Green Acres

I've always wanted to plant a garden but I just never seemed to have the space or the time. This year I set aside 8 feet square of space to force me to find the time to plant it. So I guess I'm a farmer now. Which I know is an insult to real farmers world wide but that's what I'm going with.Here is a picture of my victory garden. This year, with luck, it will be a pumpkin patch. Strictly for Halloween jack-o-lanterns. The seed package said to plant 3 to 4 seeds per mound and to space the mounds four feet apart. I planted 5 to 6 seeds per mound and squeezed them together as much as I could. I'm going for quantity instead of quality. Actually, I will be happy with anything orange.My main goal will be to keep our vegetable marauders out long enough to get a harvest. Next on the list is to make an intimidating scarecrow to keep watch over my precious patch.Along with the pumpkin seeds, I planted a couple other 'surprises' that everyone will have to wait for in the fall.As the days tick onward I will hopefully have some pictures of something actually growing besides weeds to show. Until then, I have to get my overalls washed and fetch some water from the well. I will let you know when to come over for the barn raising.

It gets harder and harder to think of a title for these things...

As much as I know you've all enjoyed my lovely travel posts, I'm afraid to inform you that the next few will be quite mundane. This one is about the obnoxiousness that is France and the French. The next will be about why they shouldn't allow me to teach. So here it goes.First, let me say that I still haven't figured out how to hand wash my clothes. It seemed relatively self-explanatory: fill tub, add soap, add clothes, rinse clothes, dry clothes. Right? No, this simple procedure does not, surprisingly, clean a bloody thing. This time I was doing a massive load of darks, and I thought to myself, "Well, I'll just pretend like this is a washing machine and I'll do whatever a washing machine would do." So I filled the tub with warm water and added soap. Then I threw the clothes in and (quite ridiculously) tried to make my own agitation (and then spin) cycle. I looked funny, and I got tired, but my clean my clothes were not. Ugh. Spin cycle number two, add the shower head sprayer for good measure. No good? Drain the soapy water out, refill with clean water, and spin some more. Drain for the final time and .... failure. The clothes were kind of sort of clean, but secretly I knew that the alcohol spilled on me at the Cuban/Brazilian club(s) in Rennes was not coming out of my shirts (this is a whole story in itself, let's just say that Irene wanted to dance --latin style-- and old french men in latin clubs are even more creepy than regular creepy french men in regular bars...sigh). Whatever, I suck at life. Just hang them up and forget it. In a few months, when I come home to the land of decent washing machines, my clothes will get cleaned up nicely. Perhaps I just need to invest in an old school washboard until then?After washing my clothes, it was time to give our bathroom a scrub down. Washing darks leaves some nasty dye in the tub. So I sprayed some bleach and started scrubbing. Within seconds of spraying the cleaner, I suddenly had the urge to go swimming. Why was that? I haven't gone in over 2 weeks (oops). Bleach. The smell of bleach reminds me of chlorine, and chlorine reminds me of pools, and pools make me want to get my butt kicked at swim practice. Well needless to say I went to practice today, and the coach told me that he thought I'd left or something. Nooo I was just busy, so much work, you understand... Anyway, we swam 4000 meters, wow. It felt so good. It was a long practice, we usually only do around 2500, so this kicked my butt, in a good way!Speaking of domestic chores, I am learning to cook. Slowly but surely, I am learning the culinary arts from the master, Miss Rachel. If you know me, then you know how inept I am at such a simple task. Part of my inadequacy stems from my extreme pickiness when it comes to food. If it's green, I probably don't like it. There are reasons I could never be a vegetarian. Anyway, Rachel always makes stuff that smells amazing, even if it is veggies, so we've decided that I must learn. My first lesson came when Dana was here. We made salmon (lemon flavored, yum) and my new favorite dish-- fried potatoes and onions. Okay it's not that hard, you boil some chopped potatoes, fry them, add some onions and garlic, and voila! But here's the funny part: I used to think I hated onions. Not so my friends, I love them now, at least I love them fried with potatoes and garlic. While cooking this stuff I cut an onion for the very first time in my life (probably a first on the potatoes as well). Isn't that a tad bit sad? Well, progress is progress. Rachel also bought me a french cookbook and we're going to pick a meal out before Saturday so we can get all the ingredients at the farmers