Waiting games

Some days just seem longer than others.

Doilies

More doilies
Originally uploaded by Tera in the Isles

It's back to this is it? I have picked up doily making again. Once I start making colorful, kitschy doilies I can't stop. My favorite color combination is pink, red and turquoise. Those colors remind me of my Grandmother in Del Rio. They are the colors of her life: turquoise kitchen, pink bathroom, red tablecloths,red-pink and turquoise tiles, Formica, metal table, chairs, curtains. She loves to wear pink and wears various shade of it very well. These are the colors of her hair curlers, colors of her vintage knick-knacks, of her dishes and her carnations. She used to work at a flower shop and make corsages and bouquets and she always mentions the pink, turquoise and red ribbons used.

Primary colors remind me of Mexican curios. Those are things that I never seem to tire of looking at. I constantly draw inspiration being around Mexican curios. I could browse aisles and aisles of curios and still want to see more. In fact, I would love to see some soon.

I enjoy crocheting these so much and become so addicted, it's easy to create a stack before too long. But what do you do with doilies? They are definitely a useless item these days. Back when everything a person owned was important and not a throw away, doilies were a way to protect your things from each other. Why scratch up your wonderful, cherry bureau with your cute, ceramic poodle vase when you could insert a doily between the two and protect them both. That white, unglazed, ceramic rim under the case would not darken or chip if placed on some cute doily. They were placed on chairs and sofa's where the most wear would occur so the furniture could stay nice longer. In the kitchen they covered rolls or tortillas that were set on the table to keep them warm in a pretty way. In the bath one was placed over the extra roll of toilet paper that sat behind the toilet. They were placed in baskets to fancy them up for gift giving and could be re-used for any of the above.

Have doilies always been kitschy? I don't think so. I have seen works of art made of the thinnest gauged thread and with the tiniest of hooks that sit on bureaus and nothing sits on them because nothing should. useless or not, they are being made non-stop and would be 24/7 if I didn't have to work, sleep or tend to chickens, kitties, herb gardens etc....

We *heart* Mad Men

Graduation

All that time spent with Farina produced a success. He graduated to gentleman roo and was adopted this evening. He is off to a new farm to run a small flock. Three happy, charming little girls showed up very enthusiastic about their new pet. They took to him right away and took turns holding him and talking about their chickens. Farina clucked softly and happily without a sign of aggression. I felt proud of our work together.

I'll miss him, he was a funny little guy. Roosters are not allowed in the city but I can see how vital they are to a flock. He'd always let out a low pitched squawk when a big bird would fly overhead, cluck nicely to communicate he had found food for everyone, chase the squirrels away and of course, he'd crow because he was happy and it's what they do. Farina's crow became a full blown rooster crow. He didn't keep his soft,Bantam Silkie crow for long and these past few days past few days it matured and was loud. Every afternoon he would start at 5pm and then go every half hour until 7pm when I put him to bed. Ouch! I did apologized to my neighbors and told them that this was temporary and I'm not keeping or raising roos. Many were not home at the time, but i still felt obligated. I won't be getting fertile eggs for depressed, broody hens again.

Each chicken I have met has been cute, embodying special qualities and distinct personalities, Farina was no different. One day I turned the radio on for him. Opera irritated him, rock music made him squawk but country music resulted in him nestling down and relaxing. Country music it is. One evening he sat on my lap and watched I Love Lucy episodes with me (part of his rehab). He moved his head from side to side as he heard the different voice. Color tv made him cluck softly.

I know he went to a loving home and will be so happy but I'll miss him like I miss all the other little roos. They really are a special animal and to be able to train them to be sweet to their owners is rewarding.

Been reading Accidental Genius

When I think of that indie, riot grrrl band that came up with that song a few years back, makes me cringe. It's amusing, simple but {cringe}. For many not acquainted with his work but well versed in indie groups from the past 15 years or so, it's an opinion of the artist that they are more than willing to adopt without a challenge. It’s the easiest way to feel like you know something about Cassavetes without delving into his work or words. It's a superficial, one dimensional perspective of someone who was far from being shallow or easy to pin down. The man cannot be summed up in those four adjectives they use. Actually, who can be summed up given the choice of only four adjectives? Makes for an amusing parlor game.

