Wedding Bells will Ring (Next Year, That Is)!

It has again been a very long time since I wrote. I have been directing my attention to creating a wedding website, after Fiance and I finally chose a date and location to be married.

The wedding will be "Up North," which is, from what I understand, anywhere north of The Thumb (we are now looking at the top of our left hand - a surprisingly close-to-scale, very "handy" representation of the state of Michigan). The wedding will take place somewhere around the upper right corner of the ring finger (how appropriate!). For those who don't wish to locate airport, lodging, and attractions via cuticle and knuckle landmarks, I suppose we will provide addresses and maps, though that takes some of the mystery and romance out of it.

Below is a picture of the barn from a cornstalk-lined road. We hope for a sunny day, but one can never tell in Michigan! (I think I've mentioned before how every state I've lived in claims that saying "If you don't like the weather here, wait 5 minutes." And I can say with authority, that all those states stole the saying from the peninsula state of Michigan (okay, maybe Florida has a valid claim too).

We liked the relaxed vibe of the area, the rustic charm, and the lack of pushiness, among other things. We juxtaposed our visit to the barn with its polar opposite-a visit to Castle Farms (which locals call "The Castle"). It is a wedding factory! Not in the good "this is a great location anyone would want to marry in" either. No, Castle Farms is a faux castle on the state highway (we could hear trucks wizzing by when we were outside looking at some of the gardens where presumably, you must urge the harpist to crank it up to hide the noise). We took a quick tour of the four venues, which are all booked on the same day. And because the Castle books four weddings per day, they choose the time of day you get married based on the room you rent (King's Quarters is 5 p.m. sharp, Queen's Tavern is 3 p.m., no negotiations, military precision) so as not to intersect with another wedding party.

The thing Fiance and I couldn't understand is why so many people choose to get married there. When the (very nice) on-site planner looked at our desired dates, they were already booked for all four times that day, a year in advance! I am sure that when they decorate the castle in the couple's personal style, it is lovely, but the pictures on the internet site are much nicer than the actual venue. We found the opposite to be true with our barn - the pictures on the internet don't convey its appeal and simple beauty.

Fiance is a little worried fall will come too late next year for people to experience the changing leaves.

If that's the case, though, and it's warm, then we may get out on the water (lots of surrounding lakes, including Michigan and Huron) without freezing to death!

No matter what the weather (except please no snow!!!) we are most looking forward to a gathering of loved ones and are excited to let the planning begin!

On a more somber note, the cornfield is gone! The only corn we actually ate went into soups, due to its chewiness. But when fall arrives in Michigan, people start serious corn decorating, so we followed suit, and killed the cornfield (my baby!).

And our doorstep.

HAPPY AUTUMN!

Where Have I Been??????

It's been 3 weeks! This neglect won't happen again! So, where have I been? Here, there, everywhere. A little east coast last month, and a little west coast this month. I went to San Diego to ring in my dad's 60th birthday with him and family. It was lovely! See...?

We went to the zoo, where we saw these flamingoes dancing...

We marvelled at an awesome aircraft carrier and a neat soldier statue on the harbor (and again were reminded of the HUGE military presence in the city-not the first thing you think of when you think SoCal).
And we went to the aquarium in La Jolla, from which you can see forever...
Most of all, I enjoyed just hanging out with my family. The memorable times often happen during downtime, whether surrounded by wise elephants or groovin' flamingoes, surly balloon artists or sad seahorses, freeway traffic or miles of sand and surf.

When I got back, I had one day to decompress, and it's been run, run, run ever since. I feel like I am wearing my own personal groove into the M-14, hustling back and forth between Wayne and Washtenaw Counties. I met with my clients (I need more!), attended a 2-day trade convention (learned that it is necessary to sink way more money in!), networked with a fellow tradesmen, got a fever and then got better, became more involved in my literacy volunteer organization (I'm a mentor now), got a different waitress job (did not put too much effort into that one), paid my bills, reorganized my office (was a disaster), reorganized basement (still a disaster, but a neater one), dog-sat, and slept a little. So, I hope that answers the question posed in this post's title.

As for the corn crop, I'm hoping that we don't get a frost for at least another month. I have some small ears and some big ears-the big ears are the ones that have received the most direct sunlight. When I walk in the cornfield now I can actually smell corn-it is really cool! Also, our tomato plants are still yielding, after 3 months! Either it's beginner's luck, or we really do live in suburbia's promised land. Here's the latest in corn-if you look closely you can see the cornsilks and follow their origin to the growing ears!

Ode to The Line, a Debriefing of The American, and a dash of Tomato Porn

Before I get to tonight's topics: today, my first paying client...paid me! And now, stuff that is not as exciting.

