A So-So Weekend Ends Well

Good and bad--the kids' athletic teams--two different sports--both had nice victories, which always puts everyone in a good mood. It was good to spend some time with the other parents, too, as good as it is funny to say that. I'm recalling how January and February used to be social wastelands, with people retreating following the crush of Halloween to Christmas engagements. Sports pushes us out the door during these bitter winter days--and I do mean bitter, we're looking at 4 degrees out there!

After one of their contests yesterday, I returned home to discover that a daughter, whose name shall remain nameless, took the easy way out of cleaning the kitchen sink and rinsed a whole lot of food chunks down the drain. Mrs. OLM had tried to be pro-active, removing the elbows of both basins and disconnecting all the various lengths of PVC. Sigh. Missed a party for that one, and didn't wholly solve the problem until Lowe's opened this morning at 10am and I was able to score some plastic gaskets--the ones that always break when you loosen the connectors. I bought a dozen, embracing the inevitable, reassembled all the pipes, and get this: nothing leaked when I ran the water through the system. It's unprecedented, and I'm still waiting for my karmic penalty.

Yes, I'm well aware this post is beginning to sound like something from a mommy blog.

Football. The Steelers dispatched the too-damned-feisty New York Jets for a shot at Aaron Rogers and the Green Bay Packers in this year's Super Bowl. Sweet. The Packers scare me--Rogers is the only QB in the league I consider the equal to Ben Roethlisberger. I also dig that this will be the matchup between the NFL's two most distinguished, old-school, small market football teams. Chicago would have been an equally good fit, historically speaking, but they never had a chance, not behind that line.

Almost done with the Fedco Seeds order. More soon on that.

I know that post is reading like a Mommy Blog.

And So It Begins...Onions and Leeks

Not 2011, that's old news, but however strange it might seem with a fairly deep coating of snow in the yard, the Gardening Season is upon us. I've been indulging in "Seed Porn" since early December, when the Pinetree Gardens catalog, traditionally the first of the year, showed up in our mailbox. Now it's time to determine what seeds we're going to buy from which seed houses, my favorite shopping quandary of the year.

I've never ordered from the big, glossy, Jung Catalog--mostly because it reminded me of the cheap and cheesy catalogs put out by dubious Gurney's/ Henry Field's/ Ferry Morse/ Michigan Bulb/ Springhill Nursery/ Scarlet Tanager LLC. retailing cabal. An unfair connection, however subconscious . So, when my father-in-law decided he wanted onion starts from Jung I put off my initial reservations (not to mention my pride, since I've been growing my own starts from seeds for years) and added some seed packets, you know, just to "make it worth the price of shipping."

"Making it worth the price of shipping" has been, for as long as I've been gardening, the excuse to buy far more seed than I need, from a wider variety of merchants than is really necessary. It's a spiral of irresponsibility, and I can't help myself. I have a Seed Problem. I know it. I hear the whispers. I see the zip lock bags in the top drawer of the refrigerator, filled with half packets of a dozen different tomato varieties, and I don't care.

I'm starting "Ailsa Craig Exhibition" and "Copra" onions from seed--the same that I grew last year. The former, an heirloom variety from Scotland that dates back to the 1800's, has become my favorite onion, sweet but not overly so, averaging about 2lbs. It is tremendous fresh. We plant them somewhat densely and eat from the bed as soon as the bulbs start to fill out, leaving space for the rest to grow huge. I have seem descriptions that say Ailsa Craig stores well, but that has not been our experience. We count on ours going soft--and sprouting leaves--by Christmas, at the latest. That's when Copra kicks in--a medium onion, ours average around 5oz., I'd estimate--and rock hard. It's not an heirloom, but we were looking for an onion that will get us as close to summer as possible, to minimize that unfortunate window between running out of last year's stored onions and this year's harvest. So far, so good on the Copra. I'm pleased to report that the flavor is better than expected, as well. I had assumed an onion touted to store for up to nine months would have all the subtlety of a hand grenade.

My father in law is buying plants of a variety called "Red Zeppelin"--they look to be large (4"), red onions with good flavor and medium storage quality. The pictures look beautiful, almost purple, but the name alone makes it worth trying. I'll report back.