Cassavetes is not for everyone. However, next time you are at a soiree and the name comes up, don't embarrass yourself quoting Le Tigre with devout conviction and with complete lack of education in Cassavetes' work. Don't take some jokey, indie band's opinion with you when you watch a Cassavetes film. Read some old interviews, articles, books and watch documentaries on the guy then develop your own opinion. Then again, those differences (as ignorant, annoying and irritating as they can be) are what make us all unique and that is precisely what he celebrated.

Happiness is:

Shopping at the neighborhood Mini-Max grocery store on a cloudy, summer evening and hearing The Left Banke's Pretty Ballerina playing. A bit of time travel there.

Visiting our friend's urban farm just down the street from us. They have a nice, dreamy backyard with goats. Something about watching animals go about their day can make the present more present.

Finding other Who and Guided by Voices fans at the urban farm.

Looking up pictures and ads for baby goats.

Picking up the third season of Route 66.

A yummy acai/blueberry/pomegranate semi-frozen smoothie, all fresh and made by me.

Catching the scent of rain in the air. It's the possibility for rain. Seeing rain is better but that may be too high of an expectation.

Cloudy days where there is no sun, no sun at all.

Time traveling to a Friday night in 1975 and watching JAWS on the big screen.

13 Most Beautiful... Songs for Andy Warhol's Screen Tests

Planning a long train trip , cruise or hitting Route 66, we shall see.

You make me go to pieces!

Somememinutiae

Picked up the August 09 issue of Surfer magazine. It features the greatest 50 surfers of all time. My favorites are all there including: Dora, Phil Edwards and Rabbit. Nice essays by surfers on surfers. What I didn't know was that Rabbit Kekai is still surfing at 89. Long board surfing is so graceful and though I'm not a fan of the whole helicopter drop-in, extreme surfing, I still have to watch because I can appreciate the massive waves and courage (or stupidity) of the modern big wave surfers. The photographers and cameramen always amaze me. Someone I know got back from a surf camp in Sayulita (beginners beach) and I heard she was scratched up and beaten black and blue by the rocks and waves trying to learn. Love watching surfers but it's looking more and more like I don't want to actually try it. Though that surf camp sounded awesome.

Jo Malone: How I love you but it's terrifically hard to choose one scent. I get so confused/distracted/exasperated when standing in front of Jo Malone testers. I just tried again recently. This is why I always end up driving up to a drug store for nostalgic, ole Jean Naté. I wear it well but it's becoming a bore so I opted for a lavender hydrosol instead. One day I'll be able to focus and pick my very own Jo Malone scent.

Lately we've been happy eating a nice bowl of steel cut Irish oatmeal cooked slowly over a medium flame. I usually drop a cinnamon stick into the water before it comes to a boil and add a little brown sugar. Smells wonderful and tastes even better with nothing to feel guilty about.

I love my little orange Fiestaware teapot and hated to see it put away when it's such a happy looking piece. It works well as an iced teapot outside in the summer and the top keeps the flies away from our minty beverage. My friend arrived and thought I was crazy to serve hot tea in this weather then she spotted the condensation.

Note to Self: Next year plant more strawberries. They do really well and I regret not planting a ton more and being able to collect a whole bowl of them. Maybe I'm being greedy.

I still don't know if my chicken Twinkie is male or female. It has male pattern feather growth but no comb or wattles and no sign of them either. It has a strange cluck, not very Silkie, though it looks very male Silkie. Twinkie is either some sort of mutt or a hermaphrodite chicken? It has the best personality ever in a chicken and acts just like a poodle: knows it's name, comes when called, follows me around, likes to cuddle, cocks it's head when spoken too just like a puppy.

Yes, it's true: chicken diapers. So what can this mean? Hopefully this piece of livestock will graduate to beloved, indoor pet one day. Then maybe they'll get better conditions at the Tyson factory farms?

