Not So Welcome

One of the fun outings I had this summer was attending Stitches Midwest, just outside of Chicago with members of my knitting group.  I referred to this event with friends and family as a "yarn convention" because it seemed easier for them to understand.  There were classes on various techniques available to take, but basically, we were there to shop.  And shop I did.  I was overwhelmed by all the yarn that surrounded me.  Beautiful yarn.  Lucious yarn.  Soft yarn.  Yarn that was hand dyed, yarn that was hand spun, yarn that was calling my name gently with its siren song.  And then there were all the knitting accessories: things to store your needles in, buttons, pattern holders, lint rollers, yarn stashers.  I wandered around like a country bumpkin who is spending her first day in the big city - wide eyed and a little lost - but knowing that her world will never be the same. 

But enough about yarn.  Because the real story here is about the fabulous weekend spent with my delightful yarn sisters in a lovely home in Hinsdale, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago.  Originally we were going to stay in the hotel attached to the convention center but then we were offered the home of Linda's son.  The family was out of town and they said we could stay.  And the home was absolutely lovely...and in a neighborhood I would never be welcome to live in.  It made the weekend absolutely fantastic!  We sat around and talked and LAUGHED and just enjoyed ourselves immensely as only a whacky bunch of knitters can do. 

I drove up with Linda on Thursday, arriving before the rest of the group, meaning I could have first pick of the bedrooms.  Now several weeks earlier Linda had mentioned that she had informed her youngest grandson, Neil, that her friends were going to be staying at their house and that someone would be sleeping in his bed.  His reply: "I don't like anyone sleeping in my bed."  Linda told him it would be fine.

So when we arrive Linda tells me to head upstairs and that I can choose from either Neil or Paul's (her oldest grandson) bedrooms.  When I entered the first bedroom I immediately knew that it was Neil's.  I laughed out loud, put my stuff in Paul's room and headed back downstairs.  I told Linda, "I think I'll be staying in Paul's room.  You should check out Neil's.  I think he was serious about not wanting anyone to sleep in his bed." 

This is what welcomed us:

A tiny army of soldiers was lined up pointing at the bed. 

The bed was being guarded by Imperial Walkers and you can see that the bed was covered with difficult to move Lego armies.

Here is another shot of the perfect semicircle of soldiers aimed at the bed.

A hill of canons and snipers.

Clearly, Neil had put a great deal of thought and energy into "welcoming" the lucky knitter to his room.  I can't imagine how long it must have taken him to line up all those little soldiers and to create this fortress of protection in his space!  All in all, it's quite subtle wouldn't you say? 

Bad Flashback

Currently my timer is set for 30 minutes (for my tomatoes in their merry little water bath...yes the tomato canning goes on).  My challenge: write, finish, and post this blog before that timer goes off.

Earlier this summer I decided, at Brian's behest, to bake a batch of monster cookies.  I'm not really much of a monster cookie person, but I love to bake and I love it when others love to eat my baked goods.  I was trying out a new-to-me recipe from my brother-in-law's grandmother that they touted as the best.  After using all the items that can be found in one's kitchen and then going to extraordinary lengths to mix the massive amounts of batter, it was time to bake the crazy things. 

The instructions had me using two timers.  The cookies had to bake for 13 minutes and then upon leaving the oven they had to sit on the cookie sheet for an additional five minutes before removing them.  So I constantly had a timer going for five minutes and one going for 13.  I wanted to be productive during the baking because, as I said, there was so much batter I could have a made a king-sized bedspread out of it, and I knew that baking was going to be an all-afternoon affair. 

It started innocently.  I thought to myself, "Oh I bet I could get the bed made before the five-minute timer goes off."  And I'd pad off and do it.  And then I had another eight minutes and so I'd think "huh, I can get the litter boxes scooped before my second timer goes off."  When that was done and I had five minutes remaining so I decided that I could probably water the plants out front before the timer went off. 

And that is when the monster awoke within me.  In those five and eight minute intervals I came up with dozens of tasks with which to challenge myself.  I literally ran from one end of the house to the other.  Sometimes I was running around outside.  My heart would be palpitating wondering if I could possibly accomplish each task before that timer went off.  I found that I was struck with panic at the thought of the timer beating me.  I cleaned out bird feeders, started supper, cleaned the toilet, dusted things, I mean the list could go on and on. 

At the end of that baking spree I was EXHAUSTED, but wow I had accomplished so much!  I decided I should always set a timer.  And then I started to have an uneasy feeling, remembering the panic the timer caused me to experience.  And then the flashbacks began.  Flashbacks to my childhood.  I knew, just knew, that timers had been set for me as a youngster in order for me to accomplish things.  I knew that my mother was the responsible party.

I thought perhaps it had been a fun game she had made up in order to motivate us.  It couldn't possibly be that my saint mother had set timers up for us that we had to beat in order to, well, not be beat?

