There's someone out there with my name

There's someone out there with my name, and I think she's done something bad.  Like not pay her bills.  I am getting calls, and they are getting progressively meaner.  I try to explain I've never lived at 252 West 83rd street (or whatever the address is) and that I've never had Taylor as a middle name, and no tht's not my social security number, but that doesn't stop them from calling.  It's sort of scary.

Polenta attack

• curried poenta with lamb, broccoli mushrooms and raisins (did I mention that one already? maybe I did)
• Sliced polenta with apples and maple syrup
• polenta with rice milk and raisins
• and tonight?  Shepherd's pie polenta

Feet Foto Friday: oh-oh

jo(e) has a feet foto friday and so does Sara, so here's mine. I laid some of my art out on the driveway to photograph it and there are my feet, right at the bottom of my legs. This was taken before my show which is now hanging at The Technology Garden in Syracuse. (See another)

Return of the Bottomless Polenta!

Polenta at noon today, curried with hot sausage, old bay spices, portabella mushrooms, raisins and broccoli.  Excellent!  :-D

The Where's Waldo Bunnies

The Where's Waldo Bunnies, by me, Mary Stebbins Taitt. I was playing with the simplifier in PS.

Pam says there's an owl here, can you see it? 

Squashed Caterpillar Reverie

Walking in the woods at Metrobeach today with Keith, I said, "Something smells weird." A moment later, after sniffing and analyzing the scent, I announced, "It smells like squashed caterpillars!"

As often happens, Keith was basically tuning me out (I must talk too much, that he finds it necessary to tune me out like that) so I went on considering the odor and it's implications. An image of my grandmother flashed into my mind. My Italian grandmother, Nicolina Maria. Fat, obese, squinting into the sun, round face, round body, large round arms to hold me on a lap compromised by her obesity. She smelled, I decided, like squashed caterpillars, a very pungent smell.

And why, I wondered, only for a moment, before the answer came, why was the smell of squashed caterpillars something in my childhood repertoire of identifiable smells? Instantly I knew: because it was my job as a child to go into the family garden and search the tomatoes for the huge " tomato worms" and kill them. They hid well among the leaves and stems and when I approached them, they reared up and swelled themselves larger, looking terribly fierce. Their strong scent was from the tomato plants they fed on. On the one hand, I was a little afraid of them. One the other hand, I respected them and hated to kill them. But I did it anyway, even though I didn't like tomatoes. My father did. And in those days, we needed the food. My mom canned the tomatoes for making spaghetti and other treats I did like.

My father offered us children $5 if we would ever pick up a tomato and eat it like an apple. To the best of my knowledge, none of us ever did this. I like tomatoes in small quantities in my salads or in a sandwich, but not a whole big tomato. I had tomatoes in my gardens for years. My favorites were the cherry and sometimes grape tomatoes, delicious warmed by the sun and popped whole into my mouth to burst and squirt their warm sweet juices down my throat. Small tomatoes, not the large beefsteaks my father liked. One of my favorites where the coyote yellow cherry tomatoes I got from my friend Debbie Hutchison who got them from Dave the poet farmer. They were heritage tomatoes.

Besides the huge garden, we had fruit trees, apples, peaches, pears, cherries. We'd planted them all. My mom, of course, with me helping, put them away as canned fruit, as jellies, jams and preserves. One batch of pear jam was so pale we tried added green coloring to it. The results were spectacular and tasted great. We labeled the jars very carefully and placed them on the shelf, label side out" "Tomato-worm Jam."

A Polenta Glut

When I was in NY, I bought some dried (unprepared) polenta with mushrooms and spices (at Wegman's--I couldn't find the tubular kind), and yesterday afternoon I cooked it up.  First I boiled it and then poured it into a brownie pan and suspended that in a larger pan of cold water so it would congeal and then sliced it and fried it with shallots, garlic, and jalapenos.  Meanwhile, I asked Keith to grill some swordfish (first I've bought in ten years due to overfishing), and I made a stirfry with broccoli, yellow and green squash, and corn, along with garlic, shallots and old bay spices.  Keith made guacamole and I made peach salsa.  It was a wonderful meal, very tasty, but there was too dang much of it.  The polenta with the guacamole and peach salsa would have been a meal in itself and was too much to go with the other stuff.

This morning I had cold sliced polenta with rose hip preserves for brunch, and tonight I am frying a little of it up to go with the lamb and stirfry I'm making for dinner.  Only I am not going to make all the extras.  The batch I made made a LOT of polenta, and there is still more left.  Hmmm, what else can I do with polenta that is full of mushrooms and spices (not really a breakfast food as is.)  Maybe tomorrow I will make some fresh salsa and have it for lunch.  Then I will wait a while before I make more, or at least make a smaller batch.

