Last day of vacation

Start and restart.  I have a handful of drafts, things I started to write and then decided not to publish.  Things to add to later, or not.

Went for a long walk in the morning.  Intention was to later both go garden, and empty boxes.  All week.  Haven't done either.  Listening to the radio and making soup.  Enjoying the intention of nothingness.  Been thinking about seeing a show almost every night this week, but decided against structuring my time.  Enough of that coming up, and the vacation was because I was feeling such a pull (almost being repelled) away from that.  I do need to get to the garden though: a rose bush needs to be pruned back from the path, among other things. (And I could use more vegetables, going through a lot.)  It's funny how when you limit your options your cravings adjust to fill the void.  I'm eating a lot of almond butter (eating it with quinoa, bananas, and almond milk for breakfast), something I almost never eat.  My mom gave me a jar at Christmas, and I just opened it.  (It's still good.)

I don't miss the coffee so much this week, I've been drinking Mate, but not everyday, nor the sugar anymore.  I do miss being able to go out to eat, I really enjoy that.  Options are limited.  Next week will be tougher, as I'll be back at work, and I can't just cook something when I get hungry.  But I feel pretty good, starting to balance out my energy better.  As for everything else, I'm not gonna worry about any of it today.  Things will happen as they happen.  Keep making connections and putting out feelers.  But not this week.  Things are about to get crazy again.

Summer's over.

Looking up at trees, Sept 5/L Herlevi 2014

Season's over, Sept 5/L Herlevi 2014

Later.  I was wondering what had become of the end of a tromboncino squash plant I have growing, it seemed to have disappeared into the verge.  When I walked over to the compost and looked back, I noticed it had reemerged and is now climbing up my neighbor's fence.  Will have to look into that.  Redirect its growth.  The vine is over 15 feet.  Has produced just one squash, (which someone suggested I use as a neck rest on an airplane-I ate it instead) but impressive nonetheless.

Friday

Finally told my boss about getting into the Meisner Intensive. She said she didn't see a problem with my leaving early for the duration of the program. That's a relief to finally get it off my chest, though I didn't really think it would be an issue, I just have an irrational fear of asking for things.

I forced myself to call my landlord as well regarding the sink (leaking), the bathtub (doesn't drain) and the basement flooding. Hopefully, he actually does send someone over. He said he would. (The plumbing for the sink should probably be replaced, has been an issue for a long time.) And made a payment on my medical bills...now I can go into vacation without all this hanging over my head.

The rain must've missed the Fill, was expecting it to be a mucky mess, but it was very dry. The dust made me think of the idea of "brushing the dust off of your feet."  Earlier this summer I heard someone explain that as leaving a situation/place without any baggage. In other words, wiping off any hard feelings or resentments and moving onto the next place without carrying all or any of that with you. Had never thought about it that way before, and it might be easier said than done, but I like it. Just. Letting. Everything. Go.

Moment three

Walking home across the park, toward the lowering sun, light illuminating columns of flying insects, feet crunching through dry leaves, air smelling of wood smoke, it occurred to me that this is the closest I'll get to camping this year.  An enjoyable moment, none-the-less.

This will be three, I think. It's not one particular moment, it's that I've been meeting a lot of doppelgangers lately, you know, dead ringers for people I know. I'll start talking with them thinking that I know them, and they'll talk to me as if they know me and then mid-way through the conversation I'll realize they are not who I thought they were, but don't admit it. And they are possibly being polite, possibly too embarrassed to admit that they might have met me but have forgotten my name. And so in this manner we carry on. It's weird because the conversation will usually be something personal. I think it's a fear of being perceived as rude, or trying to save face that keeps either of us from admitting that we've never actually met before.  It's awkward, yet amusing.

Sorry, I'm not feeling much clarity today. I am on vacation for the next nine days, from work that is, this is the first of the 22-hour school weeks, and I need to catch up on more life stuff. It's been about a year since I've taken a week off. Went and watered the garden earlier tonight. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I might actually get tomatoes this year. I never do. Been trying for years. They either have been undernourished, or the weather's been too cool, or the rats bit into them first, or they got late blight. They are doing well right now. (Hopefully, I don't lose the garden for it's over weediness this summer.) Fingers crossed on that one, too.

