Hammock Away From Hammock.

Sweets and I have been very busy these days, primarily on the weekends: working in the yard, making small improvements, doing some of the things on the long list of projects that we’ve wanted to accomplish around the house to make it more comfortable.  We’ve had almost two months worth of weekends spent in the yard, enjoying the mild weather while getting dirty and exhausted (unfortunately, not that way, you pervs).

The garden is starting to shape up as we are planting a few more things in it.  At this time there’s only about four different veggies in there, but that’s owing to the time of year, and the fact that we’re still learning how to start things from seed without killing them — most notably some of the herbs were left in the starter tray far to long, and they stayed too moist — live and learn.  Our garlic is growing like there is no tomorrow, and the peas and beans are just starting to take off and climb their poles.  Planted peanuts too, and they are growing fast!  In about a month, we’ll be able to transplant our bell pepper and jalapeño seedlings into their containers and see where that goes.

I’ve seeded/over-seeded the lawn with Argentine Bahia grass seed, but quizzically enough, it’s been too cold in the evenings for it the start germinating.  Let me repeat that:  It’s been too cold.  In central Texas.  During spring.  For grass seed to germinate.  *blink* *blink* At any rate, once the weather warms up at night, it ought to take off.

Continued work on the kitchen cabinet doors.  With Drew’s help (and his huge cache of tools) I built the new doors and assembled them, puttied all the nail holes and miter joints, sanded the living hell out of them and made them purdy, and stained and sealed them.  Currently I need to make the solid panels to install into the lower doors, and soon enough will come the glass for the top ones, then I can install everything and mark that project off the list.

Lastly, our hammock is finally usable again.  At the apartment I had it strung up on the patio, and that worked nicely.  Since we have no big trees to fasten our Yucatan-style hammock to in the back yard we opted to install a pair of 4″x6″ posts 2′ into the ground.  Well, that proved to be more challenging than I anticipated.  Welcome to Austin, where the ground is 6″ of soil, then limestone as deep as you care to go (as opposed to NOLA, where the ground is 6″ of soil then solid gray clay as deep as you care to go).  Digging that out with a standard post-hole-digger took 2 hours, a lot of sweat, left Sweets covered in dirt (as she was scooping the loose soil/stone out of the hole while laying flat on the ground), and  left my hands sore for three days — but it makes for a sturdy post!  We set the posts with concrete and let is dry for 24 hours.  They seem to be sturdy as can be.  Spent an hour the other evening under the shade of the trees, dappled sunlight playing across me, reading and listening to the bird chorus.  I was more relaxed than I had been in months.

The house is continuing to feel more and more like home, and for that matter, so is Austin.  It’s not that is hasn’t been “home”, but it’s finally seeping into my bones slowly but surely.  It doesn’t hurt that I have a wonderful girl that is making it her home along with me, and I feel like I’m getting my life back again.

Now, if we can just get Sweets a job that will be more than happy to get her a work visa, that would make things even better — that way we can stop worrying.  At least she has her externship lined up already, so that’s one less thing to lose sleep over.

When Did I Become Such A Hippie?

I have two rainbarrels.  I have a compost bin.  I take full advantage of Austin’s new bulk recycling services.  I’m going to be growing herbs, and I have seeds germinating for a vegetable garden.  At this rate it won’t be long before I’m half-baked, listening to the Grateful Dead and Phish, and eating an earth shoe while twisting my hair and beard into matted dreadlocks.

Seriously, I never thought I’d be this into this sort of thing.  For years I’ve wanted to grow an herb garden, but never got the momentum up to do it.  Enter Sweets, who comes from a society and culture, and specifically a family that have maintained a garden and have been growing part of their own groceries for many generations.  Almost every home has a garden space, and yards — even tiny ones — are commonly converted into vegetable gardens.  It’s a sensibility and value that’s passed down through the generations.

The big push for this sort of thing came during World War II, when England was not only diverting all its resources toward the war effort, but also reducing its dependency on outside supplies as supply vessels can easily be (and frequently were) sunk by enemy craft.  We here in the States, while being severely limited by rationing, were never crippled by the imminent threat to our very borders.  Growing vegetable gardens did become a means to supplement our personal food supply, but it wasn’t strictly a necessity — tightening a belt isn’t the same as not being able to get supplies at all.  Come the end of the war, we weren’t picking up the pieces after the Blitz and trying to get our country in order, and the need to grow food rapidly dwindled as the US got back up to speed and entered a new era of prosperity.

