live from sublurbia

I like to fiddle with cooking. Just to tweak it or improve it, or cut out foods we’re not fond of or don’t have in the house. And I don’t have the eleventy million spices listed in most cookbooks. So I’m teaching myself as I go; which flavors go with the usual suspects from our garden and pantry.

Recently I found myself with a couple of pounds of left over squash and not a lot of other fresh foods in the house. We were in that “no shopping” time before and after a traveling week, so I flipped through Bowl Food to figure out how to use up the squash for that night’s dinner (the rest I planned to toss into a lentil stew).

Inspired by squash risotto, I fried onions and squash in curry powder and a drip of oil. I brought water to a boil, and added cous-cous (and a chicken bullion cube) to the pot. I turned the stove off, removed the pot from heat (glass top + cast iron = keeps cooking even when off), added canned chicken, and let it sit, covered for 5 minutes.

The next night, more squash, plus an onion and canned tomatoes and garbanzo beans were mixed with a store-bought packet of lentils and seasoning. I’ve got a bit of a taste now of what the store’s spices are, so I can make my own next time around.

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“Mom, be serious!”

“I got Bonge Bob!”

“Mom, you are a super hero.”

“I’m a bat. Except I don’t sleep like a bat or fly because I don’t have wings. Screee!”

“Daddy told me the rules of popsicles. You eat all of your food and then you can have a popsicle.”

“I love swimming lessons.”

“There aren’t any more clothes on the floor to pick up.” Did you pick them all up? “No, only one.” That means you can see the rest. “Oh, you’re right. Now I see them, I wasn’t looking on the floor. Look at all these chairs!”

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What a great introduction to the circle of life for eldest. Pluck fat cabbage loopers from the garden, place in bug cage, let die.

Honestly, I checked them out a few days after we plucked them, and it all looked dead to me. So I forgot about the bugs and went off for the holiday and never thought about them again.

Then today, I tested my drip watering system, cleaned out the latest round of baby snails, and found more darn cabbage loopers. Kiddo was busy watering the hanging plants, so I disposed of them in quick pinches. Only three wiggly ones this time, and one half-cocooned one.

I quickly ripped off the leaf on which it made it’s home, and started to move our prize into the bug keeper. Only to find two dead moths inside. Smart move, mom.

Tried to explain to the kiddo that they hadn’t had any food and subsequently died, but he let it roll off of him and went back to watering the plants. I mentioned we had a new one, showed it to him, and this time brought the bug cage inside.

Someone remind me to check it in the morning. Or send it to summer camp and let them keep an eye on it …

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A lawn may be pleasing to look at, or provide the children with a place to play, or offer the dog room to relieve himself, but it has no productive value. The only work it does is cultural. In Downing’s day, the servant-mowed lawn stood, eloquently, for the power structure that made it possible: who but the very rich could afford such a pointless luxury? As mechanical mowers enabled middle-class suburbanites to cut their own grass, this meaning was lost and a different one took hold. A lawn came to signal its owner’s commitment to a communitarian project: the upkeep of the greensward that linked one yard to the next.

“A fine carpet of green grass stamps the inhabitants as good neighbors, as desirable citizens,” Abraham Levitt wrote. (By covenant, the original Levittowners agreed to mow their lawns once a week between April 15th and November 15th.) “The appearance of a lawn bespeaks the personal values of the resident,” a group called the Lawn Institute declared. “Some feel that a person who keeps the lawn perfectly clipped is a person who can be trusted.”

I can’t wait to read it. Though going by my lawn I must be a very untrustworthy sort (I don’t edge every time! Shock!). We’ll see.

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“When I grow up, I want to be a FIREWORK!

I will sit on the ground and then FLY up in the sky and go

BOOM and be the biggest blue firework and then …”

(pause)

“_{I don’t want to be a firework when I grow up}”

(later)

“I want to be a PENGUIN when I grow up!”

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So I’ve been spending way too much time on etsy, drooling and dreaming, admiring my friend’s stores and treasure lists and admiring fellow crafter’s creativity.

I’d planned to pack in a lot more writing this summer, but those long summer nights and pest-hunting in the garden and playing with the kids kind of derailed that. So I’m surfing etsy, looking at ideas to buy holiday gifts and maybe make some of my own.

Whenever I run out of things to think up to do, etsy is there with ideas and gifts to window-shop for hours. And then I wander off reading blogs, and I spend more time ‘reading’ than ‘writing’.

So that’s what works for me on Wednesdays when I want to write but am looking for ideas – cruising etsy. What kind of crafter sites do you like to surf?

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I wandered about my bitty garden plot recently, mindful of the warm weather and lack of rain, to sprinkle some water on my little starter plants. They needed it. Very dry. :( We’re thinking about a couple of long weekends away this summer, visiting friends and family, so I need to get out my watering spikes. The orange plastic spikes attach to plastic 2L bottles of water (repurposed soda bottles). Stick them in or near the root ball of the plant; the water should dribble out as needed to keep the plant going until you can get a good soak in again.

Aunt Mommy: 0, Pests: 1

I was not happy at what I found in the garden aside from lack of water. The cucumber was almost eaten away completely on one plot. The stem was chewed near through, and the leaves were quite transparent. Some kind of harsh pest, so I’ll probably just dig the poor plant out and put it out of its misery. Hopefully, this will save the other plants in the immediate area.

Government Agents: ???

A recent visitor admired my efforts at gardening, but warned me that I should probably build greenhouses instead of having an open air garden. Apparently, if the pests don’t get you, the planes that fly over head will. Well, not you, just your plants that grow edible food.

“They” apparently use planes that fly overhead, releasing a chemical agent that looks like a grey fog in the morning. What gives it away is how it clings to spider’s webs. The agent kills all your edible crops, but according to my source “your roses are just fine!” I found the story quite intriguing, and as an eater of flowers, including roses, I decided not to point out that roses are edible, or dissuade them of any of their other … unique conspiracy theories.

But on the off hand there is anyone out there determined to thwart my plan to enjoy a somewhat edible garden again this summer, be they friendly nation, unfriendly nation, or jealous giant pharmaceutical and food company, rest assured that the borer beetles and cabbage loopers have got your back.

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