I took a trip to Sedona, AZ in 2002 and following my vacation mantra that "I can't see everything but I'll see what I can," (maybe more of a koan than a mantra), I decided to visit the Sleeping Beauty Mine in Globe, AZ.
It was definitely about the journey as all I got to see of the mine was the warehouse shop but I bought a small selection of their famous robin's egg blue turquoise beads, some of which I incorporated in the necklace pictured at the top of this post.
http://www.sleepingbeautyturquoise.info/
I still think about the tortilla chips fried in butter that we had for lunch that day. Dang!
It was on a very different trip that I got this crazy looking fork...
I was in a rural area of central Canada when I met a couple who make the most amazing kitchen implements out of hardwood maple. I bought a few items but they aren't suited to the Florida climate and this fork is all I have left. It was languishing in a cabinet until I recently acted on my waffle cravings.
WalMart waffle iron for $9.96 and, surprise!, a box of gluten free Bisquick. Suddenly, the little maple devil fork had a purpose: pulling waffles off the non-stick surface of the waffle maker. Success!
The Bisquick gets one thumb up for at least trying and one thumb down for that weird underlying taste that I find in many gluten free products. I'll keep looking.
I haven't been to Italy, YET, but I finally found a delicious Sicilian recipe for the cucuzzi I am growing in my garden.
A very simple "stew" of cucuzzi, potato, tomato, onion, garlic, basil, olive oil and salt that perfectly balanced out the slightly cucumber-y taste of the cucuzzi. I desperately needed a recipe that worked for me as the vines are churning these things out at an alarming rate.
I would like to take this moment to announce a personal landmark:
I washed my truck.
Unfortunately, no amount of soap and water can wash "1995" off of the old Ranger but it's an improvement.
And what about those chickens?
I recently saw a FB video of a child hugging a compliant chicken. Only a few of my chickens will tolerate hugs and they fidget the whole time. When I got them, they were young enough to imprint on me but old enough to know that I wasn't a chicken; they would have preferred to be mothered by a hen. They follow me around, get underfoot, and submit to the occasional hug but they don't love me. Whenever children visit I make sure they hold a chicken so they can get that experience. Both sets of my grandparents were farmers but they no longer had chickens by the time I came along. The only animals they had were big scary cows and big scary hogs; nothing to hold but your breath as you walked past the pens.
Another uneasy alliance in my yard is between the birds and dogs.
Here's a pic of the redheads hanging out together.
They all know that I represent food and that they are in competition for that food. The dogs are more afraid of the beaks than the chickens are of the sharp teeth and that is a system that could end badly for the chickens but, hey, Can't we all just get along?
My travels, nowadays, are financially restricted to the state of Florida, and mostly my backyard, but I'm still compiling stories.
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