Keeping it in the allium family, Leeks are our next concern. Last year I fell ass over teacups for Blue Solaise. I was victimized by a windstorm that blew over my mini-greenhouse last year, and bought starts from Mildred's Daughters Urban Farm. They were real life-savers, since Leek starts in general are not particularly easy to find, and these French heirlooms are somewhat obscure. Usually, if one find leek starts they're of the Lancelot, Lincoln, or King Richard. Nothing wrong with those, but I like these. Supposedly, Blue Solaise can hold through even a hard winter, but I can't say for sure. I ate them already. We've got some Lincoln in the deep freeze, but it's not the same. I'll leave some to overwinter this year. I get my leek seed--and most of my vegetable seed, from independent Fedco Seeds.

Breaking News: Fast Food Usually Unhealthy

I woke up yesterday to find the television news shows ablaze with the revelation that studies show fast food items--children's meals, to be precise--are not the healthiest options for providing a nutritionally sound diet. All three major networks were airing reports at the top of the hour, ahead of post-election politics and the daily dose of middle-east unrest.

Shazaam! Who'd a thunk it?

I listened to the shocked and outraged researcher indignantly describe the worst meal (Dairy Queen's Cheeseburger, Fries, "Sugary Soft Drink," and Dilly Bar.) and the best (The veggie hoagie from Subway with apple slices and fruit juice.) The implication was clear: we've been deceived! How dare they!

Well, it may be that the scornfully pronounced name "Dilly Bar" made me lustfully delirious, but for the first time in recent memory I found myself agreeing with those foaming-mouthed conservatives who rage against "The Nanny State." As the story continued, another nutrition activist complained that not only did the fast food places sell this unhealthy stuff, they neglect to actively inform customers that healthier fare is available. Undercover reporters from a news outlet confirmed that when they went into different restaurants not one adolescent minimum-wage cash register automaton suggested healthier options. The bastards.

I imagined the scenario:
Teenager in Paper Hat (TIPH): Hello and Welcome to O'Burgers.
Me: Hi
TIPH: How can I help you today?
Me: I'd like the O'Burger Supreme with fries and a Coke.
TIPH: Are you sure your wouldn't like to have our brown rice dinner with sun-shriveled prunes?
Me: Nope, pretty sure I want the O'Burger.
TIPH: Would you like to downgrade from Supreme-sized to Modest-sized. It's only a dollar less for half as much! Modesty is a virtue.
Me: I like to have a little left to throw out when I'm full, just to spite those hungry Chinese children my mom used to whine about.
TIPH: It does look like those pants are getting a little tight, and you're flushed. Are you getting enough cardio?

I suppose this has relevance to a few oblivious people who feed their children a steady diet of crap, but I suspect most folks who hit a burger joint know what they're getting into when they go there. But maybe that's why I don't get it. We probably do fast food a half dozen times a year, generally while on the road, knowingly putting convenience, expedience, and economics ahead of nutrition.

It shouldn't be the responsibility of businesses to regulate the behavior of their customers. Indeed, the suggestion that fast food restaurants are intentionally exploiting people, and that people are incapable of understanding what they're eating, stinks of arrogance. That said, if we absolutely must expend resources on what seems to be a moot point, then those resources would be better spent on teaching consumers to be more selective than on shaming companies into limiting the options they provide.

The Blog Formerly Known as Oakleaf Mold

Every year about this time I lament being too busy/distracted/lazy/unfocused/dilatory/lame about writing here there everywhere--or anywhere at all. Will a new name will shake me from my torpidity? The eponymous old one wasn't doing me any favors, and it was vain. I wrote in this blog like I was walking on a yacht--and that could just not stand.

The new name hearkens back to the iconic Christmas movie starring my home town's favorite son, Jimmy Stewart. It's supposed to be ironic, since these days we've got ourselves an infestation of Potters--not Harry, but the evil banker type.

