Sunday, November 16, 2008
news from tucson
it's been three months since you left. how time flies, eh? it must be strange for you to think about us here in the desert... i, for one, have trouble imagining you in the lush green mountains of guatemala. we are truly in different worlds right now!
it's cooling off quickly here. days are reaching between 70-80 degrees, but nights and early mornings are cold (i bought long underwear the other day). the days are getting shorter, which means it's dark in the morning when i get up for work and dark by six at night, which makes me want to fall asleep shortly thereafter.
i have been workingworkingworking. nose to the grindstone, hands in the dirt--this is how i roll these days. when i get into a rhythm with it all, it feels good. but inevitably, i hit a wall after a couple of weeks and then i must take a mental health day, which usually translates into spending the day listening to npr and cleaning my house...
in other news, adam and cj have made some serious headway at the farm. they now are almost finished digging and planting beds in the first section that we rented and are almost ready to move to another field. VERY exciting. this picture is a couple weeks old, but it show you at least how the first field is set up.
they've also been continuing to experiment with microgreens. these amaranth microgreens are particularly beautiful.
and they sold their first radishes! they look like this:
AND, say hello to the poultry!
penny is our adorably sweet rhode island red rooster, roo is the younger rhode island red rooster. charlie is our rhode island red hen of laying age, and then we have 35 gawky teenage chickens--diletta, maya, pecky, rosco, pat, and RuPaul have names so far. they should be laying in the springtime, so get ready for some eggs when you get back!! i've been brushing up on my omelette/egg product culinary skills, so i'll be able to make you breakfast when you get home.
anyways, that's about all i have time for now. i'll post thanksgiving pictures soon. we had thanksgiving on the farm...it rained and rained--which we were thankful for, of course.
i miss you, as always,
love,
debbie
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
El Foro Social
Un desfile
At the end, the giant mantis had a fight with the giant ant and killed it. Symbolically anyway, it turned off its lights and stopped moving.
Monday, October 13, 2008
This morning finds me in Huehuetenango with Clare, a friend from La Escuela. She is changing her plane ticket next to me as I type because yesturday we decieded to spend the week in Chiapas. So a couple lovely days in San Christobal and then next weekend I am headed back to Xela! This should be interesting since I had no plans to go to Mexico or actually to enjoy the thrills of border crossing.
The Foro was exhilerating and edventually exhausting. I knit during a couple conferenses after giving up on being able to understand. On the final day I had a mental breakthrough and understood a presentation on Dams and hydroelectric mega projects that bulldoze their way through communities and the ways the communities are organizing to protect their land.
An hour later, equally unexplainable as the breakthrough, my brain shut down and refused entry to any spanish comprehension.
Friday, October 10, 2008
I can´t leave guatemala
After a month of language school, I am in Guate at the Foro Social Américas. In typical foro style, events are changed, start late and all overlap. I think I have spent half the time pouring over my list of conferences trying to figure out which one to attend. I have been collecting as much free propaganda from the various luchas as I can get my hot little hands on. The University of San Carlos is beautiful and the only public university in Guatemala. I heard that it is as cheap as Q80 a month to attend and the majority of classes are held at night and on weekends since most students have jobs. There have been demonstrations on campus also this week to protest plans to privatize and raise the costs of the University.
In other news I have changed my ticket to Ecuador in order to stay longer in Guatemala, my plan is to spend more time at the language school where I have fallen in love with the community.
here are some pictures to make up for being out of touch.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
blow up your tv...
Here in Tucson, the early mornings and late nights are beginning to feel like fall. Soon it will be layering season--boots and sweater weather--my favorite. Life is funny, how things settle and change. I talked to Becca today, and she said it was chilly fall in North Carolina. She was wandering around an antique store in long sleeves and a sweater. Sometimes I miss how cozy Fall and Winter are. I get the urge to hunker down, build a fire, and read books and books and books all winter long.
But here I am in Arizona. It's beautiful here. Uppie, Dave, Pam, Emily, and I went to Romero Pools the other day. It was gorgeous and green from the end of monsoon season. There was a ton of water in the pools and we swam all day. The temps are still 90 degrees everyday, and I've been sweating bullets on the farm. Adam and CJ are making progress on the microgreens. Here they are, looking lovely. These are specifically arugula microgreens. We ate them on crackers along with my most recent batch of goat cheese (green onion and garlic flavored), and they were delicious!
