legendarypuffin2

Excerpt from the anthology

2007-01-24T16:07:00.000-08:00

Ludi, here's an excerpt

Kimchee
By Genevieve Fitzgerald

(“Kimchee” is taken from Genevieve Fitzgerald’s young adult novella, “Reclaiming Rosa”)

I remember once Rosa told me how she wished she had a normal family.
“Like whose?” I had asked her.
“Like yours,” she said so quickly, almost fiercely, like she was demanding it.
“Like mine?” I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I don’t think we’re weird, or anything, but I sure don’t think of us as a normal family.
That’s when Rosa told me a little bit about her family. Her mother has to sneak out of the house to go to English lessons because she wants to be more American, but her father doesn’t want her to learn. He wants her to keep all their old customs, and cover her arms all the time, even in summer, and walk behind him if they go shopping together, and if she spoke better English – well, Rosa wasn’t sure what her father thought, but it all seems just really mean to her mother. Plus, since he didn’t want her mother to learn, Rosa decided not to do her English homework. When she got her report card, he hit Rosa with a ruler across the palm of her hands for not doing well in English. It makes no sense. What’s worst, though, is the more Rosa learns to think in English, the harder it is to talk to her mother.
“So, you see, Sophie, even though we all live together, we’re so far apart. That’s not normal, is it?”
“Maybe I don’t know what normal means anymore,” I said to her, looking down at my shoes.
“You’re a lot of help,” she said.
“So let’s bake cookies,” I suggested, since our conversation was making me sad.
Mom wasn’t around, but she trusts us pretty much, so we went into our kitchen and started opening drawers and cabinets, looking for ingredients. It turned out we had no chocolate chips, and I couldn’t see wasting our time on cookies without chips in them. I sat down at the kitchen table, feeling a bit moody.
“I know,” said Rosa, “let’s make kimchee. I’m learning the recipe and my father will be so proud.”
After what she had just told me about the English lessons and the ruler, I was surprised Rosa wanted to do something for her father. But then I thought about the time I had found her hiding in the library, and I just shrugged. “OK.” Sometimes Rosa was a mystery. Her thinking didn’t always make sense to me. Like the normal family. Like the kimchee.
The kimchee: I couldn’t believe we made this. Spicy pickled cabbage. Rosa left me chopping cabbage while she ran back to her house for some spices. She brought them back in a plastic bag, so I’ll never know what was in there, but when we dumped the bag over the cabbage in the bowl, I sneezed. Then we heated some water and stirred in a lot of salt and poured that in and then Rosa gave me a funny look. “We need your pumpkin from the front stoop,” she said.
“What for?”
“We empty it out like a jack-o-lantern, but with no face, and we put the kimchee in there and bury it. For a week or two, I think. I forget how long.”
At first I didn’t believe her. This couldn’t be a real recipe. But she insisted.
I looked at the clock. Mom would be home soon and I didn’t want her to see this. It was a little too strange. “To hurry things up, let’s get Bo and Vic to dig the hole while we hollow out the pumpkin.”
I didn’t know what Rosa said to convince them, but they agreed, and even dug enthusiastically. Later that night mom found worms in Bo’s sink.
The kimchee sloshed in the pumpkin as we carried it outside and around to the backyard, to the hole.
I watched Rosa put it in. She was very serious. She was mouthing something. I couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or if she was just checking off ingredients in her head before covering up the hole. It wasn’t English. That much I could tell.
The next part was the weirdest of all. For the next two weeks, every day after school, we had to check on the kimchee. This is what we had to do: we had to lie on the ground and put an ear to the dirt over the pumpkin. It wasn’t a very deep hole, and Rosa said we would be able to hear it gurgle when it was done.
Every day we listened.
It was OK on warm days, but I didn’t want to help her the day it rained. I also didn’t want to help her the day Yvette was sitting on the back patio with her friends, all doing their nails.

What I've been up to: Anniversary Party

2006-11-29T13:20:00.000-08:00

My sisters and I spent the last several months planning a big anniversary party for my folks, which we had this past weekend. Tiered cake, dance music, big hall, relatives from out of town sleeping on every available floor. It was great. It was also amazing how many generations know all the words to old Queen songs (in particular that one about Galileo), and can really belt them out after a goodly amount of food, cake and champagne punch.

