Lost in a Good Book

Ken received a copy of J. Maarten Troost's Lost on Planet China for his birthday in January. Our nephew and niece, Kevin and Rachel, chose this book for him because Ken spent two years, off and on, in Chengdu, China when he did contract work for his former employer there in '05-'06. Kevin and Rachel knew Ken would most likely find Troost's story interesting.

They were right. And so have I.

I took three trips to China while Ken was there, staying at his apartment in Chengdu. I was there a total of three months, so I got to see China fairly well but not as well as Ken, who actually worked there.

Anyway, Ken and I loved reading Troost's account of his travels in China: Beijing, Hong Kong, Tibet, and several other areas. Ken and I saw much of Beijing, Xian, and Hong Kong, in addition to Chengdu.

What made both of us mostly chuckle (but sometimes sigh in despair) while reading Lost on Planet China were many of Troost's details: young children in split pants (The first time I saw a child in split pants, I thought he had accidentally torn them and wondered if I should try to tell his father), the habit of the Chinese to spit on the streets, the amazingly unsanitary public restrooms, the smog (oh, my word, the smog), the menus with no hint of what one might be ordering, the hair-raising experience of riding in taxis  (Troost observed seven lanes of traffic on a four-lane highway as he rode from the Beijing airport into the city. That sounds about right. And stop signs? A "mere suggestion," as someone once said.), endless tearing down of buildings and construction of new skyscrapers, the appalling living conditions of workers who come from the countryside to work in the cities.

Despite many of the unappealing aspects of China, Ken and I also remember the kindness of the people, their willingness to help us, the absolute refusal of waitresses and taxi drivers to take tips, the pride of parents when we asked to take a photo of their children, the brides and grooms in a Chengdu park one Saturday morning, hot pot, Carrefour, the Great Wall with its uneven steps (and the elderly gentleman who hurried past us, climbed to the top, turned around, and came down to meet us, all while smoking a cigarette. Ken and I struggled on.), the "authentic" items sold in souvenir shops (one of our guides mentioned that the antiques there might have been made hundreds of years ago...or yesterday), our housekeeper who was paid 400 yuan a month ($50) for about 48 hours' work, our many visits to Luodai, an ancient  village outside of Chengdu, and of course the pandas at the Chengdu Panda Breeding and Research Center.

I've wondered if Qingcheng Mountain even is recognizable any more. That's where the devastating earthquake occurred a year ago. Ken and I hiked this mountain twice. 

P.S. I just checked a website for Qingcheng, where a visitor mentions the mountain has partially reopened for hikers.

(P.S.S. It's been raining in Maine almost all week, I've been cooped up inside, and I'm feeling nostalgic, apparently.)

Yard Sale Woes

We chose this past weekend to join forces with our friends and have a yard sale at their house. Their yard seemed a better location than ours because they live on a heavily-traveled main road, whereas we're on a less-traveled side road.

Saturday morning, bright and early, we (actually, Ken) loaded the truck several times with the collection in the photo here and made several trips down to the yard sale site.

We had high hopes of unloading at least ten-years' accumulation of now unwanted stuff.

Years ago, we had two or three successful yard sales at our old house, and bargain hunters lined up by the carloads to delve into boxes before I could even get them unpacked. We made money hand over fist in those golden days.

Such was not the case this weekend. 

On Saturday we made a whopping $80 or so.

Sunday: another $50.

Monday: enough to make the grand total $206.

That figures out to something like $3 an hour for our efforts.

We've concluded that nowadays everyone has too much of his own unwanted clutter to bother go buy someone else's. Also, the disastrous economy has to be playing a role here.

Ken and I have divided our "wealth," and I see several skeins of new yarns in my future. He sees a new battery-operated drill.

So that's that. Oh, and at the end of our driveway today are several unsold items with a "Free" sign propped up against them.

Molly's in the Dog House

In Maine, and probably in other states as well, the Lady Slipper is on the "Threatened and Endangered" list of native plants.

For that reason, I never pick a Lady Slipper when I find them in the spring, but I do admire them and often take their picture.

Also, I keep their whereabouts a closely guarded secret which I share only with those I know I can trust, only with those I know will not pick them.

Yesterday I decided to take my camera along on my daily walk with Molly, because I'd been watching the patch of Lady Slippers for days and knew they were just about right for their annual photo op.

I snapped four or five photos of the little patch of Slippers. 

Then, just as I turned to leave the area and continue our walk, Molly chose that moment to get antsy. She does that sometimes, and I attribute her behavior to the fact that she's a dog and doesn't know hallowed ground when she's standing right smack on it.

