We’re talking dogs that will eat anything.  I mean anything.   The piece de resistance is cat poop or retch.  The older (aged) the better.  These dogs wouldn’t even sniff the chips.  What the heck are they made of, that my dogs just ignored.  What the heck am I eating when I ingest the Sun chips?  Are chips even made with biologic matter?

Frito-lays advertise that the Sun Chips are bagged in a compostable wrapper.  Here’s an experiment to try.  Buy a bag and open them.  Pour into a pile in the worm bin and then place the wrapper next to them in the bin.  Which will decompose first? Do you really want to know?  Maybe not.

It is now the third week in April and I’m happy to say more seeds and starters (Walla Walla onions) have taken root.  The Seattle Tilth Spring Edible Plant Sale is May 7^th this year.  Of course I’m going.  I’ll also have some lovely starts to give away to anyone willing to drive to my house to pick them up.  Here is a list of what I’m willing to share.

Onions (regular)           turnips               cabbages          lettuce               leeks

Keep checking this blog as more starters and seeds sprout and grow, there’ll be more to share.

Gardens and gardening are fun for the anal-retentive control the gardener can have over them.  Well, the organizing of the beds anyways. All else is luck of the weather and mysteries of the soil and other conditions.  Each Spring affords the vegetable gardener with a fresh start.  New seeds, soil, bed plans and experiments mulled over the winter can now be put into action.  Here are some of the new things this gardener is trying.

greenhouse squared

Last year, a friend of mine had a little plastic greenhouse about the size of a pantry closet.  She didn’t like it and thought it ineffective.  I took it and placed it inside my greenhouse.  I now have a greenhouse in a greenhouse.  I keep a 40 watt bulb lit 24/7 in the hope to keep the inside temp over 5o degrees.  So far, my onions, cabbages and lettuce have sprouted nicely. Have pushed the seeding my squashes early with varying degrees of success.  I hope to have a jump start on my corn and eggplant with this greenhouse squared set-up. We shall see.

A temporary or movable raised planting bed was made with re-bar and old fence planks.  I did this by myself and I think it turned out rather nice.  Next year’s beds will be neater and stronger for I’ll have had more experience with this sort of building thing.  The beds will grow my leeks, basil, daikon, I think.  Nothing is set in stone.  Speaking of stones, I swear with all this dirt moving, my best never ending crop is rocks.  They are almost as bad as weeds, annoyingly endless.

future leek bed

The new plants in my garden are/will be turnip, daikon, leek, and eggplant.  Wish us luck.

And lastly I am seeing what strewning my seeds will make the beds look like instead of the usual rows of radishes, then carrots, then pac-choi and lastly beets.  I’m hoping less pulling plants to space them properly.  The radishes and pac-choi are eaten first and then hoping the beets and carrots which mature months later will naturally be spaced as the early vegetables are harvested.  Report to follow.

Gussie in a rare relaxed moment

Here is a little bit of gushing about my 2 fabulous dogs, The Empress and Gussie (Fink-Nottle of PG Wodehouse fame).

The Empress in a holiday mood

The Empress is 5 years old and a 25 pound lap dog. Her coat is very soft, mostly black with a white blaze on her chest and a white patch on her chin. Her ears are like her Mom’s, very Australian Shepherd, one up and one down. Don’t know where she gets her long fluffy up turning tail from, but it is very expressive. She looks like a little black fox. Her dad was the determined black lab mix from the hood. He must have been a smooth talker, cause Empress likes to talk to every dog and every person she meets. She works her charms with puppy-like abandon. She gets her pat or play about 95 percent of the time. What a good girl.

oh no, not another holiday

Gussie is my Wussie, Gusserino, Gloomy Gus, Big Guy, and my guard dog. He too is a black dog with bits of white. He is 4 years old and about 55 pounds. Despite his soulful, woe-is-me eyes, he’s not that friendly to strangers, dog or people, especially while he’s on lead. He’s a good guard dog, protecting me from strangers when I’m not paying attention to my surroundings, barking at those who stand too close to me. Thank you Gussie! He is also very protective or jealous of The Empress with other dogs. I often watch him run interference for her when a huge dog is rolling her in the dirt. Of course Empress thinks its’ great fun and runs right back under the pony posing as a dog.

Best Friends

When The Empress was puppy, she was very energetic, very needy of attention, play. She was known to wear out with play, chase game, three large dogs in the span of a mile walk. Our puppy needed a puppy. Gussie was only 7 weeks old when he joined our household. We have never regretted getting the second dog. They are twice the fun and a bottomless pit of love to give and get. They are often found spooning on their dog-bed or spooning with me on my bed. Actually, they are hogging the bed. They think I don’t know.

