a little red hen

Sending Quinoa Bread to Roxie

Here's the truth of this person's 80-plus life.  Till a couple of years ago, days were full of busyness, yarn, and numerous ideas--many of them world-saving. Possibly all that took its toll.  Not doing much lately.

Bread and the fascination with its variety gets my attention now.  Mostly sourdough loaves.  Past six months, my oven released one new recipe after another.  Neighbors in my retirement community here in Portland were gracious about receiving a slice or more. 

Then a new possibility.  Cooking with the New York Times made me (and many, many others) an offer I could not refuse.  I could apply to be "an early adopter" on the beta edition of their site.  Quite puffed up with the thought that though aged, I understood the concept.  I could comment on their recipes! Quite an opportunity for an opinionated old person.

Application accepted, my first effort was to look through our file of "saved recipes," find them on the Times site, write changes Ron or I had made, give one to five stars.  As I was about to make my next loaf, thought to check out the "more that 17,000+ recipes."  Many cakes, fewer breads, but  one got my attention: Whole-Wheat Quinoa Bread. Uses dry yeast overnight sponge, is not sourdough. 

While loaves were cooling our son called from New York with granddaughter Roxie on Facetime.  Showed them the bread, "I'd like a slice," Nick said.  An idea, a bit impractical.  Why not mail the small loaf?  Went online, found good advice at The Kitchn blog for wrapping and sending homemade bread.

Ron had a great interaction the next day at the P.O. with a Vietnamese post lady behind the counter.  Worried about finding a reasonably-priced mailer, her no-nonsense reply, "No problem." She jammed the bread into a standard, large, white mailing envelope,  reassured him "Your granddaughter will love it!"   He thought it might arrive in crumbs.  But no, the P.O. lady knew best.  The following day our son emailed  this darling picture.  And Roxie did, indeed, love it. 

 

My grandkids' future?

The almost-good news today from The Guardian:

"The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change says scientists are 95% certain that humans are the 'dominant cause' of global warming, adding that a pause in warming over the past 15 years is too short to reflect long-term trends."

It was possible to calculate how hot it has become over my lifetime and where's the future global warming.  If you were born around 1933, yours will be the same.  Earlier vintage readers click HERE.  

Do other grandparents wonder how much bad news to share with the kids? Thought about this today as I watched 11 year old Zach walk down the hall.  He's almost as tall as his Grandma!

Five years ago, we took him to see his first movies, "Ratatouille."  Water-logged rats in peril, clamoring "Mother," frightened him.  Me too; we left early.  Would not bother him at all now.  

School was closed today.  He and Ron had an adventure in checking out Portland bagels. These have become very prominent here the last couple of years. Along the way Zach talked about inflation/deflation and what has happened under various past U.S. presidents.   My guess is that he already knows about global warming and genetically modified food.  Along with a great deal about lego building--a mystery to his grandparents.    

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August 2013: surprising, modest win for gun control in Oregon

On the way to Northern California...

It was early May.  Two days before leaving, I cracked my front tooth on a thick bar of chocolate. Got a tempo fix to last two weeks.

We began with the sight of an object that seemed far more California than Oregon coast. I called it the Radish Goddess on first sighting, was corrected by woman at front desk before we left.  Noticed a cord hanging behind it, plugged it in, rewarded with moving lights.  I was surprised there was not music too.  If you've visited Newport Beach and spent the night in one of the Sylvia Beach Hotel's rooms named for writers, this Kitchen God would make sense.

Our overnight was in the "Amy Tan" with a window right on the windy Pacific.   I'd eagerly read The Kitchen God's Wife after Tan's first novel, The Joy Luck Club.  Most of us had know little of Chinese American lives. These novels revealed immigrant stories of  Chinese-born mothers as seen by their American-born daughters.

As I grew up, mostly in New York City, this was the least visible ethnic group. Most of us only saw the Chinese as people who worked in the many neighborhood laundries and Chinese restaurants.  Chinatown was the only other place.  I have no memory of Chinese children in my elementary school.

Nor were they in my high school in suburban St. Louis, or college in northern Ohio.  My father was interested in the Chinese, would often take me to eat in Chinatown, walk through the streets.  He began to teach himself to do Chinese calligraphy brushwork.  His ink pad was inside a beautiful square silver box with green incised letters on the top.  He gave it to me--the only object of value he gave me--when I moved to New York after college.  Still sorry that I lost it in one of my many moves from apartment to apartment.

But I digress.  Ron has missed the ocean a great deal, happy to be near one again even though it was the Pacific rather than the other, so central to much of his life.  The beach at Newport was beautiful both night and day.