Even as the need diminished in the UK, the desire remained.  That sense of accomplishment and self reliance became a part of the DNA of the country as a whole, and gardening is a skill taught from parents and grandparents to children.

Nowadays, there is a renewed movement in the US starting to growing edibles again, and it’s in a small way influenced by a shrinking economy, but mostly it’s the sensibilities of the modern hippies/new-agers/tree-huggers/etc.  A new generation of folks are more environmentally conscious, and they’re making that thoughtfulness into a viable industry – the happy balance between good intentions and profitability, and that’s how you get the most people on board.  Recycling is gaining momentum in a lot of municipalities, folks are repurposing a lot of second-hand items and junk these days and there is a big, big push to take care of one’s own piece of the environment, and that includes growing a garden.

Sweets, interested in starting with an herb garden, suggested that we do so, and it snowballed into moving forward on a small vegetable garden.  We’re going to be growing the herbs in pots, in order to make them movable and reconfigurable.  We have a good spot for the garden proper, but we’re going to start small this year and expand as necessary in the seasons to come.  We’re looking at spring and fall plantings, and Austin climate being what it is, we ought to be able to keep fresh veggies of one sort or another in the house for the better part of the year.

Frankly, once the initial setup is done, there is minimal expense involved in maintaining and carrying on from year to year.  You can put as little or as much into as you please — from simple planters on an apartment patio, to serious composting and rain harvesting — or you can take the middle ground like we have.  The City of Austin has an excellent water conservation plan (can you say “drought zone”?), and they are offering rainbarrels at a serious discount.  You place them under your gutter downspouts, and use the collected water for your garden and other non-potable uses (and both of ours filled up after one evening of rain).  Simple and easy, it saves a bit on our water bill, and it means I’m not using treated water for my garden.  We also bought a small compost bin that will let us use yard trimmings, fall leaves and certain kitchen waste to fertilize our garden as well, reducing the expense of fancy fertilizes, and saving our water table from the same.  Frankly, I’m two parts stingy to one part environmentally conscious… you find your motivation where you can.

In the past recycling was never anything I was very vigilant about.  If it was convenient, I did it, if it wasn’t… well, I have never argued that I wasn’t lazy.  In NOLA, we did aluminum cans, and that was about it.  I wasn’t sorting my recyclables, and I didn’t much feel like having to determine what could and couldn’t go in the bin from a very selective list.  Austin started out that way, but about three months back they replaced all the tiny curbside bins with gigantic 90 gallon wheeled cans, and they pretty much take anything, and there is no sorting involved.  That caters to even lazy old me… make it easy, and more people will get on board.

The bottom line is this: gardening is frankly a bit of fun, even at this early stage in the game.  It’s fascinating to take the seeds and watch them sprout — it’s like a magic trick.  The work involved leads to a tremendous sense of satisfaction, and you want to shout “Look what I did!  Me!  The guy who killed a Chiapet in elementary school!”  And then at the end of it all, you have tasty things to enjoy.

Now excuse me, I have a shirt to go tie-dye.

Goblins In The Night.

So, there we are, Sweets and I snuggled together in bed — she, sound asleep, and me just slipping past the stage of dozing lightly and into a sound slumber.  My arm and leg are draped over her, we’re all cozy and warm.

Suddenly, Sweets sits bolt upright, sloughing me off to the side, and turns her head toward the big window behind our bed, a look of concern on her face.  I’m instantly awake — my heart is beating fiercely in my chest, my adrenaline glands go from zero to full production in a split second.  I’m ready for action.

“What?  You ok?  What is it?” I ask.

“Oh.  Nothing.” she replies, and promptly lay back down and instantly falls back to sleep, snoring softly.

For the next forty-five minutes I toss and turn, straining my ears to hear even the faintest footfall outside the window.  Listening to the sounds of the sleeping house trying to detect something amiss.  Checking, double checking, and checking again that the red light on the alarm control panel was lit, signifying that the sensors were on and waiting for some intruder.