market. I vote for something with spinach (a green plant I happen to like). I'll keep you posted.So hand-washing clothes and cooking may not be my strong suits, but I'm young and I have time to learn. What I won't ever learn, however, is how to be polite to stupid french handymen that let themselves into my apartment. So the other day I was in bed and I heard the doorbell ring. Nope, not getting up. I don't care who it is, I want a lie-in. Cue the noise of keys and the door opening. That's strange, Rach is supposed to be in Sartilly all day. Cue man's voice. Crap. Scramble out of bed. What to do? I have time to either throw on some jeans and pull my hair in a pony tail OR throw the clothes piled high around my room into the wardrobe. Umm. Oh well, you hesitated too long, and now you have time for neither. Crap, okay go confront man with pjs on and bedhair. It's too early for french (before 10am when I don't have class until 2pm, much too early), and I don't understand a word. Ummm what? Can you repetay that see voo play? Yeah thanks, okay, so you want some shelves do you? Let's see here, oh you want these weird half table things that you stored in my room and that we turned into storage units in the living room. Here let me move that garbage bag and half dead plant, there you go. Take it, we didn't want it anyway. Oh you don't want it? You want it on the wall of my bedroom...um okay. Why? No reason, I didn't think so. Fine hang it... um (kick some clothes aside, pull a 1664 poster down) here. Okay where are the other shelves? Um I have no bloody clue. You tell me. Fine go look in Rach's room, but I warn you, she won't be happy about it (her's being in a sorrier state than my own). There they are, full of stuff no less. Puzzled look from man. Well what did you expect? You come early in the morning with no warning (a note earlier would have been nice). Yes I realize this is not your choice, you march to orders from on high, we're all victims in this crazy game, but could you just come back later, yeah? Thanks. Rach comes back, aghast that she must now figure out where in her room the unwanted shelves can hang (after cleaning them off of course). We hear a door open and heavy footsteps. No knocking this time? No bell? Just come right in, we weren't naked or anything. Not that you'd care. Grrr. Whatever, just hang the bloody shelves and go away. Why must you bother us?? Yes I'm being dramatic, but in the dull city of Avranches, even the smallest events seem quite important. Don't judge me.Speaking of not being informed ahead of time, you'll never guess what happened to Rach and Kate at the elementary school. The other day a woman came by with a young gendarme (police man, but sort of in the army branch). She announced to the surprised girls that he was actually moving in, right now. Oh, lovely. That's not strange or anything. We don't mind finding out, well, the day of. Not a problem. As it turns out, Cedric, the already balding but still nice chap of 26, is not that bad, though he's developed quite the crush on Irish Rach. She brings it on herself though (she made him bring out his hats for her to try on, if that doesn't make a man swoon, I don't know what will). He hangs out with us now, and it's only a little awkward (mainly when Rach has had a bit too much to boire and he goes all gaga over her --awkward but really funny, you can't buy entertainment like this). And yesterday a new gendarme showed up. I guess he's moving in too (quite the party). He's younger (22), but like Cedric he's prematurely balding. Maybe it's a hazard of the profession? Pierre-Yves, the newbie, is nice but shyer than Cedric. Unfortunately neither turned out to be potential french petit-amis for any of us (for various reasons), but oh well. We're not into the law enforcement types anyway. At least they're under 40 and over 18. That works for now, we can hang out at the Liberties now and not get approached by freaks or my students (yeah, I've been running into my students and they either want me to buy them drinks or want me to give them my flatmate's number, get a life folks, you're in high school). But still, a little warning would have been nice. The guys could have been psychos or something. I guess a gendarme is better than a regular bloke (as far as safety goes). Whatever. The French could care less. We are, after all, mere assistants.What am I doing right now? Eating nutella from the jar to curve a chocolate craving, and trying to not freak out about schools. I just finished watching mtv's True Life: I'm having an arranged marriage. I'm not going to lie, some days, I don't think that's a bad idea. Ha! Just kidding. I think. Eventually I need to file my taxes, but I'd rather watch True Life: I'm in anger management. Maybe I should read a book....Okay that's all for now. Must get back to the new dart board (I'm going to get good at this, I swear). Enjoy the snow Wisconsinites.Next up: teaching issues. Get ready for it.