Here are pictures of Adam and I from a recent sunset at Gate's Pass. There some more neat ones from that day (there was a whole car-load of us that went up there), but they're on CJ's computer.
In other news, I'm doing some temporary work at the Native Seeds farm with Chris and am starting my job at the Food Bank Farm on October 1st. We've been putting in some sweaty hours at Adam and CJ's sinking chicken wire along the fence to keep the rabbits out. I drove the tractor (Fidel) down the road and back. I think I did pretty well, considering.
I love seeing your Guatemala pictures, but I want to see pictures of YOU in Guatemala!!! I miss you!!
Love,
Debbie
La escuela de la Montaña
This is the front porch, used for relaxing, studying and drinking beer.
These are two of the ranchitos where we have our classes outside under the little thatched huts during the afternoon rain storms.
The school is of course small and intimate. I quickly got to know the 9 other students and all 5 teachers, much more so than at the larger school in Xela. The small size of the two local communities that work with the school makes the impact of the escuela very apparent. Once a week a noche cultural is held in an old barn for the children. This basically consits of playing games involving one person being IT and trying to get someone else to be IT. Ejemplo- the first game was everyone sitting in a circle in chairs, facing in with one extra empty chair. The joven who was IT tries to sit in the empty chair but the kids in the circle keep moving one chair over, trying to fill it and so the empty chair moves around the circle. If IT manages to sit down, the person in the chair to the right is now IT. This reminds me of an inside out musical chairs. Another game we played consisted of IT secretly picking a veggie or fruit and asking people around the circle to guess it. But you don't want to be correct, because if you guess right you get a small glass of water thrown in your face and you become it. The prize that now you get to toss water on someone. The secretness of the chosen fruit gives the water holder an awful lot of power. During one round a compañero de classe guessed Piña and did not get wet but about three guesses later I heard una chica guess Piña as well, getting herself a faceful of water.
Muy divertido.
Love y Amor,
Kristin
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Gracias por su ayuda, Marcos
I took my first round of chicken buses in order to get to Xela. On the first I sat next to an elderly woman. I started the conversation by asking her what the cost for the bus would be. She helped me out and we attempted to get to know each other regardless of the language barrier. As we arrived in Chimaltenango, she tried to tell me which bus stop I needed to get off on in order to catch the bus to Xela. Unfortunately, I could tell she was trying to communicate more information to help me out, but couldn´t for the life of me grasp what she was saying.
Then the bus stopped again and the ayudante told me this was the final stop. Shit, how do I get to Xela? He vaguely gestured in one direction and mumbled something about 4 blocks that way. I was alone in a city I didn´t know with no idea where I was or where I needed to be.
(edititors note: all stories related here are many days after they happened)
Back to Chimal, I started walking in the vague direction indicated... I felt completly out of place with my turtle shell of a bag. I knew I would have to ask for more information so I approced a man walking down the street who looked like he knew where he were going and also had no interest in me whatsoever.
With some gestures and none of the directional words like Left, Right, Blocks, that I know in spanish, this nice man spent a while trying to explain how there were two ways I could go. I just wasn't getting it and he had this look like he didn't feel comfortable leaving me to figure it out. So Marcos introduced himself and walked with me up the four blocks or so to the busy intersection where you are apparently suppose to just flag down the right bus as many buses speed by.
Marcos gave me his card in case I got lost again and needed someone to call, he waited till the right bus came by and flagged it down for me. In a moment of total vulnerability I was so greatful to have found a genuinly nice person.
The rest of this ride was about as eventful as any highspeed bus ride through the mountains can be. For the next several hours we climbed up through clouds, wipping around curves on poorly maintained roads. At one point two haggard looking American girls got on the bus on their way to Xela also. We ended up sharing a cab from the bus to a cheap hotel where we stayed for a couple days till both going seperate directions.
Now I am up at the Escuela de los Montañas, attempting to lean spanish. It is amazingly beautiful up here and because it is still the end of the rainy winter season, it has been raining everyday. If you have never slept under a huge rainstorm hitting a tin roof, let me tell you, it really really loud.
all my love,
Kristin
Thursday, September 4, 2008
La ventana de mis sueños
Ch-ch-ch-changes...