A Midsummer Night's Dream is on the radio. I still see my friends from college performing it when I read or hear it, in spite of the fact that I've seen it so many times since. Makes me smile (though not my favorite Shakespeare play, probably because I've seen it so much. And it's really long.)

Still on vacation

Maybe I should have said "demi glace..." Found myself back at the Market again yesterday, I was actually just leaving the Seattle Art Museum (www.seattleartmuseum.org) and walking north to catch a #16 bus to Wallingford, never did get there. Got to the big intersection where all the traffic stops for pedestrians and there was still time to cross, so went to De Laurenti's (www.delaurenti.com) and ate a slice of pizza (with Salumi's mole salami) and a limonata, and wandered around the shop looking at containers of demi glace and honey. Sometimes I feel so homesick for places I am not, that are not my actual home. I'm homesick for Spain. Or perhaps for something I found there, a feeling? I'm not sure. I don't know that I want to live there, I keep telling myself that this is my home, but I want to be there, I also want to be here. Even when I've tried to move away, I always end up back in Seattle. I tell myself that the world is full of places to visit, my own country is full of places I have never been, but I often find myself booking a flight back for northern Spain. The same towns over and over. I've never been to Barcelona or Toledo or Sevilla or Granada, but have fallen in love with Sahagun de Campos, and Leon, and Pamplona. And had the best honey from around St. Catherine de Somoza, and have been seeking an equivalent ever since. Which is what I have been doing in various shops all week.

I ended up sitting in the sculpture park watching the way the late afternoon light casts shadows of trees on the massive boat-like metal sculptures, then headed over to Seattle Center to try to catch the 16. While walking across the grounds I noticed a labyrinth in the distance, so went over and walked it slowly in both directions, even though my feet were sore. It's orange, below the EMP and the pink light reflected back on it. There were a surprising number of people walking it. Did they come there to walk it or did they stumble upon it like me and feel compelled to follow the winding orange path? It was an odd find. I'm glad that it's there, but haven't a clue as to why it's there.

Need to pack to go back up to the Island this afternoon.
Peace

cooking terms

When I returned to work last week, my boss said that I could take all my time off visiting my father as sick leave, and since I had previously requested this week off as vacation, she told me to go ahead and take it. I'm at home at the moment. We're still in our heat wave and though the house got down to 80 F last night, it's already into the mid-80's inside. It's 11 am. I was going to go to the beach earlier, but my foot really hurts, so haven't done much walking yet today. All of which has given me time to search further for the term "fondo de res." It was used in a recipe I saw on vme cocina over the weekend. A plum sauce with cordero...sheep? I'm interested in the sauce, as I attempted to make a sour cherry sauce a couple of weekends ago, which turned out okay, but not great. Anyhow...the last ingredient the chef added was "fondo de res" and on tv it had a consistency of peanut butter, and from "de res" I was assuming it was beef something. While running errands yesterday I went by the Spanish Table (http://www.thespanishtable.com/) to ask if anyone knew what it might be. The man at the front didn't know, tried to google it with no luck, and then called his mom, who thought "fondito" and consume, but she wasn't sure. He then suggested I check a Mexican grocer, in the Pike Place Market, so I did. The woman at the counter had no idea, suggested another grocer down the block, who also didn't know but sold fresh corn tortillas and tamales, so I ate lunch. So...this morning I finally googled "Cooking+Mexican+Fondo de res" and came up with Mexican cooking terms, where I found the definition "broth or consume made from soup bones, or a reduced stock," at www.lomexicano.com/mexicanfoodrecipeglossary.htm#f . So some sorta' thickened broth, texture was interesting. De res would mean beef, I guess. I need to find another way of thickening/finishing the sauce, maybe butter, or a cornstarch slurry. Probably am not going to use it for "cordero" at this time.