the stall

Am I the only one? I might be. I probably am. Well, maybe not.

Interspersing mandatory with loveliness; chomping through absolutely healthy naked carrots and cucumbers, saving a few bites of my main dish in an effort to be able end a meal on a positive and tasty note. Healthy in its own way, an enamel skillet, no oil, what’s on hand concoction of a little leftover shredded red cabbage, the remainders of a bag of frozen broccoli, chopped mini red onions, tomatoes canned with green peppers and celery, unhealthisized with a still healthier than real sausage option of chicken Gouda sausages.  It’s sweet and savory and better for me than what I’ve been eating during the 5 month condo crisis.

It’s just unnerving to have to force myself to eat, eat more, eat better, and it’s directly connected to the stall.

Saying I’m in a holding pattern implies going in circles. I am not going in circles.  The unpacking/establishing thing has lost its fascination. Most everything is reasonably placed where I think I like it, for now.  There’s not even much minor effort moving; slide boxes around a little, consolidate partials.

If I see it and it is going the same way I am, and I know where I am going to put it when I get there, it stands a chance. I’ve also been reconsidering. Should probably put this here, or maybe I should do my nails or figure out what to eat. I’m stalled.

I’m looking ahead and looking at the moment, and not seeing a payoff that’s going to outweigh playing word games or guilty-pleasure reading or letting Blu shoulder-hug as we both enjoy the view from the living room window.

The “should” list of micro-organization supposed to lead to peaceful order is no longer stapled to my daily mental door. Floated to the kitchen table, like some other real stuff, I see it there, and there it is. Stalled.

I laugh when people say you have your whole life to get this together.

If I’m going to take my whole life to get it together, I’ll never have any fun because it will be bothering me for my whole life.  Except for tonight. Again.

Quote for the Week:

Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links:

Don’t Clean: http://organizedhome.com/clean-house/clean-sweep-case-against-spring-cleaning

Stop Stalling: http://talkingworks.com/stop-stalling/

# 6: http://www.petmd.com/cat/slideshows/care/reasons-to-hug-your-cat%20

Not a Pictures Kinda Gal

Easy. Truly it was going to be eeaasyyyyy.

Pop the top on the Tastefully Simple simple Almond Pound Cake box. Melt some butter, add some milk, stir.

Lovingly lump into my beautiful green specifically purposed Tastefully Simple ceramic loaf pan, bake; be done.

Unless you’re me, and you’re thinking that newly gifted, untested convection oven could bake this cake up better than the rickety electric contraption that came along with the condo as one of those something-is-better-than-nothing “for now” appliances.

Unless, you carefully view the pictorial instructions, and surmise the obvious, which as time goes by becomes obviously wrong.

Unless, you’re baking without bifocals and can’t quite see through the shiny new-knob glare that you’ve chosen toast/bake instead of turbo.

Unless, you can’t figure why the center seems a bit spongier than previous packaged efforts.

Unless, you decide it just needs to cool and set, invert and discover all of the above at once.

I did not end up with a luscious loaf. I didn’t even end up with cake.

I ended up with a bowl of cakey-marzipan-like mush with a thin, broken caramelized crunch crust, and deep panic.

For some reason I don’t panic at panic and excel necessary rapid fire solutions. SMH, I devise another split-process easy plan and a half. This one involves entering all baking ingredients on hand into the Google search box, and squishing all of the cake-flop, including the pinnacle-ly correct crust, into an oiled Bundt pan, and pressing firmly with a baggie-d hand. The search determines my remaining options are Honey Cake or Brown Sugar Cake. Comforted by back-up plan knowledge, the attempt to recook seems reasonable.

Back into the wonderful countertop, this time on turbo and without the crumb pan beneath the baking pan. Hey, that’s what the drawings demonstrated. Toast with the pan under the rack. Bake with the pan above the rack. I lightbulbed that if I wasn’t using that particular pan to bake in, I should put the one I am using directly on the rack, and not inside the other pan sitting on top of the rack.

20 turbo minutes later, I have a dense, thick, appropriately moist and dry almond circular tube-shaped 2″ tube of a brick confection. It smells awesome. Because of the brand, it will reliably taste awesome. It’s ugly as all get-out, but I’m soldiering on.

Cooled and flipped into a purple pie plate, it’s not that bad. At least, it’s not as bad as I was envisioning. I have no idea what will happen when whoever has the honor to cut it, does.

I’m bringing along honey and caramel and gold-colored ice-sugar hoping to distract with abstract criss-crossing and edible glitter. I’m leaning toward the honey, for past traditions that still run deep through my heart. I’m not sure it will get the go-head vote, but I do think it’s the best choice and won’t over-power that deep almond sponge.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

I am not above trying to salvage a cake.

What people don’t know won’t hurt them.

It may however, make them laugh, and if you can make them laugh, then that’s the way to go.

I’m not a pictures kinda gal. Give me instructions, please.

Quote for the Week:

Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links:

Baking powder, baking soda, brown sugar, eggs, honey: http://www.supercook.com/#/recipes/All%2520recipes

Mmmm: https://www.tastefullysimple.com/ (If you are interested, I have an awesome consultant.)

Cake Boss weighs in on Convection: http://on.aol.com/video/the–cake-boss–on-convection-oven-baking-versus-regular-oven-baking-517849014

 

Grafted (3 Chicks with Sticks)

We double tooled and took a short trek to Chapel Street.

The explanation and demonstration made sense. Using the tools on-hand made sense.

I like sense. I like adaptation, too.

Teams spread down the sidewalks searching for X marks and O marks, and root-bagged trees that weren’t rejectedly rolled into the street.

