Am I the only person who thinks the Giving Tree should be banned?

Why J had to pick that bag at the book swap (see previous post), I'm not sure. But he did. He picked the bag with another copy of the Giving Tree in it.
My first thought was: we'll just give that away. Right away. We already have a copy of the damn book anyway.
But no. Jonas wanted to read it that night.
"Why don't we read Batman again?" I suggested.
But he pushed.
"Mommy cries when she reads this book," I warned him.
"Read mama," he said.
So I began reading.
And there was the little boy who loved his tree. He would swing on the tree's branches, eat her apples, and sleep in her shade.
(so far so good).
But then the little boy grows up and he needs money and he comes back to the tree who says takes my apples (the little boy is about 30 years old now) and the little boy takes his apples. And the tree's happy.
Then the boy comes back and he's middle aged.
"That's not a little boy," J points out.
"You're right," I say.
And the little boy who's a full grown man with a beer belly and less hair needs a house and so he takes up the tree's offer to take all her branches as wood for his house. And after the little-boy-turned-pearshaped-and-balding takes the branches the tree, again, is happy.
(still, no tears...I'm gonna make it!)
Then the little boy who is very old now comes back and wants a boat and the tree offers his trunk, which the elderly little boy takes and the tree (to this reader's horror) is left nothing more than a stump but still happy (although not really.)
Then the little-boy-near-death-old returns again and the tree apologizes saying, "I have nothing left to give you, My apples are gone..."
"Where'd his apples go mommy?" J asks, and the next thing you know I'm bawling like a baby, snot running out my nose and J says, "Can I go see daddy?"
"Of course," I say, half crying, half laughing.
I can't help but wonder: Is it just me? Does anyone else cry when reading this book to their children? Does anyone else wonder why Shel Silverstein had to go and write such a damn depressing children's book?? I know it's supposed to be a lovely tale for the ages but I would much prefer a revised version where the tree says to the boy-man, "Stop being such a selfish brat and go out and make some money to build your house and your friggin boat!"
That would make me very happy.
Now does anyone want a copy (or two) of The Giving Tree?

Book Swappers BEWARE!

It seemed like a good idea at the time. A book swap instead of presents for J's third birthday party. Although I had never attended a party with a book swap, I knew they were pretty popular around here. In case you are not familiar with book swaps, here's how it works. Each child who attends the party brings a wrapped book, At some point, all the kids sit in a circle and each kid gets to pick a book to take home.
A nice concept, right? One that screams: "We are not a shallow family! We are deep! We value literature, not meaningless toys!
OK.
Here's where this line of thinking backfired. WE equals parents. As far the kid whose birthday it is well, that's a different story.
Perhaps if E had a book swap first, things would have been different. But at E's birthday in January, it was all about the presents. It was all about transformers, Spiderman, hotwheels, you name it. I remember J watching in awe and envy as his older brother opened all those presesnts.
I suppose as his birthday approached he thought in what is now becoming the usual, ongoing sibling rivalry (are children just born knowing how to say "Na na na na na"?), now it's my turn.
Then came the party. As the guests arrived and the wrapped books piled up, Jonas got excited. "Look at all these presents for me mama!" He said.
"Well no, sweetie," I explained. "These are for all the kids."
He stared at me blankly.
"Where are my presents?" he asked.
"Well you already got lots of presents, you know, from me and daddy. And Nana."
Again, the blank stare.
Later, after the party, J was still searching for his missing gifts. He'd see an empty bag. "Is that my present in there, mommy?" Even a simple scrap piece of gift wrap induced longing. "Is this mine mommy?"
"Well no honey, but look at the great new books you got from the book swap!"
"Yes, mommy - a batman book!"
"Yes!" I said relieved, thinking his sadness, his feeling of being ripped off had passed.
Then, the next morning on our way to school, he asked what his friend Kyle gave him.
"He brought a book," I said.
Then E had to chime in and say, "Justin got me a spiderman for my birthday" and I snapped in typical mommy dearest fashion: "No more talking about birthdays! What does it matter what Justin got you anyway?" In the rear view mirror Ethan looked stunned.
But the worst was yesterday...now four days post-party. We're driving in the car when out of nowhere J says, "I didn't want all my friends to take my books at my party."
I wanted to cry. I'm still not sure which one of us is more scarred from this whole swapping experience: him or me.

