Common Women

I've learned to appreciate the women – family, friends, neighbors – that surrounded me when I grew up. There was a time when I confused these women’s values with what they did and how they lived their lives, which was quite different from how I saw myself living my life. I thought they were trapped in their lives and it took me awhile to learn how wrong I was.

Most of these women were farm wives or former farm wives. They worked hard, on the farm or at other jobs while doing all the never ending work of housekeeping and raising and feeding their families. They were honest, friendly, church going and always ready to help out a neighbor. They were what my Grandma Krezek called “common”. She meant it as a compliment. Common folk were those who were genuine, they did not put on airs, you could talk to them on the street, they did their work without complaint -- they were just regular folks.

As I began to discover feminist values and to realize all the ways that women were marginalized in our society and being steered towards certain behaviors and roles, I saw those common women surrounding me as living their lives trapped in society defined “women’s” roles. Nothing screamed that louder to me than big family dinners – Christmas or Thanksgiving – at my Grandma Harvan’s where the women prepared the food, served the food, cleaned up the food, the dishes and the kitchen – before finally being able to join the men in the living room where they were gossiping and playing cards.

I hung around the kitchen where my Mom and Aunts were busy with the final preparations, waiting for them to get to the potato mashing. There was a lot of bustling and chatter-- where is the large platter?, could someone whip cream now?, are there any more pickles to put out? -- but they all worked as a team and they seemed satisfied with what they were doing. My Grandma H’s mashed potatoes were the best, and I tried not to stray from the big aluminum kettle when it came off the stove. I was waiting for the beaters – I loved to lick the freshly mashed potatoes off the beaters. Those potatoes were seasoned with nothing more than salt, pepper, milk and butter – but the milk was whole milk and there was no skimping on the butter – and they were and still are the best mashed potatoes ever. While my cousins might beg to scrape out the frosting bowl, or lick the whipped cream beaters, I as the eldest had dibs on the mashed potatoes.

Everyone always ate too much, which didn’t stop my Aunts, Uncles and cousins from eating plenty of “goodies”. Goodies, in Grandma’s house, were desserts – and they were the crowning glory for the meal. The Aunt’s brought their best holiday desserts to share along with whatever Grandma had made – all homemade from scratch – pies, cookies, cakes and bars. I generally saved room for a second helping of mashed potatoes and skipped the desserts – I was definitely an outlier in my extended family.
I resented being expected to join the women in cleaning up in the kitchen while my boy cousins played in the other room. I also felt bad for Grandma H. who made this huge country styles meal and never sat down to enjoy her own plate of food until everyone else was served and she has asked everyone at least twice if they needed something more. Then, she was always the first up to start clearing and cleaning.

My view has changed. I no longer feel outraged at the apparent sexism in those family meals. I think Grandma, like generations of women before her, took pride in her ability to take whatever was available and turn out fabulously appealing special dinners for her children and grandchildren. As the matriarch for the family, it was not only her responsibility to insure that everyone was well fed, it was an honor to do so. From primitive times forward, being well fed was a sign of success and prosperity. By embracing that responsibility and fulfilling it, without the help of the men, my Grandma and the generations of women before her were proclaiming their role in the successful prosperity of the family. Probably Grandma didn’t think about it a lot, she just did it well and felt pride in the accomplishment. Grandma was a very “common” woman and I honor her for what she did and by doing, for what she taught me.

Shooting Gallery

My dear husband came into the house last night stomping mad. Two teen-age girls were hunting squirrels on our neighbor's property. The girls got bored looking for squirrels and decided to target practice by setting targets on the property line fence and shooting directly onto our property. Dave had bullets whizzing over his head and by the time he managed to find the girls and stop them, he was not only scared but damned mad. He cussed them out with such neighborly phrases as "You f---ing need to know where you are shooting" and "You don't shoot a f--ing gun towards someone else's property, you could f ---ing kill someone." When I heard the story from him after he came back to the house, he was still cussing mad. The girls really had no excuse except that they thought our house was south of where they were shooting. They were shooting over a hill so they couldn't really hit the house but they were lined up right with it. The greenhouse is further up the hill, so the bullets went whizzing over Dave's head when he approached it - what sounded like just barely over his head was probably a good ten feet, but still ... bullets are bullets and when they are being fired anywhere near or at you, it ain't good.