Today is hot. And tomorrow will also be hot. And the next day too. Ah, Tucson, how I missed you. I went to put up the greenhouse with Adam and CJ on Tuesday and almost died from dehydration. In the two short weeks that I was back in Cincinnati, I forgot how a desert dweller (especially one working out-of-doors) must constantly be remembering to hydrate.
But enough about the weather!
More importantly, you're knitting in Guatemala! I'm so proud! Please take and post pictures of all of your projects. That also includes any puzzles you get around to doing. [Note to loyal readers: Kristin is stellar at the lost art of puzzle-doing. She prefers landscapes.]
Anyways, my dear Kristin, after Uppie and I dropped you off at the airport, I suffered a momentary bout of depression. All of a sudden, we were like mother ducks sending our little duckling off into the big world. I don't know-- chalk it up to my two-ness. I was, in fact, so sad that I immediately drove to the store and purchased two gallons of secondhand light-colored latex paint. Goodbye dark red and horrible turquoise! Goodbye forever!
So now I have a gray living room (not as ugly as it sounds. Actually quite chic and Martha Stewart. I left the one red accent wall as we discussed), and a light blue-ish bathroom with a yellow floor (not the color I had anticipated. Going to try and re-sell the paint on Craigslist, unless any of our loyal readers want it for $15). Here's hoping that my new light colored rooms will also lighten my heavy Kristin-less heart.
con mucho amor de Tucson, and send pictures!!!
love,
Debbie
P.S. Definitely go with the slightly bigger needles.
P.P.S. What are you knitting???!
P.P.P.S. My mom's knitting savvy friend suggested we take a look at The Yarn Harlot. I read a few chapters from her book and it was quite hilarious. My mom's friend tell me that her book is classified as "knitting humor". Who knew?! Anyways, when you're bored in a Guatemalan internet cafe, check out her blog.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
¡Guate!
You can all rest assured, I made it- no problems.
Different tourists stand out in their out of place outfits on every courner here. The buildings come right up to the cobble stones streets and hide ruins or beautiful little courtyards. For all that there are many people around, it doesn´t feel like walking in a crowd.
I dumped my bags at the Black Cat Hostel and just wondered around the city today, I kinda spiraled out from the central park, turning anyway I felt like and then turning again. The shops and restaurants smell like old wood when I pass the open doors. This place is for getting my feet wet. While most people at the hostel speak english, I did learn two knew words today while looking for something.
Wondering into a couple of shops, with some difficulty I managed to explain/pantimime what I was looking for. At the third shop, the young man wrote down for me that I was looking for a condado, and told me I could get it at a Ferreteria and pointed one out down the street.
The Ferreteria was closed and I had another conversation with the shop owner next door about some knitting needles. I asked if she knew about a condado and if the shop was open. She said yes its open. But it looked closed. Oh, because its 1pm, she told me. Of course they will be back later.
Now my real question: I need size 3.25mm (and size 3.75 which I have already) for my knitting project, the shop only had 3mm and 3.5 mm... do I keep looking or try up a size or down a size?
All my love,
Kristin
Sunday, April 27, 2008
The Unveiling of $1 Movie Night...
Tucsonans-- you are officially in luck!
The cheap movie theater, "Crossroads", (which lives behind the Bed, Bath, and Beyond at the corner of Grant and Swan) has now started $1 Tuesdays. That's right. One dollar. Any movie. Any showing. Every Tuesday.
We think this is rad.
Unfortunately, last week at dollar movie Tuesday, we saw the most horrible movie either of us have seen in a good long time. "There Will Be Blood" was two and a half hours of pure hell. We almost walked out, and we're not exactly sure why we didn't. Maybe we were suffering from the trauma of watching awful crazy people doing weird shit. Though Kristin is quoted as saying, "Whoever wrote the screenplay should be hurt," after giving ourselves some emotional distance from the affore-mentioned film, we discourage any sort of physical harm. But put it this way--if this movie was sitting on the curbside for Brush and Bulky, we wouldn't even stop. We might even run it over.
Love,
your neighborhood trashpickers and film snobs
(p.s. anyone want to see "In Bruges" on Tuesday at 8 pm?)
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Turns out Willie Nelson had a damn good reason for selling out...
A couple of years ago, Willie Nelson started showing up on really dumb commericals. Needless to say, this concerned me. At first I thought, "Willie, you fucking sell out". Admittedly, it took awhile to get past what I now feel was pure astonishment and confusion, but I eventually found myself thinking "I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this."