Lawn of the Dead

“A lawn is nature under totalitarian rule.” -
Michael Pollan

Now keep in mind, I grew up in the inner city where we had zero lawn, trees, flowers, wildlife - on and on, etc, etc.. and the only green I did get to see was my brother’s face after a long night out with his friends, almost looked like the graffiti here:



So lawn care is very new to me, my one acre lawn and surrounding property sometimes has an African rain forest feel - very tropical.

We live down south in Crawfordville, Florida right in the heart of a federally owned wildlife refuge.

Lawns - not just for mowing

I thought mowing the lawn was the only maintenance needed in order to keep a neat and tidy lawn .........um, no! When we first bought the house we had a golf course, green lawn, beautiful – I pledged that I would always keep it in this shape and will cut it every other week, thats all I need to do to keep it in tip top shape, right? – How wrong was I in my city thinking.

I find out, the hard way there are many creatures about who also enjoy my lawn, creatures you can see and creatures you will never see. First sign of my problems were these little dirt mounds popping up.



At a closer glance and pushing the mound with my foot (sandals on) I realize that this was an ant mound, and not just any ant, fire ants



and these little buggers bite on contact, they waste no time in finding your skin and biting. It's never a single ant bite, my big toe had a family of 23 gnawing on it – I ran around the yard cursing the little devils while dragging my toes on the grass to remove them. My foot looked a little like this:



In the process, I finally find out the reason for this foot fashion:



Yea baby, never a naked foot on the lawn again!

So lesson one - Stay away from these hostile creatures and find a way to remove them. Hot water? I tried that and I think I may have embolden them as the very next day the little dirt piles multiplied. Through many trials and tribulations I finally found the right fire ant remover and have been fire ant free for a few months now.

I was again king of my lawn until one day during my daily inspection......



.......I see larger mounds on my lawn, this time just piles of dirt with no creatures inside, my lawn was looking like someone was digging for buried treasure and would dig a hole and another and another, just three feet from each other. It looked like my lawn was ground zero during a mortar attack.




What was it now!?



Yup, lawn moles, these little cute creatures were now snacking on bugs that were living beneath the soil. Not just your run of the mill bugs…but these….



So I spring into action again and think about ways to keep these moles off the property. Electric fence?..naw,…sit on my porch with a shot gun?..naw, I probably would hit the neighbor. So what did I do? - I Google it! And bingo, a remedy. I don’t go after the mole, I go after his food source - the bugs. So I read more and then with a swagger go to the local hardware store and buy this.



I played it smart (Yankees learn good) and waited for it to rain so the ground would be damp and then applied it to every inch of the lawn. The next day I look out and my lawn was a field of death, bugs of all shapes and sizes all came to the surface (I guess for their last breath) and then died. I felt bad, I then got to thinking, what have I done?! I have just upset the cycle of nature and what is in store for me, my lawn and the world?





Well over time the mound disappeared and the moles were gone. Soon to be replaced by another creature.

The battles go on. During one of my routine inspections, I now notice holes in the shape of triangles and they are all over the place. “What the heck is this now?” (I think I used stronger words) These holes were really precise, almost looked like a tool was used to make them and some were VERY deep. As with the mole, I never did see this creature but local pest control people told me it was the ever popular………



….looking for food

Armadillos are slow creatures and blind as a bat! Well, come to think of it I do see armadillos plenty down here, but only like this:



Well, I had to retreat my lawn again with the bug remover and over time these holes too disappeared.

The learning never ends......

One day my work mate asked me what kind of fertilizer I use on my lawn. “ do you use a 5-10-5 or a 8-0-24?” he said, So I am thinking, oh great, a math question.




Not to look like a complete idiot, I think I mumbled “the second one” and then ran home to do the research:

You can also get fertilizers that contain only one of each of the primary nutrients. Nitrogen sources include ammonium nitrate (33.5-0-0), urea nitrogen (46-0-0), sodium nitrate (16-0-0) and liquid nitrogen (30-0-0). Phosphorus is provided as 0-46-0 and potash as 0-0-60 or 0-0-50.

To calculate the pounds of nitrogen in a 50-lb bag of 10-10-10 fertilizer, multiply 50 by 0.10. Do the same for calculating the amounts of phosphate and potash. A 50-lb bag of 10-10-10 contains a total of 15 lbs of nutrients: 5 lbs nitrogen, 5 lbs phosphate and 5 lbs potash. The remaining weight is filler, usually sand or granular limestone.
Another example:
50-lb. bag of 8-0-24 fertilizer

1. To calculate the pounds of nitrogen: Multiply 50 by .08, which equals 4.
2. To calculate the pounds of phosphate: There is no phosphate in this bag of fertilizer.
3. To calculate the pounds of potash: Multiply 50 by .24, which equals 12.
A 50 pound bag of 8-0-24 fertilizer contains a total of 16 lbs of nutrients: 4 lbs nitrogen, 0 lbs phosphate, and 12 lbs potash. This would leave us with 34 lbs of filler.