Jonathan Halper, where did you go?Everyone wants to know. K. Anger told William once that he was pretty much a mysterious character and didn't know much about him or his whereabouts.

When I switched web hosts a few months ago, many posts and photos got lost or jumbled up on the blog and website, for some reason. Today I finally took steps to fix these problems. If you noticed, thank you for your patience.

Are you a Beatnik?

My childhood is dying off

My mom watched him every night and so I remember him well on the small black and white set that sat on a wire stand on wheels.

Musings

"I went one afternoon to the church of my childhood and had a vision of what I must have really meant with "Beat"... the vision of the word Beat as being to mean beatific..."

~ Kerouac

Voodoo Curse

On a very esoteric Leave it to Beaver episode, Beaver puts a voodoo curse on Eddie Haskell.

La Canícula

"Cuidado, mejita, ya viene la canícula." But I thought the first day of summer was June 20th? The other night my Grandmother told me the dog days were just beginning and the temperatures usually increased during this time. In that case, I think the dog days arrived weeks ago. Temperatures higher than 106??? Yipes! Del Rio has already had deep fried days of over 106, try 109 and 110.

Donkey cart

We now subscribe to a service that brings organic groceries to your door. After considering this service for about a year or so the push to sign on came from watching Food Inc. Though I've read the Michael Pollan books and other books about our tainted food industry and have already made changes, the documentary really made me want to do even more for us. Greenling has made procuring good food so much easier so why not take advantage of it. Saturdays still offer the farmer's market but now we can have local produce and meats during the week.

In Mexico, when we'd visit over the summers, I loved the donkey cart filled with produce that came from small farms around Los Mochis. It would make a stop at my Abuelita's house daily and I loved helping to pick out the tomatoes, cabbage, lettuce and coconuts. Being able to pet the donkey was also something to look forward to. These were the pre-NAFTA days when Mexican farmers were still able to make a living and there were donkey carts and open air markets all over. The milk came from Yaqui dairies and were delivered in glass bottles every morning. Orange juice came from orange trees in the backyard, so did limes, mangoes and papayas. Everything used to be so fresh.

I wish we were successful enough gardeners to have enough veggies to share with neighbors. My other set of Grandparents have always kept chickens and had fresh eggs. My Grandmother still makes her own salsa, tortillas and anise and Mexican pastry breads from scratch. They grow tomatoes, chile peppers, peaches, pears, figs for preserve and pumpkins for empanadas. They share their gardening successes with us everytime we visit. My Grandfather has always told me, since I went off to college, to get a piece of land and put some goats, chickens and a big garden. My Grandmother has always told me that I can make anything and there is no need to go to the store for everything. I'm trying the best I can with what we have in the middle of Austin. I'm looking forward to our modern day donkey cart.

Fréhel

We watched Pepe Le Moko. I haven't seen this film in years but it was the movie I would pair with L'atalante when I would. I had rough, bootleg VHS copies of both, hand me downs from a friend of mine.

One afternoon I rode my bike to visit Pierre Foucher who lived down the street. He was simplifying and thinning out his possessions. He didn't seem to have anything to begin with. Out in his yard were his screen printing supplies, by the trash were old magazines and boxes of ink. In his old station wagon were things he was going to keep, just a bag of clothing. He got into is car and said he was going to the post office to mail letters to a gypsy friend in Spain and he asked if I'd like to come along. I had other things to do. He then drove off but did a U-turn and returned to tell me to never to pick up dimes from the ground when heads pointed up. Then he drove off, made another U-turn, handed me the tapes and told me to watch two of his favorite films then said I'd marry a man with green eyes. I did! He was somewhat mysterious, from Montparnasse, crazy about American gangsters, the Camelot years and travelling the US. During one of my many summer apartment moves between 1990-1996, both tapes warped in the back seat of my car.

L'atalante I had seen at the Paramount one year and never forgot it because it seemed so dreamy. I had never seen Pepe Le Moko. It appealed to me because the setting was Algiers in the 1930's and I was introduced to Fréhel. I kept rewinding back to her scene and was touched by it. She seemed so sad. If you are not acquainted with her voice, she is often mistaken for Piaf. They don't sound alike unless you happen to hear a French chanteuse on a scratchy old recording. Fréhel came before Piaf and had a cleaner voice, both had tragic, tormented lives and loves.