Moving on, we stopped in the Farmers' Market at Port Orford, "oldest town on the Oregon coast...most westerly in the 48 states."  As with others we've been in from here to New York City, each has its own charm.

Drawn to local honey, we spent some time at the stand for Lee's Bees. Man on the right is the husband of Lee, the beekeeper.  Originally from upstate New York, he had a compelling story about his travels and jobs from there to settling in Sixes, Oregon, population about 330 and home of the hives.  Lee had invented something unusual--bee cloth. an alternative to plastic wrap, it's cotton cloth impregnated with beeswax.  For what, you ask.  "You can wrap cheese in it, put it in the fridge."  I have not done that yet; keep hoping to discover other applications.

"Suspended items" was explained to me by this young woman.  Think it was a homemade bread that will not be offfered again till some time in the future. Escaped me then as it does now.  One of the major differences between Farmers' Markets around Portland and this one was the absence of piercings and tatoos. Nice.

We could have lingered but meeting up with Roxie was 200 miles ahead. 

 

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Life before Hurricane Sandy

We were at grandson's cross country meet a couple of weeks ago.  My daughter turned to me, because elections local and national are  on our minds, and announced, "There's a movement to write-in Eileen Brady for Mayor." Wonderful to dream of possibilities for the candidate-who-should-have-been rather than the two losers we're left with.   Became slightly more engaged on Facebook so could add my "like" to the page someone started there.  Made a simple card to hand out.

Zach did very well in his race.  I was impressed by the number of  girls and boys, Portland public and private schools, 4th and 5th graders, who were eager participants. Let's hear it for Title IX!  They had to climb a hill twice and jump over a hay bale to make their way.  

Rachel, Zach, and little Eliana (no slouch herself in climbing monkey bars with ease), left to pick up Zoe for her soccer game.  Before we left another mother from Zach's school, described her life before Portland.  Pretty similar In Brooklyn as she shuttled three children from one activity to another and tried to keep focused as she worked from home. Not much time for politics for these working mothers.

Afterwards Ron and I went to eat always-delicious Vietnamese food at JADE Teahouse in Sellwood--eggplant and pork plus a very rich macaroonish dessert. Sort of a reward  for hours and hours--primarily his time-- on the phone with prescription plan, Medicare Part D. Very patient Medicare and insurance company people worked to sort out a mistake from last year.

Why are we putting up with all this shuffling of our lives by providers? And we are the fortunate ones who have good healthcare coverage.  

************Election Day, November 6, 2012 at 4:30 p.m. (PST)*****************

All of the above was written in October before Sandy, before Halloween.  Not posted because I'd thought to write how the U.S. needs something like the Citizens Advice Bureau in the United Kingdom. Begun in 1924, this non-profit "charity" (their word) helps people "resolve their legal, money and other problems by providing free, independent and confidential advice, and by influencing policymakers."  First heard about it when I was in social work school in the 1970s as a way the British had developed for people to  sort out which government agency could handle their issues.

Now I'm avoiding looking at today's election returns.  So much more to think about since the Hurricane but election anxiety gets in the way.  More creative avoidance by going tonight to "Seven Guitars" by the late, lamented August Wilson.  This is the sixth of his ten plays that explore African-American life in the 20th century. We will travel back to 1948 in Pittsburgh.  Beats angsting about whether Obama will be re-elected and New York City's massive recovery problems.

My son and his family are okay in Tarrytown, New York, above the flooded areas.  After last summer's Irene storm their co-op decided to install a back-up generator so they have had lights, heat.  Roxie even went back to kindergarten on the school bus at the end of last week.

How will the City re-locate thousands of public housing residents in Brooklyn's Red Hook?  Thinking my causes need to become entirely environmental--climate change especially.  

Knit elephant & sheep photo have something in common?

They give me a jump to posting again.  The yarn in the elephant's body came from Foster Sheep Farm in upstate New York--Schuylerville.  The sheep pictured here too.

Its maker, Carole Foster, brought it to the Columbia Greenmarket near where we lived on the upper west side of Manhattan.  She had a unique way of demonstrating how to spin which is captured on the link back in wintry 2009 in the City.  I'd admired a hat she'd knit from worsted Greenspun from her own natural colored flock.  Purchase the purple/gray yarn and she gave me her hand written recipe.  Something in it proved elusive, so....

This Danger Crafts pattern for an elephant seemed a good way to use it otherwise.  Easy to follow the thoroughly color-illustrated instructions.  Except for the end:  putting pieces together always a major challenge.