I found a way for my car to make me healthier

2006-10-15T17:19:00.000-07:00

On a regular basis it breaks down on me and I have to leave it at the shop and walk to work!!!

Group of Seven

2006-08-29T05:59:00.000-07:00

This is a painting by Lawren Harris - one of the group of seven - a group of explorers in the Canadian high arctic in the 1930's. We saw an exhibit of their work - after the corn maze, it was one of my favorite things on our trip.

Happy Birthday Peebody

2006-08-24T06:28:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the quarter century club!!!!

My favorite comic

2006-08-18T07:52:00.000-07:00

Off to Canada

2006-08-05T09:45:00.000-07:00

Leaving this afternoon....very excited

Time for Another Contest!

2006-07-05T13:31:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about how many really good & significant things have happened to people on this blog in the last few months. Since transatlantic celebration is kind of difficult, a congratulatory contest seems in order.

So - nominate your choice for the 2006 winner of the 'It's A Wonderful Life" award. Winner gets to go rent the movie.

Crumpet, you're not old enough yet to vote.

My Little Project

2006-06-25T17:13:00.000-07:00

now consists of 8 short stories, 6 poems, 1 painting and ten writers and two artists hard at work. I'm very excited. We have a publication and distribution goal of the end of September. That sort of explains where I've been lately.

Wondering what I have done

2006-05-09T05:58:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt rotten and done nothing for weeks, and then when you start to feel better, all that pent up stuff makes you go and volunteer for some huge new responsibility, and then you sit staring out into the Atlantic (see photo), wondering what has possessed you?

As promised, Tink

2006-03-06T06:46:00.000-08:00

You'll just have to imagine lots of people singing these words to this great song which was promised to you several months ago:

Hey, wake up!
It's your birthday and there's a truck load of presents for you, Megan.

Not really sure how the tune goes,
but Happy BDay!

Greenpeace for MPB

2006-02-23T07:29:00.000-08:00

MPB, I'm only posting this info for you on the condition you send in a better picture of yourself than this one - one with you in those neat nanook boots, out there on the ice......

Greenpeace
PO Box 7939
Fredericksburg, VA 22404
www.greanpeaceusa.org
800-722-6995

For CH - Gone but not Forgotten?

2006-02-08T05:03:00.000-08:00

CH, the first thing that comes to my mind is that I don't think it's coincidence that I have conversations going on with several other people at the same time about lost or fading friendships. I think the word for it is synchronicity.

Here's a sort of funny story - my sister couldn't make several lunch dates with one of her friends because she kept being asked to babysit friend #2's daughter because friend #2's husband was in the hospital (terminal cancer). Friend #1 (absurdly, in my opinion) got offended and told my sister they weren't friends any more. My sister, who is not an overly needy person, forgot about it, and went on with her busy life...until she saw a scarf that she thought would be just perfect for Friend #1. She got to the counter to pay for it before she remembered they weren't friends any more. We were talking about it, and had a great laugh imagining her going all over the country and mailing perfect scarfs (or other things) anonymously from odd return addresses to Friend #1. (Nyah - if you won't be my friend anymore, take that! and that!.....)

Her story so hit my funny bone because for a while I'd been toying with the idea of marking my calendar to mail a really great CD as a 5oth birthday present to someone who won't talk to me or return my emails any longer. (I'm thinking that by 50, maybe bygones will be bygones?)

For me, the worst thing is having to endure no response. The urge for contact, even less-than-pleasant-contact, is sort of like defying death, I think, or refusing to be obliterated?

Best Verb Contest

2006-01-24T05:30:00.000-08:00

Entry #1, from AP: Dboyafy - to start a blog topic and then disappear.

Enter your very own new verb. Name it after someone on this blog, if you would like. Winner to be selected at some point in the future.

ooh, look, bamboo for Tink

2006-01-10T05:13:00.000-08:00

This is the new bamboo garden in the park near us that has the great barefoot grass, and the free music on Sunday afternoons.

a little demoralizing

2005-12-14T10:07:00.000-08:00

I had my first piano recital last night....and I made at least one mistake in each and every song. At home I have a keyboard and I can turn the volume way down (so the kids can't claim that my practicing is making it hard for them to do homework - believe me, they'd use any excuse). Well, you can't turn down a baby grand, so every mistake resonated loudly across the room!!!!!

