Poetry in Motion

I saw this on the subway this morning, read it several times, and for some reason I feel compelled to add it to the collection of odd bits and pieces that is this blog. After all, what else does a magpie do but collect?

An Old Cracked Tune

My name is Solomon Levi,
the desert is my home,
my mother's breast was thorny,
and father I had none.

The sands whispered, Be separate,
the stones taught me, Be hard.
I dance, for the joy of surviving,
on the edge of the road.

-Stanley Kunitz

Grabbing The Nearest Book

Spotted on another blog (MotherReader) - a game.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next four sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig around for that “cool” or “intellectual” book on your shelves. (I know you were thinking about it.) Just pick up whatever is closest.

I always have books at hand...but the closest one right now is unpaginated and largely handwritten...a collection of recipes. Right now, it's open to three recipes - Fish Eyes and Glue, Strawberry Shortcake, and Blueberry Upside Down cake. So, here's that last one:

Blueberry Upsidedown Cake (also known as Tar Cake)

3/4 cup butter (1 1/2 sticks)
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 cups blueberries
2 t. grated lemon rind
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 cups flour
2 t. baking powder
1/2 t. salt
1/2 cup milk

Melt 1/4 cup butter in 9” square pan. Sprinkle with brown sugar. Mix berries with lemon rind and put in pan. Cream 1/2 cup butter. Add sugar and beat. Add egg and beat. Mix dry ingredients and add alternating with milk. Spread on berries. Bake at 375° for ~30 minutes. Let stand 10 minutes before turning out onto a plate. At that point, you'll understand the secondary title.

Live Chickens

From the New York Times, on Sunday 10/29/06:

It doesn’t get much fresher than the fowl at De Maria’s Country Butcher Shop. Visitors to the store on the grounds of Hemlock Hill Farm in Cortlandt Manor are likely to see a few customers scooping up live hens themselves and bringing them to the in-house butcher for slaughter.

Well of course, we had to go running off yesterday to buy a fresh chicken. Unfortunately, we got there too late in the day and all of the chickens were gone. Except, of course, for the three chickens that were hauled into the shop upside-down by their legs by the family that followed us into the store...to be taken home alive, not butchered by the in-house guy. The people in front of us ordered rabbits...slaughtered while you wait. We didn't try to catch our own chickens (Miss M. was asleep in the car, for one thing), but we're looking forward to fresh fowl sometime soon. And so close to home! Who knew?

The Dog Costume

For yesterday's town Ragamuffin parade, Miss M. wore a Scooby Doo costume handed-down by a neighbor. Lots of people said "Hi Scooby!", "Look, there's Scooby!". The great thing is, she has no idea who (what?) Scooby-Doo is. Although, to be perfectly honest, I don't think I've ever seen a Scooby-Doo cartoon either.

Saintly

Everyday, twice a day, we drive by a Catholic church on the way to and from daycare. A couple of weeks ago, Miss M. noticed this statue in front of the church and said "That's you, Mommy!" She has repeated this nearly every time we've gone by. Someday, perhaps she'll know that I'm no saint. Though, her birth did result from an immaculate conception, the kind with lots of sterile equipment.

The beach

Miss M. with Granny, overlooking the Pacific in Malibu. 

Bug Rabbit

Miss M. has discovered the joys of Bugs Bunny, through the inclusion of a tiny little short called 8 Ball Bunny, on the March of the Penguins DVD. However, in a great toddlerism, she has been requesting the viewing of Bug Rabbit.

[And believe it or not, 8 Ball Bunny has its own Wikipedia entry, which takes almost as long to read, as it does to watch the short.]

Annals of Gardening

Now that the temperature has dipped below 32°F at least once, I guess tomato season is officially over. Last year, I got a six pack of some ordinary hybrid...but because I didn't get them in the ground until after the Fourth of July, we harvested nothing but green tomatoes. This year, I got my act together sooner and got five robust plants into the ground just before Memorial Day. Here's the verdict:

Black Brandywine - good producer, good fruit.
Green Zebra - good producer, good fruit.
Sugar Lump - lots of mostly tiny cherry tomatoes, although not terrific flavor and somewhat tough skins.
Mortgage Lifter - lousy producer: we did not harvest a single ripe tomato. I'd love to know where it got its inaccurate moniker.
Heartland - nice compact plant, with a reasonable amount of plain red tomatoes of decent quality.

Black Brandywine and Green Zebra were sprawling, vibrant, out-of-control vines. I might have gotten more fruit if I'd been a little more ruthless about pruning them earlier in the season.

I would definitely plant Black Brandywine and Green Zebra again, and maybe Heartland. I think I'll look for a different cherry tomato, and maybe a different all around red tomato.

There is a whole mess of mostly green tomatoes now resident on cookie sheets in the basement - some will undoubtably ripen, thereby extending tomato season for at least another couple of weeks. Of course, all the basil is gone. Tant pis.

Limericks

There once was a man from Madras,
whose balls were made out of brass.
When he banged them together,
they played Stormy Weather,
and lightning shot out of his ass.