I'm trying to use yarn in my stash, of which there is far too much. With vintage black buttons for eyes, it's ready to mail for Roxie's fifth birthday next week.  Today Carole's newsletter arrived and the odd sheep view came from I know not where--in today's email.  That's my story and here is unnamed as yet doll from the rear also.

 

Roxie herself saw the elephant the other day on Skype.  She is reluctant to appear this way; her father says there is something confusing about the appearance of people she knows on a screen.

I hope the knit doll makes as big a hit as the chocolate-covered strawberries sent for our son's birthday earlier in the month.  Now those were a big hit, it's reported.  Everyone else seems to be about Edible Arrangements except me!  And I only found them by chance; was about to do something ordinary like flowers.  Great gift for the difficult-to-gift--like my over thirty son who loves fruit as well as chocolate.   Do you agree the baskets are kind of funky, like cartoons of the actual thing--fruit as interpreted by Disney?

Foster Sheep Farm is part of the 3 Bags Full Campaign in  Saratoga County, New York.  It is a land trust and advocate for smart growth, working to preserve a range of things important to hold dear--trails, small woodland parks.  Knitters and fiber artists are working to raise $15,00 to conserve the farm for future generations.  Great idea, makes me wonder if there are similar projects in other states.

INFORMATIONAL UPDATE FROM NYC..............

 January 5 (the brithday approaches) and Roxie has named elephant:  Snorty.

 

New York's deep history shaped by the rich

Why is it that I have to be reminded that New York City has always been shaped by the rich?  Those highly entrepreneurial Dutch settlers who pulled a fast one, actually many, many fast ones on the Lenape Indians, brought slavery to what they called "New Netherlands," but were eventually outsmarted by the English, and you know the rest of the story.

[Not a history blog here, just a Little Red Hen resource provider.  Read Kenneth Jackson's Encyclopedia of New York, for a left-of-center view there's Eric Foner on life among the working classes, when you're in the City, do a walking tour with Big Onion.]

Our son and his spouse suggest places we can visit while enjoying their Roxie.  On we went to another of the Historic Hudson Valley sites. Last visit it was Sunnyside, mid-19th century home of the writer, Washington Irving in Tarrytown/Irvington.  Roxie was a trouper as we stood near the Hudson, then squeezed into the small house with other tourists.

This time with better weather, it was Phillipsburg Manor in Sleepy Hollow and earlier years-- around 1750.  As we stood in the house, our tour guide explained that we were not really in someone's home.  Maybe a faux home would be a better description; the Phillips, an Anglo-Dutch family spent their time in Manhattan on Pearl Street.  This was their office, so to speak, where they conducted their extensive farming, milling, and trading business.

How much property did this successful family own? Though we were told on the tour, these details are not on the official site but were noted at TravelLady magazine (filled with more detail about how the place operated, who worked where).   52,000 acres from northern Manhattan to Croton.  Their holdings included 23 African slaves.  [The Rockefeller estate is nearby.] One of the impressive aspects of our tour was that we were told these facts by our guide, told what were the kinds of jobs done by tenant farmers who had to be trusted by their distant employers and, of course, slaves and who were unble to barter for freedom.  Detailed information on slavery at the manor on this video.

Unlike TravelLady whose visit was in 2007, we were at the Manor after the ruinous storms and flooding of Hurricance Irene in August.  At her site are photos of the Grist Mill when it was in operation, producing flour.  No longer; it will take a new round of fund-raising to fix it.  Natural disaster must have occurred in earlier centuries. I wonders how this changed things:  local people laid off, slaves sold?

Along with Roxie, I was intrigued with this gourd container and the corn cob  wrapped with twine to create a stopper for it. 

Thanks to our first guide at the manor house whom we asked about her shawl (handwoven there), we were directed to another guide, also informative, the fiber expert.  In the photo, she is explaining the origin on the farm of each color in her coat.  Roxie proved adept at carding and rolling wool into rolags.  We thought she'd been here before but, no, her parents said... maybe another nursery school adventure.

With all the sights and sounds in the afternoon,  the variety of beans --and their names--(Roxie took home a black and white soldier bean), being able to touch the cheese in hardening stages, sheep roaming about, it was something we did not catch on camera that happened very fast just after this cow was led to the barn.  A farm cat rushed past us, climbed quickly up a tree, rushed to the ground with a baby squirrel in his mouth.  In seconds he/she began to eat.  Ron was fascinated; Roxie missed it and was taken with the excitement of onlookers. 

