Ah, the weekly box from Oxbow Farm. We’re already midway through the season with them, and it just keeps getting better. This week’s box included what looked like an entire bush’s worth of edamame (yum!) and some lemon cucumbers and squashes and many various other things. This gorgeous head of red-tinged lettuce was so pretty I had to take a picture.
We heart Oxbow.
Neptune State Park
Ach, it’s been too long since my last post. Since then we’ve been to the Oregon Coast for a week of excellent family reunioning, and since then we’ve been getting ready to have a house full of guests of our own… somehow I’ve had time to read a few books through it all.
The latest one, and the one that prompted me to get posting: yet another great story from fearless author Christopher Moore, entitled The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove. Two words: weed whacker.
Before that, had a chance to re-read E.B. White‘s Stuart Little, and it was quite enjoyable. I’d forgotten it was a funny book.
And more from Laura Ingalls Wilder — Farm Boy and On the Banks of Plum Creek — courtesy of the lovely Chanzara, of course. I have to say again that I love these books. I will be very sad when I’ve read them all.
While in Oregon, I finally read Stephen Fry‘s first book, The Liar. By a lucky coincidence, on the drive down to the coast we listened to the recent audio production of Douglas Adams‘s The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I’d been putting off listening to it, since I haven’t seen the movie yet and didn’t want to ruin it. But I couldn’t resist anymore. See, in this version — unabridged — all the voices are done by Stephen Fry, who is naturally one of my favorites. So by the time we’d arrived, I had many of the characters’ voices planted in my brain, and was able to hear The Liar in Mr. Fry’s voice instead of hearing it in my own boring northwest-no-accent voice. However! Even without the benefit of the accent, it’s a great read, and I’d recommend it to anyone who is a big fan of Stephen Fry’s acting.
And now I’ve started on Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. So far, the style reminds me of Saramago‘s book Blindness, which is strange since I read Blindness as a translated work. Perhaps I am actually reminded of the style of the translator, whoever that may be.
This morning there was a moth in the shower, on the window sill. It was a biggish brown moth, and at first I was worried that it would get injured by the water, or it would get soap splashed on it, or conditioner or something. It held still for the first few minutes — I was keeping my eye on it — but then it started to move around. It seemed to have three antennae, and it was feeling around the tiles with one of them. I looked more closely and realized the third antennae was its very long tongue! The moth was feeling the tiles looking for water droplets. It would find one, the tongue would be still for a few moments, and the droplet would disappear. Then the tongue would start feeling around again. It drank a lot of droplets. When it was all done the tongue rolled up neatly under its face. It was cool.
I rode the bus to work today, and maybe it was me but there seemed to be more than the usual amount of visual stimulation. First, I was sharing my bus stop, which is normally deserted, with the New York Girl. Or maybe she’s the LA Girl. I honestly don’t know which one she is, but she looks like a model and wears the most outlandish fashions. At least they’re outlandish in the context of my bus stop. Like this:
Add platform shoes, a few large pieces of plastic jewelry, and an overworked cell phone and you’ve got New York Girl. Always an eyeful.
Then, on the bus, there was a backpack near me with three buttons on it. Here is what they said:
ESL Now!
Got HSpice?
Don’t be a meadow stomper – stay on the trail
Ok. ESL now? From what I understand, learning English as a second language takes longer than “now.”
The other buttons aren’t that weird, except for the phrase “meadow stomper” which I rather like (the phrase, not the meanie). Not that weird… but I dunno, the three buttons together just made me laugh and wonder.
Still on the bus, in the very back corner, in a zoning-out-on-the-bus frame of mind, chilling if you will. Suddenly I find myself literally surrounded by 4-year-olds. I like children but it’s quite disconcerting to be fenced in by that many small strangers. I had to get off a few stops early to escape the noise (not to mention the fumes coming from some of the pants areas).
How’s this for scary?
What could it mean?