Running, back pain, frustration and peaches

I was running almost every day for a while and then the aches and pains set in and set me back a bit. After taking some time away from the sport, I took a long run Sunday morning, which was wonderful and horribly painful both physically and emotionally. There is something about exercise that enables me to function. And whatever the exercise, as long as it is brutally tough, is a catharsis for me. As long as I can remember, I have been moving. And I mean constantly moving. I do all activities that I can fit in a day and while I rest, my mind is running the hamster wheel around and around. It's an annoying obsession I can't escape but it enables me to function. I believe my brother is the same. At the dinner table as kids, we would both be twitching, shaking the table and as we tapped our feet and fussed with silverware in our hands. My brother is equally fit, if not more so. We have never talked about it but I believe it has the same meaning for him. A release as the exercise high surges upward and out.

I have noticed recently that when I take cycling classes or run for miles that I finish wanting to cry and I feel relief. It's hard to explain but as weird as it sounds, it feels amazing. And recently, my back has slowed me in my ability to release. I don't know what I did but it hurts like hell. And through all of the discomfort and pain, all I can think about is moving. I mowed part of the lawn yesterday and gritted my teeth through the pain hoping it would simply ease as my body adjusted to the movements. But the only thing that seems to ease the pain is a glass of wine and to roll around in the fetal position on the floor. Possibly not in that order, however.....

The frustration builds with my lack of movement and is coming out in my dreams. My undergraduate degree was in harp music performance. I dreamt the other night that my music professor walked into my gym. I had just finished a ridiculous workout on a rowing machine where I was struggling to find a rhythm. I would push then pull only to be out of sync with the machine. I remember feeling embarrassed and frustrated as I fought with the machine as to how to move as one. So I gave up and encountered two friends and we started to chat. Standing there doing nothing but talk, which is something I dislike doing in a gym. I don't go there to socialize and stand by the water fountain discussing ones day. I find it a waste of time and annoying. I will only do it if I am lifting weights. While my friends and I talk, my music professor walks in from college giving me a disapproving look and fakes a smile while being introduced to my friends. It's so fake it burns me inside to know I have failed her and the rowing machine.

These dreams have increased recently. All of my teachers and bosses appear in my dreams and they rarely say anything but their body language says it all. You aren't doing what you are supposed to be doing. Figure it out already. They all seem disappointed. (Except for my restaurant boss who made me a salad in a recent dream.) It's either these kinds of dreams that shake me awake or me in a car accident.

I know our blog is to be about house remodel projects and food but I had to mention this because since I can't move as easily to release whatever, writing seems to help a little. And I'm sure I'm not the only person in their early 30's wondering if their doing what they are supposed to be doing in life. I know I am not alone in this. But I am pretty frustrated with it. I'm ready for my back pain to ease so I can explode.

So as my back pain distracts me, I distract it with peaches. I recently went peach picking with a friend and picked over 40 pounds in less than an hour! I have kept the creative juices flowing by making peach jam, peach blackberry jam, peach pepper jelly and then slowly freezing the rest. I love making jam. Ron has been working incredibly hard on our house remodel along with our contractor. We had hopes in doing the entire house and property this year. But it is a ridiculous thought because we can barely keep our eyes open while eating dinner most nights. So my incredible husband plugs away at the house before and after work and I make jam. And next year, I will be making jam from fruit from our own yard because our goals will be met, I am sure of it. I can't wait.

I promise to post more before and after pictures soon of the house. What Ron has done with the help of friends and the contractor is truly amazing.

Hardwood Floors and Dreaming of Chickens

Projects never cease. Hardwood floors are about halfway done in our basement and even though all of our rooms are full of crap moved out of the way, the results are wonderful! Even two border collies approve.

Border collie wrestling match on the new floors will follow the taking of this photograph.

We have a friend doing the floors while Ron paints and I watch, unsure of how I can help except bake cookies for fuel.

In the meantime I need chickens. And a rooster. Because I want eggs and to hear chirping. But I don't know where to start. Ron and I have picked out a spot in our shop to build a coop and I simply have no idea what to do even with the advice streaming from books, the internet and friends who own chickens already. I have said that I will take on the task of organizing this venture and being neither handy nor crafty, I feel like maybe I was too ambitious at the thought of being in charge of this project. But every time I eat an egg from the the farm up the road, I see no other choice than to raise chickens myself. I need to channel my inner farm girl.