The Future of Modern Kitchen Design

With a focus on designing a modern kitchen to reevaluate what truly makes a kitchen functional, Electrolux Icon appliances and Interior Design Magazine held a competition with 110 thousand dollars on the line. Winner Marcello Zuffo's futuristic kitchen shown here in orange "featured movable components that can be reconfigured to adapt to the task at hand and incorporated a contemporary sculptural component contrary to a typically rectangular floor plan." As interior design and kitchen appliance innovation moves forward, it is very likely these pictures of the first through third award winners will be a reality in a few years. Read more on the Electrolux Icon / Interior Design Magazine kitchen design competition here.
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How To Get Your KC Wizard Tickets

To get the group discount, go to the link below, enter the promo code,(Please contact me, Spyder, for the code) create an account with an email address and password, then choose the "general admission" seating category. With these tickets, you may sit either on the grass berm (great view of the field) or in the seating sections 100-103 (behind baseball's home plate). If you have any other questions, let me know. Kyle Link: https://oss.ticketmaster.com/html/go.htmI?l=EN&t=kcwizards&o=101232&g=203 Instructions: Each individual will need to enter your personalized promotional code,(Please contact me, Spyder, for the code) , to activate the discount offer. Once the code is entered, your buyer may create an account by entering his or her email address on the right side of the page and building an account. Once they decide on the number of seats needed and pay for them via credit card, they will receive an email with their tickets attached to it. They simply print these tickets out and bring them to CAB on March 21st!UPDATE: PROMO CODE: KRWIZ Get the $12 tickets. We will sit in seating sections 100-103 (behind baseball's home plate).