So needless to say my head is now spinning and a new fear has just come over me. I don’t have any clue what I just read but I know I must fertilize my lawn or it will die. So I did fertilize and........ it did die!!

My lawn was brown within weeds, queue the tumbleweed song.

Yup, too much fertilizer is not good. Over time I did get the right mixture, I went to the local hardware store and talked with the owner. He said, always get the blue bag. Now these are instructions I can follow!

It took the lawn some time to recuperate from this overdose, but I nursed it back into shape over time.


Don't ever let your guard down.........



....just when you think you are safe and feeling king of the lawn again…..”weed seeds” blow in from all sorts of surrounding trees and plants and will infest your lawn.



This is a true battle of plant and mind. There are many ways to fight weeds, I prefer the pump spray versus the weed wacker as the wacker only prolongs the inevitable, total weed domination of your lawn.

I am exausted after writing this as I played through my head all the memories of my adventures above. My lawn has never been back to that golf course look, but I do have ambitious hopes and have this vision in my head for my lawn.



I have still much to learn about lawns and such, and more tales to tell my Yankee friends and family.

Till next time..........




~Gordon

Paul and the Boiled Peanut

Following is a great Blog post from guest writer - Paul Gude of Seattle, Washington.

I want to thank Paul very much for agreeing to experience a little bit of the South by trying our boiled peanuts. So I mailed him some. I know it's not from one of our road side vendors with all the pots, boilers and such, but I think Paul got the idea. He's a great guy and funny too! If you are not following him on twitter, you should here:

@sgnp

Here is Paul's take on a Southern tradition-all the way from Seattle!

The Boiled Peanuts Arrive



Gordon McCleary (@ASouthernYankee on Twitter) sent me the boiled peanuts by mail. I won't show you the package, as it has both of our addresses on it, but rest assured they come from quite far away from my current home of Seattle, Washington. I am sad to admit that I had anticipated them coming in a rusted tin can rather than a new-fangled plastic bag.

Preparation



Following the instructions, I vented the bag for microwave cooking. I was a bit surprised by the crossover between this packaged Southern favorite and, say, a bag of edamame I might pick up at Uwajimaya. My prejudices melted away, as I realized my vision of the South was pretty much stuck in the 80s, when I visited there on a trip to the Epcot Center. I'm originally from the Midwest, which some of the folks I've met seem to equate with the South. This is inaccurate. Having visited the South, I'd suggest that the Midwest is what the South would be like if you remove everything interesting.

Anticipating the Salty Aroma



As I put the bag in the microwave, I could already anticipate the smell. I love the smell of saltwater, but the boiled peanuts also had a slightly bean and/or pea smell to them that I tend to avoid. One good thing is that the cook time is only around 60 seconds, which didn't allow it to permeate the kitchen too badly. Still, when my wife came in later she said, "Ugh, I can smell the pea-ness." We both had a good laugh.

Ready to Eat



In my experience with foods from the South, the visual of the food presented is inversely proportional to how tasty it may be. Luckily for me, the boiled peanuts looked God-awful. The smell hit me with full-force when I opened the bag, and I instantly formed the opinion that perhaps boiling peanuts originated as a punishment invented by old people who could no longer chew them. "Now no one will enjoy them," they'd bark. "Shut up and eat." Still, I soldiered on.

"Oddly" Purple



This photograph doesn't do the hue of the boiled peanut justice. The red seed coat (mesocarp) had turned to a watery purple. It struck me as weird until I realized this obviously happens as part of the boiling process and I was being an idiot. The seed coat couldn't really be removed because it had slightly adhered to the "meat" of the seed, which in turn had become soft and almost mushy. The resulting edible portion is hard to describe, sort of a salty undercooked kidney bean, or a peanut that had been injected with sadness

A Second Look at the Larger Shells



I ate a LOT of boiled peanuts in my first sitting. After I became familiar with them, my initial recoil of horror subsided and then I couldn't stop consuming them. I started looking at the shells more closely and realized that there was some sort of fatty, clear, gel-like substance on the inside of most of the shells. For some reason, I had the impulse to scrape it out and eat it.