Don't I look like I'm ready to mow some major lawn? Note the sprig of grass (OK maybe a dried weed) hanging from my lips. Serious farm girl action here. Except I only drove about two feet forward and back on our driveway before Ron took over.

Any tips on building a chicken coop as a woman with no carpentry skills are welcome.

jam and my thoughts

Here I find myself again, staring into a large pan of boiling fruit and sugar. And while I gaze at my raspberry jam, I'm deep in thought about how I can make a living out of baked goods and canned jams and jellies. With bags under my eyes I'm exhausted from the thought of planting a fruit and vegetable garden when I don't even know how to till the ground. Ron and I have dreams of a business. One day we want people to buy our produce while they sip on our home brew and garage wine and lather our bread with homemade jam. And maybe they will walk away with a bag of my homemade cookies and eggs from our chickens that we still need to get. And they will be raving about our bacon and sausages that they will be cooking for breakfast. Recently I checked out The One-Block Feast by Sunset Magazine from the library. "100 recipes made with ingredients from your yard. How to raise chickens, keep bees, brew beer, make wine, and more. Garden plans for 4 seasons." The book is beautiful and everyone looks so happy while they prune vines and dig land to plant seeds. When Ron and I bought our property, it definitely seemed daunting but being newlyweds, we were excited. But we can barely make time to even go on a date, let alone paint a wall or knead bread. Okay, it is starting to sound like I'm whining. What I'm trying to convey is that it's a lot of work but also a lot of fun.

I have become a bit obsessed about checking out books from the library that involve cooking, baking, house projects, and the occasional book about training for a marathon. (Probably won't happen but I pretend I'm training...) I skim through the books and pick the ones I would consider buying to add to our cookbook collection. I did end up buying Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook so that I could master her pastry dough. And I also bought BakeWise by Shirley O. Corriher who is basically a goddess of food science. I wouldn't mind becoming a complete baking geek. I didn't get the Sunset Magazine book though. It was a great book but everyone looked too happy doing their projects so I returned it to the library. Ron and I are happy to have projects but we don't always look that happy while we do them..... Honestly, some really suck.

Speaking of projects Ron has been going gangbusters downstairs. That carpet that made me want to hurl has been ripped up and we had our handy ex-DJ turned contractor who loves to rap, dry wall our soon to be wine cellar. (Yes, he has even "free-rhymed" to me about grout. A post for another time.) Last night Ron painted some of the walls so that we can get our bamboo flooring done. This will be our future entertainment room:

Still working on the color for the party room next to it.

While Ron continued to paint, I mowed about 3/4 of an acre of our property, which took me about 2 hours to do. Lots of hills and I was often attacked by blackberry bushes. I eventually burned out, poured myself a glass of wine and worked on dinner. My brother and sister-in-law gave me Melissa Clark's In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite for Christmas. She writes for the New York Times but I mostly enjoy listening to her be interviewed on The Splendid Table on NPR. Plus she has the most amazing hair color. It's orange red like an heirloom tomato. And kind of the same color as our entertainment room. Anyway, I made her recipe for "Figgy, Piggy Drumsticks and Thighs." Essentially it's chicken browned in a pan of bacon fat, which is then finished in the oven with roasted figs and thyme. I presented it on a platter with wilted lettuce and then you scatter it with bacon and garlic.

I also threw a fresh pizza dough on the grill, spread pesto and Emmentaler cheese on top with corn, shallots and mushrooms.

Finally a dinner I made that I would eat again! Melissa Clark's recipe was super easy and delicious. But anything with bacon is delicious. And the pizza was a perfect accompaniment.

More tales of basement projects to come. I'm sure more wine will be poured to assist.

Danishes and Carpet

I have a deep love for baking. I have been baking since I was a kid and my mom loved to bake too. She and I would bake batches of brownies and cookies whenever there was free time. In the summers when I was out of school, I baked almost daily. I think part of my love for baking stems from the fact that I have loved sugar for as long as I can remember. And having the skill to bake allows me to create most anything I desire. I have cakes that bake in 30 minutes (good for a late night craving for chocolate cake) and cake recipes that take hours to put together to fulfill my need for a challenge. Currently I have been playing around with various Danish pastry doughs with some success and most recently I tried a recipe from Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook. I made Martha's version and started off with using the dough to make cheese Danishes.