It was difficult at the time to find Fréhel's music and information on her but I managed to procure Cd's and a book through inter-library loan. Piere made a whole list of tragic French chanteuses for me before he disappeared: Damia, Berthe Sylva...it was years before I was able to hear them all. Today they are only a click away on you tube. Fréhel is the only chanteuse that can really make me tear up because I always think of her scene in Pepe Le Moko.

I'd rather be thin than famous........

Ping-ponging between episodes of Route 66 and Johnny Staccato,catching short reads of Dharma Bums, listening to Sinatra, Billy Ward and Charlie Parker, it all sort of leaves me in a strange frame of mind.



Pizza and spinach salad for dinner, tea and homemade cherry coffee cake sans the coffee before bed. There are more hours in the day than I think there are. To be able to tend to things and chickens here and there and then still have time to escape? There are definitely more hours in the day. I've just been using them without thinking about them much.

Farina (after Richard Farina)

When Ducky was broody and depressed I found her three eggs to hatch. First came Twinkie then Farina and then Nacho. It was obvious really early on that Nacho was a roo and is now co-running one of my Grandfather's flocks in Del Rio. Farina had me guessing up until he crowed for the first time last week.

Farina is the first "problem" roo I have ever had. I have been complimented on the great demeanor of all my roos, including Nacho, by people who have raised chickens for quite sometime. No, not just my Grandfather either :>. My roos have all been docile and cuddly with humans while at the same time capable and strong enough to run a flock without hurting their ladies too much.

When Farina began to crow, last week, he also began a few odd rituals. First thing he does as soon as he's out of his little house is chase the girls, plucking a few tail feathers making them squeal. Then he'd run up to me, a gesture that melted my heart, and do this little dance. He hops around on one foot dragging a wing on the ground then stomp his little chicken feet and go around in a quick circle. I thought this was some cute nervous little habit he had and would pick him up as soon as he did it and tell him how cute he was. I'd put him down and he'd charge at my leg and try and nip my ankle. I thought he did this because he didn't realize my ankle was also me. But after the third time I realized there was a behavioural problem.

A few articles off the Internet and I discovered my sweet, neurotic roo is just trying to be the boss of me because he sees me as another rooster. I did do all that crowing to teach Nacho how to crow a few weeks back. Oops. That little dance is supposed to scare me into surrendering my power. However, I've been doing one thing right and that is picking him up to make over him like he were some defenseless little teddy bear. Hard not too,he's so darn cute and only six inches high.

At one point I had to separate him from the flock of girls because he seemed to be hurting them and annoying them too much. So Farina was placed in time out and I went inside to watch a movie. When I checked on the flock I found all the girls around Farina's lil house. I called William to come see. My thought was, why would they want to be around this little creep who has been rather vicious towards them. William's answer was, "Maybe he's like the Charles Manson of the roosters?". Twinkie, his ever loyal clutch mate, is definitely his Squeaky Fromm. But I read that despite how hard the roosters are on the flock, they appreciate a male around the place even if he's three to four inches shorter and meaner than hell.

The Dr Spock of the chicken world said more handling is required to turn this little roo into more of a gentleman. Now that I know I don't think there is too much work ahead of me. The next few days are going to play out like a Pygmalion scene, teehee.

Corners of happiness

One of my favorite scents is lavender. One summer I grew some on my balcony along with Maid-of-Orleans Jasmine for the first time and it was my small corner of happiness. The balcony was off my bedroom and I had hung wind chimes and would play my records while I watered all my plants at night. My friend Nickie was buying lavender and Mexican petunia that summer, really, ages ago. We had gone sort of plant crazy and couldn't stop going to nurseries. We would phone each other just about every night to talk about how much our boyfriends sucked but how wonderful our plants were turning out. Just the other day we were remembering those calls and laughing at how young we must have been to not see the solution: ditch the boyfriends, by more plants and feel so much better.