There was a fair maiden of Exeter,
So pretty that guys craned their necks at her.
One was even so brave
as to take out and wave
The distinguishing mark of his sex at her.

There was a young man of St. Bee
Who was stung in the arm by a wasp.
They asked, "Does it hurt?"
He replied, "No it doesn't"
I'm glad that it wasn't a hornet.

Carabiners

I keep a carabiner in my bag for two things:

1) When Miss. M. sheds an article of clothing, I can clip it to my bag or a belt loop so I don't lose it (and don't have to carry it).

2) When serial shopping - like at a mall - I can hang all or many of the accumulated shopping bags off of my shoulder bag thereby keeping the hands free for more shopping or toddler-herding.

Go ahead, bite me

Miss M. has a best friend at daycare. Once upon a time, said best friend bit Miss M. a number of times. The biting has stopped, and generally Miss M. comes home from daycare and says "S. didn't bite me".

One day last week, the two of them were playing with trains; Miss M. was apparently being quite possessive about the trains, and S. was getting upset. Finally, Miss M. presented her forearm to S. and said "Go ahead, bite me."

Wow.

Anacondas

Miss M. was splashing in the bath the other night and said "that's an anaconda". She'll be three in November - where did she learn about anacondas?

Weather Report

The other day dawned dark - rainy and overcast. As Miss M. sat eating her cereal, she looked up and said "the sun is having a little trouble".

New York Places and Pleasures

I recently came across an old guidebook to New York - (New York Places & Pleasures, Kate Simon, 1959) - published before I was born. It is a charmingly written and rather idiosyncratic book, now very out of date. But it paints a picture of New York, and flipping through it brings back sharp little memories of childhood - lunch at Sweets and Sloppy Louie's when accompanying Pop to the office, a birthday dinner at Luchow's, pre-theater meals at the Xochitl, which had a seemingly permanent open container of hot sauce on every table, fancier pre-theater meals at Pearl's (which I haven't found in this guidebook, but remember the lemon chicken oh so well).

Fulton Fish Market

Another snip from an old guidebook to New York:

"Turn eastward now, toward the East River, and continue east and south toward Fulton and South Streets. The streets will seem empty and waiting as the early dawn slowly brings dimension to the black cardboard buildings, but you will never be quite alone; a young policeman walking his somnolent path will greet you, a head will emerge from a manhole and shout "Good morning," a truck driver will tap his horn gently so that you may notice and greet him. When the Fulton Fish Market breaks through the silences with a tremendous roar, it is time to put on your rubbers against the ice spilling and melting all around. (If you've forgotten them, you can buy a pair, or hip boots for that matter, at one of the general stores on Fulton Street; they open at 4 a.m.) From Fulton Street to the Brooklyn Bridge on South Street, under the highway and to the edge of the river, stream stalls on stalls of red snapper, of endless sacks of scallops and scallop-shaped dogfish, of dried slabs of cod in soldierly rows, of silver threads of smelt glittering in gilt cans, of ice nests holding mounds of shrimp and a strayed starfish or two. Weathered men in high boots and heavy sweaters weigh out heaps of fish in suspended 100-pound scoop scales. Two men drag and carry a grouper twice their size, its face still set in the common fish expression of blustering anger. A row of cod, each in its own basket, stands head down with tail fins spread up and out, like precision divers in a water ballet. Out at the very end of the piers rest a few fishing smacks, rusty and worn, their nets hanging limp and dull. At one time, the bulk of deliveries to the market was made by boats, but they have ben supplanted by trucks, and it is now the truckmen who are the tough salty characters while the fishermen become anachronistic shadows." (New York Places & Pleasures, Kate Simon, 1959).

Swiss Chard Timbale

Chop an onion and saute it in some butter. Add 1 pound of chopped swiss chard, and saute until chard is wilted and most of the liquid has evaporated. Move chard to a bowl and add 2 T. melted butter, 1/4 cup of milk, 1/2 cup of heavy cream, 1/2 t. salt, some ground pepper, 2/3 cup of breadcrumbs, 1/2 cup of grated swiss cheese and 5 beaten eggs. Mix well and bake in a buttered souffle dish in a water bath - at 325° F for 45-60 minutes or until a knife comes out clean. Yum.

Pronunciation at 2 3/4

POOL, SCHOOL and STOOL are all two syllable words.

Toddlerisms

What color is that dress? "Pink Hot!"

While watching TV, "where's the termote?"

Her bottom is her "bahmen".

Toddler Industry

The other day, I put Miss M. in her room for a nap. When all was quiet, I went to check on her. She had turned over the toy box and climbed on the dresser, and was studiously inserting Q-tips into a tub of Vaseline.

Christ Cella

From an old guidebook to New York, a description of the now departed Christ Cella:

"One of the first steak houses in this area, and still venerated. In spite of the disturbingly spiritual name, it is heartily and successfully devoted to the flesh" (New York Places & Pleasures, Kate Simon, 1959).