These days I mostly try not to write. My life is so full of work and family and weeding. But every now and then, my brain starts to itch and the only way to scratch that itch is writing. This is where you will find my most recent scratchings.
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Punk Housewife Tip: Oil and Wine
Here’s a double dip tip: Buying Olive Oil in Bulk If you use a lot of olive oil you might want to buy it in the big square cans, it’s considerably cheaper than the small bottles. But you’ll still want to keep a small bottle near your stove, which presents the problem of pouring from that big can, which inevitably goes glugluglug and slops oil all over everything. To solve this annoying problem, just punch a small hole on the opposite side of the top to the pouring spout. This lets the air in and makes for a nice smooth…
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Prosciutto e Melone: A Garden Update
Don’t get excited. I am not eating prosciutto e melone. I’m not, and it’s a tragedy. Fourteen years ago, I spent a month in Italy with a dear, similarly food obsessed friend. We ate our way from Roma to Venezia, with a detour to the ridiculously picturesque Cinque Terre. We worked on farms where they milked sheep and made Pecorino, we sucked fallen plums off the ground, we discovered fruits we had only ever seen dried and packaged, we discovered in fact, everything we had ever eaten before, and how it could taste. People talk about Italy with an obnoxious…
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Where Imagination Meets Engineering
The 3yo turned 4. Did you hear? Her hours of imaginative play have evolved. Lately she gets it in her head that she want to make a very specific thing. She has apparently boundless faith in my ability to construct anything out of paper, string and tape. Which is endearing, if a little tiresome. “Oooo, I know! Let’s make a conductor costume!” (?) “I want to make bunny ears, and bunny feet, and a tail!” Or, this morning, “Mama, my baby dolls are sick. They need one of those things that people ride in when they’re sick.” “Umm, you mean…
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Chicken an’ Biskit: Poultry Through the Ages
I don’t remember how it got started, but we have one of those private family jokes about a crusty old timer going on and on about “chicken an’ biskit, chicken an’ biskit.” From some old Monty Python, or maybe Kids in the Hall? Don’t know. Anyway, it’s a solid in our household now. I buy pastured chicken from the farmer’s market, and in case any sad soul out there is eating supermarket chicken and thinking, as I used to, ‘Am I just imagining things or did chicken used to taste like something? Like… chicken?’ Local family farms are still producing…
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By Surprise
Some time back, after shaking the last bit out of a salt canister, I had a brainstorm. I looked at that big cardboard tube and thought, planetarium! We got right to it, poking star holes with the pointy end of a candy thermometer, removing the metal spout to make a peep hole and lastly painting the whole thing night sky blue. I finally stood back with pride while my girl squinted up one eye and gazed into her private galaxy. And then it hit me. Holy fuck. I am a mom. I looked at a salt can and saw a…
calamity jane 