Papel Chiltepin

Spanking the Pomegranate

2012-01-21T13:59:00.000-07:00

The alternative title for this post was "A Cozy Weekend in a Winter Wonderland." You can guess, for now, why I choose the title above.

Last weekend, like this weekend, Bowling Green was blanked in snow. On Saturday, fat snowflakes gently fell for hours throughout the morning, with the sun emerging by late afternoon. We took advantage of the long weekend and the snow by walking Paco through the soft, glittering stuff, and by cuddling up. I also fully admitted to myself that I'm addicted to cooking and baked and cooked the rest of the time.

View from Our Front Porch

Early morning in the park

We did have a slight snow mishap. Having played too rough in doggy daycare the day before, Paco tore off part of the pad on his back paw. We discovered this on our first early morning foray with him and though he would have limped on forever (he has forsaken his desert roots and is a true snow baby), we turned around and hurried him home.

Doing what I never thought I'd do (simply for how silly it seems), we bought waterproof dog booties for Paco at PetCo. Strapping him in to those things was a trial and watching him first walk in them was like watching a scuba diver walk in flippers on dry land. He soon forgot about them as he was too absorbed with the snow. He was also not limping! Alas, our victory was short lived. Because of our inexperience with velcroing dog booties on a dog, two of the booties soon fell off.

We compromised by putting one bootie on the injured foot and washing Paco's feet after walks (there's a lot of nasty chemicals people use during the winter here that dogs walk through).

Here's photo of the reluctant bootie recipient

In addition to the multiple batches of cookies and other baked goods I made, we also tried our hand with libations. Per a cocktail recipe book Maya gave us, I made bacon-infused bourbon for a yet to-be-made cocktail called Pig on a Porch. To make this, I poured bacon fat in to bourbon and let it sit for three days, first in a closet, and then in the refrigerator. Then I used cheesecloth to remove the fat from the bourbon. I've tried bacon-infused rye-whiskey before and found it tasty, so hopefully this will work out as well.

Pouring the bacon fat in to the bourbon

We also made brew! It was a longer process than anticipated, but it went better than my last attempt. The growler full of Chestnut Brown Ale is sitting in a closet now with an airlock full of sanitizing liquid. Three and half more weeks to find out if we're brew masters or not.

Stirring the malt and barley

Making dog biscuits from the spent brew grain, plus peanut butter, egg, and pumpkin puree

Javier with made-from-scratch fondue: cheddar, flour, garlic, Worcestershire sauce, and brew

French Dimpled Rolls

Finally, spanking the pomegranate is what I call a food prep technique I learned from Bon Appétit . It's simply an effective way for removing the seeds from the fruit and it involves hitting a halved pomegranate with a wooden spoon. I employed this technique when making a fennel, quinoa, and pomegranate salad from a recipe by Yotam Ottolenghi, my new favorite chef.

Fennel salad: The crown jewel of the weekend's gastronomical delights

The First Weekend as a Married Woman

2012-01-09T08:29:00.000-07:00

This first weekend as a married woman was (not surprisingly) hardly different than any other weekend with Javier, except my mom was visiting, and Javier and I have new titles.

The only other differences were culinary in nature. Amusingly, I was practically retro-domestic: an apron was involved and two batches of cookies were made. Also, I had my first cuisine disasters since we moved to Ohio. Hopefully these food failures aren't symbolic of our married life together.

The first disaster was with Saturday night's dinner. After a long, heady production of prep work, the Zanzibar "pizzas" (ground turkey, onions, cabbage, eggs, and spices wrapped in fried spiced dough) I made failed miserably. Javier and my mom graciously each ate one, but I was sad and grumpy. Luckily, my mom and I had also made a mushroom and Manchego salad, and the papaya ketchup we made to accompany the pizzas was delicious.

Burned, yet Uncooked, Zanzibar Pizzas/Yummy Salad and Ketchup

The second disaster was in an attempt to make beer yesterday afternoon. After preparing the sink for a sanitation station, lining up all the equipment, buying ice, and roasting chestnuts for the ale, my mental preparation was lacking. A true brew novice, I threw in the yeast along with the malt because the touchy thermometer was reading sky-high and I become careless and frantic. This sent me into a deep, five minute depression, but I rallied, buried the mash in the garden, and took Paco for walk with Javier.

Failed Brew

Culinary success came with the cookies, and they were inspired my my mom's wedding gift for us: a thoughtful--but hilarious--hand-made cookie jar with a dog glazed on it.

Javier reaping the benefits of having a wife that likes baking

Cornmeal Icebox Cookies

An Unfortunate Photo: Chocolate Snaps, Not Dog Poop

Courthouse Marriage
"You look badass"-M.G. Maloney

The Mom and Me

A Very Moroccan Christmas

2012-01-04T17:47:00.000-07:00

Javier, my mom, and I spent the holiday season in Agadir, Morocco with my sister Alana, her husband Issam and their new baby Salim! Needless to say, Salim is adorable. I felt like I was gazing into the baby version of my sister's face much of the time, though Salim definitely has his baba's mouth. Salim is very sweet tempered, too. He was only a little fussy with occasional tummy trouble and was easily soothed by bounces or walks and songs, something his nana excels at. He had a little cold so he sounded like a piglet, something that only added to his adorability. His facial expression ranged from worry to surprise to laughter within seconds, which was very amusing to watch. Luckily, I'll see him in May, but it is very sad he lives over 3000 miles away.