And my word, they were rockin' good. I don't even buy them when I go to a bakery, Ron does, but I was inspired because it is his favorite. The pastry dough was delicious and the ripples of butter between each layer were oozing out of each pastry and all over my hands. The dough was not easy to make and I was reminded as to why I like pastries when I started putting the 3 pounds of butter in the dough before folding it and rolling it multiple times.

But it was very rewarding. And the I loved the addition of lemon zest and golden raisins.

But then I made her sticky buns. I used the same dough to make what looked to be a delicious treat from her cookbook. I was so impressed by their appearance that I made Ron come and look at them the moment they came out of the oven. I made two kinds. One with hazelnuts and one with pecans. But pouring corn syrup into each large muffin tin as the base made me a bit wary. After reading multiple articles as to why corn syrup is crap I was slightly embarrassed to have it in my pantry. But I admit, I use it. I use it in ice cream and of course, the Thanksgiving pecan pie. But I was still cringing a bit. I knew the buns were to be sticky but this seemed obscene. I figured my inexperience in making sticky buns was shaking my confidence. It had to be right. Buns were in the oven and out they came looking glorious, glossy, and oh so gooey.

Ron and I shared half of each kind. My first bite was delicious. I was partial to the hazelnut because I love the fragrance and firm crunch of a hazelnut. But then I realized that the crunch moved into the hard goo, stuck to your teeth category. The corn syrup mixture was begging to give me a cavity. Then I noticed Ron stopped eating his. Perhaps he was distracted by a story in the morning paper? I finally asked his opinion. "They're good," he said. "But a bit too.......well, hard to eat."

Damn it, Martha! Failure. An entire batch of pastry turned into hard candy. I forced Ron to take them all to his office. I'm hoping he didn't tell anyone I made them though. I couldn't bare to throw them away after I worked on that dough for days. Folding, chilling, folding, chilling, folding, freezing, defrosting, folding, rolling, chilling.... At least the cheese danishes made me pat myself on the back. After eating the sticky buns that morning, I was so high on sugary corn syrup, I started shaking. Kind of like when I have one too many shots of espresso in the morning. I felt my heart racing, I wanted to faint but instead I obsessively cleaned my kitchen. I dumped the rest of my pastry in the trash. Ugh, what a waste.

But so it goes in testing recipes, I have learned. And I have two great kitchen companions. Bernie often licks the floor until every crumb is gone. He sits at my feet as flour is dusted onto his head. I call him my sous chef even though all he does is stare at the oven.

Roscoe, on the other hand, has issues during cooking time. He is very sensitive to lights flashing about. An example would be the reflection of light onto a watch or a cell phone that is dancing on the floor. The worst is aluminum foil. Just the sound of the foil yanked out of its container and then ripped into a piece makes him bananas. He cries, jumps at the walls and eventually tries to attack Bernie. So my only solution was to feed him treats while I tore sheet after sheet of foil in his face. Now the sound that used to send him into a tizzy sends him running into the kitchen for a treat. The same goes for saran wrap. He will come from the basement to plop down by the treat jar.

Border collies are weird, I have concluded.

Meanwhile Ron has been going gangbusters on the basement. I continue to vacuum, although I did start organizing the garage. At the start of all of his projects, my heart stops for a second because the initial shock of change startles me. But it's okay because what was there before was never good. He has ripped up part of the floor that had carpeting like this:

Yeah, that shag carpet you had when you were young. I used to like running my hands through it as a kid but it wasn't like running your hands through someone's hair. (Clean hair, that is...) Anyway, we have carpet from hell in our basement and Ron is slowly pulling it up. He has also knocked down a few walls to expand the look. Besides inhaling tons of concrete dust and finding a family of dead mice, it's been smooth sailing for him. (I can say it's been smooth sailing because I have done nothing except move items out of the room.) The only problem is I have less carpet to vacuum. Time to poor the drinks then.

The Border Collies

"Oh s$$t!" Ron exclaimed.

"What?" I said.

Ron stood bolt upright to block my view of our window seat in the kitchen. "Nothing!"

At this moment it is midnight and I now notice a small dark object on the seat, hidden in the shadows. "Is it a bird?"