Living in the Lap of Luxury

2005-12-09T04:51:00.000-08:00

I am now the proud owner of 2 cars! Wow. Now I can get up in the morning and decide if I should take the one where the heat comes up fast but the 5th gear doesn't always work, or the one with the better windshield wipers, better radio, and the heat comes up by the time I get there (where ever there is. The heat knows, and comes up more or less slowly accordingly). It's perfect for Christmas too - one each red and green 1991 vehicles. I highly recommend this for single parents. I had a flat late the other night, and didn't have to panic about getting it fixed in the wee hours. Just left it in the church parking lot, got a lift home, and drove the kids to school the next morning in THE OTHER car. What a luxury!!!!!!!

We miss Chipster

2005-12-02T05:08:00.000-08:00

Anyone interested in joining a we-miss-Chippie campaign? Write in suggestions for reviving the dormant rodent.

I think the last place he was seen was in France. I hope Lance didn't flatten his tail.

What instrument would you be?

2005-11-21T07:17:00.000-08:00

I went to the symphony this weekend and listened to Faust. Instead of telling the story chronologically, each movement is a portrayal of a different character, and the instruments portray a characteristic.

I think if I was an instrument, I might be an oboe.

I think CapA would be the cymbals.

I also think Dboy might be a good baton.

Blueberries for AP

2005-11-18T06:11:00.000-08:00

all those blueberry references made me think of this - excerpt from story written for a little friend.

And I promise to go look at the 2000 blog.

***************
When we got there, Officer Pendergrast invited us right into his kitchen. There were plates and forks and cups set out, and I could see one of Miss Minnie’s pies on the counter. They were pretty famous in our neighborhood. She always made cutouts of leaves and fruit from extra pie dough, added some food color, and decorated the crust with them. So I knew for sure it wasn’t any old store-bought pie. It was the real thing.
The only other real-thing pie I had ever had was once with my grandpa when I was young. We drove down a narrow dirt road by the side of the lake where he used to go on vacation when my mom was just a kid, and we picked a bucket of raspberries. I started getting silly and eating some, but Grandpa said berry picking for pie was serous business, and had to be done quickly. Then he told me wild bears loved wild fruit and also had a taste for small wild boys, especially when they were flavored by eating raspberries. I ignored him and started sneaking more out of the bucket. After a while, Grandpa went behind a tree to pick from a different bush. I had my hand in the bucket again when I suddenly heard a rustle and a growl. I got scared and jumped. Then I felt a sharp stab over my eye. I thought it was a claw. I started to scream. It was only my Grandpa growling, and somehow a thorn from the berry bush had shot up into my forehead. After that, I picked the berries like serious business: quickly and quietly. And I was glad when we were ready to leave.
We took the bucket to the pie lady and ate lunch in her diner while she baked us a real-thing pie. We took it home, and I could feel its warmth in my lap. Even though it was a hot day, Grandpa rolled up the windows so that the smell filled the car. And every time we took a turn, he pretended he was trying to get the pie to slide over to him so he could sneak a bite. We ate it with my mother and sisters and Grandma when we got home. Every single bite.
Miss Minnie’s pie looked just as good. Officer Pendergrast cut all three of us big slices and put a lot of whipped cream on the top. After we’d all had a bite and tasted how delicious it was, he put his fork down and gave me an official look.
“Well, Herbie, I ran those plates.”
My mother put her fork down too, and sounded concerned. “What plates?”
“STU7765,” I mumbled.
“You’ve got a good head for details,” noted Officer Jim, “but I don’t want you to be involved anymore. I have to admit I thought you were just playing a prank. But when I ran the plates, I found out the van was stolen. These are not nice people, Herbie, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Wow,” I said.
That must have been the wrong answer because both my mother and the officer started talking at once, about danger and stuff. But I wasn’t really listening. I had uncovered a real live crime ring! I couldn’t wait to tell someone. I couldn’t wait to write another article. Wow, I thought again to myself.
“But for your help,” I heard Officer Pendergrast saying, “the sheriff’s department would like to present you with this junior badge. And when you’re in middle school and you have a career day, why don’t you give me a call?”
“Wow,” I said again, fingering the shiny metal star.
“And I’m serious. Don’t play near that yard for a day or two. And keep a good hold on that little dog.”
“What dog?” asked my mother.
I explained how I’d been using Tacobell to get close to their front window. Then I figured I’d better explain about the baby monitor, since I hadn’t confessed that one to Greg’s mom yet.
“The middle of the night, Herbie!” That’s all my mother could say.
“Don’t be too hard on him, ma’am,” Officer Jim spoke up. “I kind of put him up to it. As I said, I thought he was playing a prank with his paper, especially when the vice principal told me there was some ruckus at the school. Mr. Russell and I thought demanding some facts might make Herbie think twice about yellow journalism. Instead, he uncovered a crime. He’s a good kid, ma’am. And like I said, he’s got an eye for detail.”
He looked at me. And then at my empty plate. “And a taste for Miss Minnie’s pie! Would you like another piece, son?”
My eyes lit up. “Just a small one, sir. And a little more milk, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Canon in D