She remembers nothing of it.  Has a good laugh when I tell her.  Me too, to be honest.  It was pretty funny, now that I’m an evening and a few hours of sleep away from it.  Better to chase goblins, than to miss their presence when they arrive.

Mishmash.

Random points of (dubious) interest in my otherwise uneventful week so far:

Sweets — in a feat best described as magic — managed to not break any bones in her hand after having it smashed between two heavy, wheeled, stainless steel tables at school.  I’m sure she’s not feeling too magical right about now, but I have to tell you that accidents do happen… and her bones pulled off some kind of fucking Houdini trick by not actually being in her hand at the moment of impact.  I keep telling her to take this act on the road, but she reminds me that the bill for splints, ice and Advil will far outweigh any profits from the performance.  You can read her account of the incident HERE.

On that note, and swinging the sympathy spotlight back toward me for a moment — and this site is all about letting my inner narcissist out of his cage — my ankle is doing remarkably well.  Walking is mostly back to normal, I have a little soreness now and again, some swelling when I don’t keep off it enough, and a lovely jolt up my leg when I step awkwardly on a piece of uneven ground.  Subtle reminders of the frailty of the human body.

The new dishwasher was delivered today, to be installed by me tomorrow.  Thank goodness, as I fear that some sort of boogeyman has taken up residence in the gaping maw under my countertop that the old dishwaher was removed from.  I’ll have to shoo him out with a broom and a flamethrower.

Been eating more delicious baked goods than I can conceivably begin to list here.  Had many and varied breads the last three weeks, and there is a dubious looking container of white goo in my fridge labeled “Bready Kreuger”, looking for all the world like a failed experiment in Dr. Frankenstein’s lab.  Sweets tells me it’s a sourdough starter, but I suspect it’s some sentient beastie that is going to nuzzle up to the lid of its container, pry it free, ooze under the fridge door, fall to the floor with a wet “plorp” sound, and come and kill me in my sleep.  Or give me a yeast infection.  *ba-dum-tish* Thank you, thank you, I’m here all week.

We have made two cakes for actual money so far.  A slow start, but a start nonetheless.  Looking for more like that.  Am putting together a price-list for my friend who manages a local eatery, to supplement their dessert menu.  Not a lot of money in it, but lots of fantastic practice, opportunities to hone and retool our processes, and of course, a stack of business cards to be handed out if folks ask who made what they just enjoyed.  *crosses fingers* We wouldn’t complain to have more paying gigs during the week.

On that note, also working on a front-end for curiousconfections.com, to make the site a little more than a gallery.

Have been teaching Sweets how to drive on our shores… and not use the backwards, metric, left-side of the road style that makes up only 28% of the world’s total road distance.  *ducks* She’s doing astoundingly well, and it doesn’t hurt that she does know how to drive (even if she hasn’t done it in a while).  Not once have I had to grab the oh-shit handle, or stomp on the voodoo brake — I feel safe and confident with her in the car.  In a year, once she’s feeling confident and plucky, that’s when I’ll be diving under the dashboard for safety.  *grins*

That’s all my brain feels capable of yarfing up onto your screen for now.  More later, as later brings more.

A Year In Time.

It’s been a year to the day since Sweets and I finally admitted to each other — and ourselves — that we were head-over-heels in love.  We count this as our official day, even though we had been talking and making goo-goo eyes at one another over a video connection for many months prior.  It’s the day we couldn’t hold back any more, and let drop the guard around our hearts.

It’s very strange — and neither of us can explain it — how two people from two dramatically different backgrounds, cultures, and living half a world away could find one another in a random encounter on the Internet… one that had nothing to do with making a romantic connection.  Not only did we manage to stumble across each other, but as time crept along, we found out that we were very alike and compatible.  Now that Sweets has been here for six or so weeks, we’re discovering that we get along very well in close quarters as well.  We’re both silly, geeky, very odd people with similar senses of humo(u)r.

I do indeed love you my sweet girl, and this last year has just zoomed by.  Now that you’re here, I can only hope time slows down a bit so I can enjoy having you near.

Happy A-day, my little honeybee.

Sweets, Celebrity And Grilling.

Hello loyal readership (and by loyal readership, I mean my near countless minions numbering in the single digits).  So, while I do not have a trip journal to entertain you with yet, I do feel like blabbering.  So, why not?