There we were; three chicks with sticks staring at an off-center X over a shallow-welled median with a spade and a square, a spade and a rake, a spade and a pick-ax, a tree and a plan.

Fresh from a mini tutorial, feeling feisty, we set about it.

We measured and consulted, measured some more, got a rhythm going.

After a while, there two piles of dirt, a pile of skimmed grass, and a hole.

The hole wasn’t exactly round. We fixed that.

The hole was a little too deep. We fixed that.

The ball was a little too heavy for advised two rollers, so we used three to get it going and in.

We eyeball straightened our charge (assumed a tulip tree by the botanical tag “tulipifera”) from three directions.

Lacking a knife to break the binds, we waited, short-shoveling handfuls of soft soil in and around to perfect stance while assuring our homeowner we were enjoying ourselves, and it wasn’t as hard as it seemed.

Root bag ripped, unrecyclables corralled, wires de-bent, we ran into a problem. Everything was fine, until exposure. Then, suddenly, it might be all wrong, or it might still be right.

Lopsided, rooted more heavily on one side than the other, not knowing which three-fingers-below measure was true.

There were two knuckles; one previously hidden in burlap garb, angled slight degrees from the one we had been focused on.

Stem straight, angled roots uneven in a way that wouldn’t promote stability. Rocking the sapling in favor of rooting, the stem was oddly askew.

That’s when we learned something new. The tree and the root were established together post graft. Combining the best of both, strong roots, tall tree, for immediate success and future longevity.

Consultants called. Though our true root was a slight inch higher than preferred, no retraction was required. Adaptation meant lightly packed stability soil up a little higher, and cautiously tamping air-pocket caverns where water could possibly pool and encourage rot.

We raised our berm a little higher, for better protection, and watered away from the roots. When we were finished, it passed muster, earning a blue sleeve of advertorial protection.

And that was it; about three hours later, including stand-up breakfast pastries and coffee, finding the right Zone assignment, name tags, gift bags, tool toting, street scouring, instruction, demonstration and the command to go to it. We’d done what we’d set out to do, added our imprint as one group of three in a group of One Brick Volunteers planting one tree among 120 goaled.

My best guess is that it took nearly 200 people from many different community groups, instructors teaching, volunteers planting, and forestry-minded reviewing to reach that goal.

While that might seem impressive, it’s a drop in the bucket compared to the 500,000 trees lost during a three decade Dutch Elm blight from 1950-1980.

Since 1989, The Greening of Detroit has orchestrated placement and replacement of 85,000 trees. Mathematically, that’s still a significant environmental shortage.

There are still at least dozen upcoming The Greening of Detroit events, and there’s room for you, too.

It all adds up. Make a difference in Detroit.

Quote for the Week:

Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links: 

The Greening of Detroit: http://www.greeningofdetroit.com/get-involved/volunteer/

Urban Forests: https://www.americanforests.org/conservation-programs/urban-forests/

Top 22 benefits of trees: https://www.treepeople.org/resources/tree-benefits

On Twitter:

#OneBrickDetroit    @GreeningDetroit    #SocialForestry

Transparency Intolerance

When someone tells me that they are receiving too much information, I just don’t understand the problem. Especially, when I know they are only receiving honest generalizations.

I make notes as I deem appropriate. They are thorough for transparency. The complainer isn’t my target audience, so the complaint has no long lasting value. It is however, extremely difficult for me to dismiss the ignorance behind it. Auto-defense mechanisms kick in, along with the desire to transparently explain the transparency.

Loss cutting is my new hobby. I no longer externalize, in any way. There is no oh-please eye rolling, no confused head tilt, no maintaining eye contact until the bumbling barrage is complete or winds down by intimidation; no politely explaining in a private email, no encouraged attempt to sit down face-to-face, and absolutely no, “When you say this, I feel…” response.

I’ve adapted, externally. Having learned through forced assimilation, educational attempts are never the right answer. The very process of explanation allows an attacker to claim to be the attacked. Differences of opinion rarely result in compromise, so the onus is on me to choose a more appropriate direction.

The only two choices left are: ignore, react.

Ignore doesn’t feel good, and doesn’t eliminate internal tension. It may eliminate future environmental tension, but quiet harbour can easily be unanchored by additional slight and temper set asail, at any time.

React; well, mean-spirited, planned to be undetectable reaction can be snidely rewarding. If detected though, the backfire will most likely be louder, more obvious and garner more sympathy than the original complaint.

I see-saw a lot. There’s a lot of blame being placed on religion as the cause of all problems. Quite frankly, the only thing that prevents me from causing more problems for the problem-makers is religious instructioning. Without it, I wouldn’t think twice about slinging shit back ten times faster and harder.

How about if we take religion out of it and just stop supporting a ridiculous complaint oriented structure? How about if we stop looking for insignificant fault and discontinue being judgmental?

How about future following this line of reasonable determination? Does it negatively impact your life if my notes are thorough? Does it violate your rights if you have all the facts? Does it cause you true distress to have enough information to understand the situation? Does it overtax your brain? Insult your psyche? Is it offensive by the true definition of the word, or just by vague-understanding?

It’s tiresome. In a playground world, at my age, I’m so inclined to push back. But the better reaction is to laugh at the idiocy, classify complainers as fidiots, and call it a day.

I haven’t quite decided whether this is an ignorable issue. Actually, yes, I have.

 Quote for the Week:

Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links: 

What it is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transparency_(behavior)

More eloquently defined: http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/transparency

For relationships: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/love-doc/201201/transparency-and-intimacy

Discussion is encouraged, please.