"No."

"Is it a mouse?"

"Nope."

"Dog poop?"

"No."

Long pause. Again I ask,"Is it a bird?"

"Maybe..."

"Huh?!"

"It's not that bad...."

"What's not that bad?"

"It looks like it was peaceful when it happened."

"When what happened?"

"Just don't come over here. Go do something else."

I turn around then stop to consider turning back to look and think better of it. You are probably wondering why I came back to asking about it being a bird. My first thought in my mind is border collie #2 who I recently found with a young bird flapping about in his mouth a few days prior. I was able to get the bird to safety but I'm sure it had a heart attack within the hour. I would too if I were playing "games" with a dog and I weighed less than a pound.

Here I introduce border collie #2.

I say #2 not because he is inferior to border collie #1 but to reference the fact that he was adopted months later after border collie #1. Border collie #2 was once named Cookie, then Mikey, until we rescued him and decided on the name Roscoe. Roscoe is definitely a person reincarnated and I don't even believe in reincarnation. But he thinks (a lot!) about....well I am not sure and that's what worries me. You often find him hovering over mole holes, cocking his head as if to ask, "Mole! Why are you underground? Come see me. I want to meet you and we could play together! Oh okay. I'll dig you out instead. And eat you."

We rescued Roscoe with very little information on his background except records of some food allergies and notes that he was a bit hyper. I still remember day one with Roscoe. So sweet, he looked. His low wagging tail greeting me. Later I heard a crash from him flipping a newly made cake onto the ground with its cake stand. And he wasn't sure of border collie #1.

That's Bernie. Another rescue who was a stray. Bernie is the most blissed out being I know. He is in a constant state of craziness, love of life and joy. When he yawns, he shakes his head simultaneously with a low shriek, barely containing his need for an activity. But we love these dogs. So much so that we have backpacks we never use for them, life jackets, toys galore and 5 acres. Yeah, I'm pretty sure we got 5 acres for two border collies.

I spent the last month outside intrigued by birds that would fly close by me to land only a few yards away. I thought, "Gosh these birds are getting so used to us being around all the time that they don't even care!" Then I noticed Bernie cocking his head left and right above a spot on the porch. Aha! A nest was found with baby birds! How cute! Then Roscoe discovered it.

Based on the position of the nest I thought they would be fine until I noticed Roscoe in the yard "playing" with a young bird I mentioned earlier. I'm not truly sure if Roscoe is to blame for a bird dead on the window seat but I wouldn't put it past him. He has caught a squirrel, moles, rats and been found munching a chipmunk. I have been startled many times by these encounters, spitting out expletives when I catch him in the act.

Bernie and Roscoe. My obsessions. My "kids." Yes, we are one of those annoying couples who talks about their dogs as if we made them ourselves. "You should see Bernie when he plays in his kiddie pool! And Roscoe is such a hoot but kind of nuts. But he is getting better now that he is on meds."

I mention medication because Roscoe has a doggie dermatologist. I know. It's insanity. My regular vet calls him the million dollar dog. He has a heart murmur that needs to be monitored, he's accident prone, his anal glands are always blocked, he has cholesterol deposits in his eyes, and he is allergic to EVERYTHING. Bills. And more bills. But Bernie would be lost without him. WE would be lost without him. The two of them together provide immense joy and an abundance of entertainment. They annoy the crap out of each other and at the same time they LOVE each other. And yet, Ron wants another. He sends me emails with subject lines such as, "Save me. I need help." I open the email to find pictures of border collies up for adoption in states as far as Idaho and Washington. I'll catch Ron at the computer where he confesses he has been looking at border collie rescue sights for an hour. Better that than porn, yes, but I think about the insanity of having three herding dogs that only herd us. I can barely handle walking the two of them and I can not imagine walking three! But then, I look at the pictures in the emails and respond to Ron with, "Please buy this dog immediately. I'll get the car ready."

A Before and After

We have already done an incredible amount of remodeling to our house (when I say 'we' I mean Ron) and it has been quite the journey. To give you an idea, I'll start with our kitchen. Here is the kitchen when we first looked at the house.