First and foremost, the HMS Sweets has docked on our shores.  Her flights — in complete defiance of common practice — were all not only on time and effortless, but even had the audacity to arrive early in some cases.  I don’t know what we did to deserve this cosmic/karmic boon, but I sure as hell won’t be forgetting to toast DeJockamo any time soon.  I threw a “Belated Happy Birthday & Welcome Home” party in her honor the day after her arrival, complete with lots of grilled animal flesh, and a cake in the shape of a sheep.  Good food, good company, and puppies galore running around and being cute as can be.  Capped off by some homemade tiramisu ice cream (my own recipe, thankyouverymuch), the day was a success.

We then spent the following week getting her settled in: opening a US bank account, a cell phone, getting a dresser, unpacking, hanging pictures (I left them down so she could help me hang them, and contribute to decorating the house and feel like it’s her place too, not just my house that she is staying at), going to her orientation at the culinary academy, birthday present clothes shopping (for Texas-heat appropriate apparel), and other such things.

It’s spooky how well and easily we’ve settled into the house together, and have established a happy routine.  Mind you, this is only the second week, but so far it’s gone well.  As different as we both are, we see eye to eye on a lot of things, especially when it comes to keeping house.  She’s spent so long trying to keep her head above water — cleaning wise — in a house with three to four other housemates, that she’s developed basically the same housekeeping philosophy it took me thirty four years to evolve.  Neither of us are OC neat freaks, but we like a tidy house… and a clean and orderly kitchen especially.  Things get put away in a timely fashion, but we shun dusting unless absolutely necessary.  We keep house in such a manner that we would never be embarrassed if company stopped by unexpectedly.  So, we seem to be domestically very compatible at this point.  Check back, gentle readers, in a year.

Sweets’ first week of school is going well for her, all three days of it so far.  They’ve covered sanitary practices and health codes, temperatures and other things.  She’s covered all this in her UK courses already, but just needs to learn the Fahrenheit temps instead of the Celsius temps.  Day one, in the first few minutes alone, she charmed the pants off of her instructor for this first three week course, simply by opening her mouth and talking — her accent made the instructor nearly swoon, and now she’s telling the other instructors to just listen to Sweets talk.  I told her before she got here, that her accent is going to be key in charming and winning people over, well before her culinary talent is called to action.  Americans are predisposed to accept a smooth, posh English accent as a sign of culture, refinement and intelligence — and I’m not saying “ha, she’s going to have everyone fooled“, because she is wickedly intelligent and charming too, but that she should use our genetic weakness to make friends and contacts in the industry as it is a fantastic foot in the door.

And I must say, I have discovered a hitherto unknown fetish for cute, bespectacled women wearing a crisp, white, double-breasted chef’s jacket.

And on to thoughts that do not involve domestic bliss.

Been reading a lot of Kevin Smith’s blog My Boring Ass Life, as well as Wil Wheaton’s blog WWdN: In Exile.  It’s oddly quite comforting to know that two pop-culture icons of my generation, two moderately successful guys who occupy the limelight, are just a coupla’ normal schmoes like me.  If you remove their fame, money and notoriety — hell, in spite of their fame, money and notoriety — they lead relatively normal human lives.  They’re geeks, have everyday insecurities, do their best to hustle up work and provide a decent life for themselves and their families, get pissed off at the drive thru when their order is wrong, and basically are human to their very core.  They’re warm, decent guys, and I have an overwhelming desire to spend a few hours just sitting around and bullshitting over a few drinks with them (and Wil, I recommend PranQster Belgian Style Golden Ale).

They make my list of “celebrities” I’d like to drink with, which is composed of people who are earthy and interesting.  As a result they don’t trigger that idol-worship reflex that causes one — when in the presence of someone famous — to sweat profusely, stammer uncontrollably, say inane things and give limp, damp handshakes.  Others on that list include Fred LeBlanc of Cowboy Mouth, Douglas Adams (now a long gone chance), Chris Elliot and Bruce Campbell.  All hard working, intelligent stiffs, and not infected with a prima donna complex.