Taking it with me

For a long time, I carried no purse, only a wallet in my back pocket, like a man.  This was because I drove a motorcycle, and it is most convenient to travel light under those circumstances. 

Later, when I had a car, I started carrying a purse and then a BACKPACK full of stuff.  It got entirely out of hand.  I carried several books, a novel, a poetry book, a few field guides, a flashlight, my wallet, my checkbook, a couple water bottles, spare batteries, lip balm, dimes and quarters, a comb, a brush, a note pad, a camera, a journal, a small computer, and a lot of other stuff.  It got even worse when I had babies.  Then I had the backpack and a diaper bag full of diapers, pins, rubber pants, baby oil, baby powder, toys and rattles.  At least I never needed to carry formula, since I was a nursing mother. 

I'm riding a motorcycle again and have discovered I can get along pretty well without much of the stuff I'd gotten in the habit of carrying.  I do wear jeans with big pockets though, so I can carry a phone, a small computer, a camera, a pair of classes, a pen, a marker, a hanky, spare change, my wallet and so on.  I just need a smaller flask-shaped water bottle though.  One I could put in my back pocket.  I used to have one in my old motorcycle days, but it has long-since disappeared.

Must Carry Meme:  things I simply MUST carry with me, in order of importance.  If you're visit me here, post your own!

1)camera.  That's the most important item on my must have list
2)computer, the next most important thing.  I carry a small palmtop (Psion) for writing poems and stories, jotting down notes etc)
3)hanky (not as important as it used to be before I gave up dairy.  Better than tissues as it is washable and never shreds.  Works even if wet.)
4)pen--in case I need to write something (I usually have several of these, a marker or two and a pencil of possible)
5)wallet with cash, ID, credit cards (I usually have this with me, but not always.  If I got out with Keith, I don't always carry it)
6)glasses--I carry some in a small tubular case for emergency reading of small print
7)cell phone
8)change--because I forget to charge the cell phone, also for parking meters which I avoid using whenever possible

Should carry:

1)paper (what good is a pen without it?  (But I can't figure out a good way to carry it in my pocket without shredding it)
2)water--no solution to that either.  Doesn't fit in my pocket and, as Neil Young says, "In my new life, I am traveling light."
3)ID--even when I go out with K, but how, if I have a dress with no pockets and hate purses?

Overnight carry:

1)CPAP--can't breathe without it--try traveling light with THAT!
2)Meds--I never used to take any but now I take 2, synthroid and Lescol
3)sundries (toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, barrettes, hair bands, shampoo, canditioner)
4)special food (becase of my allergies)
5)and all of the above/camping gear if camping

The ebbs and flows of interests

One little change can alter the path of a life but personality remains remarkably consistent throughout.

In my life, there have been swings back and forth between various interests rather than a single stright forward path.  For example, though I've always been interested in photography, my level of commitment to it has ebbed and flowed depending on other life circumstances and available time etc.  I got a master's degree in biology and an MFA in writing, but continue to be interested in both, though the interest rises and falls with the rise and fall of other interests.  Same thing with skiing , motorcycling and so on--they also ebb and flow with the different companions I have.  I skied a lot as a child, then didn't for while, then cross-country skied with Bruce, then added downhill skiiing with Chuck, and now rarely ski with Keith.  I motorcycled with Peter and Michael and then did not for years, and now I am motorcycling again with Keith.

Apparent personality does change somewhat as we grow and mature, and also as we age and grow tired, but many aspects remain consistent throughout.  In my case, having insomnia and sleep apnea has robbed my of some of the abundant energy, enthusiasm and joy I used to have and made me more sluggish and grumpier, changes I am not proud of!  On the other hand, I am more patient, tolerant and forgiving, in some ways, than I was when I was younger.

horses, from a note to Kate and Val

I studied biology and animal behavior (ethology) in college as an undergrad.  My botany professor, Dr. John Morrison, had gone to college with Edson Fichter, who was studying pronghorn antelope behavior in Idaho.  He wrote to John that he was looking for someone to study wild horses and John told me and I wrote to Edson and he said he was looking for a boy, that it wasn't a job for a girl because the student would have to live alone in the wilderness where there were grizzlies and rattlesnakes and I got in my car and drove out there and presented myself to him, rough, tough and ready and insisted he take me and he did.

I've owned a couple horses, but was never good enough rider to compete, though I did occasionally compete and once won the sit-a-buck contest.  That is where you ride bareback clutching a dollar under your thigh.  The last person still holding a dollar wins all the others.

I love horses, but they are a lot of work.  I also used to work in a huge horse barn where they rented out stalls (boarded horses) mucking out stalls.