We knew this was not the look for us. I admit, when we first discussed purchasing this home, I was a bit wary. I only know how to spell the word remodel. I don't know how to do it. But Ron convinced me that he was the man for the job so I said, "Work your magic." Next thing I know, we move in and I come home one day to this.

I know what your thinking. It was the same thing I was thinking. Where am I supposed to make my lunch? AND I was planning on baking cookies that day.... But I did not panic. I simply asked, "And how was YOUR day?" If I remember correctly Ron's response was, "Surprise!"

This started the days of endless knocking out of walls, ripping of carpet, peeling of wallpaper and being covered in insulation. I may sound crazy but I was so thankful for Ron. I know my friends were worried but I had faith in him. We set up our daily lives in the basement where Ron had fixed up a bedroom and a "kitchen" for us to use while we (again, Ron!) remodeled the upstairs. We chopped vegetables on the washing machine and grilled out most nights. I could sense Ron's fear that I was going to choke him if the upstairs wasn't done soon. But I reminded him of how I had lived in many apartments much less comfortable. I was pretty used to using old boxes for night stands and covering them with table clothes to add some flair. I had once lived above a pizza pub and on my first night I realized I lived above the kitchen where dishes were washed and stacked all night long. I often had to leave to avoid tears welling up in my eyes from the vents spewing up smells of chopped onions. I was overheated by not having air conditioning but mostly due to the fact I lived directly above the pizza oven. Cold showers and sticking my head in the freezer never really worked and the thought of sleeping in my van was kind of depressing. I think it was when my neighbor showed me his collection of Pringles boxes he used to somehow conduct a connection with the wifi from the coffee shop next door that I started to realize that maybe I wasn't living the dream of a twenty year old. This is when Ron nicknamed me GG, which stands for Ghetto Girl. So, while yes I was anxious to place my cutting board on a counter instead of a laundry machine, I didn't mind so much. And it was worth it because now we have this:

Every day I wake up and fall in love with our kitchen counter. I could sleep on this thing. It was all Ron's vision and I'm so glad he saw it because it is an amazing transformation. Go team Ron, go.

Nice to meet you

Welcome to our new blog where we plan on writing about our life on our new property. While our lives are probably pretty boring to most people, what the heck. Why not write about it and see who gives a damn.

I should mention that we aren't farming anything at the moment. But we have grand plans. And we like calling our property a farm because Ron gives me a funny look when I say something about the "yard" and calling it a field makes it sound like it should be big enough for a soccer game.

A little background on us would probably help. I am currently in the midst of figuring out what I am doing with my life. 32 isn't too late, right? I do lots of things to keep my wheels turning in the meantime. I am going to school part-time, working at a restaurant and in the cellar of a winery. And I play the harp too. I enjoy flexing my muscles, which is handy because I have to use them every day on our property. Currently I am learning how to use a lawnmower and we have lots of hills. I'm doing pretty well except when I fall over or slide down a hill. Embarrassing? Probably but the nice thing about having property is that nobody can see you! Well, some people can but I just pretend they aren't there. Anyway, back to flexing muscles. Lucky for Ron, I like to be active and lucky for me, I have many things to keep me active on our property. And did I mention I love wearing Carhartt pants? Have you seen how many pockets they have?! My husband, Ron, is a physician assistant in orthopedic surgery and probably the funniest person you will ever meet and VERY handy. Not only are we working on our farm, but Ron is remodeling our entire house. I am not handy so I pour the drinks and vacuum.

Another thing you should know about us is we are obsessed with our two border collies, Bernie and Roscoe. I even started a blog about a year ago just about our dogs! But I got bored after two posts, realizing that I was probably the only one who cared about Bernie's obsession with balls and Roscoe's fear of aluminum foil. I mention them here because they are a huge part of our lives, which means they will be a part of the blog too.

And cooking. We LOVE to cook. I mostly bake and make salads (counteracts the butter and sugar intake right?) and Ron does everything else. We are pretty crafty, I would say, and we aspire to be more so. I make batch upon batch of jams and jellies while Ron smokes pork belly and brews beer. Much of this blog will be about food because that's mostly what we talk about when we hang out. And currently I am on a baking binge so get ready for lots of baking rants. But it will also be our way to document what we have changed with our property and home and keep a diary.

I hope those who read our blog enjoy it and please post suggestions on any projects we are doing. For the most part, we have no idea what we are doing.

Cheers.