Around that same time I read how Sinatra loved Yardley's lavender soap. I have been told that the soap was made a lot stronger before the 1980's. Today the scent is mild compared to how it used to be and doesn't last.  I finally managed to get lavender plants into my backyard today. The breeze this evening brought scents of jasmine, cinnamon basil and English lavender. I thought of Nickie, summers spent in Mexico, My Abuelito and his opera collection, and our honeymoon through Key West and thought of how my little corner of happiness has grown.

I just planted the lavender and cinnamon basil because I enjoy the fragrance. There is such a thing as a scent garden. Recommended plants are:chamomile, lavender, artimisia and rosemary. Flowers to plant are: jasmine, honeysuckle, roses, mahonia and philadelphus.

Octubre es un mes,

cuando recuerdo los lugares que pase, y que nunca voy a ver otra vez, porque todo tiene que cambiar.
It's only July but I keep thinking of how October can feel. Maybe it's all the dead leaves falling from the browning trees that has me thinking of fall.

It's only July, Happy 4th of July! There are still trips to the beach, more BBQ, Paramount movies and summer fun to be had. See you at the fireworks show.

Waffles are the new cupcake?

Cupcakes are OUT! As an observer of food trends, not completely a participant, I must say to all my cupcake loving and eating friends, sorry, it's passe. I love them, don't get me wrong, but in this trendy world, the cupcake is just out and that's just how it is.

The cupcake is a relic that lingered (a bit too long) from those houseflipping days of ponzi schemes and wild, financial abandon. The air filled, puffy, fluffy sweet frosting was just an edible symbol of the times. It just doesn't feel right to eat a cupcake in front of my unemployed friend. No, it feels rather inappropriate to eat something that screams happy , silly and useless so loudly when she sits there barely able to make payments.

However, waffles...now they are perfect for this occasion. I buy a waffle for me and a waffle for her and there we are, keeping it real. Nothing screams hunkering down like a waffle. It’s breakfast, it’s lunch, it’s dinner and it’s a desert. It is so unassuming, it's sweet (not too sweet) and buttery but it doesn't show it off. It is just as good with butter and syrup as it is dressed up with whipped cream and berries. I can share a down home style waffle with my recession injured friends or take it uptown with air filled, puffy, fluffy whipped cream and still not look a bit smug. It’s an honest, down to earth, practical food.

So will I venture to say eating a cupcake makes you look smug? Um, not really, but you do look a bit too confident. Have a waffle, it sticks to your gut.

Have them with chicken: Lucky J’s on Burnet next to Home Lumber
Have them as dolled up or plain as you want: Waffles on 24th and San Antonio

Hunker down and make some yourself, then call your friends over. It's time for waffles.

Mostly food minutiae

When it comes to restaurants in town, it's hard to try something new instead of heading for our favorite places. In all the years that I've been going to Alborz Persian Cuisine, I have never seen the belly dancing. We don't tend to eat dinner after seven. Anything after that is just snacking. But we'll have to make the show sometime. Several years ago, Paul told me about Alborz Persian Cuisine and how good it was. It one of my favorite restaurants in town, next to Fonda San Miguel and Chez Nous, Titaya's, El Patio, Star of India, Elsie's, Arrandas, The Frisco.... But Alborz has a buffet to beat all buffets. On a hot day it's nice to walk in and have some Persian ice cream.

We've been invited to a potluck. I can't wait because my friend seems to know several foodies and they bring the most yummy dishes to the table. I actually get a bit anxious thinking about what to bring but not so anxious it ruins the fun. I usually bring something savory or brie. I have decided to bring Sour Cherry Crumb Cakes made from fresh cherries and be a desert contributor.

Yesterday we had the first cucumber out of our garden. It was exquisite, a bit sweet and very juicy. I wish we had California weather so we could really go to town with a garden. On walks through the hood I see a lot of sad looking gardens, drooping from heat exhaustion. I also hear a lot of sad gardeners talk about losing plants. But our cucumber filled me with ideas and strategy for next year, a bigger garden, different location, a list of veggies, more strawberries and better squirrel proof designs.