Indeed, I was tempted to call this Blog "Fuck You, Indiana" and each week celebrate a local person or entity who places his own interests above those of the community. I had my eye on a University president, a bunch of school board directors, and people who try to get residential neighborhoods re-zoned to accommodate student tenements, so they can turn a quick buck at the expense of the families who have made a home there.

I opted not to do this, because it would be petty.

On the other hand, I just heard that the borough council is considering evicting the community library from it's historic location, so I just may change my mind.

See you soon.

Balloon Boy: Obvious Publicity Stunt

I'm 2000 miles away, but I'd be more than willing to bet a good Italian Hoagie that the recent runaway balloon drama out in Colorado was a publicity stunt engineered by the wacky inventor, storm chaser, and wife-swappin' reality TV "star" father. I predict that the Heene family will be accused of manufacturing the entire incident, and that Colorado officials will move to charge them with...whatever people who waste the time of emergency services get charged with...and attempt to recoup some of what must have been thousands of dollars on the wild goose--er--balloon chase. I mean, no way does this kid manage to hide in a box through it all. No damned way.

Again, I have no evidence other than insight. This is a prediction, not an accusation. I just want it on the record so I can put on pretensions later. I am Oakleaf Mold. I see all.

Listening To--The 5th Dimension: Up, Up, and Away (not really)

He Said It, I Didn't

"I am a subhuman species with no right to exist outside these radio waves,"
--Rush Limbaugh

http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/football/2009/10/15/2009-10-15_bondy_rush.html#ixzz0U23vbLod

Over-Inflated Megan McCain Flap

First of all: wow, I'd forgotten how much fun stuff there is to blog about.

Now, about this Megan McCain humongous hooters hype. Should I admit that I had to think a moment before I recalled who she is--I actually thought of frozen french fries first: was she the frozen french fry heiress? Nope, she's the daughter of Senator John Methuselah McCain, and apparently a "right wing firebrand" and blogger, despite being a mere (can this be right) 24 years old. That means her dad must have been a ripe old 86 or 87 when she was born--way to go, Senator.

Regardless of how old she is, Ms. McCain seems to be in trouble for posting a photo, in which here "yikes"-sized breasts are featured prominently, though not obscenely, on her Twitter feed. Big deal. It must have been a really, really slow day for folks to get all worked up over a pair of outlandish outriggers. We're all connected to the interweb, right? I've googled up Yogi the Bear and seen worse than this. Indeed, I looked at Ms. McCain's blog and found something much more appaalling: she'd cited "Stairway to Heaven" as song of the day. Ug. Never-the-less, aside from looking about as solid as Sarah Palin's chances in 2012, I don't get the controversy. I thought it was all about nipples? No nipple, no problem.

Conservatives confuse me. McCain seems decent enough, if a little vapid, and she certainly seems more humane than most republicans. Who cares if she doesn't wear turtlenecks around the apartment--if she did, would there be complaints that they were too tight?* These folks should be desperate for any young, vital, and socially relevant voice, regardless of cup size. Is it McCain's fault that she's a big girl? She looks healthy. Rush Limbaugh doesn't look nearly so healthy, and his breasts are even bigger than McCain's--so, enough with the double standard.

*I'm wearing a turtleneck right now.

Listening to--Townes Van Zandt: Tucumseh Valley

Denver Broncos' Vertical Striped Socks

It appears that I'm one of a very small community of people who liked the Denver Broncos' "throwback" uniforms. Indeed, the elements that I liked best--the vertical-striped socks and the high-school style white numbers on plain brown helmets--are the very things I notice so many people complaining about. I like the socks a lot. There's no real reason why I need to share this with the universe. I don't have aspirations of starting a vertical-striped socks trend, or even an appreciation society. I just wanted you to know.

Can I write a comeback blog entry or what? Whoo-yah.

Listening to--Townes Van Zandt: Cowboy Junkies Lament

SUMMER BREAK ENDING SOON

Life is settling down--look for the old blog o' mine to make a "final" re-emergence by the end of October. Final? Yup, if I don't manage some sort of velocity this winter then I'm pulling the plug and giving up. The pressure is really on now, eh? Life or death! Let's go, blog. Let's see what you can do.