2005-11-07T10:00:00.000-08:00

I've only been taking piano lessons since May, so all I can do is the baby version of anything; but compared to everything else I've learned so far (yes, even "Danny Boy"), to me there's something amazing about Johann Pachelbel's "Canon in D".

It's hard to describe. I don't think it's just the arrangement. Not only do I think the music is beautiful, but I feel like my hands (and so the notes) are doing exactly what the song is about, like my fingers are doing some kind of courtship dance. Maybe it's like the musical version of onomatopoeia?

I sent the sheet music to Ludi. Don't know how else I can share it with people (or who else, for that matter, could read it). I wanted to see if someone else who can read music/play piano agrees with me that this song seems ??? like perfection???

(There, Dboy, is something weird and different about me, and maybe everyone's going to be too nice to say I'm nuts about this?)

Cake for KK

2005-11-01T12:08:00.000-08:00

With reference to blowing on a wall, here's an excerpt from a story:

************
Dale picked up Jake’s plate. It was humming bird cake. Humming bird cake is sort of like carrot cake, with bits of pineapple, and beautiful sugarbirds flying across the coconut frosting. He waved his hand like a magician over the plate, and said, “This is a piece of cake. Everyone will agree it is a piece of cake. But if I take a crumb and pop it in my mouth, is it still a piece of cake? Of course it is, but what about two crumbs? Or three? Still a piece of cake. But at some point or other, after some number of crumbs, it’s not a piece of cake any longer. It’s a bite or a morsel, a bit or a crumb, or maybe it’s gone altogether. "
And then the cake was gone. And he was out the door. Jake was dumbfounded. I thought that was great.
Then Ashley said, “So when is it no longer a piece of cake?”
The waiter came by and handed out the bills. Jake actually growled.

Laputa

2005-10-29T06:30:00.000-07:00

Angkor Wat
Doesn't this place in Cambodia remind you of the tree in the sky?

Another Teaching Philosophy Quote for Dboy

2005-10-28T04:57:00.000-07:00

You can learn only through teaching. By taking on the role of guide, one can find one's own true path.

Nice, huh?

My Sushi Story

2005-10-25T14:21:00.000-07:00

Aimless told me I needed a new post, so since I noticed all the other sushi stories going around, here's mine: The first time I ever had sushi, I went into labor. So, beware, all you sushi lovers!!!

For MPB and CapA

2005-10-17T15:44:00.000-07:00

Don't know what you two are feuding about, but this might be a good way to settle the argument:

http://www.trunkmonkeyad.com/4qt.htm

Car Talk

2005-10-14T16:02:00.000-07:00

I just had the most interesting conversation with the guys at the gas station, after I got the bill for the oil pan gasket and the timing belt. I never thought about there being politics at the auto mechanics, but apparently the hybrid dealerships aren't releasing the info on diagnostics and troubleshooting so that regular car mechanics can work on those cars. Gives the big guys a bit on an unfair advantage when it comes to who you go to for repairs, no? And I don't know about everywhere, but here dealerships are kind of noted for their ratty service. Plus they're inconveniently located. I'd much rather go to my local mechanic. So the whole thing reeks to me of an underhanded plot to keep the do-my-civic-duty-and-consume-less-gas cars off the road. I had no idea there were open standards issues under the hood just like there are in the IT industry where I spend my days. So I found a new thing: now I can talk about cars, and sound half-way intelligent. wow

Totems

2005-10-11T08:56:00.000-07:00

Native American totems in Vancouver, BC

MPB, you wanted to see these. It was very cool to feel quite small beside them.