Been grilling a lot.  I’ve always liked grilling, but have had a near three year hiatus due to some blowhard bitch that killed my home in NOLA.  The staples of grilling live in my freezer — boneless skinless chicken breasts and sirloin burgers from Sam’s — but I’ve started a meat-affair with my local semi-fa-fa grocery, Central Market (think Whole Foods with only half a stick up their ass).  They offer pre-marinated fresh animal flesh of all types that walk, fly or swim.  Their chicken is divine, especially the pesto garlic marinated variety, and dear Jeebus their dry-rub seasoned fajita beef rocked my world.

Have also grilled my fair share of veggies, too, most notably corn-on-the-cob.  And while I’m a sentimental, aesthetic fool and like the notion of grilling corn in the husk, I think the best method yet is to de-husk it, brush it lightly with butter, sprinkle a bit of salt and pepper, wrap in foil and throw that on the grill over medium heat, turning it two times at five minute intervals (15 minutes total).  You still get some color on the kernels, but you preserve most all of the moisture, and the butter can seep between the kernels nicely.  Even with soaking in cold water, the husks still dry out quickly, char and catch fire.

Aaaand, that’s what I gots for now.

Non Timetis Messor.

I finally had this Paul Kidby print that Sweets gave me for Christmas framed.  It’s of Death from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series of books, and it’s more or less Death’s coat-of-arms, and the print is signed and numbered.  I had it double matted with black and indigo (to match the colors in Death’s cloak), and the frame is antiqued black with a scrolling pattern with the raised areas worn to reveal a dark red/brown color beneath.

The banner up top reads “Tempus Fugit” (Time Flies) and the banner down below reads “Non Timetis Messor” (Don’t Fear the Reaper).

Non Timetis MessorNon Timetis MessorNon Timetis Messor

My Sweet Girl Is South Africa Bound.

My girl leaves this weekend for a month long excursion at a game reserve in South Africa, working with conservationists and learning ranger skills.  This trip has been in the works for a while, and zoology and animal behavior studies come a close second behind the culinary arts for what would have been her primary field (to the point where she started with animal behavior before shifting to culinary).

She is one of the most courageous people I know.  She’s following a dream, and embarking on an adventure of her own choosing and design.  Sure, she’s nervous as hell, but who wouldn’t be, really?  The fact remains that she is doing it.  I’m proud of her, and inspired as well.  She has accomplished more for herself at this point in her life than folks ten years (and more) her senior.  She doesn’t seem to see it, but I do, and I strive to remind her of it as frequently as I can.

Good luck, safe journey, and all my love, Sweets.  Take care, and know that I’ll be thinking of you every moment of every day.

Manchester, England Englaaaaaand!

The flight went off without a hitch, and DAMN, I am never flying on a long trip again unless it is business (first) class.  I was bumped up after the first flight fiasco, and holy crap! is it nice to fly while sitting in a recliner with a private TV and plenty of leg room, noise canceling headphones, a five course meal, free booze (wine with dinner, port with fruit and cheese (brie!) for dessert), and being waited on hand and foot like royalty.  It is absolutely worth the extra money.  Hell, I’m going to see if I can’t pay to upgrade myself for the flight back.

Made it to Manchester, the train ride was absolutely fantastic (take note America, you too could have an above ground rail system that is perfectly good public transportation and doesn’t smell like piss!) with great scenery the whole way.  Was met at the station by my girl, and managed to fight off the mild jet-lag for most of the rest of the day and get to bed at what I would consider a normal time (while only dozing off on the sofa while lying in her lap and snoring myself awake, once or twice).

Had a nice walk around town and to the local castle ruins (lots of pictures).  A good lunch (a full “English Breakfast”, and Fado’s has it fairly close to right).  Back at the house now.

I’ll update more later, for now, I’m going back to my girl.

Is This Thing On?

*opens the stage door and steps out in front of the brightly burning lights*
*brushes the cobwebs from the microphone and taps it to make sure it is still live*
*shades his eyes with his hand to see if there is even anyone in the audience*
*shrugs and takes a deep breath*

So, here I am again after *looks down at the previous post* three months, and a patchy record of posts before that.  A lot has transpired in that amount of time.  A LOT.  Let me endeavor to fill in on some the comings and goings, and in no particular order:

» Lady and I are officially divorced.