I mean, what would make a pot-smoking, bio-diesel-making, Dennis Kucinich-supporting dude sell out to mass corporations??? He campaigns for the fair treatment of horses, for god's sake!
Then I realized I was eighteen years behind on my celebrity gossip, and everyone in the Western hemisphere probably knows that in 1990, Willie got a $16.7 million dollar bill from the IRS. Mystery solved.
How come I always get the celebrity news late???
Love,
Debbie
Monday, April 14, 2008
We're way too busy for blogging...
It is 95 degrees in Tucson and officially on its way to being too hot to sit next to anyone, cuddle with furry animals, or go running in the middle of the day (not that we ever do). Considering that it will only get worse, we are attempting to stay both hydrated and positive about life in our hot but lovely Sonoran desert.
But onto important business: we have been holding out on you bigtime. We've had several adventures and have finished at least two projects since we last wrote. We sincerely apologize for the delay in blog updates, but not really, because we're kind of proud of the fact that we've been too busy enjoying the world to sit around blogging.
This is our first attempt to bring you up to date on the aforementioned projects and adventures. Please prepare yourselves for upcoming accounts regarding the following:
1) The much anticipated part II of Kristin's shelf adventure
2) One Sunday Crafternoon in April: Trials and tribulations of bicycle wheel mug/pot/kitchen utensil racks
3) Debbie's backyard garden: The Report of a Two Year Experiment
4) We Play Sports!! (Kristin and Debbie discuss the importance of involving PBR in ultimate frisbee and softball)
5) Our Bisbee adventure (and why we are in love with a 75-year-old man named Pete)
6) Ridiculously cute bicycle embroidered curtains
7) The creative reincarnation of a rejection letter from the Creative Writing MFA program at the University of Arizona
Since it might be difficult to continue with regular life now that you know what's coming on Unearthed Adventures, we ask that you continue to be patient and remember to stay hydrated.
Love,
Debbie and Kristin
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The Shelf Adventure Part I
A couple of months ago I was standing in my kitchen, probably half-heartedly doing the dishes. I want you to know that I feel like I am always doing dishes. I live alone and find myself consistently frustrated by the realization that there are always dirty dishes in the sink and that there is no one to blame but myself.
So on this particular winter day, while washing my dishes, I was looking over at the shoddy easy-folding bookshelves I had for storage space in my kitchen. I had recently acquired some rather large new kitchen appliances—gifts from the winter celebration of our savior’s birth (Note: I am Unitarian, that is tongue in cheek)—and wondering where the hell I was going to store them.
The space in question takes up about half of my tiny kitchen. About a minute after moving in, I had thought that a long counter-like shelf, sturdy in nature, would be incredibly useful for this space. Two and a half years after moving in, as I was scrubbing dinner plates, I realized again the dire need of doing something to remedy the shelf situation. I picked up my phone and called my friend Becky, who is not only a 8th-grade math teacher, but is extremely handy with tools, and boasts some serious carpentry skills. She had recently built some very sexy shelves in her apartment that I had a mad crush on. I decided to solicit her assistance for my kitchen.
“Hey Becky,” I said, “I was wondering if you could help me build a shelf.”
Becky came over for a quick consultation on the shelf plan.
“Do you want a free standing table or a shelf built into the wall?” she asked, and there it began.
This “quick consultation” turned into a long consultation and resulted in a couple of drawings in my journal, including a flip-up side board for extra counter space, height specifications, many exact measurements, board width estimates and details of what the counter/table would look like and how it would function.
To be brief, there have been many trips to the hardware store (multiple hardware stores in fact) to obtain wood, screws, plugs, stain, varnish, sandpaper, hinges, and again to change our minds about types of screws and wood.
Honest hardworking weeks lapsed in between spurts of Becky and I working on this project. I promise you that had I possessed a blog at the time you would have been included in a detailed play by play. It has been a trying process.
Last week, while enjoying Happy Hour with Debbie, I ran into Becky on her bike. She asked me point blank if I had finished varnishing the wood yet. I had not even started, and Becky urged me that if I could have it varnished, we could construct on Sunday. But if I could not get my act together by then, it might be a couple more weeks before we would both have a free day.