In the midst of her flouncing, she stepped right, square on a Lady Slipper. I gasped.

I pulled on Molly's leash, got her back where she belonged, and inspected the damage. I thought the Lady Slipper she'd squashed could simply be given a reassuring readjustment and all would be well.

Not so. Molly had severed the slipper at the base of its stem.

Mortified, I tucked the blossom into my jacket pocket and skeedaddled from the area. It now sits on the kitchen window sill, and I feel responsible every time I look at it. It's a pretty little thing, though.

A sweater and a recipe

I have a love/hate relationship with finishing a knitting project. I love the completion, but I hate now having nothing on my needles. I usually spend the first day after finishing a project wandering through the house, wondering what I'll knit next. It's  just comforting to know there's something on my needles for me to sit and work on when I get a spare minute.

Anyway, this February Lady sweater is for me! I love brown and have just the skirt to wear with it. The yarn is Lion Brand Cotton-ease, which I love and which is sinfully reasonable, especially when you take advantage of a Michael's or AC Moore sale. This sweater cost me $16 to knit.

Now for the recipe. After posting the photo of the "Auntie Bea's Torte" the other day, I received a request for the recipe. I'm happy to share it. Auntie Bea wasn't my aunt; she was my good friend's aunt. She was 100% Swedish, from New Sweden, Maine, and she could bake up a storm, apparently, judging from this recipe.

Auntie Bea's Tarta (Torte)

1/2 c. butter or margarine

1/2 c. sugar

 4 egg yolks

1 t. vanilla

1 c. cake flour

1 t. baking powder

1/4 t. salt

5 T. milk

4 egg whites

1 c. sugar

chopped walnuts

fresh fruit

Cream together butter and 1/2 c. sugar. Add egg yolks, well beaten, and vanilla.

Stir together cake flour, baking powder, and salt. Add alternately with milk.

Spread into two 8-inch pans. (I grease the bottom only of each pan, then line the bottom only with baker's parchment paper.)

Beat egg whites until stiff; add 1 c. sugar gradually. Spread over each layer and cover with chopped nuts.

Bake 1/2 hour at 325°.

Turn out carefully. Cool. Put together with fresh fruit (sliced peaches, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries....) and whipped cream or any cream filling.

Various and sundry

Some odds and ends:

Yesterday I made a strawberry/kiwi torte for my friend's birthday. I wish I'd done a better job of tidying up the plate before snapping the picture. Martha would be mortified at the mess.

This torte is one of my favorite recipes. It's quick and easy to make, and unbeknownst to the casual observer, the layers are topped with beaten egg whites and chopped walnuts before they're baked. Yum-o. Once the layers are cooled, the whipped topping and fresh fruit slices are added. 

 

I mentioned to Ken yesterday afternoon that I was getting worried about the Baltimore orioles. According to my bird-watching records, they arrive here in this part of Maine anywhere between May 3 and May 12. Yesterday was the 9th, and there was still no sign of them. Granted, there were still a few days left before the "deadline," but I like to do my worrying in advance when possible.

Not more than an hour later, I looked out the kitchen window to find this male oriole drinking from the hummingbird feeder. He spent the rest of the afternoon in the blossoming crabapple tree, or in the bridal wreath, or at the hummingbird feeder, or at the suet cake. I'm hoping he brought the Mrs. with him and they'll build a nest and stay awhile.

Friday was an historic day at our house: Ken's Model-T speedster, for which he began collecting parts when he was a teenager, was brought out into the daylight. Not only that, but Ken started its engine and took a little spin, albeit illegally, down to the church and back, a distance of maybe 1/8 mile. 

Ken has talked about his Model-T as if it actually existed ever since I've known him. It was a collection of parts in various boxes in our first rental home, in our first real home, and in this home, until this past winter, when he began putting all the parts together into what looks to be a vehicle. It still lacks sides, seats, and other amenities, but Ken assures me these things will come with time. Right now he's working on getting the engine to run smoothly. The neat thing about this speedster is that there's a story to go with each part: where Ken got it, how much he paid for it, etc. And I've heard all of these stories so many times I could probably tell them myself.

Meet Mid-day Moon and Moose. They're the baby pigmy goats at our neighbors' house. They moved into the neighborhood about a week ago. Only a few weeks old, they love to have people nearby. When I walked over to their pen to take some pictures, they cavorted for me, even hopping onto the rock as if to say, "Look! See what I can do!" The minute I started walking away, they cried like babies. I felt bad, but I really couldn't spend the entire day at their fence, praising them for their feats.

