Weekend - Nice

We had what I would categorize as a nice weekend. Saturday morning we slept in until about 9:30. Well, Tiny woke me up at 6:30 to feed him, but I was actually able to fall back asleep. I had every intention of going to the gym, but Jason asked me if I wanted to go down to REI in Warwick with him to pick up our new bags (prices slashed on Timbuk2!). Then I remembered I wanted to make sure to go to the farmers' market this week.

So we drove down to the end of Blackstone Blvd and rambled through the farmers' market. There was a young Irish/folk band playing, who were really impressed that Jason I knew when to clap and sing along during "The Wild Rover". I got a butternut squash and a couple of leeks to pair with the Macintosh apples I already have to make my favorite side dish. I also got 3 huge zucchini for $1 and then a couple of ginger cookies from Seven Stars (I was going to buy one for us to share, but the top one was broken so the lady gave me the broken one for free. Nice!)

Then it was off to REI where we got new trendy bags (even though we're about 4 years behind this trend). Jason's computer bag was so worn it was getting transparent so now he has a nice shiny new one. I also got a pink fleece on sale that I love. My wardrobe used to be chock full of pink, but these days pink has given way to greens and purples. It's nice to get back to my roots.

Saturday night was a fancy schmancy work function. I went last year and hardly knew anyone. After working with this client for a year it was really gratifying to go this year and realize that I know a bunch of people there now. A random, slightly tipsy man started a conversation with Jason with the line, "And how was your day?" and we wound up talking with him for a good 20 minutes. We found out later that he is actually a pretty important guy, so go us!

Sunday we went to church for the first hour and then headed up to Worcester to spend some time with a few of Jason's friends from his old lab. We ate fabulous Indian food and played croquet in the rain and didn't get home until 10 or so. Then Jason got out his guitar and played through bits and pieces of songs as I puttered around, getting things ready for the coming week. I finally sat down on the loveseat across from him and he played me some Christmas tunes while I sang. You know, I think "Silent Night" sounds just right with the guitar, since that's what it was originally written for.

Sometimes it's nice to reflect and think, "...Nice."

First Day

Sunday was my first day with the Young Women at church. I thought it was fun, but I think I might be a bad influence on the girls.

See, the lesson was on dating and doing group dates until the girls are 16 and not getting too serious with a boy until they're older. The teacher read some quotes from leaders of the church. Before reading one she prefaced it with, "OK, so here is a quote for you to think about that kind of gives you an idea of what's on the boys' minds."

...

...

I mean, we ALL know what's on the boys' minds. Am I right?

Both Annie (the YW President) and I kind of looked at each other, trying not to laugh. Then the teacher started reading the quote, which actually talked about how the boys are preparing to go on their missions and their thoughts about the future should be about that. Annie and I both started cracking up at that because WE knew what we had been thinking.

The teacher looked at us quizzically and we apologized. I explained, "That is totally NOT where I thought you were going with that AT ALL."

Then the girls all started laughing because they knew what I meant.

So, yeah, bad influence.

Ghost Stories

I've been looking for ghost story podcasts on itunes. As the weather gets chillier, and Halloween gets closer, I like to indulge in that spine-tingling feeling of a good ghost story.

I've told a couple of ghost stories on here before, but not many. Mostly because I can pass a lot of the stories off to overly vivid dreaming on my part. A lot of my stories happen just as I "wake up" in the middle of the night. But maybe I just think I'm awake and even though my eyes are open and I think I see something, it's really just some sort of dream residue. I used to walk in my sleep, I still occasionally talk in my sleep and I always have extremely vivid dreams.

However, there are still a few of my stories that can't be accounted for by dreams. I had an interesting discussing with a woman at a recent work function Jason and I attended. Someone started talking about ghostly experiences and Jason piped in that I've seen ghosts. I know I turned bright red as I stammered that, "Weeeell, I can't be sure. I might have been asleep. I don't know..."

It's not something I generally share with just anyone, but Jason thinks I have some cool stories, even though he's a skeptic about their actual cause as well. A woman at our table told us she never believed in an afterlife until she had kids and her son started telling her about people he's seen - like her father - and details he has told her that he couldn't possibly know. So she was very encouraging and interested in hearing my stories.