I don’t know how we knew, but we aptly named our dogs. Did they change their behavior due to how we treated them? Did the dogs telegraph their personalities to us and hence named them correctly? Nature versus nurture; a long discussion for another time perhaps. The Empress, cause she’s better than a princess. Mind you, she’s no lady, not the way she devours cat poop, sniffs every dog butt that walks near, licks drool from the largest fanged mouth I’ve ever seen. And these are just a few of her endearing antics.

Gussie is named for a very wet character by PG Wodehouse in his Jeeves and Wooster series. Wodehouse’s Gussie and mine are very much alike. They are bit of a woos, is fearful of life, hangs his head down in a woe-begone way, big brown eyes that pleads don’t hit me although I probably deserve it. Here are some examples of the dogs’ personalities.

Time to go to bed, dogs. Yes, Gussie, to your bed. He looks at me, big eyes sadly stare at me, eye brows lift, who me? No, you don’t mean me? The ears droop as low as they can possibly go. He slides off the bed, plods slowly out the bedroom door. He even sighs. The Empress, disturbed my Gussie’s histrionics, rolls onto her back and languidly waves her paw bye, bye for she gets to stay and sleep on our bed. I swear she has a smirk on her face.

We’re on a walk. Gussie starts howling before I even hear the siren. He’ll stop sniffing or pulling on the lead ( always has to be in the front of our pack) and then throw his head back and wooo-ooo, whooo. He thoroughly indulges himself in his primal howl response. The Empress on the other hand doesn’t stop her fox-like trotting. She stops and looks around her when the sirens (ambulance only) are next to us, then she’ll do a quick wooo-ooo, stop and look around like, who howled? “You did, little dog”, I tell her. Not me her foxy trot says, and don’t be mean calling me a dog . If she had a mane to toss over her shoulder, she did.

Crows are Gussie’s nemesis. He is forever on the alert. He sit’s up on the dog couch, ears on high alert, head straining against the window (nose prints on the glass attest to his vigilance) poised for that sudden need to lurch off the couch to give chase to those black feathered foes. Often times Gussie runs so fast toward the dog door, that he misses the turn, slams into the wall then bounces left through the door, growling the entire time.

The Empress often allows Gussie to do his guard duty alone in order to continue her beauty sleep. Once in awhile she’ll deign to follow Gussie outdoors, using her best Charlie Chaplin mincing steps and short grunts of, “I’m right behind you Gussie. Go get ‘em, Sir!”

Stay tuned for more adventures of The Empress and Gussie. Happy Tails to them.

spooning on the dogbed

One Saturday last month we walked the halls in the Phinneyridge Neighborhood Association for the annual wine tasting fund-raiser. We tipped glasses for a good cause and a good time. I was the designated driver so only got to sip a few tastes. My husband had a good glow going by the middle of the affair. He even agreed to buy two bottles (gasp). The live music was played by a duet, Pourquoi Pas (why not?). They were perfect for the Taste. Not too loud and very pleasant classic French songs. The PNA finally dropped the Jazz combos. I personally hate Jazz and always find the players annoyingly smug. Or is that the wine talking?

Another favorite place to do some ETOH tasting is at Chuck’s on 85 th (and 8 th ) in Greenwood. This unassuming corner store has the best bottled beer selection north of downtown Seattle. I’m not a big beer drinker, but my friends are and this is their opinion.

Chuck’s offers beer tasting for two bucks (about 4 tastes) every Friday night from around 5-8 PM. Not too shabby I say. On Wednesdays, Chuck’s likes to offer tastes of potables other than beer. I got to attend a sake taste one Wednesday. Again, for 2 bucks we tasted 5 different kinds of sake, from bad to ooooh, yum! Yes, I bought some. Did you know the reason behind serving sake hot? It’s to cover up the bad taste of rot gut sake. As I recalled, it worked. Wednesday is also cider tasting night. Check out Chuck’s to see the schedule of events. Bottoms up!

GG, my Garden Guru, reported to me one day that she felt sore and ached all over, and didn’t know why.  My reply was, “Could it have anything to do with your first of the season garden work of turning over the beds for 8 hours the previous day?  And being 70 years old plus?”  She winked, she blinked, she did a double think “hmm, never thought of that.”  My look was, “well, dah!”