So this Saturday past, I varnished happily while Debbie sat on my couch and painted romantic pensive women on toilet seats. Saturday evening I called Becky. “Guess what I did all day” I said proudly. “You varnished all day didn’t you?” Becky knew. I will freely admit I was feeling pretty proud of my pieces of wood. They were looking beautiful in their shiny lacquered coats.
To be continued…
Love, Kristin
Sunday, March 16, 2008
The Bidding War for Baby Jesus
(Note: Debbie cannot afford regular Internet service and must resort to “borrowing” an open signal from someone named Ted. The signal, being a bit weak, normally manages to stretch itself across Simpson Street, but most of the time is unable to clear the sidewalk. Despite this minor inconvenience, Debbie wholeheartedly thanks Ted and the underappreciated population of people who choose to keep their wireless accounts open. Someday, providing she has hurdled the post-collegiate swamp of financial stress, she will reciprocate).
“Oh,” Kristin said. “Is your toilet seat broken?” It was a logical question.
“No, I want to paint one. I got the idea from my neighbor. Wanna come over and paint toilet seats with me?”
Kristin first laughed and made fun of Debbie. Then she asked a couple of logistical questions. What kinds of things would we be painting on the toilet seats? What kind of paint would be appropriate for such an endeavor? Would we be painting the part you sit on? Or just the lids? In the end, it took a full thirty seconds for Kristin to get on board with the project. And this is one of the many reasons why we are friends.
Home Depot sells a basic Bemis Value toilet seat (round and approximately 16.5” long) for $4.77. This is the cheapest we have found, and definitely the best bang for its buck. The Bemis Value “R” is a handsome toilet seat, made of solid materials. It is not made of lame plastic on the verge of buckling. Indeed, a grown person could stand on the Bemis Value “R” without any fear at all of breaking it.
This is where our adventures in toilet seat painting begin—with a blank $4.77 porcelain canvas, nothing but a vision bubbling in some remote corner of our creative brains, and a weekend afternoon with nothing much to do.
Our first painted toilet seats were learning experiences. We experimented with different paints, different glues, and pictures on different kinds of paper, which we lacquered to the lids. Kristin’s first toilet seat is a remarkable depiction of the Greek goddess Artemis, fated with such beauty that men would hide in trees to watch her bathe. Artemis, however, was not a priss. She was a badass. And when she was finished bathing, she put on her toga, adjusted whatever it was that Greek goddesses wore on their heads in those days, and, by a magical power, turned those sleazy men into deer. Then she proceeded to bow hunt each and every one of them. Ahhh, Greek mythology, you are so rad.
Debbie’s first toilet seat took longer. She went with the Greek theme for a while, but it wasn’t working out. Then she discovered gold spray paint and the backs of Mexican Art Calendars, which all of the Mexican restaurants either sell or give away. The final product has since been installed in her bathroom and has paved the way for the beginning of a series of romantic pensive women lacquered to toilet lids.
It is no secret that Kristin and Debbie would prefer to spend fruitful days trash-picking, painting toilet seats, or creating found art, instead of working 9-5 at a desk in an office somewhere. We’ve entertained this idea several times, envisioning a studio and a storefront, where we can both make and sell our creations. We thought we’d start off small. Maybe with the toilet seats. That said, we have been unsure of how to measure demand for our hand painted toilet seats.
Until recently.
A few weeks ago, our lovely and well-connected friend Pam put the word out that she was looking for art to be donated to a Youth Awards event sponsored by her work. Kristin and Debbie both agreed that a painted toilet seat seemed an appropriate donation and a worthwhile experiment. In any case, we would be able to see how it was received.
Kristin was busy crafting a monocle out of plastic and sewing a top hat and a tutu for her fellow Ironworkers organizers and researchers (more on that later), so Debbie took the toilet seat project. The problem is that by early March, most of the Mexican Art calendars have been given away or sold, and there remains only a small selection of pictures from which to choose. Debbie went on a mission, finally stumbling upon a few at Hotel Congress, where the price had been lowered to $3 from $7. She scored another pensive-looking woman picture for her developing series. And Baby Jesus.
“Do you think it’s too sacreligious to put Jesus on a toilet seat?” Debbie wondered aloud to Kristin. Seeing as how neither of us consider ourselves to be religious, and both of us grew up (in varying degrees) Unitarian, when pondering the question of whether or not it is somehow inappropriate to put Jesus on a toilet—even in the name of Art—we came up short. We decided that being too politically correct is boring. So Debbie gave it a whirl.