Nothing need be said

Proud mommy and baba

Precious

kooky uncle

Aside from the baby focus of the trip, other things to report are that everyone suffered a cold, except my brother-in-law, who graciously brought us all medicine, water, and tissues as needed. We spent most of our time in the basement bedroom Alana and Issam moved into because the upstairs rooms are a tad freezing. Then we discovered the magic and warmth of the enclosed porch and read and played card games obtained over Christmas in the perfect, Moroccan winter sun.

Alana's pretty, plastic X-Mas Tree

Javier's new style, supplied by Alana and Issam

Alana's very sweet maid Fatima is an amazing cook so we ate handsomely the whole trip. Crepes and Moroccan sweet treats, accompanied by hot milk, were our daily evening snack. Fatima cooked delicious chicken, goat, and lamb tagines, soups, salads, etc. She was impressed with the apple pie I made for Christmas, but I was impressed with everything that came from her kitchen.

Goat, prune and almond tagine

Fatima's fish tangine

Another Fatima creation: semolina cake

My winter break accomplishments include reading two Jane Austen novels and learning a few more Morrcan Arabic words. These words include: "sabah alher" (good morning), "shwia" (a little), "nom" (yes?), "shbit" (I'm full), "la bes? la bes" (everything's good? everything's good.), "benin" (tasty) and a word that sounds to my ears like "buzzoff" and which means "delicious". None of these words are spelled correctly of course; it's just my phonetic version of them. I was duly impressed with myself when I recognized anyone saying these phrases out in the world or on the radio.

Though we spent most of the time in my sister's villa, we also ventured out into the mad streets of Agadir, and the calm, lovely boardwalk where my mom, Javier, and I would read at cafes and look out over the Atlantic. Issam and Alana were also kind enough to be tour guides so that Javier could see more of the city and the surrounding area. The day before we left, Issam drove Javier and I north to the lovely beach town Essaouira with its labyrinthine medina and yummy fish dinners.

God, Country, King

How we spent many an afternoon

l'Atlantique

Boardwalk style

A side note: At least two Moroccans thought Javier was Moroccan and began speaking to him in Arabic. "La bes?" one waiter asked him and thought it very funny Javier to be American.

Mom, Javier and I spent our New Year's Eve aboard an AirFrance jet, French time, and asleep in D.C., U.S. time. Then Javier and I relaxed for a couple days in D.C. with my mom before heading back home.

After driving for nine hours in the snow through the hills of Pennsylvania, Maryland, and the flats of Ohio, Javier and I reunited with Paco and Bowling Green. Paco was elated to see us, and had been sweetly spoiled while we were gone (his sitters gave him his own stocking, toys, and gave us photos from the in-home photo shoot of him).

I'll leave you with three more Salim photos:

I could stare at this face for hours

Ahhh!!!

Hippie baby

Weekend that Went (A Bit) Awry

2011-11-12T08:36:00.001-07:00

The weekend before Halloween I traveled to D.C. to visit my mom and one of my best friends, Beth. I took an overnight train from Toledo and though I froze and slept poorly during the dark hours, I was rewarded for my discomfort in the morning.

As my eyes peeped open at dawn, I saw a burnished gray ribbon of water, steel cliffs, and silvery fog. This was Pennsylvania, and I hardly stopped looking out the window for the rest of the ride.

Soon the steely morning turned pinkish-orange. The fire of the autumn leaves popped on the dark hills and even the fog took on the colors of the sunrise. The fog was like those wispy, blush-saturated "heaven" clouds sinking down to earth.

I finally tore my eyes away from the window to go to the club car to buy some tea; lo-and-behold I saw an Amish woman and her son! The boy looked about twelve and wore brown linen pants, a button-down white shirt, and suspenders. His mom wore a bright blue dress with a full skirt and a handkerchief tied around her hair. Both wore black shoes with laces. The woman was beautiful: tall with an angular face, blond, and with blue eyes that matched her dress. I didn't know the Amish rode trains--or bought snacks from club cars--and I wondered what they though of all the passengers who were obviously shocked (well, I was shocked), but pretending not to be. The woman wore a beatific/bemused smile; I don't think she cared.

Once in D.C. I made my way by metro to my mom's condo, saw her briefly, then ate about half the food in her refrigerator and took a nap. That evening we went to a Socialist meeting hosted by her friends. My mind was blown learning that Libya scored extremely high on the human rights index by paying for education, housing, legal fees, and car payments for its citizens. I mean, it's not like I trust the U.S. government or the New York Times to paint an objective picture of anything, let alone Libya, but to learn actual facts that counter their starkly-painted national picture was illuminating. Not that it's all peaches in Libya, but in terms of providing its citizens with economic resources, the U.S. could learn something from this nemesis government.

The next morning I was reunited with Beth and she and my mom drove to Baltimore to visit one of our favorite museums, The Visionary Art Museum. I'm pretty sure Beth was duly impressed. After a delicious Thai lunch, we drove back to D.C. in the snow! Specifically, I drove back in the snow. D.C. was one of those east coast cities that experienced a freak snowstorm in October. The air, trees, and blacktop of the Baltimore-Washington Parkway was hushed in white.