But I can't imagine playing tennis with them, Ludi and Dboy.

For Aimless Penguin

2005-10-10T05:49:00.000-07:00

Daves

Daves was outside on top of the hill, playing his saxophone, like he did every morning, unless it was raining. Sometimes he did a funny imitation of President Clinton. Pretty funny for a high school student to come dressed in a suit, his hair sprayed white, with a phony accent, and a pretty good talent on the saxophone.
Especially since Daves was Philipino and very dark. But he could make his voice raspy and Southern and if you closed your eyes you could be fooled. He called his mom at work once and he even fooled her. Of course it’s what he said, too, about how helpful her little outpost of the Democratic Party had been for John Edwards. He’s such a great liar. Daves, I mean.
It was usual for me to start my day by walking past and listening a minute, and throwing something in his hat. Not money. A note about what time or what room to meet after school.
Today the note was different. We were all taking the bus to Meghan’s house to watch the funeral of the pope. I felt a little sad, even though I never met him. The last few days, when he couldn’t talk, but still came to his window and waved, it made me think a lot about just being there. Just waving Or just smiling at someone. Maybe that’s why he was a good pope. He never stopped coming to the window. Maybe that was his message. When you’re old, if you can still come to the window, you should. And people should keep waving back. I don’t know. I figured later today I’d ask my friends.

Daves: Once I asked him how he got that name. It was the first day of class and I was sitting next to him as we wrote out our name tags. “Daves,” I said, peering over his shoulder. “Like there are two of you?”
“Well, that’s cool,” he said. “Most people are too weird about asking. And teachers always think there’s a spelling mistake.”
I had a feeling I might like this semester. Sitting next to this guy might make freshman music less likely to kill me. So I said, “Did your parents want twins or something?”
He actually laughed. “It’s pronounced Davis,” he answered. “But you’re right, they wanted twins. And that’s exactly why they spelled it like that. My mother thought it was ‘creative’. Of course, now we’re stuck with it. On every form she fills out, someone corrects it for her. Davis. David. Dave. Or spell check sometimes picks Doves.”
We were starting to snicker loudly in the back row. “Parents shouldn’t be allowed to be creative,” I agreed. Who do they think they are anyway? Kids?”
Daves smiled at me a minute. “Mine were. Me mum was just fourteen.”
My eyes got wide. “Shoot. Like me last year!”
“And my dad was seventeen.”
“Like the Virgin Mary.”
Daves looked at me a minute. Then nodded. “Remarkable,” he said.
I wondered what he meant.
And that’s how we became friends.

Pointless Palmtree Contest

2005-10-07T04:53:00.000-07:00

Guess who?

Try Again

2005-10-04T05:31:00.000-07:00

I don't know what I did with my other picture from Kew for Dboy. I seem to have whacked the whole post. So I forget what was on it, except that someone asked where it was. It's in Surrey, England, but Dboy said there's a Kew botanical garden in Australia somewhere as well. Oh, the other sad thing from the lost post is that I've never been here - I just want to go. Maybe someday. It's a long way. Dboy, are there nice things in the one by you?

Nice place I went to with Chippy

2005-09-02T19:04:00.000-07:00

I decided I wanted to meet Chippy face to face, and so we had a little tete a tete. Here's a pic.

at last, a shot without red eye

2005-08-22T09:14:00.000-07:00

Here I am on summer vacation, enjoying peace & quiet & the scenery on the shore of a small island in the North Atlantic. I left my kids at the rookery. My son's excuse for not going: "I've been busy all day." "Doing what?" "Sleeping late." Hmmmm.

this is a place where I'd like to go

2005-08-06T18:51:00.000-07:00

legendarypuffin

2005-07-24T09:11:00.000-07:00