I know I should have stayed out of it but 10 minutes later I walked down towards the drive to see if there was a vehicle parked there. I wanted to find out who the girls were and where they were from. Perhaps a parental call was in order. Things quickly got out of hand because one of girls goes all belligerent - yelling that they were not shooting at our house or at our property and their bullets were not going over Dave's head. About then Dave came up to the gate with me and I told him they were saying he was wrong about the bullets. Now we both were mad and not sure where things would have gone next but all came out well when the girl who hadn't been shouting, came over to the gate and admitted they had been shooting at our line fence and she was sorry. Her Dad was out bow hunting and they were putting away their guns and just waiting for him to come back. We thanked her for speaking up and explained that she should never shoot on our property (or anyone else's without permission) even if she didn't think there was anything there to be concerned about.

A scary situation for us but also probably for both girls. It was impressive that one of them was able to handle herself while the other lashed out and lied. We felt bad for yelling at them in one way, but on the other hand, Dave or one of our animals could have been killed and they really needed to understand how irresponsible they had been. So if we put a scare into them - it may turn out to be a cheap lesson.

I am not a fan of hunting - not a popular position here in the Midwest. I've always felt hunting for sport was demeaning to the people who did it and the animals that were hunted. Hunting for food is fine as long as one is respectful of the animals and the surroundings. But hunters who are irresponsible, do not respect property rights, who drink while hunting or who threaten others through their actions and horseplay have no business hunting for any reason, ever! Of course the stories about bad hunters get repeated but we have had plenty of our own stories, surrounded as we are by good hunting grounds - deer, turkey, squirrels and mushrooms - all of which have been poached from our property. The worse was when Dave was threatened some years ago by a drunken bunch of hunters. We were in the woods and heard shots close by. Dave caught the hunters crossing back over the fence with a poached deer from our property. When he tried to talk to them about it, they threatened to beat him up if he did not back away from our fence. When drunks with guns threaten you, you tend to listen. So now when hunting season comes, we avoid walking on our own property except when we are sure there is no one hunting at any of the neighbors. We love where we live, we love to take the dogs for walks in the woods, we want to enjoy our property. No matter how many good hunters there are, I could never be a fan of hunting!

10 Spices I Love to Love

If you spend a lot of time with pungent spices, savory herbs and aromatic plants, you start to see a kind of personality develop with each one. Here is my take on the personalities of 10 of my favorite spices.


Cinnamon is a warm, cozy campfire. He gives comfort and helps you stay warm and safe, but just like fire, too much can burn.

Pepper is an in your face kind of guy. He’s a biter and a fighter and is happy to be the whole show or the General if he has to share the spotlight.

Cayenne is a hot, passionate lover with a wild temper that flares when you get to close.

Allspice has an all-around personality that likes to stay in the background as a supporting character.

Cumin is a sultry lover that can nestle right into everyday life, at the same time providing warmth and passion to foods from foreign lands.

Rosemary is a nature nymph who loves to be outdoors, roaming the woods and meadows, and playing with the sunlight. She brings the freshness of nature to any foods she chances to favor.

Oregano, my dark, Italian beauty loves to be in control, lining up other spices behind her so her savory warmth can be the star of the show.

Chipotle is a smoky beauty and seductress, without a strong ego, but she loves being a mistress to others.

Thyme is a creative fellow who joins in here and there when he is least expected but as a surprisingly satisfying member of the team.

Garlic is a yeller – he hates to sit quietly in the background. He is always looking for attention and if he doesn’t get it, he makes a big stink.

Honest What Award?

My blogging mentor, Miss Kitty (ks) laid a weight upon me as it was laid upon her by The Townhouse Lady, a blog she really enjoys. The "honest scrap award" (really, I typed this 3 times before I got crap to be scrap) involves three things: linking to the website of the person giving you the award (follow honestscrap link) while muttering over and over "thanks a lot pal", share 10 honest things about yourself, and finally lay the charge on 7 others with cool blogs. (Sorry I can't do this one as I haven't done this enough to find seven - but if you read this and think I should read your blog, give me a comment and I will check you out).





She's a great mentor and is the reason I started writing a blog, but coming up with 10 truths and deciding just how honest dare I be, was a challenge. But I will not let you down Miss Kitty so here is my best shot.

1. I don't like to be wrong. I try to make myself feel better about this fault by blaming it on my authoritarian parents who always found fault. I was "always wrong" growing up, even though my passionate teenage heart said I was right.

2. I like to be alone doing meditative like tasks such as gardening or walking or even cleaning and just letting my mind wander and fantasize.