After some boot shopping (thank you, Mom, for my early Christmas present!), Beth and I ate dinner at one of my favorite D.C. restaurants, Kramerbooks and Afterwords Cafe. Both laughter and tears were shared and I pushed away the though that, so far, there isn't a Beth-like person in my life in Ohio, yet.

The weekend went awry the next morning when Amtrak called to inform me that my return ticket to Toledo was indefinitely put on hold due to a mud slide colliding with a freight train. I had to be in Bowling Green the next day for a minor surgery/stitches situation, so after some quick finangling, I rented a car, said goodbye to Mom and Beth, and was driving through Maryland.

Now, I've become a bit of a wimp when it comes to driving long distances. My dad and Javier did most of the driving this summer when headed to Ohio. I also miscalculated the amount of time I would be on Interstate 80. I thought I'd be driving for ten hours and would have to stop at a hotel before reaching BG. No so. Not only did I make it back to BG in less than eight hours, I had a good time. Well, as good a time as one can have driving alone. Again, the view was gorgeous as I wound my way through the hills--some still snowy--of Maryland and Pennsylvania, singing to Top 40 radio hits and to the Dixie Chick's version of "Landslide" about a million times.

And then I was able to curl up with my boo and dog and go to bed.

Food Diary II

2011-11-12T08:29:00.001-07:00

More kitchen creations:

Pear and Apple Crumble Pie

Halloween Super Nachos with Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale

Chicken and Dumplings. Not how my Grandma Conway made them, but good.

All homemade: Pita Bread, Baba Ganoush, Tzatziki, and Greek Winter Salad

The Castillos Come to Town

2011-10-23T06:51:00.004-07:00

Javier's parents came to visit. They were here for some nice, but mostly not-so-nice, weather; though we were able to take some great day trips to Toledo and Detroit.

Tomas, Amanda, and "Cholo" Castillo in Toledo

"Jessie" Dahlias at the Toledo Botanical Garden

A quince biscuit pie I made from quinces handily lifted from the Botanical garden. (The quinces were on the ground, I didn't pick them. Though, the moralizing doesn't matter: the pie was delicious.)

Tomas at the Detroit Institute of Art

In the DIA

In front of a Diego Rivera mural at the DIA, holding an iPad that has interactive apps to learn more about the mural: free and cool.

Goose crossing on Belle Isle

Chicago

2011-10-16T08:12:00.001-07:00

Last weekend I Megabused it to Chicago to visit my dear friends M.G. and Eva. I stayed with M.G., her boyfriend Matt, and their cat family in Oak Park. The last dregs of summer warmed the air with the fiery bloom of autumn in the trees.

What a relaxing trip! I spent the evenings curled up on M.G.'s couch looking at Matt's awesome drawings, admiring their cats (Sebastian, or C-bass; Mama Cat, and her daughters Muffin and Lizzy), and laughing with M.G. and Matt--laughing a lot. I love good laugh fests, and those two are pros.

On Saturday M.G. and I went to a feminist bookstore in Andersonville called Women and Children First to get books signed by Jane Lynch. Once we made it to the end of the line we could see her (she is strikingly tall) and hear her talking. She sounds exactly like she does on T.V. and in the Christopher Guest films. She also cracks teasing, jovial jokes like some of her characters do. She's from Chicago so some of her family members were hanging out, including two of her nephews, one a "ginger," as she called him, so I hoped she'd make a similar remark about my hair, but she didn't.

Of course food was a prime feature of my trip, including my first restaurant-style Mexican food since leaving Tucson, the yummy vegan "Aztec" salad at Native Foods ( a restaurant M.G. and other friends and I would frequent in Palm Springs when we attended Redlands), and a yummy snack at an organic Algerian coffeehouse.

Since M.G. is in library school, as I call it, I also visited the libraries in Oak Park and at Dominican University. I give them all my stamp of approval.

I had a quick visit with Eva before heading back on the El to Union Station, and a frantic walk to the bus stop, fighting my way through (sadly not with) the Occupy Chicago protesters.

The visit reminded me how much I miss Chicago and how I wouldn't mind, may even love, to live there someday.

C-Bass posing in a costume and hording the catnip M.G.'s dad picked from his garden and sent home with us

Jane Lynch mid-joke

Matt, M.G., C-Bass, and Mama Cat

Me and M.G.

Crepes and mini-umbrellas at the Algerian coffee house

Baking Diary

2011-10-02T06:54:00.000-07:00

Some yummy creations I've baked recently:

Peach and Almond Tart

Dill loaves

Split tin loaf

Plaited loaf

Detroit, a Boon

2011-10-02T06:46:00.001-07:00

After our disappointing day in Cleveland, I was looking to reclaim the region. We had a trip scheduled to Detroit last weekend for a friend's wedding, and to visit a friend of mine, Kyle, from Catalina HS who had, over the summer, moved back home to Michigan.

We dropped Paco off at Poco's Playhouse, where he was to be boarded Saturday night. I felt like an anxious parent dropping their kid off at camp for the first time. After checking out his room (that's right, no kennel cage for my baby) and waving good-bye to him (he was being smelled over by the friendly pack of dogs also boarded that weekend), we headed off to Detroit and made it without a hitch! (Well, I forgot to get gas again, but on the freeway we found a station in under five minutes. Oh yeah, and I went the wrong way on a one-way street in Greektown, but there were no other cars).

Our hotel (reserved for wedding guests) was the Marrriot at the Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit. Squeezed between two towers, our floor-to-ceiling window had a spectacular view of the Detroit River and Windsor, Canada!