I was at my hairdresser’s the other day, chatting gardening while she worked on my hair.  We were in the grousing part of gardening.  How awful the growing season was last year.  How bad the aphids are on some crops.  How cold it was to be digging, prepping the garden in February.  She asked my, “Don’t you have insulated garden boots?”  I just looked at her and guffawed.  I thought to myself, “ Isn’t gardening supposed to be in the warm weather?  How desperate are we in the Northwest for spring and gardening?’

Another gardening friend told me her secret to gardening in February in Seattle.  Hand warmers inside her garden gloves.  As Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live would say, “Really!?”  I just smiled and said, Hmm, never thought of that.”

The 2011 gardening season is just beginning, and so is the insanity; updates to come as the season progresses.  For an example; last year I planted my corn starts so early, I had to protect them with plastic bags held upright with re-bar.  My garden looked like I was growing a fine crop of Whammo’s giant bubbles.  Last summer was so cold and wet, the entire corn crop went to feed the animal’s at PAWS Wildlife Rescue in Lynnwood.

 It has been 4 years since our last European holiday.  Having great fun planning what may be a self-guided bike tour through Holland with the hubby.  We shall have lots of fun biking in a country that has only 400 feet above sea level as its highest point.  I see us touring through fields of tulips, playing farmgolf, drinking Heineken, Amstel and other fine Dutch beers.  Jet lag, sunburn and muscle cramps are not part of my holiday plans.  Our European holiday will be like traveling with Candide, “The best of all possible worlds.”

 My seventeen year old son is not accompanying my husband and me on this trip.  As wonderful of a boy that he is, I can’t trust him to water the garden, weed (ya, right) and pick the bounty when ripe.  He might walk the dogs, maybe.  I’ve seen the movie, Risky Business.  We are not going to leave him alone in our house for two weeks.

 I was about 30, 32 when I decided I wanted a child.  I envisioned a baby, cute as a bug, a bright happy grade-schooler and a slightly taller than me talkative teen who would tell me all about their day at school and their dreams.  What I have is Heffalump (borrowed the description from a friend of mine.  It is so apt).  He’s big, sometimes ungainly, quiet, with grunts for words.  He is a 5 foot 10 inch eating and milk drinking machine.  He is a typical teenaged boy.  I love him, long-ish hair and all.

 Re-reading my dreams on this page I realized some things.  Gardening is fun because I get to plan and dream every year.  Planning holidays abroad are great for wonder dreams every 5 years or so.  My plans and dreams for my only child were big.  Even before I met the future father of my child, I had my off-spring with an advanced degree, married and with a few kids of their own running about. 

 Dreams make us human, they’re what we live for.

With pregnancy, my mind became as fuzzy as a peach and with the same attention span. I continued to read, but found my old friends too wordy. I needed to make new ones. Enter Elizabeth Peters aka Barbara Mertz stage right. She writes the Amelia Peabody mysteries. I loved her series from the first to her latest. They are well written, have wonderful characters, and a juicy mystery to sink ones teeth into. I was hooked. My son is now 17 years, my mind has been un-fuzzy for years and  I’m still a voracious reader of the mystery genre. In fact, I am most partial to the historical and cozy mystery sub-genre.

Here’s a list of historical mystery writers I have enjoyed so far.

Elizabeth Peters is so good, I had to mention her twice.

Ruth Downie and Steven Saylor both writers of roman mysteries.  Ruth’s protagonist is a medicus in the roman army.  He knows his way around a battlefield and gaping wounds, but is clueless about women despite his ex-wife and daughters.  Steven’s main character is a sleuth, a roman fiinder.  Steven leans toward the gory and Ruth towards the amusing.

Candace Robb, Priscilla Royal, PC Doherty (CL Grace) and Margaret Frazer and most famous of all, Ellis Peter (Edith Pargeter) are my medieval mystery favorites.  The age of castles, cloisters, kings and queens is fascinating.  Crimes are solved by logic and talking with people.  There are no gadgets, no tools to solve crimes,  just common sense and time.  Often the murderer is caught in a week to a month.  Pretty much open and shut for those days.  Murder and mayhem in the medieval times doesn’t spook me like the modern-day stories.  The distance of time and society removes the blood and fear for me.  Reading these stories make me glad I live in these times of modern conveniences.  I imagine the castles and nunneries to be so dark and cold and smelly.  Ick.