3. I am shy. Don't want to say anymore about that.

4. I am nervous around heights - ladders and cliffs make my stomach head for my throat.

5. I have spent two thirds of my life with the same man, my husband Dave. That really blows me away.

6. I love kids but love them best when they are someone else's and potty trained. So no, we never had kids, but I believe we all, whether they are ours or not, have responsibility for all of our children and right now, we are letting them down, a lot!

7. I can't watch a sad animal movie (aka Old Yellar) or read a sad animal story without crying. There is a short story I read some years ago about testing of the atom bomb and a dog who is on the testing range - and that's as much as I can say about that, I still can't think about it. We domesticate animals, made them rely on us and love us and when we are cruel or let them down, it breaks my heart. There was a dog story on the news last night about a starved, beaten dog thrown out of a moving car. The dog is rescued by a passerby and taken to a shelter and is now recovering. How can people be so cruel is the first question that comes to mind but the fact that the dog still demonstrates trust of the humans caring for him - how can that be? We humans would go to war! So who is the more evolved? Why can't we all just get along?




8. I believe I have something important (maybe only important to me, I don't know) to do and that I need to embark on that journey very soon. I am nearly ready. It will mean big changes in my life.

9. I own too much stuff. We all do, but I know better and still I have it.

10. I absolutely, positively can not Sing - dam it.

Niagara Totems

One of the things we didn't expect to see at Niagara Falls was totem poles, lots and lots of them. The Niagara totem pole and carving park was off the tourist path and was a true this was a hidden treasure. No one else was there the whole time we were there, and master carver Frank Kim was raking the fall leaves off the path when we showed up at the gate. All kinds of poles - squat, tall, leaning on the fence or the ground - here are pics of some of our faves. A recommended stop!

Vacationing in Cleveland and Niagara

I thought to write about the fantastic time we had at Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and what a passionate, professional and amazing performance we enjoyed of Frontier's Aeroroot Band at the Battle of the Corporate Bands.


Then about the second half of our trip at Niagara Falls which blew us away with its undescribable power and majesty. But instead I will tell you about the fight that led to the car incident (defined by the insurance company as an accident) and how it all came down, once again, to food.

For most, but especially for someone like me used to creating naturally tasty concoctions from the garden and the pantry, eating on the road is yuk! So when we arrive at a destination, choice of eating places often takes on more importance than it should. I don't want to eat lower quality food than I have at home and I expect to eat better than at home. Vacation is about trying new --yummy, rich and sinful foods and simple, naturally prepared but elegant dishes and even exotic creations. That's what I dream of anyway, but reality is usually a lot different and disappointing. Sometimes we do get lucky and then this happens, these events are always memorable (see my friend Kitty's blog who is better at sniffing out fine dining experiences complete fantastic pictures and commentary). There were three such dishes for me on this trip. The first was in Cleveland at our hotel where our expectations were low and food was what you would expect except, I had the Lake Perch - even though it was breaded and fried - it just seemed like the thing to try since we were only a few blocks from Lake Erie. And oh - such a lovely, light and crunchy coating with sweetly delicate tender fish inside. Probably the best breaded fish I have ever had.

So about that little car-thing which happened out second day at Niagara - wait, first I have to explain about arriving at our hotel. After two nights of too little sleep in Cleveland and being woken up in the wee hours by tailgaters (Cleveland Browns were playing at home that afternoon) when we intended to sleep in before out drive to Niagara, we feeling pretty tired and by the time we hit the Canadian border we were starting to pick at each other, just a little bit. When we finally got across the Rainbow bridge (from which we had expected to see some Falls but could only see mist off in the distance), we had some disagreement on the route to take to the hotel (code for he didn't listen to me even though I was the navigator and was giving him the correct directions). When we were almost there, he (meaning husband Dave) tried to pull in at the wrong hotel and generating another round of a snittiness on both are parts. So finally we get to the right hotel. It was one of the first built in the area, just a tall tower with a round knob on top with only six floors of rooms. We were on the top floor, which meant operating an elevator using a special key we'd gotten, to get to the top floor after going up the regular elevator (what they call the "penthouse" elevator). Of course, we couldn't figure out the trick of opening the door to it -- not being your typical penthouse types --and we got a little more frustrated and so when we finally crammed ourselves into a very small box that barely held us and our luggage, we were starting to get unreasonably upset when yet again we couldn't figure out how to get it to move. By the time we got to the door of our room (hopefully you are picturing all of this because here comes the really exceptional moment for us), Dave opens it and walks into the room and stops as I am coming through the door muttering, this had better be worth it - and then Oh, Oh my, Oh wow, this is f----g awesome. It was our first view of the falls - and we realized if we did nothing else all day but stand in our room and watch the falls, it would be worth it. The rooms are OK, but its all about the view and that makes the room absolutely fabulous.