We met up with Kyle and found a chicken and waffle restaurant in what appeared to be an old bar which may have been a church before that. We caught up on our lives in the Midwest and Kyle and I exchanged what word we had of former students and colleagues back in Tucson.

Then, the wedding: It was held at the beautiful Detroit Yacht Club on Belle Island. It was a Freemason ceremony, which was a new experience for me. My friend Farzin and her bridesmaids wore gorgeous saris. The flower arrangements were stunning. (When I was in high school I started writing a short story about a wedding, which was really me just writing about my fantasy wedding. I made it as far as the location--somewhere in the Santa Cruz Valley south of Tucson-- and a long description of all the flowers. I didn't describe the gown, the guests, or even the groom.)

That night we went to a couple drinking establishments in downtown Detroit. The first one was very cool (old, small, with two middle-aged women running the bar), but a bit loud. The second one I picked by peeking in to its window and declaring it was great, and it turned out to be just as I hoped. It was cavernous with only a handful of patrons, a man playing the Blues on a guitar, and an 80-something year old Greek bartender who poured us shots of Root Beer liquor unprompted (and, admittedly, unwanted, but we accepted). We met some friendly locals and a woman said I looked like Florence (of The Machines fame), which was a fabulous compliment. All in all, a good night.

The next morning, a bit haunted by our Cleveland trip, Javier and I raced through the parking garage thinking our car had been stolen (we forgot we had parked BELOW ground-level). After finally locating it, we ate a yummy breakfast in a hip diner by Wayne State and drove home to pick up the baby who, apparently, was now besties with a poodle and a beagle and was invited to return anytime.

Detroit Yacht Club

View from Belle Island to Detroit

Beautiful bride and our reception companions

Bride and groom

A stud

View from our hotel

Stunning flowers

Cleveland, a Bust

2011-10-01T17:38:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago, Javier and I made a day trip to Cleveland. It did not go as dreamy as I had hoped. We got a late start; the Google maps I printed led us astray; I forgot to get gas so there was a tense 25 minutes on a small freeway as we willed a gas station into existence. When we finally found one of our destinations, it was somewhat of a letdown. A cool idea in theory, the Ingenuity Fest was held under a bridge that leads to downtown Cleveland. The Fest hosted government, nonprofit, and merch tables; some technology/art projects like home-made video games, kid-made remote-controlled cars and chairs built from scrap metal; fair food; and lots of deafening bands plugged in to the corners of the bridge's tunnels. Perhaps scrappy because it was Sunday afternoon, my favorite part was not the content but the location, and Paco loved eating all the pizza crusts, hot dog buns, and whatever other food was dropped and ground in to the concrete.

The day was beautiful and we perked up when we ate some grub (Jamaican jerk chicken and a beer sampling from a local pub), but then it turned super sour.

We walked back to our car parked in a neighborhood that earlier in the afternoon had people strolling about, but at sunset it had tuned a bit sketchy. I buckled Paco in to the backseat, not noticing that the front passenger window had been smashed. Shattered. Busted. The window lay in slivers and shards on the floor and as a glittering, caved-in hunk of glass on the seat. Javier kicked a fence. I called my dad and then the police. Javier chauffeured us the 2 hours home, Paco and I in the backseat.

It turned out my insurance payed for the window. The window-fixers in Toledo came to me. Nothing was stolen (our cds were rifled through but I guess the ruffians didn't like Tori Amos or Nigerian rock music). It was a pleasant 70 degrees, not ten below with icy wind blowing in our faces.

Here are some photos to illustrate the day that wasn't quite ours:

Oh yeah, and a dumpster caught on fire.

Cleveland had its charms, like this little park by the water.

I think Tim Burton would be proud, or inspired.

Car sans window

The Kids in the 'Hood

2011-09-08T13:54:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's because I didn't go back to teaching high school this semester, but I found myself thinking about some of the neighborhood kids I have frequent encounters with, though they're mostly peripheral encounters.

The kid most discussed at our dinner table is a high school student Javier and I dubbed "Kick a Stick" because, with no provocation, he kicked a stick Paco dropped as we walked by him one evening. Kick a Stick is usually seen at the skate park down the block from us, but I've also seen him race off in the direction of the local high school on his bike. One morning when walking Paco, a police cruiser headed for the skate park, just where I had seen a young ruffian enjoying the early a.m. breeze on his trucks and wheels . Sure enough, as Paco and I were on our way home, the cruiser and Kick a Stick, on his board, passed us by. Kick a Stick has also been seen carrying a gas can by our house, but I hope he was just filling up the lawn mower tank. Good ole Kick a Stick, we believe, lives in a house whose occupants and hierarchy we can't figure out.

The house is down the alley from our house. I've seen a woman who looks like she's in her twenties there; Kick a Stick; a yappy Jack Russel terrier and her litter of puppies, and a pre-adolescent boy who one morning, again when I was walking Paco, was out by the garage and asked me if I wanted to buy one of the puppies. At this moment said puppy slipped through the bars of the gate and the kid scooped her up. I indicated I had my hands full with Paco and he pressed on, asking if I knew anyone else who wanted a puppy. This is all at 7 in the morning so I think the kid is pretty intrepid and though he didn't make a sale, he may have a business career ahead of him.