It was a hit. Sacreligious art is apparently “in”. Everyone wanted Baby Jesus sitting upright in the arms of Mary on their toilets. It was the most popular item at the auction, and according to Pam, a fierce bidding war ensued. In the end, Robby (the 1988 Prom King—if you’re lucky, we’ll post some pictures of this event, especially since we fashioned the construction paper photo backdrop) took the cake. Twenty-one dollars later, Robby was the proud owner of the Baby Jesus toilet seat.
You too can be the proud owner of a Baby Jesus toilet seat. Or any of the other ones we're currently working on (see photos below). You can see that Kristin has moved into anti-war messages, and we expect to introduce more "radical" toilet seats in the future. We also have some excellent old movie posters that will become very fashionable toilet seats. Also, feel free to commission us with your favorite poster or picture (if you provide the picture, we'll give you a discount, as finding pictures is sometimes a bit difficult).
We will, of course, continue posting pictures of our toilet seats in progress. Let us know if you want to buy one. We estimate prices to be between $25 and $30, depending on time and materials.
Love,
Kristin and Debbie
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
The Waiting Room
I'm about to get messy.
I ask you to bear with me while I digress to a fundamental question: can anxiety be good for creativity?
Lately life has felt like an enormous waiting room. Before I go any further, and in order to make this as dramatic as possible, I should acknowledge my absolute detest for anything resembling waiting. In fact, I feel nothing but abhorrence for it. And although I would imagine that most people with at least partial brain function do not enjoy waiting, I am also aware that my hatred of waiting goes beyond that of others, probably stemming from some evil combination of genetics (does anyone else find it futile to argue with the crapshoot of chromosomes? What's done is done, I say...)
I find out this week if I got into school.
It is exhausting to keep checking my phone. And my email. And driving home in the afternoons to check the mail. And wondering which pile my applications are in. Since I am also trying to refrain from looking at the unofficial MFA acceptance data base (which I just found today--damn you, Google!--and which allows anxiety-prone individuals such as myself to actually talk with each other, thereby feeding the entire nervous fire), I find it more productive to skip out on work and pour my anxiety into the mysterious black hole of the World Wide Web. Please be aware that this is a coping mechanism, and that I am using you not only for the distraction you facilitate, but for a personal experiment involving the use of anxiety as a catalyst for creativity.
Because I am writing this in the confines of my own personal waiting room hell, and since I am a person who is spatially-oriented and generally concerned with aesthetic and decor, it serves to ask: what does my personal waiting room hell look like? This is an attempt to funnel my anxiety into something more creative.
To start with, my personal waiting room hell has the most horrific wallpaper I have ever seen--a fantastically hideous brown plaid, lumpy in places with pen-holes stuck nervously through the air bubbles. In the section directly above the giant rainbow-colored floor abacus, a child has drawn a row of smiling stick people, all of whom seem completely unconcerned by their plaid surroundings. A teenage boy, clad in Pantera t-shirt and a deep scowl, whose sweat-pantsed mother is engrossed in the latest People magazine, has sneakily penned moustaches and male genetalia on each happy family member.
So here I am in my waiting room. Waiting. With strangers who are also waiting for something, be it a test grade, divorce papers, a long lost relative to finally pull into the driveway... Since I have already expressed my hatred for waiting, I will leave you to attribute my knuckle-cracking, ring-twisting, and teeth-clacking to high levels of anxiety. In my waiting room hell, I try and take deep breaths. I bounce my leg. I wiggle my toes inside their shoes. I try and find weird features on my phone that I have never noticed before. I grip the sides and bottom of my chair. Note: one should never grip the sides or bottom of a waiting room chair. Undoubtedly, gum is stuck in hardening orbs to the bottom of the seat, gum that I absently dig my fingernails into before I realize what it is.
My horrible waiting room chair is the kind of chair that can never be comfortable, no matter how you try and position yourself. It is low-backed, and the seat is covered in scratchy blue fabric. There are dried boogers on the arms. Its metal sides are welded to those of the chair next to it, so that if one is to shift nervously in her seat, the rest of the chairs in the row will jerk suddenly in a violent train effect. The woman reading People will look up, annoyed.