So I called my mother and asked her if she had set timers for my sister and I when we were little.  She said yes.  I quickly asked her if it was a fun game or something we had to do in order to avoid punishment.  (As in, "You better get that room cleaned up before this timer goes off or else I'm going to......")  She laughed on the phone, and her laughter had a sinister and dark edge to it, and she replied, "Oh no, it was for punishment.  And it worked great.  I don't know why but you kids were so terrified of that timer." 

Mom, it's because I was six and I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND TIME!  Nine minutes could be any length of time and I had no idea how long nine minutes felt!  I barely knew how to count for the love of Pete!  Oh cruel, cruel keeper of the time.  I can just imagine her down in her "ivory kitchen" watching that timer: leisurely thumbing through a magazine and enjoying a soft drink, listening to our panic, our cries for mercy, as she plotted out which punishment she would dole out on her helpless children who just didn't understand how to tell time yet.  Would it be sitting on a chair, receiving the wooden spoon, the fly-swatter, taking a bath, IT COULD BE ANYTHING! 

I have the cold sweats right now knowing that my tomato timer could go off at any second and I might not have yet posted this blog.  And then I will have failed.  Please, parents, use caution when employing the use of the kitchen timer on your children.  Must go now...

P.S.  I made it within the allotted time.  Whew.  And you should also know that those monster cookies made a believer out of me.  They were every bit as good as Karen and Matthew let on.  If you'd like the recipe, let me know. 

Mexico 2010

I have been horrible about blogging this summer what with all the fun I've been having.  So I am going to try to "catch up" a little over the next few days, starting with my annual vacation with friends that I took to Troncones, Mexico in June. 

My friend Heather wrote on my Facebook page recently, "What no blog about our MX trip? Not up to par? You don't think people want to read about sweaty yoga, late night peril filled walks to the outdoor kitchen, hot soup on a humid day and Andrea's infamous ocean somersault? Guess I should have added a spoiler alert!"  This about sums up the trip...but I'll fill in some of the blanks. 



Day 1:

Heather and I found ourselves taking a little mini-vacation to Phoenix due to the fact that there had been a storm in Chicago the night before and the flight crew had to catch a few extra winks of sleep.  There was nothing we could do but make the best of it.  However, US Airways probably won't be getting much business from us in the future not because of the cancelled flight but because their customer service was ATROCIOUS. 

However, the Embassy Suites near the airport made our little layover a pure delight with their lovely pool, manager's reception, free shuttle around town, awesome free breakfast, and colorful staff.  Heather, of course, has an obsession with Indian Taco's and since we were in Arizona we felt we should be able to find one.  Not only did the front desk staff look it up for us, find us a restaurant, and offer the hotel shuttle to take us there for free, but they thought the tacos looked good so they came with us to grab supper.  The next morning a tiny little man made us delicious omelets and then we were off to Troncones!

Days 2-6:
After being verbally accosted by a flight attendant due to a seating fiasco (read, we won't be using US Airways again) we arrived in Troncones and were welcomed to our little bungalow at Casa Ki by our friend Andrea, whose flight arrived as scheduled the day before. 

And commence the relaxation.  Our non-air conditioned bungalow was directly on the beach looking out over the mighty Pacific.  We sat on our porch and talked, and read, and talked, and napped, and talked, and listened to the waves.  I don't know if I've ever had such a relaxed vacation.  I did not open my make-up bag and never once touched my hair dryer.  That, my friends, is way more relaxed than I've EVER been on vacation!

Here's the view from our bungalow.  The gate is meant to keep wandering dogs, cows, pigs, from entering the property.

It doesn't really stop the local herd of wild dogs from entering at will though.  They liked to come around in the late afternoon and we watched them jump right on over.  There were other run-ins with wild life.  It was the season for the crabs to come down from the mountain and lay their eggs on the beach.  This meant in the evening when we walked the paths to our community kitchen for beverages or to use the wi-fi, one had to exercise caution.  Heather and I nearly had our toes taken off by a large, clickety-clackety, red crab.  And unfortunately, I took the life of a small hermit crab trying to reach the beach. 

Here are Andrea and Heather who, oddly enough, both picked up "Mennonite in a Little Black Dress" to read on the vacation.  Reconnecting to the old Menno roots I guess.  It led to many interesting conversations though!

The Pacific was a little too mighty for us to enjoy a leisurely swim but we did find a few tide pools that we lazed around in quite a bit to cool off from the oppressive Mexican heat.  Twice we were referred to as mermaids by passers by.  I guess mermaids must hang out in tide pools?

I will say that the waves still got us a few times.  Notice Heather clinging to a rock.  And the aforementioned somersault was a result of a taking poor Andrea for a spin.  Luckily no major injuries were reported.

