got back in touch.

She never got my phone message because her husband made sure she didn't. He was isolating her. It's not hard to know the next step.

She bolted.

Brave girl.

After months of recovering and with a shiny, new love in her life, she was ready to get back in touch and check in.

By that point, I was living in the country with a couple of babies, running my own business.

She lives in a condo with her fella and, though she dotes on a beloved niece, doesn't want kids of her own.

She loves "corporate culture" and "power lunches."

I ran screaming from "big business" after ten years and can't imagine ever working for someone else again.

Our lives are very, VERY different... and yet, this big, cosmic magnet keeps slamming us back together when we drift too far apart.

And, while our differences are pronounced and make "comparing and contrasting" a lot of fun, there are some very interesting similarities...

She's a web marketing specialist. I have an ad agency and design web sites.

She graduated with honors in English. I scored two points shy of perfect on the Test For Standard Written English on my SATs (though I talked myself out of persuing a degree in it).

We both have a passion for amazing food, art and music, have adventurous spirits and a deep attachment to our families.

She has four cats. I have seven.

To know someone for 40 years is very unusual, indeed. And, even though we have had years-long gaps in our relationship, whenever our paths cross, it's like no time has passed at all. We are instantly caught up, the rest is just a matter of dialogue.

It is a Divine gift to have people in one's life with whom there is such a connection that time and distance are meaningless.

I have been overly-blessed with such relationships... and I was lucky enough to get my first one upon my inauguration into this life.

Beauty and The Beets

While I continue to process my impending massive post, I thought I would share some new food pics. Well, mostly because Angelina wants me to reveal what I did with those beets from last week... I just love my Foodie friends who geek out over beautiful ingredients and pallet-tickling flavors as much as I do! (Except I don't think Angelina likes being called a "Foodie." Sorry.)

Those gorgeous beets were forced to lie in repose in my fridge until they could be joyfully united with the partner of their destiny... my mom-in-law's home grown potatoes.

Roasted with big chunks-o-onion in some olive oil, coarse sea salt and pepper, these beauties turned into my kind of candy. Anna and Grace pounded down those potatoes like biscuits and honey butter.























The salmon is wild-caught Copper River (I think) that I coated with a marinade of a balsamic vinegar reduction (THANKS, BETH!), combined with finely chopped shallots, garlic from my garden and capers (they were too prominent with all those other more delicate textures so I WHACKED 'em.)

A little squeeze of lime juice brought this tangy-sweet elixir together nicely.

The result after baking was a slight caramelization of the marinade ingredients, and firm, moist slightly sweet fishie. Mmmmmmm.























With all those other intense flavors, I decided to go very straight-forward with the veggie. Grilled zucchini is always a big hit at my house.

Just slathered up mom-in-law's zucchs with some good olive oil, sea salt and pepper and tossed 'em on a very hot cast-iron grill. Deeeeeelicious!

We finished off this sumptuous feast, enjoyed with my in-laws, with an impressive Late Harvest Muller Thurgau that was full of vanilla and cream and had an apple finish. Reminds me of a "blond" port.

Absolutely, without question, the perfect way to end a perfect, celebratory weekend.

Stay tuned. More to come!

Saturday 07/07/07!!!

Welcome to the luckiest day of the millennium from the Lucky Seven Cat Ranch!

It just hit me last night that being Saturday, this is also the SEVENTH DAY!

Shoot! What are the chances of THAT?!


Sounds like a reason to party to me! Which we will.


Stay tuned for future posts after which, upon reading, you will likely end up not wanting to visit here ever again because NO ONE should be as LUCKY as I AM!


GET OUT THERE AND BUY SOME LOTTERY TICKETS!

Good Luck Everybody!

We're Havin' a Hay Day!

Alternate title: What NOT To Do On the Hottest Day of the Year

Now, I don't particularly enjoy being physically inferior 99.99% of the time. It frustrates me when my brain knows exactly what to do, but my design-flawed body lacks the fortitude to accomplish it.

On days like today, however, I'm secretly glad I'm a "weakling."
James reliving his childhood games of "King of the Mountain!"... well... maybe not.

How the guys in my life manage to muster the gumption to go out on a baking day to wrestle bales of itchy, dry plant matter is beyond me. I would snap like a twig. That is if there was anything left of me to snap once I had been rendered down to a fatty pool of simpering whine-i-tude from the heat and actual physical labor.

Grace noticed the camera.

You can be a Farm Girl and still know how to strike a pose.

But, eventually, no matter how CUTE you are...

They will... at some point...

... put you to work.

The cows, exhausted from watching all that hard work, retired to the shade of the nearest tree to contemplate their glorious, rapidly-filling larder and swat flies...