In my waiting room hell, I am looking for something to DO. I enjoy creating things, painting, cooking, baking, arranging found alley treasures in my garden, hauling heavy items around my house, etc... But, since I am waiting to hear from writing school, I find it appropriate to write. I also really enjoy writing about disgusting decor whenever possible. And people in sweat pants.
Cross your fingers, kids...the waiting will be over soon. Or so I tell myself.
Love,
Debbie
My Whiskey Barrel is not quite full
OK, So I happen to live in a concrete jungle, contributing to the urban heat effect that manages to make this desert of ours even more unbearable come summer time. I live in a little apartment renovated from the back of a house. If you don't mind a little concrete, the courtyard is lovely. It is quiet and private (with the exception of my crazy neighbors- some of whom I think are a bit unhinged) and has little islands of garden with cacti, orange and grapefruit trees and other native plants decoratively bordering the easy upkeep concrete paving that dominates the space.
During the last couple of years, watching my friends ever more exciting back yard gardens and becoming increasingly impassioned about plants... my determination for a garden of my own has grown and grown (about the only thing that has).
I have had some spectacular failures, including attempted herbs and other plants both inside and out that just didn't make it. I do not have a green thumb. Some I have killed, I suspect, by over watering, some by under watering... some don't get enough sun and others I have fried by leaving them in the summer sun on my coffee table. So needless to say it has been a slow and frustrating process and all of it container bound.
Newly inspired by a gift of many pots and some flowers to plant by a dear friend who is moving, my concrete garden experiment has recently taken off. Now, instead of one or two dying plants I have about twenty in different stages of life or death--
With that brief background I introduce to you my newest challenge: Whiskey Barrel grown Bottle Gourd.
I bought this lovely little Bottle Gourd at the Tucson Organic Gardeners' sale last Sunday. It was an impulse buy, I had no previous desire for a bottle gourd plant. It was, you know, near the register. And of course I had no idea how to grow one.
So now, a few days later- I find my self with a large whiskey barrel (not false advertising- the sweet aroma of whiskey filled the air when I was drilling holes in the bottom) that I have been on repeated trips to find more dirt for... still not quite full.
To companion my gourd experiment I have planted some native seeds of a couple herbs advertised as similar to dill and marigold. In some nice Google-obtained theory these might keep bugs away from my theoretical gourds.
Feel free to take bets on gourd production, I am sure you will all be at the edge of your seats, like we were when waiting for Matt's chickens to start laying blue eggs.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
From the back alleys of chance...
We arrived at the plant sale slightly late. Most of the plants had been picked over by the early birds, and we were slightly disappointed by our luck. But, as Kristin pointed out, we still had Brush and Bulky to look forward to...
And now, for non-Tucsonans, the importance of Brush and Bulky. This is the day for each neighborhood when you can leave large unwanted crap on your curbside or ally and the city will collect it. For scavengers it can be a great opportunity to find broken furniture, window frames, rotting couches....
Confession: Kristin and Debbie cannot pass up a Brush and Bulky filled ally without a good drive by.
We had a couple quick scores: a tomato cage, the side of an old red bench, a plastic chair for Debbie's backyard and some eroding furniture, which we sadly passed up for lack of storage space (someday...).
After driving past ranch-style house after ranch-style house and curbsides piled high with cactus guts, wooden pallets, broken chairs, buckets of nails, etc, the real score came as we drove down yet another unsuspecting suburban street. On the other side of a beat-up Suburban selling for $950, Debbie spotted something a wonderful shade of purple.
"Beautiful purple dresser! Beautiful purple dresser! Kristin pull over!"
And Kristin did.
Behold the purple dresser, interesting in color, yet more attractive from inside the car. We got out anyways to take a look. The back was kind of falling off. The general state of the dresser was "shaky"to say the least.. it was almost such a great find. We consoled each other. It wouldn't have fit inside Kristin's car anyways. But, like all good trash pickers and furniture scavengers, we gave it a good inspection none-the-less before leaving it for the Brush and Bulky people.
Kristin opened the middle drawer. Debbie took the one on the right. Empty you ask? If you call someone's entire ancient (but well-used) VHS tape collection "empty".
We took one quick glance at a few of the titles and proceeded to run back to the car in hysterics. Then we came back with the camera.
We think the pictures speak for themselves.
...until next Brush and Bulky day...
Love,
Kristin and Debbie
P.S. Welcome to our awesome blog.