Blog-azic

Every year around this time, the students and residents of Athens, OH celebrate Halloween. In this respect, I am no different than my peers. My difference begins with a traditional staple of Halloween: the costume. Generally, I cobble together a costume on the Saturday of Halloween weekend - the day when party intensity is at its peak. Three years ago I was Santa on vacation. Two years ago I wore the uppers of a tuxedo with a bottom of boxers. One year ago, I draped my self in a vampire's cape and inserted plastic teeth into my mouth. But, this year, I had no costume. I intended to be an old-west sheriff, but I can not find my sheriff’s badge. Slightly disappointed but still determined to enjoy the night, I decided to venture out in normal clothes. However, no sooner had I left my front porch than a passer-by questioned me: "Are you Saddam Hussein?" The irony of the situation is wonderful. My "normal" clothes consisted of green canvas pants, a green military sw

I woke up late today. I dreamt of a squirrel who showed me how to open a walnut with my bare hands. It was very similar to opening a jelly jar. This squirrel had a stash of nuts - walnuts, acorns, and chestnuts - most of which were ruined with rot. Despite this, I was jealous. I identified two chestnut trees this season. One lives along my bike path to work. It has been many weeks since I took that path; I was not able to harvest these nuts. The other tree lives on the grounds of the old mental institution called 'the Ridges.' This tree yielded to me only 5 edible chestnuts. (I found many nuts that were not fully developed. An informed party told to me a reason why this is: the flowers were not pollinated. Pollination is mainly the job of bees. Why have the bees neglected this chestnut? ) I brought my chestnuts to my home. I ate one immediately. It was sweet and delicious. The remaining nuts I intended to save for many months. Alas! All are lost to me! Every chestnut was eaten

I have been craving fat lately. I believe this to be the fault of the changing seasons. As summer melts into winter, as the days become short and cold, my body wants a blubbery buffer from the stiff breezes. My cravings are acute, especially at night. I suppose about a time-tested formula to convert calories into fat: food followed by sleep. A favorite snack of mine: toast with butter, topped with cinnamon and spread with honey. ... ... ... In other food news, I have made crabapple spread. I spent a few hours of my Sunday afternoon hanging in crabapple trees, picking the delightfully tart, yellow-green fruits. [I did feel slightly uneasy doing this, only because the crabapple trees are part of the Ohio University campus (imagine the OUPD recieves a phone call from a concerned parent about a bearded man dangling in trees, terrifying children). ] I washed the crabapples and boiled them in cinnamon-sugury water. The crabapples soften as boiling progresses, making it easy work to mas

I received today an email. The email requested that I donate money to a certain organization. You will find an excerpt below. It's day 5 of our 2006 StrawBale.com fund raiser to raise money for an organization called "Save The Rain", who are traveling this November to a remote village called Namballa in Tanzania to build rain catchment systems to bring clean water to hundreds of needy children, who have to walk 3 hours every day just to drink from a disease-ridden muddy stream. As I read the email, I am taken back to fourth grade. At that age, my classmates and I had not yet learned the art of ending a sentence. Mrs. Valadez would tongue-lash us (it was a Catholic school) because, in our zeal for the written word, we would cram all posible information between every capital letter and period. I remember one fine morning. Mrs. Valadez sat on a stool at the head of class and reviewed with us an essay assignment that we had completed the day before. Poor Beth Foble. She had b

When last I wrote about walnuts, I did not tell you much about how my harvests have gone. I will now "set the record straight" in regards to personal walnut experiences: Many weeks ago, I harvested a large set of nuts. I removed the husks, dried them in the garage, and hung them in a mesh sack in my closet to cure. This past weekend I opened the sack to discover a mold growing on the nuts. In the moist dark of my closet, walnuts (that likely were not completely dry) were ruined. I threw all the nuts under a walnut tree in my backyard. In the meantime, I've been keeping nuts on the porch. These have dried rather well. I plan to leave these nuts outside until it becomes much colder. I think: Surely these nuts will dry and cure better in a more natural environment (such as the open air of my porch). The loss of a sack of walnuts is certainly a sorrowful (and humbling) event. But, it is sung: "Fate is kind." While harvesting crabapples yesterday, I discovered a waln

My body has been much on my mind lately. It was nearly one week ago that I cut open my thumb. Chopping potatoes I was - I had already had a few beers. Alas, I did overlook basic saftey procedures. In reality, the cut IS NOT THAT BAD [I am slightly disturbed by that grammar]. It is one half of a centimeter deep. On my left hand. Bleed, bleed, bleed it did. To whom shall I cry out? I wrapped a bloody thumb in an old sock. I recieved no stiches. Today I am pleased that the thumb heals. Also, my body has caught a cold. I told it not to do so; it did not listen. I have felt the virus inside of me for some time. However, I have been getting plenty of rest and liquids - until this past weekend. I stayed up late and drank alcohol (see above paragraph) two nights in a row. I rowed the nights by doing THE SAME THING ON BOTH. To remedy the "problem" I have slept very much at night. It is wonderful. To dream so much is pleasing. Such wonderful dreams. Many liquids as well (including whit

My house is an interesting place. It is called the ACME Co-op - yes, it is a cooperative. A cooperative is a union of independent people who jointly opperate some enterprise. (At ACME, that enterprise is a house.) My seven housemates and I get along meltily. It's swell, really. We cook meals for each other, do our part keeping the house clean, and often think about living a more-than-average sustainable life. I have no bed in my room. Instead, I sleep on the floor. Each night I unroll a foam camping pad onto the floor. Over that, I spread about 7 blankets. I cover my body with clothes (in order to keep my blankets clean), then I lay down and cover myself with blankets. Most people wonder at that. "Isn't it uncomfortable?" they say. No, it is not - at least not anymore. I've gotten quite used to it. In fact, I think the floor is comfortable. The real problem I encounter when sleeping on the floor deals with warmth. Most of a person's heat is lost to the surface