Knock on Wood!

I can remember when I was a child in the stone age (that'd be the 1950s to you) my father and his brothers, sat around our Bronx kitchen table at Sunday dinner. They loudly argued their pessimistic view "This Country will never have a Negro president." I’m happy to announce they were right. Instead this country elected as our president a wonderful man. And oh yes, he is an African-American.

I ended my father and his brothers' bitchin' by bursting into v. loud tears, which caused my mother to shut the men up, telling them they were "upsetting the child". that was a great move on my part, don't 'cha think?


Heh, heh, heh

Halloweenie Creepy

Oooo... very nearly creepy thing happened tonight.

I'm always sticking little things all around my garden. I've got a little butterfly-winged pixie, that my friend Mommy Nancy gave me. I went out to look around the garden tonight and WOAH! The little guy was sitting on top of a weird, pumpkin colored stack of pancakes!

Pumpkin Colored Mushes from HELL - BWAH HA HA HA HA!
I did not arrange him like this! Those mushrooms popped up overnight and pushed him up off his perch on the base of the rose. That fungus is just a tad too Halloweenie creepy to me.

[11/8: Un-wanted, un-asked, frankly unnecessary, update

Pixie: "Halp.... it's EATING me... without SYRUP! No syrup??? My life is upside-down!"

Visitor from Yakima

Old Fair Oaks Village Square
Just as birds of a feather, stick together, so do long-time friends. I lost track of my buddy after we graduated from High School in San Diego. I wondered where she was for years, then through the miracle of that annoying website ‘Classmates’, Diane found me back in 2000, just before the turn of the century.

I visited her in her home in Yakima Washington not long after that. I was tickled to learn that after college she traveled to Norway, becoming an Au Pair for a family she still maintains close contact with. What really impressed me - I suffer from bilingual skills-envy - is that Diane learned to speak Norwegian fluently. I imagine shrieking at kids in another language must be the height of 'immersion' langauge training. A second language - that's a holy grail for me. The children she nurtured have kids of their own, and Diane visits the whole family every couple of years or so.


Diane,aka 'Didi'
But before taking off, I got to have Diane for one day and I made the most of it. I think we squeezed in as much non-stop chatting into the occasion as we could manage. I happily showed her around my little world, from breakfast at Ettorie’s, to my local Farmer’s Market where we purchased fresh flowers – a must for this time of year – bee pollen and lavender salve. Then Diane agreed to allow me to show off the chickens from Old Fair Oaks Village.


Any chick can have a bad hair day

BAWWWWK! Let me in, I need some hair gel!
Then after a drive on Winding Way and a tour of Sailor Bar, we headed back to my place where we spent most of the day lounging and chatting. Next thing you know it was nearly nightfall, so in the best Fair Oaks tradition, it was off to the park for some dusk deer hunting. Before we even got into the park we saw a half dozen turkeys and two does with half grown fawns - one doe appeared to have triplets.


We weren't the only turkeys headed for the park

usual spooky night buck shot
The last stop of the day was to Casablanca Restaurant for a Moroccan Dinner. Friday and Saturday nights are Belly Dancing nights!


Boy, the joint was jumping!
As always, it was lovely seeing Maurite. He treated us like the visiting princesses we were. We were treated to a dish of fragrant and delish, couscous that went nicely with Diane's lamb with honey and almonds and my chicken with prunes and herbs - double yum! Of course our feast included Pastille, minted teas and baklava so we were fully stuffed by the time we were done.

Before we left, Diane treated the pair of us to Moroccan cook books. Unlike me, Diane is an accomplished cook, specializing in all things delish, particularly Norwegian dishes such as lamb and cabbage stew. Recently she's begun to successfully experiment with Moroccan foods. As for me, I'm going to have to read my cook book to learn North African kitchen arts. Our final surprise was Maurite gifted us each with a bottle of orange water – a necessity for all aspiring Moroccan princesses cooks. Diane has already experimented with Rose water for teas and other Moroccan specialties.

Diane said she felt as if we'd gone out to a friend's house for dinner and come to think on it, I guess we did.


Check out the Casablanca owner, Maurite (on right in pale green caftan), dancing in his cool shades