This last bunch of writers are more cozy than historical mystery stories.  These stories take place from the 1850s to WWI.  Jill Paton Walsh is a wonderful writer who is good enough to have been chosen to finish Dorothy L Sayers’ lost and un-finished Lord Peter Wimsey manuscript, “Thrones and Dominations”.  Jill writes so much like Dorothy, I’m sure she’s smiling in heaven telling everyone who comes by, “That’s just the way I would’ve written that.”  Jaqueline Winspear writes between the war mysteries.  A perfect story-teller.  Rhys Bowen’s stories are turn-of-the-century tales with young strong-minded women as sleuths.  Too much fun they are.

That’s enough bravos for my preferred writers.  I’d love to hear your favorites.

just a cover crop of fava beans

The weekend was spent cleaning out the Autumn detritus, organize the seeds, and weeding.  The following day was spent at the garden store buying fertilizer, more gloves, organic bug spray, and weeding.  Another day found me lopping fruit trees (only 3 months late), ordering by mail, seeds and weeding.  Looking forward to turning over the winter cover crop and yes, you guessed it, weeding.

I swear, two-thirds of my gardening time is spent weeding.  About a quarter is spent moving dirt from here to there.   What little time is left is spent planting, watering, harvesting and preserving the bounty.  Last year’s growing season was so awful, after all my efforts, I think I harvested a salad from the garden.  Okay, we also made several batches of pickles and pesto (home-grown basil, garlic and hand gathered chestnuts…yummy).

I resisted gardening for the first 15 ears we owned our house.  I have surrendered to the primal earth cycle of birth, bounty, death or the four seasons if you will.  Like that primal tug when on the beach and watching the waves rolling in or staring at the night-time sky and pondering the stars.  Give into Gaea, you’ll be a better person for it and Gaea will thank you too.

Sarah Jones posted on Politcususa (August 9, 2010) as succinctly as I never could, what a mean girl is.  She is a bully, who never travels alone, always has her entourage be it friends, family, handlers.  They need others to give them courage to pick on the lone victim in the area.  The mean girl is a school bully and we all know they are cowards and frighten they will be found out to be exactly what they deride others of being…not cool, not funny and not even liked.

Joanna Weiss of the Boston Globe (November 12, 2009) boiled Sarah Palin down to the crusty brown at the bottom of the pan by writing, “Being mommy sells policy, being a mean girl sells books”.  Sarah at the time was doing books tours promoting her “Going Rogue ” book.

Sarah Palin is still selling something. Now it’s her TLC Channel series, “Sarah Palin’s Alaska”.  She caused a fire storm with her comments about the Tuscon shootings.  She waited days before she said anything and then she comes out with the anti-Semitic  slur. It seems to me she took time to choose her words carefully and meant what she said.  She cannot not refutiate it.

Let’s hope she changes to a kinder, gentler, more knowledgeable persona soon.  But I doubt it.  I know what she thinks of that  hopey, changey thing.

Getting ready for walkies

My real estate agent friend phoned me the other day. Let’s go for coffee.  Sure.  So I met David O’Connor at Bark Espresso cafe on Roosevelt and 113th, next door to pet store/grooming shop, and a dog day care place.  This good friend gave me a dog coat for my sweetums, The Empress.  David said his office is  allowing  agents to give dog coats away to any client who has a dog.  How cool is that.  So I had a very nice day.  A treat for me, coffee, and a gift for my dog, a coat.

When ever I spend time with my dog friendly friends, I usually feel mellow with the world.  I look kindly toward children,  love every dog I meet, and can keep quiet in the presence of the few republicans I know.  I think everyone should spend more time with dogs.  It’s civilizing.  The Empress loves every person she meets.  Causes almost everyone she meets to smile at her, 75% of the time she gets a pat and the person gets a warm fuzzy.  How could anyone spew vitriol after a warm fuzzy? Only the truly crazy or truly mean or truly crazy-mean could continue along a  nasty path after patting a sweet little dog.  Well, that’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.

I am heart-sick over what happened in Tuscan last Saturday.  I don’t think a dog would’ve helped that situation.  I wish I knew what would’ve made the shooter happier, kinder, not so desperate feeling person.  Could the unconditional love of a dog have helped him when he was a child?  We’ll never know.  Hang in there Congresswoman Giffords.  We’re all pulling for you.

waiting with doggie breath for a treat

Just a quick update.  Just finished reading the Arts section in Time Magazine January7, 2011.  Kate Pickert writes and reviews about the plethoria of dog literature that was published in 2010 and looks to continue in quantity if not quality into 2011.  I am not the only dog crazed person who thinks dogs could cure most of the ills of  western society.  I rest my paws.