I don't know if this really counts, but I had a powerful experience when we were at Gettysburg this summer. Our first stop was at the top of a hill where there is a large observation tower. Jason headed straight for the tower and I told him to go ahead because I wanted to read the national parks display over to the side, near a hiking trail.

As I walked toward the display, I felt overcome by a feeling of intense sadness. My eyes started filling with tears and it was very hard for me to feel like I was in control. I finally stopped the tears and, breathing deeply, managed to push the feeling away for the moment. It took a few minutes, and when I turned back around to head to the tower, Jason had already come back down.

We drove around a bit more and wound up near a huge memorial for the soldiers of Pennsylvania that looked out over several open fields, where a few cannons were set up. We walked around the monument and I felt the sadness again, but this time, I kept it at bay. Eventually we decided to leave, and Jason made a stop at the restroom. I ambled away from the restrooms, looking out over the darkened field. Suddenly I was flooded with this feeling of intense sadness. I started crying and had to bite my lip to keep from sobbing out loud. When Jason came out, there were still tears on my face. It was dark so I don't think he could tell how upset I was.

I tried to explain to Jason, but he just said, "It makes sense. It's a sad place. It makes me sad to think about all the people who died too." The thing is, this didn't feel like my sadness alone. He only saw a few tears because I was pushing back the sobs that wanted to come out.

I've done a little Googling and it seems like I'm not the only one who has experienced intense feelings of sadness at Gettysburg.

So what do you think?

Always Remember

I wrote this on September 11, 2006.

Five Years Ago...

I lived and worked in Chicago. Right before I left to catch the express El to the Loop at 7:50, the news report I had on said that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Reports were sketchy, and the speculation was that it was a small propeller plane that had veered off course somehow.

45 minutes later, after a train ride closed off from the news, I walked into my office and was inundated by people running back and forth, catching snippets of frantic conversation. "...Another plane..." "...Large passenger planes..." "...Pentagon..." "...Pennsylvania..." "...Terrorists..."

I turned on the radio at my desk and turned up the volume so everyone around me could hear all of the incoming reports. I called my mom, who I knew would still be asleep, and told her to turn on the TV. A few minutes later, the first tower fell. She started screaming, "Oh my God! It fell! All those people are dead!" She cried and I just sat frozen.

The second tower fell.

Speculations started coming in as to who was next. My dad worked in the Sears Tower, and the rumors made it a target too. He went home.

They evacuated the Loop. The firemen said we couldn't use the elevators and so we all walked down the stairs. As I hurried down 33 flights, surrounded by co-workers and all the other people in the building, all I could think about were the people on the stairs in the World Trade Center, those who made it, and those who didn't.

Out on the street, thousands of people hurrying toward the trains to get home. They ran the express trains longer, to get us out of the Loop more quickly.

I got home and turned on the news. I called friends and family and sometimes we talked and sometimes we just sat together in stunned silence.

A week later I went to the rally and wore my American flag pen made by a friend, who sold them and donated the money. I put money in the firemen's boots in Evanston and Chicago. Gradually, life restarted and the news wasn't on 24 hours a day. But I still cried a little every time a report came on about 9/11. It became easier over time to get on with things as before.

I was not in New York or in Washington, DC, but the events of that day affected me as an American and as a human being.

I know I am not the only person who will be writing about this today. It is cathartic to think about it, remember, and then hope for the future. I watched a news report the other day about the babies born after 9/11 whose dads died that day. It was so beautiful to see all those little 4 year-olds, a lot of whom look like their dads, and know that even for those people who suffered the most personal losses, life does go on.

Canned Tomatoes

So what do you do with a bunch of tomatoes that have been marked by the blight that is sweeping the Northeast? Why, you can them, of course, so that you can have nice homemade diced tomatoes to use this winter.

Tuesday night I finally got around to canning the tomatoes that have been slowly rotting and taking up a LOT of space in the refrigerator. I didn't get to it last week and then we were gone for the holiday weekend, so Tuesday, as soon as I got home from work, I started the process.

