The Kitchen Garden Novice At Sea

Can anything rival a morning at sea?
The sound of the ship, gliding through cobalt glassy waves,
A paradox of simultaneous "hush" and "roar."

No sound exists

but the thrum of engines,
the rhythmic soughing of swell against hull.

No other ships on the horizon.
No land. No bird.

Nothing but sky and sea.

A solitary moment in a day,

soon to be bustling with fellow passengers.

The sheer power of water stuns the senses.
One drop quenches the thirst
of parched leaf, dry tongue.
United with many,
the same drop carries an oceanliner.

Water returns to water.
Rain falls to earth.
Streams trickle to rivers.
Rivers flow to oceans, and evaporate to mist.
And the process begins again,
Returning, recycling, renewing.
Water, reborn.

Can anything rival a morning at sea?

The Kitchen Garden Novice : Schlepping Excess Baggage

I once flew to southern California for a week's vacation outfitted with nothing more than an overnight bag. Back then, I knew how to travel light. Not so much, anymore.

Today, hubby and I headed for the coast to take a week-long cruise with a trunk-load of luggage to rival Cleopatra's on her barge down the Nile. Two days of whirlwind packing prefaced our departure, and that included careful consideration as to what pieces I could combine to eliminate others. Two huge pullmans, one overnight, and two garment bags later we were loaded and headed out of town. Oh, and don't forget the carry-on tote I schlep just for jewelry, passports, and all our geezer meds.

Now I ask you, when did I morph into this up-tight traveler who has to drag half her life along on the journey? It kind of bugs me, this dependence I've developed to "stuff." I can rationalize and justify just about everything I've packed. But really, why do I "need" it? Will someone point and snicker if my shoes don't match my skirt for dinner? And if they do, why should I care? I'm not going to see these people again, anyway!

Yes it's downright annoying--my compulsion to drag all this excess baggage with me. My fragile little ego feeds on my identification with all that excess cargo I cannot leave behind. That's not who I am!
I am the girl who flew to Los Angeles with two changes of clothing, my toothbrush, and a bathing suit and had a ball--because she packed her sense of adventure.

Next trip, I vow to do better. I will get by on two sets of shoes. I will be satisfied with one formal outfit. I will rent snorkeling equipment at my destination. But, I will pack my sense of wonder, my patience, excitement, and spontaneity.

Did I mention that one hour out of town I remembered the "St. Thomas" straw hat I take on every trip?

"There are tons of places at the piers to buy hats," hubby scoffed.

Best not to mention that I also neglected to bring our SoCal road atlas. Hope we don't get lost.

The Kitchen Garden Novice Skirts the Issue

Never trust a generic, off-brand sewing pattern called "So Easy."  What a misnomer!  It should have been called "So NOT Easy." 

This all started when I tried to find a skirt for my upcoming cruise. I've had a gold, beaded shell hanging in my closet for two years (purchased at a consignment store--I am nothing if not frugal about my formal wear.) But I had nothing to go with that piece. I'd looked everywhere for a chiffony, cocktail skirt to wear with said shell. No go. And it wasn't like I wanted to invest a small fortune in a skirt I might wear once a year.

That's when I got the bright idea to sew a skirt. Genius! The second obstacle occurred when I couldn't find any sheer, shiny fabric. Not to worry! Taking a cue from my boss as work, an avid, cheap  thrifty seamstress, I perused the clearance racks of window coverings at the store. There I found a gold, silk curtain panel--a perfect match. If Scarlett O'Hara could do it, so could I.

I already had a pattern (or so I thought.) But upon cutting out the tissue pieces I began to have my doubts. I rechecked the measurements the pattern listed for a size 8. Yep, a size 8 should fit fine. So I proceeded to stitch the skirt together. Just to make sure, (before I went to the effort of putting a zipper in,) I tried to fit the skirt around my waist/ hips.  "Tried" being the operative word. As I pulled the fabric around my middle, it became clear. Not since the Middle East Peace talks had two sides been so far apart of meeting in the middle. Errrgggghhh!

"Maybe you can just add another panel," hubby suggested.

"I'm not sure I have enough fabric left in the curtain to cut another panel," I replied.  But it was worth a shot. So I managed to eek out one more panel from the curtain length and attach it to the rest of the skirt. Since the facing pattern for the top of the skirt was no longer going to fit, I decided to fold the top of the skirt over into an elastic casing. Now my six-gore skirt had become a seven-gore skirt.

It was time to try it on again.  I slipped the skirt/cylinder over my head and tugged it down to my hips. And...it fit, like a glove (and not OJ Simpson's glove.)  The only problem was getting back out of it which proved a bit like getting out of a wetsuit.

"I think you're going to have to put the zipper in," commented hubby.

When had I married Tim Gunn, the fashion critic? And why had I started this project on a day when he was home? "I don't know if the fabric will hold up to me pulling out a seam," I snarled.

"Well, there's always Velcro," hubby quipped.

The seam ripper is my friend...the seam ripper is my friend.  I gingerly removed about seven inches on the back seam and rebasted it. I laid the zipper along the the seam edge and stitched down the first placket. And...the needle hit a straight-pin and snapped. I swear, if I hadn't had a spare needle in my sewing box, the entire project would have ended up in the trash.

I can't even begin to explain how I Macgyvered the waist casing together. Let's just say--it ain't pretty. But I didn't use Velcro. In the end I created a skirt which I may only wear one time. But since I only have $7 (and a whole lot of aggravation) invested in the finished product, who cares? Scarlett O'Hara--eat your heart out!

No, But If You Hum a Few Bars...

"Listen...the puppy is singing herself to sleep again."

"Mmmm," hubby mumbled, half asleep. "She'll quit in a minute."

It is a strange phenomenon, this "singing" our little girl does at bedtime. Every night when we put her in her kennel and turn off the lights we can hear her, adjusting to darkness, quiet. Now I know what some of you are thinking, but...before we go into the debate over animal cruelty and locking a puppy into  a "cage" let me just say this: we have kenneled our baby since she was eight weeks old. Her crate is her safe place--her den. When she needs a nap or just quiet time, it is her favorite spot. But I doth protest too much, me thinks...

Anyway back to her singing. CoCo has "sung" for the past several months. It's not a whine. It's not a whimper. It's not a mewling, a keening, or howl. It's more like the sound Gizmo, the Mogwai made in the movie, Gremlins. She starts as soon as the lights are out and the house is quiet. I guess you could say we have Ferberized her and she is self-soothing. I'm not really sure how long she sings. Most evenings, I fall asleep to her melody.

And...I admit that I find her singing remarkable. I'm in awe of her ability to calm and quiet herself. It's as if her singing helps her connect to the Source.  Me and my big ego--I have to constantly, consciously shew away my inner drama--that mental cacophony running non-stop inside my little mind. CoCo seems to know exactly what she needs. Like a baby sucking her thumb, she sings her way to her happy place and drifts off to sleep. Hers is a lullaby that soothes and comforts me, as well.

Come to think of it, I'm not sure why I haven't tried this myself. As we've already established, I come from a long line of singers, and we've all used music to connect us to our God. I often sing/chant during meditation and prayer. Why not try this at night to calm my spirit and return my biorhythms to their Source?  Maybe hubby would like to sing harmony...or not...

Actually this plan might land me in the dog house--or at least the spare bedroom. Anyone know "The Lullaby of Dog Way"?