Jammu

After grudgingly stuffing a small billfold of baksheesh into Bashirs shirt pocket, I climbed into the white jeep and closed the door. I was the last passenger to arrive, so I was given the passenger seat, a crumbling cushion sitting on a wobbly pedestal. Behind were several Kashmiri families piled high in their shabby seats. Some sat on their luggage. I felt their eyes on me immediately, but in India you quickly grow used to that. I stuffed my backpack under my feet and tried to get comfortable. For the next eleven hours, this jeep would drive through the Kashmir Valley, from Srinigar to the city of Jammu, the winter capital of Kashmir. As we left Srinigar and made our way into the hills, the beauty of the Kashmir Valley started to reveal itself. A crystal-blue river slithered between the snowy peaks. Our jeep wheezed its way up a series of short hills, following the endless convoy of goods carrier trucks, veering close enough to the roads edge to offer stunning vistas of the terraced farmers fields below. Monkeys prowled the roadside, watching us carefully with an unnerving simian vigilance. Of course, Indian Army personnel stood at the roadside every fifty metres or so, making sure I couldnt take pictures. The road sloped at unfathomable angles, hugging the mountainside meekly, as if it could at any moment grow tired and release its grasp. On the sharper curves, I could stick my head out the window and look straight down and assess our probability of survival should the wraithlike, chain-smoking driver of this jeep attempt too daring of a pass, and that probability was usually zero. There was no room for error whatsoever. One hasty jerk of the wheel, or tumbling boulder from above, or wandering monkey& In Canada we take certain road-safety privileges for granted. There arent many cliffhanger roads like this one, for one thing. Nor many avalanche zones. Also, our roads have guardrails and proper paving, our cars equipped with ABS brakes and expensive tires. The rules of the road are different, too, as is the psyche of the driver. One does not, for example, even think to overtake the truck ahead by doing a blind-as-a-bat pass around a sharp bend while the weight of his shabby jeep with bald tires leans ominously over the edge of a 2,000m cliff. But in the Himalayas, they do this. And on an eleven-hour trip, they do this hundreds of times in a single day. The Indian approach to road safety in the Kashmir Valley, as practiced by the Border Roads Organisation, is to pepper the mountain roads with slogans advising drivers to take it easy, drive carefully, and so on, and to make sure that each slogan is expressed as a clever riddle or rhyme. For example: Mountains give pleasure, but only if you drive with leisure Its not a rally, enjoy the valley Theres no race, arrive with grace And my personal favourite: Better Mr. Late than Late Mr.! After a few hours, my grip on the oh-shit bar loosened. Surely the driver makes this route every day, and hes still breathing, though barely from the sounds of things. We stopped for lunch at a roadside cafe on a downward slope, the kind of place that every travel guide says stay away because youll get sick. But the locals crowded into the place and began shouting their orders to the young men tending the saucepans, so I gave it a try, and the food fried dal and chapatiwas delicious. I ate some strange Indian potato chips, and then we got back in the jeep. Somehow, I fell asleep for several hours, perhaps to assure that my death would be painless, but when I woke we were still hugging the cliffs edge and dodging gravel trucks. Behind me, the Kashmiri eyes still warmed the back of my neck. Arriving in Jammu was like entering the heart of one of those post-apocalyptic sci-fi outlaw towns, where motorcycle gangs prowl the streets, robbing and looting and shouting, and there is junk and garbage strewn everywhere, and half the city is on fire. The din of rickshaw horns and shouted Hindi blasted my eardrums. The jeep driver unceremoniously kicked us out at a roadside rickshaw stand, where I was besieged from all sides. Beggars pawed at my pantleg. I found a guy who could take me to Diamond Hotel, a place enthusiastically recommended by Lonely Planet, and quickly got in his rickshaw. The Diamond Hotel staff showed me the rooms. They were horrible. Easily the worst hotel Id ever seen. Brown stains on the walls and bedclothes, tattered pillows, bed like a slab of concrete, and a window that didnt close. Head and shoulders above the competition, said LP. Ill take it. I sat on the bed and turned on the noisy fan. An exhausting day. I felt like a shower. I stripped, walked into the bathroom and turned on the water. Nothing. Tried flushing the toilet. Nothing. At least the lights worked. Id been in India for about nine days now, and none of those days were good. It was true what everyone had told me, what people in Istanbul and Bulgaria and Vienna had told me: that India was a tremendously difficult place to travel in, and that youd better lower your expectations all the way to nothing. Tomorrow, another bus ride through the mountains, another day of breathing, smelling, rubbing shoulders against this crazy country.

Kissing the Kitty

We went to breakfast and Sue found a little kitten running around in the open-air store, obviously a stray! Although I expounded dramatically upon the possible microbes, heavy metals, parasites, and other health hazards that she would expose us all to by touching this bedraggled kitten, she picked it up anyway.Though I admire Sue's loving nature and her ability to see past external flaws (perhaps that's what allowed her to marry me), I still maintain that stray Chinese street animals should be left alone. Thank goodness we came to a compromise that she would pick up the cat but Sophie would only look at it. I shuddered when Sue not only cradled the kitten in her arms, but stroked it and then KISSED it on its head and face. YECH! I thought I would go home immediately to check that our medical insurance was paid up, or at least buy her some peroxide... hmm, how to say that in Chinese? Sue put the kitten down, finally, to wait for the bus, and as we were waiting some Chinese guy spit on the street behind us. The cat ran over and lapped it up with gusto, as we watched in horror and disgust! I don't know if this revulsion will stop Sue from picking up stray animals, but hopefully it will give her pause the next time she exposes herself to one!