Tonight I stood with about five others in a slow-moving Line at the library, impatiently waiting my turn while reminding myself that I really hadn't been waiting that long. All of sudden a rogue stepped up to the counter just vacated by another patron. The problem with his sudden appearance at the counter: he skipped the Line! He had simply ignored the sign that read "Please form one line here" and blithely sallied up to the counter at the end farthest from the hanging directive. Others in Line grumbled a bit, while I pondered the lack of character, to be so unaware of one's surroundings, much like bad drivers on cellphones or those merely daydreaming. Or perhaps he was from Europe or some such place, where people congregate around a desired purpose in a frightening absence of longitudinal order. Well if so, he had been in the U.S. long enough to get a library card, and probably long enough to wait in Line at the DMV (ha! he could not have survived skipping that Line without some bite marks or bullet holes, right L.L.?). Regardless, we said nothing as the man readied his books and library card, though this faux pas is one of the few remaining that inspire patriotic ferver in fellow Lineholders....but wait! A man, clearly a regular geek/patron of the library (takes one to know one) said politely, with a slight tremor, "Sir, the line forms over here." Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! The man grabbed his things from the counter, turned, and made his way to the back of the line in an agreeable manner, no scowl to be detected! And the last semblance of American public civility lives to fight another day.

Speaking of American/European clashes (real or imagined), I finally finished Henry James' The American. I must say, I almost gave up about halfway through, when it appeared that absolutely nothing would happen. So our hero Newman travels to Paris to hunt down a bride after having accumulated massive wealth as a "commercial man" in the U.S. circa when steamership was the way to go. He makes some friends and proposes to Claire de Cintre, a titled young widow. Her family begrudgingly allows the engagement, and the story plods on with nary a hint of coming drama (okay, there were hints, just wanted to say nary, and the hints were few and far between). Newman is irritatingly happy and good-natured. I suppose he is the Everyman (the New-Man) American travelling abroad, risking language and etiquette gaffs along the way. Well, his Parisian acquaintances prove disloyal, snooty, and wrapped up in stupid things like gentry, which I think is the point James is trying to make. The good guys in the story get the short end of the stick, except for Newman, who ends up good-natured and relatively happy, until the very last line of the book (don't bother trying to impress your friends with your book knowledge by reading the first and last lines of the novel, it doesn't work with this one, you will have no idea what is going on). Was this review helpful? I think not. Did reading The American make me a better, more enlightened guest at cocktail parties? I think not. Do I wonder why there are people who devote their careers to studying Henry James? I think so, and I welcome their venom (maybe someday I will learn to appreciate James, possibly by reading another of his novels...but that day has not come, especially when my reading time is occupied by such fantastic modern work like The Thing Around Your Neck by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie!).

Last but not least, some saucy Tomato Porn. Well, it is a fetish of all in-season vegetables, but Tomoto Porn is much more sonically enticing than Vegetable Porn, and tomatoes are far and away my favorite. Don't worry folks, what you are about to see is not obscenity, which we know is illegal, but simply some tasteful photos of recent footage from behind the garage and at the farmers market. Feast your eyes on this from the Ann Arbor Farmers Market:

And this behind my own garage:

Renewed Vigor

I have not posted for a while: I fell into a midsummer's inertia for the past two weeks--doing too much thinking and not enough doing--that I've finally been able to shake. Still looking for jobs, mining my resources, and getting closer to opening my own shop, which has great appeal anyway--the only reason not to be my own boss is for the security of a steady paycheck to shrink that pesky student loan. My area of work becomes more competitive every day (no different than any other I guess), so it seems I can forever deal with rejection and/or settling for less than favorable work circumstances, or I can take control. Instead of struggling with how things are, I can carve out my own niche and enjoy the process...in a home office with pink walls. This is me in a confident moment.

While I have been pondering my life's direction, my corn crop's direction has been decidedly up. It is now waist-high, save for one knee-high straggling stalk. Today I noticed scratch marks on two stalks. I think it is a squirrel looking for food and then realizing the stalks are not quite edible. My sister in Seattle thinks the night invader is a raccoon, which freaks me out--where do they go during the day? Are they watching me admire my cornfield and laughing, then coming out at night and trashing my garden, while mocking my efforts and gossiping a la The Great Outdoors (what was it with those '80s movies featuring pivotal animal roles-Caddyshack...Trading Places...)? I've also noticed half-eaten tomatoes in the dirt. At least eat the whole tomato, it's delicious!

Above is the flower paintings I did for my younger sister, who just had a baby girl (hooray!). It was fun. I used acrylics, which are the most user-friendly paints as far as I'm concerned. I think they came out well, but now I notice other acrylic paintings with perpective, light, and texture--doing my own painting and then seeing the more polished work of talented painters inspires me to learn how to add realistic depth to a canvas. In the meantime, until I can afford the paint supplies with which to experiment, I will happily paint my cutesy, one-dimensional pictures. The lovely gallery wall is my office floor (the one with the pink walls).

Tomorrow the fiance and I head to Eastern Market, the big farmers and wholesale market district downtown. It should really be going off this time of summer, so I am excited to see what they've got. After shopping for fresh fruit and veggies, Fiance plans to indulge in smoked ribs that we've passed up on several occasions-we will sit at a plastic table, eat some ribs and drink some sugary soda while watching a blues band play. Not a bad start to a Saturday. After that, we'll head to the big used bookstore downtown-John K. King Rare and Used Books. That is, assuming we can find it. Vegas spoiled me on logical, square street blocks. Detroit is a little more curved and slanted. When leaving the Eastern Market, we generally drive in potholed circles for 5-10 minutes until happening across a freeway launching point. The good news is that all big roads end downtown, a ground zero with the roads radiating outward to the distance suburbs and beyond. So we can always find a main road, and go from there. So what if you have to drive to the riverfront to find the highway entrance ramp in the opposite direction? Anyway, finding another downtown destination is a different story, one that I hope will end well.