... just as I adjourned to the air-conditioned solitude of my office to blog about it...
... and await the next five pick-upfulls with cold drinks and witty, and mostly unappreciated, playful demands like, "Farm Boy, fetch me that pitcher!"*



*If you haven't yet seen The Princess Bride... drop whatever you're doing, slap yourself and WATCH IT!

The Truth Hurts

This photo has nothing whatsoever to do with today's post except to provide visual pleasantry...

... A sharp contrast to the account which you are about to read.

I'll post more about this pic, and all the loveliness that accompanied it, when time allows and I have sufficiently exhausted my rant. Thanks.

•••

So there I am enjoying a nice lunch of buffalo burger and fried zucchini with onions when my phone rings.

I don't recognize the name on my caller ID right off but, when one runs a business from home, that happens from time to time, so I answer.

"Hi, Angeleen, this is Gary from (insert corny online retailer name here) calling about the recent feedback you left on Amazon."

"WOW!" thought I, "I just left that feedback not an hour ago!"*

I recover from my shock and greet him politely with a cheerful, "Hi, Gary!" thinking maybe, just MAYBE, the hinged barbecue grate I had ordered, to replace our used-to-death one for James as a Father's Day gift, had suddenly become available and he was calling to let me know! He had been so kind to call me the very next day after I ordered it to let me know he really DIDN'T have one, like it said he did on the web and, in fact, he didn't even know when he WOULD have one so he was returning my hard-earned $40-plus-shipping to my VISA post haste. Nice guy. I was very impressed with his customer service.

"Hi, yea, I was wondering if you could remove the neutral rating from your feedback?"

Silence.

"What?" I finally forced out.

"Well, you see we have a customer rating of nearly 100% and a neutral rating is really damaging to us, so while your feedback was fair and probably accurate, I was hoping you could remove it?"

"Um, isn't the whole reason for having a rating system that people get a fair and accurate view of the seller? I said your customer service was great, just your inventory tracking needed help. It's a balanced statement. I didn't say I had a bad experience..." I explained in complete disbelief.

"I know. Could you just delete it?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm really confused. Why is there even a feedback process if you can just call me and ask me to take it all back? It undermines the whole POINT of HAVING a rating system!" I exclaimed, still dumbfounded that I was actually having this conversation.

"The problem is the rating system could be a lot more explanatory than it is" he whined. "You know, like, there could be a 'customer service: excellent, inventory: poor...'"

"THAT'S WHY I WROTE THE STINKING EXPLANATION IN THE 400-CHARACTERS-OR-LESS FREAKIN' "EXPLANATION" SECTION!! I exploded...

Silence.

"Look, Gary, I'll go in right now and delete my feedback if it's really that detrimental to your rating and you feel good about getting a high rating by eliminating anything but high ratings. I'll tell you this, though, I'll sure think twice before I believe those little numbers next to any other vendor I consider buying from..." I spouted, wanting to just get this jackass off my phone and back to my rapidly-cooling food.

"Thank you very much." *click*


I did go in and delete my feedback, as he had begged, then immediately fired off a very cynical email asking what he would have done had I actually left a NEGATIVE comment?? I know. I caved. But I'm sure he's a small business owner just like me and he seemed really, truly, if perhaps irrationally, unnerved. I can relate to an unreasonable sensitivity to criticism of my work... though I have never asked anyone to pretend they didn't have anything negative to say about it.

(Instead, I just mentally crawl into a deep, dark hole above which I plant a bright yellow flag with the word "FRAUD" emblazoned upon it in big, red letters for all the world to see. Sort of an open invitation to point at me and laugh while I beat myself up far more severely than my worst critic could ever aspire to bludgeon my self esteem. Otherwise, I'm totally cool.)

My question is, why the hell is he so frightened of a NEUTRAL rating on Amazon that he felt compelled to call me... on the phone... not email me? What was so urgent? Is Amazon some kind of retail Gestapo that whacks you if you don't perform above the 98% mark? Or is this guy truly just a complete paranoid perfectionist that can't stand to hear anything negative about his precious little web store that he's probably running out of his spare room, much like I run an ad agency out of mine? Was that phone call his "deep, dark hole?"

Here's the deal: when I tried to buy a grill grate through Amazon, I really had no idea I would end up having to defend myself for telling the truth... to Gary. Shopping on the internet is supposed to have that comforting element of anonymity... right? That's what's supposed to be WRONG with shopping online is the lack of human interaction... right?

Well, today the internet just got a whole lot less anonymous... and a little more creepy.

I hope Gary gets some counseling... or at least some good meds to handle his paranoia. If he calls me again, I just might send him some of mine.

Caveat emptor...



*Funny thing. Until Amazon pinged me to hurry up and leave feedback from my now-aged transaction, I hadn't even thought about doing it.

Ahhh... the joys of country livin'.

Mmmmmmm... Beets!