You may remember from my canning of apple butter and applesauce last year that I don't have all the fancy-schmancy canning equipment. Thankfully, neither does the person who wrote this tutorial at Southern Plate.

First, you have to sterilize the jars. I washed them and then boiled them for about 10 minutes. The dishtowels are to keep the jars from clinking against the side of the pot. I just used a basic giant stock pot and was able to fit 2 pint and 5 half pint jars in one bath.
In a separate bowl, I poured boiling water (from the tea kettle) over the jar lids to sterilize them.
Now to the tomatoes. I got my instructions for canning tomatoes in particular at Mark's Daily Apple. Oh internets, how I love you!

First, you wash your tomatoes and then dunk them in a pot of boiling water until the skin starts splitting. I had a couple stubborn tomatoes that took over 5 minutes to split, but generally it takes about 2 minutes.
(Note the blighty goodness. Don't worry, all that nastiness was peeled and chopped away from the final product.)

Then you dunk the tomatoes in a cold water bath for a couple of minutes. Now the skins should be easy to peel off.
Peeled tomatoes:
Then you dice the tomatoes. I don't have a picture of this because it was a bit of a disaster. I took a large cutting board and the tomatoes into the living room so I could chop while Jason and I watched a TV show. Um, semi-peeled tomatoes that have been put in a water bath retain a LOT of water.

There was a lot of liquid and some shrieking as said liquid ran off the cutting board and onto my pajama bottoms and maybe a bit on the rug.

So, anyway, I finished the chopping in the kitchen and sprinkled a bit of kosher salt on the diced tomatoes.

Then I used a big-mouth funnel and large serving spoon to scoop diced tomatoes into the waiting sterilized jars, interspersed with a bit of purple, Italian and cinnamon basil from our plants. I made sure to wipe all tomato juice remnants off the edges of the jars then capped them with the sterilized tops and screwed on the lids - but not too tightly.

Finally, I put the jars back in the towel-lined pot and boiled them for about 45 minutes. I set the jars on the counter and this morning they were all sitting there perfect, with concave lids, as is appropriate for properly sealed canned goods.

I started out with about 30 tomatoes of all different sizes. After cutting off the bad bits, I wound up with 2 pints and 6 half-pints of diced tomatoes.

It may look like you use an awful lot of bowls and pots and pans for this project, but, as someone without a dishwasher, I can honestly say it's really not that big a deal. You're basically using the dishes to boil water or to create a water bath or similar. The dishes don't really get dirty, per se, and I find a good rinse with hot water at the end of it all is sufficient for getting the dishes clean. It's not like I lick the cold water bath bowl when it's all done. I mean, it's not brownie batter.

I highly recommend picking up something like this prior to attempting your own canning:
Last year I didn't have any dedicated canning tools and Tuesday night I discovered that it's much easier with the tools. The 2 most valuable are the big-mouthed funnel and the jar-picking-up tongs. The set cost me $10 at Benny's, and I'm sure when your local store starts putting out the canning equipment you can find something similar for not too much money.

More Vermont

A few more pictures from our trip:

Our tent
It's a 4-person tent, but Jason, Rachel and I slept in there with me and Rachel on a queen-size air mattress. To add to the posh camping experience with the zen garden-fountained bathroom.

Jason is not so much about the mornings
The dew on the picnic bench showed us we had a little animal friend visit during the night.
Autumn is just starting to appear in Vermont.

Vermont

My first year of college I went to Middlebury College in Middlebury, Vermont. I wish I had liked the school more because I loved Vermont. Maybe sophomore year would have been better, but for better or worse, I wound up finishing at the University of Arizona. This past weekend was a giant Vermont flashback for me, starting with getting out of the car right after crossing the border from New Hampshire and commenting, "It SMELLS like Vermont." (Most people who have spent a lot of time in Vermont would ask, "It smelled like cow poo...?" No, it smelled like pine and woodsiness. Cow poo is also a very Vermonty smell, though.)

