Election Day

 

Lighten up. Smile. Election Day is almost over.

Our amazing Dad feeds his birds yesterday at Floyd Lamb Park, Las Vegas.

And somewhere, babies are laughing.

Topsy Turvy

Are you one of those lucky people who can just roll over and enjoy the extra hour of sleep?  I was wide awake at my usual hour, which was of course, even more ungodly than usual.

Daylight Savings Time. Why do we persist with something shown harmful to the health, without proven energy saving benefits? Gain an hour or lose a hour, doesn't matter, we're screwed up for a week or so.

Speaking of topsy-turvy, we pulled all the furniture out of the spare bedroom yesterday. The house is a hot mess. A new handyman comes today to finish a long overdue job on the damaged walls. Remember the fiasco over a year ago, when we basically kicked Certa Pro out of the house? Hopefully better luck this time. "Casey" seems like a very nice man, and comes highly recommended by some good friends of ours.

So, I need to hit the ground running this early Monday morning.  More later.

The Mulch Men

Getting the beds mulched for the winter turned out to be surprisingly easy, after so much angst and stress. The new landscaping company I called on Tuesday was here on Friday, record time for Seattle, where everything takes forever.  The other places haven't even called me back yet.

They brought in 3 cubic yards of compost in a truck and unloaded it by hand. To put that in perspective, 3 yards is about 3,000 pounds and 30 big wheelbarrows full.  A lot. 

I was so relieved I didn't get the blower truck, as they have a 10 YARD minimum and we would have been buried alive!

It took about 2 hours for the guys to spread it yesterday morning. I could hardly contain my glee. Now all the beds have a nice 2-3 inch layer of fresh compost with enough left over for some neglected corners. A perfect amount.

Oh, what a relief it is. No dirty leaves this year.

Before

After

Before

After

Baked mini donuts

John bought me a mini-doughnut baking tin at Sur le Table a few months ago. I might have forgot to exclaim, "Just what I've always wanted!"  I'm not crazy about storing insanely specific tools. But then, a gift is a gift, and I promised I'd make the apple donut recipe on Halloween.

Finely diced "Winter Banana" and "Pink Rose" apples from our weekend trip.

Oil, sugar and eggs. No unusual ingredients in this recipe.

Add the dry to the wet and whisk, typical cake stuff, easy peasy.

Stir in the apples...then fill the dang fiddly cups.

Whoops. Seriously overfilled. The first batch looked more like cookies.

Or pitiful little Bundt cakes that stuck like glue to the hot pan. The crow agreed, at least they tasted good. 

Round two. Instead of a heaping sloppy tablespoon, a scant teaspoon of batter. 

And the trick-- cool completely, absolutely, before you even think about taking them out and making the next batch. This takes a while with just one pan.  Patience, patience is something I'm short on when it comes to baking.

Finally, that's more like it with just a dusting of cinnamon and sugar. They are so teeny-tiny, you can eat several without much guilt at all.  But I wish Nova and Maya were here to devour them.

We had about 50 cute and very polite trick-or-treaters knocking at the door, all with amazing costumes and watchful adults hovering nearby. I remember when Amanda and her friends would head out alone (horrors!) on Halloween, running in and out all evening to count their loot.

I like Halloween, simply because it's the one day that gets our neighbors out of their houses and apartments. I sometimes think of the thousands of folks living within a few blocks of us. So close, yet complete strangers. One of the paradoxes of urban life.

P.S. Maybe I should throw a donut party?

I love Halloween!

Nova (Cleo-Cat-Tra)
Maya (Unicorn) of course
Adelina (Cleopatra)

 And you are never too old...

 Namaste.

Happy Halloween

All houses wherein men have lived and died

Are haunted houses. Through the open doors

The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,

With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,

Along the passages they come and go,

Impalpable impressions on the air,

A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table, than the hosts

Invited; the illuminated hall

Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,

As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The form I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is;while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear...

From "Haunted Houses"

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A Methow Valley house with stories to tell.