Other kid highlights are the brothers across the street: the cry-baby boy and his older brother who patiently bikes with him, though it's clear he desperately wants to bolt down the block. There's also the boy who remains elusive behind the curtains of his house but who invariably yells out at his barking dog: "BarnIVal, stop barking! BArnIVal! Stop barking!" The emphasis on the various syllables is hilarious and can't be accurately communicated in writing; it sounds like he's taken over the task of some adult who once admonished Barnival the dog but who has since given up.

Sadly, there aren't as many funny girl stories, or many girl stories at all, except we once saw a young girl in a t-shirt that said "50 Years of Excellence" call out "I'm going to get lost!" and give chase to what seemed to be an older sister; the older sister and her friend promptly ran away.

More Adventures in Cooking

2011-09-03T06:13:00.001-07:00

Last night I made dinner for one of Javier's colleagues Luke and Luke's wife and baby daughter. I love love love cooking for people and I made of feast of recipes from a "new cuisine" African cookbook Javier's family gave me last X-Mas. I like this cookbook so much I thought I should copy the Julie & Julia blog model and make a recipe (or two) from this cookbook everyday until I've exhausted the contents. I don't think I'm quite that ambitious, however, and I'm also reluctant to work with some of the ingredients, like lamb, or don't know if I'd find the best quality of some of the products, like shellfish.

The menu was as follows:
lemon and olive chicken
potato and lentil dumplings
red rice
a simple salad of baby lettuces from our garden with a peanut dressing
papaya ketchup
ginger beer
mint green ice tea
banana frittes for dessert

We ate some of the food too fast for me to photograph, but what I did capture is bellow. I also had another successful session of bread making so my bread-baking phobia is over. I baked two loves of Greek olive bread, with cilantro and red onion, with pretty dough braids wrapped around the loaves. Again, it was too good and gone too fast for me to take a photo and the second loaf was given to our neighbor who kindly mows our lawn for us.

Papaya ketchup and Ras Al-Hanout, which is a mix of spices and which I rubbed into the chicken before roasting. It includes ground cardamom, the seeds of which I pulled from the pods and ground myself; I now realize why ground cardamom is $11 in the store: it's painstaking work.

Potato and lentil dumplings, fried and then baked

A peach and blackberry pie I made a few weeks ago with fruit from the farmer's market.

First Days of School, Environs, Food, etc.

2011-08-30T11:06:00.000-07:00

My first ever successful savory loaf:Italian Olive

Salad completely from our garden: Young lettuce greens, basil, and tomatoes

Wood County District Library garden

Wood County District Library

The Prof in his office

How I felt before my first class last week (It went great! My professor has zombie kitsch all over her office.)

Self portrait before the sub interview; as you can see, I have plenty of time on my hands

Flower from the farmer's market. Maybe Emily Wick will paint a timed oil painting of it:)

Ottawa National Refuge

2011-08-29T14:04:00.007-07:00

Yesterday Javier, Paco and I drove to the Ottawa National Refuge, a migratory bird haven about an hour away on Lake Erie. It was beautiful with multiple pools, patches of woods, wild grapes, queen's lace, carnibal, Northern Blazing star (plus many more) wildflowers attracting plenty of butterflies, egrets, blue herons, frogs AND a jet black snake (maybe a garter, racer, or water snake). Luckily, Paco can be amazingly unobservant so while both the snake and I were startled, Paco had no encounter with it.

What follows are photos and video Javier took on our sweet little day trip.

Look closely for the frog

Crane Creek and Lake Erie beyond

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RsjZB9v_k0

Enter the link for the lovely lily pad video

South Bass Island, Lake Erie

2011-08-18T07:11:00.011-07:00

My mom wanted a boat ride on Lake Erie and luckily she did because we spent a beautiful day at Put-In Bay village on South Bass Island, about an hour and 15 minutes from BG. Put-In Bay thrives on tourism during the summer but in the winter only about 100 residents remain. Provisions and mail are flown in periodically during the cold months, and once a week bank employees are flown in so residents can do their banking. The island is only about three and half miles long and a mile and a half wide.

On the ferry my mom suggested getting a golf cart to ride around on and I admonished the idea for being silly. However, once we arrived we saw nearly everyone from the ferry queing up at golf cart rental stands. Soon we were puttering around the island on "Lucky Lucy" among the golf cart, car, bicycle, lawn mower and motorbike traffic.
It was fun to have Javier chauffeur us on the cart but if we go back again, or if we go to another Lake Erie Island, Javier and I decided our bikes would be the best modes of transportation.

Paco's first boat ride

International Peace Memorial at Put-In Bay

View from the State Park

Action Shot

Our golf cart, "Lucky Lucy"

Paco on the golf cart

Mom Visits & Ann Arbor

2011-08-13T17:08:00.011-07:00

My mom arrived yesterday from D.C. and today we drove the 13 track cd (as I like to time it) drive to Ann Arbor. I wished we lived there, but the commute for Javier would be a little ridiculous so weekend trips and these photos will have to suffice.

Breakfast before the day trip. Notice the squirt gun used for a misbehaving Paco. He was, however, on his best behavior during the trip and he got so much attention I think I'm going to look for commercial sponsorship for him.

Mom at the sweet Aunt Agatha's New and Used Mystery Bookstore. When I called to double-check that dogs were allowed the owner said, "Heck ya!"