Finally, and speaking of downtown, there are some interesting living spaces designed by Mies van der Rohe in the downtown area, and some interesting people living in them, one being the author of Sweet Juniper!, a great blog started by a person I consider Detroit's Hipster in Residence (I am guessing the guy would hate this reference-sorry!). The site has great pictures of and commentary on Detroit, showing many beautiful, interesting, and uplifting sides to the city (among other great things), a rarity in the face of a ton of one-dimensional bad press--hooray! See for yourself at http://www.sweet-juniper.com/.

I hope to post again tomorrow, what with my renewed vigor.

Cornfield

Ice Cream, Mutant Tomatoes, and Dad

I am dedicating this post to my Dad, who inspired me to post today when I spoke to him on the phone and he asked about the blog. I will try to make this interesting, Dad, but I think we already talked about almost everything going on in my day on the phone earlier...

One thing we didn't talk about was my ice cream-making skills. Last week I used my machine for the first time to make cherry frozen yogurt. I have a Cuisinart ice cream maker, and its directions state that 20-30 minutes in the machine should present edible ice cream. What I had after 20-30 minutes was pretty runny, so I just put it in tupperware in the freezer and it was good the next day, just more like sorbet. But it was very, very good.

Tonight I am making mint chocolate chip ice cream, with mint I picked this afternoon from my backyard. It is incredibly satisfying to pick something from your yard and eat it. It is even more satisfying to turn that edible yardstuff into ice cream! The results are still pending, but I have dipped my finger into the custard that is cooling (the pre-machine step is to make a minty custard), and it is very, very good.

On the topic of fresh mint, I cannot get over the fact of growing food in my own yard. I was raised, as I have said before, in a desert city, and tomatoes don't grow on trees, let alone tomato vines, there with much success (although my Aunt N and Uncle J, living at the foothills of a rocky, sandy mountain on the edge of town, obviously have not heard that news, because they have repeat raging success with their tomato plants).

It's not as if Vegas is a totally barren wasteland (visit neighborhoods built pre-1990 to find a desert oasis), it's just that people have to work harder at growing non-desert plants there, and water is scarce (more so now in a city of millions than when I grew up in same city of hundred-thousands). And Vegas does a fantastic job of making people feel guilty for every drop of water consumed, as well it should considering the water level at Lake Mead these days. And gardening things like tomatoes, mint, and corn takes plenty of water.

My fiance and I ate our first tomatoes from our yard last night. There were only two ripe ones , each from a different plant (we have two), so I cut them in half and gave us both a piece from each plant. They are cherry tomatoes, but these things are big. Some of them are beyond golf ball-size (though no golf ball-size fruits are yet ripe). We ate normal cherry-sized last night, but I wonder about those mutants. Our tomatoes, if I can judge based on only two, are wonderful. They smell and taste like warm sunlight and redness. I don't think that is anything but a lame description to someone who has eaten only grocery store tomatoes, which is why that 'real tomato virgin' should go straight to a farmers market asap and get a sunlight-tomato and realize my description is not lame, it's true! The only four people who read this blog (please, correct me if there are more!), have all experienced real tomatoes, so the sunlight/redness description is sufficient at this time. I have 100+ tomatoes waiting to ripen on the vines, and I go out every morning now to check on them, and tie twine around the branches too heavy with fruit now to support themselves. I have several pieces of twine connecting vine branches to our fences. I am sure the neighbors are thrilled.

Back on water, I have a theory that while Vegas and the entire American west is the hotspot for growth in America right now, as the twenty-first century progresses, places where food grows and water runs with ease will gain in popularity--headline in 2015: Detroit Boomtown! Okay, it's a bit of a crazy theory, but so are desert boomtowns! Look at Vegas, but even worse, look at Phoenix! I think that original Las Vegans** enjoyed the wealth that came from the boomtown development, but also look back wistfully on the pleasant, mosquito-free, small city with all the benefits that the Vegas Valley offers, but with none of the big-city problems that exist now. Anyway, a more likely theory is that the rest of the country will steal water from the Great Lakes, resulting in water for everyone, maybe just cheaper for those who actually live in the Great Lakes states.

So, this is what my blog is about Dad. I hope you are not asleep already. It is like an episode of Seinfeld ("It's a show about nothing!") without the humor. I will work on the humor if you promise to read on.



** I count myself as an Original Las Vegan although I obviously wasn't around 100 years ago at its founding: in a town this new, it was rare to meet many natives my age (uuhhh...31) in town up to a mere few years ago. Now it is nothing to say you're from Vegas, but the switch from novelty to old-hat came very recently. Original Las Vegans were born there. Everybody else moved there (usually from California and New York--Oregon, we feel for you) and turned it into a logistical quagmire.