Also mentioned above was sweaty yoga.  We ventured down the beach twice to a lovely resort called Present Moments to take in some yoga on a platform overlooking the ocean.  Morning yoga was a bit more rigorous, lasting two hours and involving immense amounts of sweat.  It can be a little difficult to hold a pose when your legs and arms are slick with sweat.  Afternoon yoga was more relaxed and included some two-person yoga poses which may have broken the mood just a bit since Heather and Andrea made me giggle. 

Present Moments also hosted a movie night on the beach which we took in, watching "Blue Crush," a surfing movie.  How appropriate.  It was the only thing we watched all week, save some FIFA World Cup soccer games that were being aired at restaurants.  Literally, work came to stand still when there was a game on.  (Notice the taxi drivers at the airport glued to the soccer game on T.V.)

Mixed in to the sweaty yoga and the relaxation was a massage that we had on the patio outside our bungalow.  Despite the fact that Heather was having a "modest day," we all enjoyed the massage utilizing hot cups to pull the toxins out of our systems.  More about toxins later. 

We also walked down hot dusty roads to eat at delicious local eateries in town - places with tin roofs and dirt floors but with super tasty authentic Mexican food.  I knew that we were staying in a town geared towards surfers and a little off the beaten path, but WOW we were staying in a town where there were few snacks available (Heather nearly starved one day) and the local restaurants knew NO English.  Thank goodness Heather knew enough Spanish to get us by.  We ate guacamole every day but one.  Heather and I enjoyed a delicious hot bowl of soup on the hottest day of the year.  And we were able to partake of some elusive quesadillas from a lady who had a tragic story.  Mmmmmm.....

We went kayaking one day.  Kayaking is a whole lot of work and really, no fun at all.  Andrea was not feeling so well that day so we tried to heal her with hot rocks.  And Heather and I nearly had a run in with a large Mexican cow who was crossing the lagoon.  In the end Alejandro, gave us a local coconut to drink to restore our fluids and then we were well enough to go back and continue our relaxation.

 

We saw some federalis storm through town.  The locals didn't act nervous so we just kept eating our quesadillas.  The picture isn't so great because Andrea was trying to do it on the sly.  We didn't really want a direct run in after all.

I attempted to teach Heather to knit.  Nothing like holding a bunch of yarn when you're all hot and sweaty and there's a bunch of sand blowing in your face.

And we laid around in hammocks pretty much everywhere we went including all the local restaurants.

Day 7 and beyond:

After a mad dash around the Mexico City airport where moments of panic were upon us so greatly that I'm still having nightmares, we arrived home safely.  However, I brought back a little friend.  A bug of some sort.  I made it through the entire vacation with not so much as one digestive issue.  Ah, but Montezuma shall have his revenge.  Within minutes of getting home the bug hit.  I named my little parasite Charlie and within a few days were on such familiar terms he let me call him Chuck.  But that's all worked out now.  So I shall leave you with a few more pictures of our lovely little home for the week.

Too Much Information

You may think this is too much information and if you are frightened, stop reading at this point.  However, the following sort of amused me.  I will try to be as delicate as I can.

So today I canned tomatoes with my mom.  After most of the tomatoes were in their jars and waiting for their merry little water bath, I asked my mom if I could have some ibuprofen.  She said sure, and as I padded off to the bathroom to procure the tablets she asked, "Do you have a headache?"  I replied "no."

When I returned to the kitchen she said, "You know the Amish say you should never can tomatoes when you are menstruating because your jars won't seal." 

I sort of wish she would have mentioned that before I nearly sabotaged our entire batch of tomatoes. 

For the record, the tomatoes sealed. 

But we may not be out of the woods yet.

When I went to my knitting group (after canning) I mentioned what I had been doing that afternoon.  I didn't, of course, mention the delicate matter mentioned above.  Wouldn't you know, one of the women brought up this old wives' tale.  How have I gone my whole life without being aware of this information?

I wondered to myself if it could be hormonal,  perhaps a chemical that escapes through the pores.  There had to be a scientific explanation for this sage wisdom.  So I researched a little.  Turns out that even though our jars sealed, we are still in danger of those tomatoes spoiling in the jar.  AND, I shouldn't have even walked into the garden today because women who are in their oh-so-special "time of the month" are NOT to be around the crops - ESPECIALLY tomatoes or cucumbers!  And heaven forbid you can the cucumbers during that time because it sounds like all kinds of bad things will happen. 

But you can walk around the cabbage.  It might even be good for the cabbage.

One theory I read is that women back in the day, often with many young children and a demanding husband, had to find ways to take a break.  It's the old Red Tent idea.  They claimed it would spoil the food, ruin the canning process, whatever, and then they were able to take a load off.  I really hope this is the case rather than a fearful male population thinking that women are unclean. 

At any rate, I apologize to my dear mother if we all end up with botulism.