One cool dude plus a passion fruit cupcake

The University of Michigan's Arboretum. Yes, we were hounded by dog-size mosquitoes (especially Javier), but I want to go back. I bet fall there will knock-out beautiful.

Mom, Paco, and I at the Arboretum

Paco having the time of his life in his first river

Javier trying to run Paco ragged, or vice versa

The prairie landscape at the Arboretum

Lovely pods in the prairie

Photos!

2011-08-09T09:59:00.018-07:00

I'm in Javier's office at BGSU where the WiFi rocks so here's some fotos!

Paco and his car throne

Earth, TX

The house I spent many an hour chasing rabbits in Paducah, TX

My dad and Paco fighting over a taco from Big Truck Tacos (our best meal on the road) in Oklahoma City

111 W. Evers Avenue

Paco and his frontporch domain (he loves eating cardboard)

Hanging basket with mixed lettuces

Black Pearl Chilies

Container Garden with basil, parsley, oregano, rosemary, dill, tomatoes, and Black pearl chilies

Amidst Ikea Assembly Madness

Our Room

Dining room with Ikea table

The finished living room, post-Ikea

How I Barely Survived the Wood County Fair

2011-08-09T09:18:00.001-07:00

Javier and I had discussed going to the fair in BG and on the last day we ventured out to the fair grounds, a mere mile from our house.

The fair was a stamp-size version of the Pima County Fair with the same game booths where you can win a 10 foot, stuffed boa constrictor by plunking pennies into goldfish bowls; the same fried and sugar-saturated food (I overheard one girl ask her friend, "You want a deep-fried Snickers?"); the same livestock pens and craft competition barns; and a handful of the same rides.

Javier and I first looked at the "Fine Arts" barn where mostly young people had submitted artwork into various categories in the hopes of winning a ribbon. It was fun to see the photos, paintings, and drawings of so many students and reminded me of all the talented teenagers I've had the chance to work with.

We also went into the building the housed the gardening, baking, flower arrangement, quilting, etc. competition remnants. The "best of show" flower arrangement was a bouquet of white mums, red carnations, and pine boughs tucked into an ice skate for the "Father's Day" category. Halloween and Eeyore were common themes in the quilting/sewing area. We were somewhat confounded by the glass counters encasing pieces of bread, cake, and muffins that had been part of the baking competition four days prior.

After wandering through these buildings we bought 12 tickets for the rides. We started with the Orbiter, which looks like an octotpus with three suction cups (the cars) per arm and which whirls these cups around and up and down. As soon as the ride started I knew I had made a terrible mistake. Immediately my stomach lurched, I closed my eyes and realized I needed to go to a place of peace in my mind. What heightened the nausea was that every time our car swung down, we zoomed by the speaker which blared "Barbara Ann." Even more horrible than hearing the Beach Boys shrilling in my ears was that there were two false stops. The arms would start to slow, I would breathe normally, flex my hands which had been clamped to the metal safety bar, and then the arms would pick up speed again. When this happened the last time, frantic thoughts filled my head: What signal could I give (because the carnies obviously wouldn't be able to hear me scream "Stop!") to show them I wanted off? Was the ride stuck? Could I force myself to faint?

During this whole torturous time Javier also had his eyes closed but would laugh occasionally and say things like, "I don't want to be a pilot." When we finally stopped he had to help me out of the car and we made our wobbly way to a bench. After several minutes of trying to quell the waves in my stomach by taking deep breaths, I forfeited my remaining tickets to a young couple, we went to watch part of a 4-H auction, I ate a soft pretzel and Javier ate a chocolate dipped piece of key lime pie, and Javier declared our day divided into "Before the Orbiter" and "After the Orbiter."

Chiltepin, Transplanted

2011-08-07T11:36:00.007-07:00

We've been away from Tucson for over two weeks and living in Bowling Green, Ohio for nearly a week and a half. We did A LOT of driving and we've done much in terms of home improvement. Here's our journey thus far (photos will come later as the public WiFi is not cooperating):

The Drive Out
Our move began a little late on Monday, July 25 due to re-packing the trailer and the bed of my dad's truck. We drove to Ruidoso, NM very cautiously to get accustomed to pulling the trailer. However, our self-imposed 60-65 miles speed limit faded away as the miles piled on.

There were only a few minor incidents as the caravan drove east. Paco escaped from his seat belt once while Javier was driving alone and the caravan got split up twice (once in Oklahoma City and again around Indianapolis) but thanks to cell phones and common sense we were quickly reunited.

Our trip also included a brief stop in Paducah, Texas because Javier wanted to see where my dad was born and where he spent the first six years of his childhood. We visited with the son of one of my grandparents' friends at the house where my sister, dad, grandmother and I would visit every summer or so and where Alana and I would chase pet rabbits gone feral and I watched way too much Country Music Television and ate Wuther's butterscoth candy non-stop.

The Arrival and Initial Impressions

Javier and I drove the last half hour together into Bowling Green and were a little anxious, needless to say. We pulled up to our new home and I was relieved to see the house we found online and selected by looking at a hand full of photos turned out to be cute and in a sweet little neighborhood just two blocks from a park, a short walk to downtown BG, and an even shorter walk to the beautiful county library.