We went up to Smuggler's Notch State Park to camp and hike. If you're looking to ease your way into the whole camping experience, I highly recommend Smuggler's Notch. There are real bathrooms, one of which has a shower, an electrical outlet, potted plants AND a zen rock fountain. Poshest camping ever. I mean, we still slept in our sleeping bags in a tent, but having real bathrooms makes a lot of difference when you're talking about "roughing it".

We arrived Friday night and Jason grilled us up some steak tips on his camp stove. I must say, the camp stove is a brilliant invention. You just hook up a little propane canister and you're good to go. Over the course of the weekend we made steak, pancakes (Jason is in awe of Bisquick mix and pour), tacos and pasta on the stove.

Saturday we planned to climbed Camel's Hump. Which we did, though it was kind of a painful experience for me. You can read all about it at my other blog, but suffice it to say, my lung capacity was not up to snuff after getting bronchitis a few weeks ago. I felt extremely frustrated, but what could I do?

Jason got some nice pictures.

Our goal, the Camel's Hump
Me and Rachel heading up
Scrambling over rocks to get to the summit
The summit

As Jason noted, it was windy and cold at the top
Looking toward the White Mountains in New Hampshire
After the hike we headed back to the campsite and stopped to get gas. As we pulled into the gas station, I noticed a sign for "Creamees" and completely freaked out. When I was at Middlebury, there was a little market at the bottom of the hill below campus that sold Creamees seasonally. Basically they are giant soft serve ice cream cones, with optional sprinkles. I was not disappointed by the gas station Creamees! I got vanilla with rainbow sprinkles in homage to my standard Middlebury fare. The small I got was so big that I can't even imagine how big the large is. Monday morning on the way out of town we stopped there again and this time I got maple soft serve. So. Good.

Sunday everyone else climbed Mount Mansfield and I drove up the toll road to meet them. There is still a mile to the summit past the parking lot and I planned to hike it with them, but my new boots had given me a blister and the other shoes I had with me offered limited traction and no ankle support. I scrambled over a few rocks and made it about halfway to the summit and then I called it a day. Since I hadn't climbed the rest of the mountain I wasn't too put out.

Mount Mansfield actually has some Arctic tundra
The guys on Mount Mansfield's Forehead
Before I pooped out walking to the summit at the Chin
The trail they took down. Jason said it was pretty brutal, but the views were great
Back at camp
Everyone else had an awesome time hiking and I'm glad they did. I had fun camping and enjoyed my little drive around the Vermont countryside by myself on Sunday morning. I stopped at a local farm to pick up some firewood that the farmer was selling more cheaply than the state park and we had a roaring fire.

Smuggler's Notch is near the town of Stowe, which is very cutesy. Someday I would like to go back with some people who maybe would like to take a day to roam through the town, rather than hike all day long. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the hiking. But I also enjoy exploring cute little towns.

All in all it was a fun weekend, and today my thighs still feel a little bit like they might fall off. If I feel this way after a 6 mile hike, it's no wonder Jason is hobbling around stooped over like he's 95 years old after hiking 14 miles.

Suit

I bought a custom-made suit yesterday. I bought the cheapest one they sell, but it was still more than I've ever paid for a suit before. However, after several years of squishing my hips into pencil skirts and being completely limited in my options because my top and bottom are 2 different sizes and most stores don't even sell separates and if they do, they have like 3 options, I thought this might be a good move. I'm supposed to be a polished professional and it's hard to relay that when I never really feel like I look that good in a suit.

Thankfully, my office is business casual so I don't have to dress in a suit every day. If I did, I probably would have gone the custom route ages ago. I do have to wear a suit if I'm going to meet a client or on the extremely rare occasions that I go to court. Right now I have one, ill-fitting suit, that, frankly, is starting to look kind of raggedy.

My boss uses the custom clothier and so I decided to talk to the salesman about options. When I told him my issue with my waist being about 10 inches smaller than my hips, he immediately said they have A-line skirts. A miracle!

In addition to needing to look good for our clients, I need to look good for the boss. He's kind of into clothes and appearances and I know he wants me to look a certain way and project a certain image for the firm. Generally I think I pull myself together pretty well, but I know I need to look sharp.

So those are all my rationalizations. I'll let you know in 4-6 weeks how it all comes out.