These are the first views that we saw from our hotel window.






























So back to the car and the food. After a day of doing the touristy stuff of riding the Maid of the Mist, going in the tunnel behind the falls and seeing the movie (all three of which require rain gear) and having one of one of those too filling not so good lunches, I wanted something light but nice for supper - like thick veggie beany soup and crusty bread. So we went in search of, as Dave kept calling it, crusty soup and thick bread. The more we walked looking for something decent (lots of chains like Chile's and IHOP or hotel restaurants featuring great views and big meat), the grumpier I got till finally, we were sniping back and forth. I was near tears when we arrived at the last restaurant in the area- an Outback Steakhouse. I have never eaten at one, but I agreed to at least look at the menu and I tried, I swear I tried to be open-minded, but hell, I just couldn't stomach it. So then Dave says, our car is just over there, maybe we should drive somewhere. (Did I mention our hotel doesn't have any parking, space so their lot was 3 blocks away from the hotel?) So I almost brightened up at the idea and said yes cuz anything had to be better than walking around looking for something that wasn't there. So we went to the car and after maybe half an hour of driving around, we gave up and decided to go to a Boston's (we like Boston's but it is after all a chain and we have nearby). Must interject again that actually I gave up when we were in the 7 Eleven looking for cheese and crackers and said lets just grab something here and go back to our room - I had sunk pretty low as you can see. But trying to be a good sport and save the night, I said unless you really want to still go out to eat dear, even though I can't eat a meal this late at night (subtle hint). After a thoughtful moment, Dave says sure, lets go to Boston's so we drive back through town looking for the road that had the Boston's. We finally find it, turn, but we can't find a way to get into the Boston's (bad sign I think, we should have just grabbed something from the 7 Eleven). So Dave drives on down the road until it T's into the main road (which runs along the Niagara river and the falls), frustrated but determined to find his way back to the Boston's (it is like 9:30 pm by now). He suddenly pulls out quickly, taking a sharp left, which shocked as this is a one way road and I yell wait. Dave has just time to yell back at me, "what - I have plenty of ti... ", when he hits the curb on the center divide which is wide - maybe 5 feet- and with a scraping, crunchy, rattley kind of sound, over we go into the lane, now going the right way on the road but with the car making funny sounds somewhere in the front. I thought he had been turning the wrong way on the a one-way street, it never occurred to me that he was totally missing this great big center divide and going to be driving right over it. He assumed I was yelling at him to wait because there was a car coming, which is why he pulled out so quickly, and in a cocky, so sure of himself scornful --"I know what I am doing voice" had been trying to tell me just that. Disaster. We have no idea if the car is safe to drive and the front and the fender are all cracked and broken as is more plastic stuff underneath and then there is that sound. We limp back to the hotel, subdued - first stopping at another 7 Eleven where I get Dave a burrito even though he no longer wants anything and I listen to him muttering things like "dumb shit" under his breath. The end of this part of the story is that Dave spends the next morning working on the car and gets the rattling noise, which has to do with the radiator knocked out of position, stopped and uses up a whole roll of duct tape trying to tape the car together so that it doesn't fall apart on the way home

That night we ate at a seafood restaurant where I had a fish soup with a tomato base and shrimp, calamari and fish and pasta and it was so very, very good. The final memorable dish on the trip was a wild mushroom risotto at a hotel off Lake Michigan.



The result though is that we both came together - no blaming or whining - lets just do the best we can. Neither one of us wanted to ruin what was one of the top 3 vacations ever. We stayed an extra day at Niagara (and still didn't get to everything we wanted to see) and made it home just fine.

Lake Erie Vacation

This week I am a seeker of fun. We just arrived in Cleveland where we will attend the Battle of the Corporate bands at the Rock N Roll Hall of fame tomorrow (10/3). Frontier Natural Products Co-op (where I work) has an entry - Aeroroot - that made it to the finals. We were lucky enough to be able to come and be here for the fun and then take the rest of the week traveling the area and vacationing. We are off to tour and I will post here about the contest, including some picts.