On initial explorations of BG I was slightly disappointed as all I noticed at first were bars and tattoo parlors, obviously geared to undergrads that make up the largest percent of the population in town, and strip malls leading in and out of town. Now the town has grown on me as we have found some gems, like the Wednesday afternoon farmer's market (we bought several yummy treats, including a potted chile plant called a Black Pearl-the chilies really look like knuckle-sized, deep purply-black pearls), the used bookstore and cafe, a Bulgarian restaurant, and again, the garden-bedecked, light-filled library where we use the internet and check out gardening books. The residential neighborhoods--those especially west of Main Street/the Dixie Highway--are charming, filled with so much greenery; the fireflies at dusk, and the fact that Thai and Indian food are just a few towns away has also helped win me over.

Projects
Javier's projects have been many and include putting up screens, removing storm windows, creating a compost system, hanging hooks, etc. I've been focused on gardening and my dad and Javier helped me build a 4'x8' raised bed garden; I've also planted salad greens and cress in hanging baskets for the front porch and assembled a small container garden of starter plants. Much of our time was consumed by shopping trips, more shopping than I've ever done in such a short period of time. Home Depot has become a continuous stop-over, and the trip to Ikea was both fun and stressful-I have to admit a few tears were shed on my part by the end of the maze. But now, thanks to the generosity of my dad, we have some great furniture and, thanks to Home Depot, plenty of hardware.

Paco
Paco has had many firsts on this trip and has done remarkably well, most of the time, with these. First cross-country trip, first staircase (it's adorable to see him go waddling down the stairs; he and I often race up the stairs at our house.), first fleas with first flea collar and flea shampoo bath, first carpets (that didn't go too well initially: he "christened" the carpeted bedrooms straight away). We've blocked off the entrance to the front porch with a baby gate and stake him in the backyard in lieu of a fence and he seems content in these outdoor domains.

Job Prospects, Etc. for Moi
I signed up for a class at BGSU; it's an elective for the PhD program in Rhetoric and Composition and it's titled "African American Gothic Literature." The book list looks fabulous: a mix of fiction by Toni Morrison, Gloria Naylor, and others, as well as nonfiction books about slavery and identity.

I have an interview in late August with a company the contracts substitutes for local county school districts, I applied for a part-time Youth Services Assistant position at my local library, and I found out yesterday I'm a candidate for a fellowship in the College on Innovative Learning at the University of Toledo. One concern is that the letter informing me of my candidacy addressed me as "Dr. Conway." While the title sounds great, I hope it was a simple error made by the admin. assistant typing out the letter and not the belief that I possess a degree higher than I actually have.

El Fin
I was sad to see my dad leave yesterday and head back home, but thrilled that my mom is coming to visit next Saturday. Javier's parents plan on visiting in October and his sister in the spring. We welcome all our friends and family to visit and we have a guest suite to offer (I know: you never expected to visit Bowling Green, Ohio, but now you have personal guides to introduce you to this piece of Midwest farmland).

Relaunch Party

2011-07-13T20:33:00.004-07:00

This is the relaunch party for this blog. As I'm moving to Ohio in a week and a half (!) I thought I'd relaunch the blog with the name I love most dearly in order to keep people up-to-date with the impending move across the country, and as a project for myself during my, as of now, never-ending summer. So, even though the posts are nearly three years old and some of them almost embarrassing (the poems have been drastically revised and the analysis of some of my previous posts not fully developed)Papel Chiltepin will be where I write about this next stage in my life that both looms and tantalizes (though, right now, it mostly looms).

At this moment I am at my friend Tasha's house, at my last meeting for the Writing Group in it's current incarnation. We are missing Jeevan, and there is one man down (oh, Gus, how we miss your lengthy sentences), but still it feels great to be writing with Tracy, Taylor, Breelan, and Tasha, because, in the past two years, if it weren't for this group, I wouldn't be writing creatively. This is also just one more good-bye in the litany of good-byes I have begun (Beth, school colleagues and friends, my professional life in Tucson). So even though this is a relaunch party, there is a sadness that hangs over this post for me. I am putting my hesitancy of this move, a hesitancy I have verbalized but never put down in writing, in the most ambiguous form; realize, though, dear reader, this move has me sad and scared and a little hopeful in a way I can't fully express.

Arizona Poem: Copper Queen

2008-12-30T12:43:00.002-07:00

The pit is thick with ribbons
of violet, sulpher sediment layered
like a cake. Crystal fists pocketed in the rock,
nerves of electricity threaded like microscopic sun rays,
gold coughed up, silver, then duller metals,
though this cavernous body gave up,
exhausted, not so much a rumble
as a hollow blink.

Invisibility, Part 1 (unfinished)

2008-10-02T21:29:00.000-07:00

During the spring and summer of 2006, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s experimental branch, LACMA Lab, ran a show titled “Consider This” which invited the six artists represented, and subsequently the public, to consider our present social and cultural climate. With these broad parameters one artist, Margaret Honda, created a piece titled “Hide Out.” Using wood and various blue patterned cloth, she constructed a large clubhouse viewers circled, peering through peepholes and into the snarling mouth or startled stare of taxidermied animals on loan from the Natural History Museum. Viewers were then welcome to build their own clubhouses from textiles and pillows adjacent to the larger work.

Honda’s piece speaks to the idea of invisibility and what this does to individuals, communities and space. The animals in her clubhouse (or, rather, fortress) are contained and hidden, their presence and actions visible only when the viewer chooses to peek into their “habitat ”. The views offer only a limited perspective of the animal and the space they inhabit. This concept of invisibility is not new to our social and cultural climate but it is especially topical in regards to the debate of undocumented workers in the United States.