Slimy Clear Salty Gel in the Shells



I have no idea if there's a name for this, or even if you're supposed to actually consume it, but I pretty much did this with all the shells that had whatever this stuff was left in them. I'd scrape it out with my thumb and eat it. It's like what tear-jelly might taste like, something I assume horrible fairy-tale villains enjoy on a regular basis.

Eating the Smaller Shells



One of the reason Gordon had sent me the boiled peanuts in the first place is because we had gotten into a discussion of eating the shells of the peanut. I tried doing it with the first one out of the bag and couldn't bring myself to complete it. I basically squished the peanut mush out and spit out the remainder. However, I later found, scattered among the larger pods, smaller pods that were actually soft enough to consume. I ate two of these, and can report no ill effects.

Saving the Rest for Later



One bag is supposed to be seven servings and I estimate I ate around five of them in the first sitting. I put the rest in a clear plastic bag with the intent on trying them cold this morning. I will do so now.

(Time passes)

Trying the boiled peanuts cold has added a new revelation. They basically taste like something that's been fished out of the ocean. Exactly that.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to eat the rest of them.

Donut Wars

You can’t have a true conversation about all things Northern or Southern without a conversation about donuts: I remember very well my first conversation down here on this topic.

"What’s a Krispy Kreme?" I asked when approached by someone at work carrying a box of donuts with that label. “They are the best donuts in America” he said. Oh well, I fired back, you have not had a Dunkin Donuts-Donut,then I see ” This conversation went on for much longer than what it really should have. It was the North versus the South all over again......





.... Gettysburg and Antietam, Lee vs. Grant. I was trying to be nice about it, but you can understand growing up in Boston, we only had Dunkin Donuts and only the best in the world! …right? And the dunkin donuts coffee?????? great stuff!! and what say you about the Krispy Kreme coffee..humm ?

I remember asking out loud, why is this donut hot? “That’s how we like them” I heard in the background. Well, I did try one from the box that day; it was the “glazed” donut. Hot (Yuk) and VERY glazed, with puddles of sugar hanging off the sides.






You have to eat a Krispy Kreme glazed donut like you would eat spare ribs that are smothered in barbecue sauce, with plenty of napkins. The "glaze" stays on your hands the whole day and can clog up your keyboard among other things. You need to act fast to get the hot sugar off of your hands and face as it takes no time to harden like cement. I promised myself I would never eat one again.

Thus began my long, long abstinence from local donuts. Yea, most of it was about the taste, but I would be lying to you if northern pride was not also playing a part of my donut abstinence.



I am a Dunkin Donuts man:



A dunkin donuts honey dipped donut and a cup of coffee is heaven. For me, the nearest dunkin donuts is in another state. They did have a franchise 45 minutes away in Tallahassee but it closed down - go figure? So like all other things in life that you purposely stay away from, when the time is right and there is a dunkin donut in sight, I may have this reaction:




Dunkin Donuts started in 1946 when William Rosenberg (founder of Dunkin Donuts and also the International Franchise Association) invested $5,000 to form Industrial Luncheon Services,



a company that delivered meals and coffee break snacks to customers in the outskirts of Boston, Massachusetts. The success of Industrial Luncheon Services led Rosenberg to open his first coffee and donut shop, the "Open Kettle". Then, in 1950, Rosenberg opened the first store known as Dunkin' Donuts in Quincy, Massachusetts.


The first Dunkin’ Donuts shop was opened in Quincy, Massachusetts in 1950. The company began franchising five years later. By 1963, there were over 100 Dunkin Donuts shops open and by 1979 over 1000 locations open.

Krispy Kreme also has a strong history:



The founder, Vernon Rudolph, worked for his uncle, Ishmael Armstrong, who purchased a secret recipe for yeast-raised doughnuts and a shop on Broad Street in Paducah, Kentucky, from Joseph LeBeouf of Lake Charles, Louisiana. Rudolph began selling the yeast doughnuts in Paducah and delivered them on his bicycle.

The operation was moved to Nashville, Tennessee, and other family members joined to meet the customer demand. The first store in the nation with the Krispy-Kreme name opened on Charlotte Pike in 1933. Rudolph sold his interest in the Nashville store and in 1938 opened a doughnut shop in Winston-Salem, and began selling to groceries and then directly to individual customers. The first store in North Carolina was located in a rented building on South Main Street in Winston-Salem in what is now called historic Old Salem. The Krispy Kreme logo was designed by Benny Dinkins, a local architect.

So what say you? Krispy Kreme or Dunkin (the best) Donuts??