If we visit again in April, we might be able to  see a "Sheep to Shawl" festival at Phillipsburg.  The link, to a 2009 event, shows the traditional border collie sheep run held at many wool fairs and Manor guides enacting slaves.  The costumed staff added a great deal to my experience, help to move me back in time.  Made me wonder what it would have been like if I'd been costumed when I was a docent at the Tenement Museum on New York City's lower east side.  A simpler setting in 1997 than now, the choices might have included myself as an immigrant German Jewish widow in 1860s, orthodox Jewish woman post World War I, or early 1930s first generation Italian housewife. 

With all my political and moral critiques  of the rich in America and what they have done/are doing to our lives, I am grateful that we had another wonderful afternoon with Roxie--thanks to the enormously wealthy people who decided to provide this connection to our pasts in New York.  It is an ambivalent life.

Early Autumn in New York with Roxie

It was mid-September when we reached New York--weather as unpredictable as Portland.  But not our Roxie: darling as on Skype with her newly cut long hair-- and our last realtime encounter in December.  And more verbal, "Look, Daddy, Grandma made me a shrug!" 

She shared her preferences with us.   Lunch in Tarrytown required the companion doll, one of those awful pink princess objects all the rage with contemporary little girls on both coasts and in between.  The Disney triumph.

Pink shoes too.  Roxie does include purple in her color range.   As the 1970s Mom who hyper-consciously did not dress my daughter and son in "those colors," even as babies, all the pinkness makes me sad.  Is this what is meant by "be careful what you wish for"?  Or proof once again that advertising and commerce rule in America and tiny social movements like the one by women change some things but resist who controls how clothes designers regard women and girls.

Along with our own dinner-for-the-flight, we'd brought along Ron's rooftop "portrait tomato" the one that elicited a wonderful range of blog commenters recently.  As we were describing it to her parents, Roxie declared, "I love tomatoes!" and transformed it into an ordinary tomato.

Here's the consequence of  her vegetable enthusiasm.  Because we saw a similar tomato from another home garden in Portland (New Seasons would never put one like this on their shelves), I speculate it is a Northwest phenomenon.  Have you spotted them elsewhere outside the PDX "keeping it weird" area?

Roxie also is a careful observer of the natural world.  She called our attention to  the glorious sunsets over the Hudson River from their balcony. Hard to resist taking photos.  At 4.5 years our New York granddaughter has already learned to do the same from her mother whose own mother was an accomplished photographer.

Our Zoe, six years old and off to kindergarten

  Earlier in September, our granddaughter Zoe was very focused on only one event.  With Ron as he ran several errands, she announced to all:

"My birthday is next week and my Grandpa will not be there!"

She thoughtfully changed the wording to include "Grandma" when she was with me.  Very significant.  My daughter sent this photo today as she went off to her second day of kindergarten.  And wore the shrug I'd knitted and gave her at her birthday party.

The chocolate sourdough cake, large enough to  serve many, found online at Cooks.com, is  same recipe that had its first baking for my final PSU Street Art class in the spring.  The vintage cake carrier is something I long ago purchased for its fit into an imaginary, alternative life I'd never had where people used these--maybe early 20th century.   Now I can feel it is slightly integrated into my own life!

The shrug was the third one knitted from the same pattern.  Used Mission Falls 1824 Cotton on both, lovely stuff, went out of business earlier this year though some still available through diligent searches.  Earlier, made one for her three year old sister's birthday in August.  Eliana (at left in photo) immediately threw it on the floor so it is in a kind of limbo life at the moment.  Then there's the one for Roxie that we will take to New York.

Grandparenting from far away

Next month we travel to New York to see Roxie, Leanne, and Nick again as we did in December.  It does not get easier to have these long spaces between times. 

This is one of my favorite photos as she walked down our hall.  I found the basket for our picnic on the roof in the Thrift Shop where we live.  Twice a week volunteer residents run the place.  The money goes to the Terwilliger Foundation which supports residents whose money runs out--which can happen as we live longer--particularly for single women.

Skype, as others have discovere, helps.  In December, Roxie still had her beautiful long hair. 

But last month, they were gone--as seen in this photo I took while we talked about this and that,  held up objects that might entertain her, and saw her latest drawings.

It is family life in the new world of electronic innovaton...and a good thing, even if not perfect.

Can knitting happen inside a washing car?

The other day, had my second experience staying in a car during a car wash.      Last summer was the first-- when our NYC family was visiting.

It was a surprise when Roxie's parents said, "Let's stay in the car!"

Roxie was wide-eyed at the start then curious. Looking at the pictures,  I'm thinking it was spooky.  But it seeme d a great adventure at the time.