It's time to mail the letters

One of the last assignments I gave my Advanced Placement seniors just before I retired in 2004 was as follows:

Write a letter to yourself five years into the future. In your letter, explain what you have accomplished since graduating from high school and also explain where your life is now headed.

I asked my 37 students to place their letters in envelopes, seal the envelopes, address the letters to themselves, and give the letters to me. I promised I would mail the letters back to them in May 2009.

Well, it's May 2009 already. These young men and women, a wonderful bunch as high school seniors, are now college graduates, I assume, and have one year of a career under their belts.

It would be fun to see them open and read these letters which they wrote when they were only 17 or 18. I'll put them into the mail tomorrow. I hope each of them has experienced much success already. They're so bright and ambitious.

Eight Things

I got this idea from Lin's post.

Eight things I look forward to:

1. Finishing the sweater I'm now knitting.

2. Seeing Heather and family before too many moons pass or before the boys become young men.

3. Watching Violet's dance recital in a couple of weeks.

4. Taking another exotic trip somewhere.

5. Finishing my spring cleaning. 

6. Getting my garden planted.

7. Enjoying the vegetables of my garden...mostly in August and September.

8. Picking a bouquet of lilacs (and some lily of the valley, too).

Eight things I did yesterday:

1. Went to my workout.

2. Went to the greenhouse to purchase vegetable and flower seedlings.

3. Weeded the large flower garden.

4. Hung out a load of wash.

5. Made progress on the "February Lady Sweater" I'm knitting.

6. Wrote a "President's Message" for the newsletter of Maine Alpha Delta Kappa.

7. Answered some long-overdue e-mails.

8. Gave Molly her Frontline treatment.

Eight things I wish I could do:

1. Play the piano.

2. Sing.

3. Paint.

4. Finish the photo quilt I started at least five years ago.

5. Clean the house every day in 30 minutes (and even want to do it).

6. Plant a really, really successful vegetable garden.

7. Get all of my orchids to bloom.

8. Write a novel.

Sprucing up and planting

Ken and I have spent the morning doing spring things: he's been replacing the white-painted boards on the front steps and kitchen steps. The old boards had been in place ten years and were showing their age. 

 

When he removed the boards from the kitchen steps, he found that a critter of some kind had built a rather elaborate condominium under the steps. He filled a wheelbarrow full of the dirt that had been carried under the steps by the critter. Now Ken's devising a fence to put behind the steps to discourage any future squatters from moving in.

I've been doing projects smaller than the one Ken has tackled. I noticed early this morning the hummingbirds have arrived and are drinking thirstily at their feeder, so that inspired me to put an orange out for the orioles. When the hummers arrive, the orioles aren't far behind, so they just might blow into town some time this week. I want them to feel welcomed when they get here. Some years the orioles stay only a few days, then move on; some years a pair stays into early July, having built their nest and hatched their babies. I hope they'll stick around this year.

While poking around the Jack-in-the-pulpits, I noticed one of the Jacks is, indeed, in his pulpit this morning. He's shy, so I had to open the blossom a little so you can see him. Cute little rascal, isn't he?

Last spring I spotted beautiful hanging baskets of flowers at a local greenhouse and threw caution to the wind, purchasing six of them at around $22-24 each. It wasn't long before the baskets looked like the dickens. They looked worse than death warmed over. I don't know why they didn't flourish, but they definitely didn't. Over $120 down the drain, and I don't easily part with $120 only to realize I've wasted my money. So this year I bought trays of wave petunias, dusty miller, and geraniums at Lowe's and have started transplanting them into hanging baskets. For about 1/4 the cost, I know I'll get at least my money's worth, if not a whole lot more.

It's too early to leave these flowers out over night, because "all danger of frost" has not passed and will not pass until the end of May or early June. In the meantime the wagon of flowers will go into the garage on chilly nights and come out again the next morning.

And on a completely unrelated note, one of my sisters and I decided to drive up to Bangor yesterday to have a leisurely look-around at TJ Maxx. Bangor's TJ's is probably the very best we've ever seen. As we were driving along, we started reminiscing about the male teachers we'd had in high school and how we'd lusted after them. Just having these young, handsome men walk over to our desks to offer help with math or science reduced us to, well, giddy teenagers. As we were laughing at our behavior back then, my sister suddenly said, "You realize, don't you, these guys are now in their 70's and 80's, if they're even still alive." That sobered us up.