Undocumented workers are an existing part of U.S. society contributing to our social conscious, our work force, and our communities. Whether an individual or groups are for or against their presence in this country, theirs is a presence that is active and can’t be ignored. People working without papers in the U.S., whether seasonally or with an intent to stay, are slotted in a category of invisibility by the circumstance of their lives. With a necessity to remain out of the eye of the law, or of citizens who think they are the law, coupled with marginalized occupations available to them, undocumented workers generally occupy jobs that are behind-the-scenes. Chefs and dishwashers in restaurant kitchens, janitors with night shifts, field workers in rural farms, day laborers working with private contractors in construction or landscaping, nannies in private houses or secluded parks all have little interaction with the general public.

At the end of the day there is a similar condition of invisibility surrounding the community a worker returns to. Many neighborhoods are comprised of families of undocumented workers, of families with an undocumented worker living with them, or houses or apartments where many people, mainly men, live, unrelated to each other but sharing a common space, probably the same language, and a similar position as being undocumented. The condition of invisibility is one create both by the people living within it and those without it. It is a choice all individuals and communities, admittedly with much difficulty, can choose to transcend.

Traditionalist

2008-08-24T16:17:00.004-07:00

Though usually a person who favors progressive ideas (gay marriage, green energy, fusion food), when it comes to matters of science I sometimes identify as a traditionalist. Not that I believe in creationism (god forbid) but rather I question the ethics and moral decisions some scientists, and their supporters, are making.

I sorely lack exposure to the world of science and much of what the field is undertaking. I realize there are continuous advances and mind-blowing theories being tested which are saving people and creating paths for healthier living. However, even in my admittedly limited awareness, one branch of science irks me and that is biotechnology.

For one, the prefix and root word don't mesh in mind. Though some techno-gadgets, such as pace-makers, were based on anatomical observation and at this point the population can't seem to survive without it's various contraptions, "life" and "machine" don't necessarily go hand-in-hand. For the majority of this world's history, the latter didn't exist and the former never even considered it's current partner.

What has bothered me about biotechnology for some time is the question of gene manipulation.
Scientists pulling DNA from one source and injecting into another to alter eons of foundational makeup? This argument is all too obvious, and I never would have imagined myself in a camp with religious conservatives, but here it goes... ISN'T this type of practice a little bit like playing god? (Wow, I've used the "g" word twice in this posting.)

The again, I suppose one could argue that any sort of doctoring is playing at g** but if I continue down that track this post could lean more into the Christian Scientist territory than I'm comfortable with.

Maybe my problem is I'm simply irritated with what seems to me like a big time-waster: Recently some MIT students added DNA to their E-Coli lab samples so that instead of smelling like feces, the petri dishes emitted banana and wintergreen aromas. Really? If they were bored while the bacteria grew couldn't' they have studied pink-eye, black mold, or malaria? Maybe it's just a way for these students to get their kicks; a way to get their creative juices flowing. Maybe they think writing poems is a big waste of time and not advantageous to society's unity.

But on the ethics/moral bent, what I find appalling is that Darwinism could be at it's end. What if "natural" natural selection is thrown out the window and people start selecting good genes from beakers to create babies instead of selecting mates who are primitively genetically appealing in order to propagate the human race. It's all too sci-fi for me; it's too artificial and not enough "organic."

Yes, invitro fertilization creates a blurry line, as well as egg donation, which plays into race and class issues. I don't think I have enough space here or energy to fully investigate at this juncture the moral and ethical spectrum of biotechnology, I just wanted to put these thoughts on the subject out there.

Maybe I just need to get over it: maybe gene manipulation is a much, much more sophisticated form of fruit tree grafting.

Seven Wonders of the World

2008-08-24T12:50:00.005-07:00

Poem I: Song

The throat conspires with the diaphragm
to shape the storm of breath batting through
the body's caverns and chutes, lifting from the tongue against
the mouth's soft catherdral, past lips to particles
nearly split with the gift of embracing such sound on waves
that break into coronets on our lobes and whorls,
such sound that sinks us, then buoys this arrow, this
if you you carry it a little longer, a little closer to the chest
it rifts the heart and then sews the tear-
a constant mending and unmending the voodoo a croon does to us.

Poem II: Miracle Valley

Clouds to the north stretch like racing horses' necks.
Two miles south Mexico is lightning pricked,
hot pins stick the earth and wet.
The valley turns over on its back in the flagging heat
to the dim bloom of sun obscured by mountain range and monsoon
while I turn east to those clouds that trail the star's rotation,
those clouds that have the best of it: my attention,
columns of lavender, gray and pink,
ushering the last light of the earth
through the blue valley, over my head.

Poem III: Salicorne

River born, briny
St. Lawrence, the coast of France
Crunch of green, salt teeth

Arizona Poem

2008-08-20T06:43:00.003-07:00

Clouds stream the San Pedro Valley.
Strange to think of clouds as earth-bound things,
like sheep, though not Biblical ones (lamb-white and downy)
but rather desert born, burrs snarring wool, black bellies.
These sheep corraled against the mountains,
herded north through the valley, graze up the foothills
so only the snow-capped summit waves a flag of peace.
Herding season as though on the Navajo Nation,
so many what is left is a shape of color.