It was mutually agreeably and uncontested. But… we are still very, very good friends.  After nearly eighteen years together as a couple neither of us wanted to abandon the deep, abiding friendship we started at the beginning and forged all through our years together.  We still love and respect one another, and care deeply for the other as one friend to another.  We worked very hard to preserve that, and I think we’ve succeeded.  People find this very strange indeed, but we figure that the only people who need to be cool with it is her and me.

» I finally got off my ass and into gear.

I have been steadily going to the gym and weightlifting since October of last year.  I added cardio to my routine a month ago, and I’ve been adjusting my food intake to a more reasonable level, cooking more at home and bringing lunch to work.  I’m still very hesitant to talk about health and exercise on the blog, as every time I have mentioned it in the past I seemed to have jinxed myself and fucked up my plans.  I’m not going to go into great detail here on the intartubes, but suffice to say that I’m slowly and steadily changing my shape.  No miracle stories to tell, and it’s a lot of hard, tedious exercise, but that was the realization I finally came to and accepted it.

» I’m happier and better adjusted than I have been in quite a while.

I’m not saying that I’m a perfect angel, content and sitting in my own little radiating pool of joy and wonderfulness, but the crushing depression and loneliness are like a fading bruise: still evident but gradually becoming a thing of the past.  I realized recently that if I have one skill or talent that defines me, it is the capacity to take things apart, find out how they work… and if broken, figure out how to fix them and put them back together.  It is the core of my nickname “Stuff” that I have the tools and aptitude to do this with anything I lay my hands on — computers, electronics, woodworking, cars, sculpting, etc. — and I did it, unknowingly, to myself… and plan to continue doing it till the end of my days.  I disassembled myself and figured out what was making me hurt, causing such pain and anguish and… well I’m figuring out how to fix that.

I’ve worked very hard to be an independent, self-reliant person, especially in an emotional capacity.  I’m learning how to be happy with myself, and for myself.  It’s easy to latch on to another person (or people) and make them the core of your joy.  It’s so much simpler to lean on others, to derive your emotional comfort from them rather than seeking it in yourself.  Once you can be comfortable and happy just being you, its so much more rewarding to compound your joy by adding someone else to the equation (if you so choose)… and it takes the overwhelming burden off their shoulders to be the wellspring of everything in your life that is good.  And it also takes away the desperate, choking need to have another in your life and allows you to relax and appreciate the world around you.  And on that note…

» There is a girl who lives far away that makes me very, very happy.

Those who know me know I never take the easy path when there is something worth doing.  I am apparently consistent with this in my romantic life too.  Through means and circumstances too convoluted to bother with here — let’s just say “we met on the internet” and leave it at that modern day cliché — I have become well acquainted with a charming, beautiful girl who lives 5000 miles and an ocean away from me.  She has the sweetest English accent, the loveliest curves, and I am completely smitten… so is she by all accounts.  She’s smart as a whip, sarcastic (read: a smartass), and she likes my shenanigans.  She’s a breath away from a culinary degree — waiting for the ink to dry on the certificate — and has a specialty interest in patisserie (that’s French pastry to you and me) and cakes.  Yes, cakes.  Her goal is to open her own patisserie and cake shop.  I keep trying to convince her there is a ripe market for it in Austin, and I happen to know an amateur specialty cake maker who would be very interested in assisting her with that endeavor.

She has come to visit me, and we spent a blissfully wonderful week together.  I am going to visit her in September (provided the passport I applied for two months ago ever arrives).  Neither of us knows for sure where we’re going with all of this, but we like the road we’re traveling, so we’re content to stay on it.  Even from 5000 miles away we contribute to each others happiness.  That’s an awesome thing.

» Took a trip to northern California.

Went with Team Dandy and Lady to get the native’s tour.  Had a lovely time, will have to make a separate post about this… too much to say, and I have tons of pictures I can add.  Stay tuned.

That, er, is about all I can think of in this sitting… like you aren’t thinking “that’s plenty, you long winded bastard.”  I make no promises, but I’m feeling inclined to post these days.  My life has leveled out of the steep nose dive it had taken, and I’m feeling comfortable in my own skin again.  I’m also famously horrible at keeping in touch with my friends and family (yeah, I’m a terrible thuggish imbecile that I can’t even do that), and this at least will help scratch that itch.

Onward and upward.  Whee!