I was listening with half an ear to The Splendid Table yesterday on the radio and heard the host suggest something along the lines of this very simple recipe. Since I happened to have two sweet potatoes that needed to be cooked, I thought I'd give it a try.
Two medium sweet potatoes
One lime
Hunk of fresh ginger (about 1 tsp in volume; adjust to taste)
Jar of Thai red curry (red chili) paste
Olive oil
Wash and cook the sweet potatoes. I microwave them because it is then trivial to remove the skin. Alternately, you can peel them then microwave them.
Peel and finely dice the fresh ginger then place in a bowl. Add the peeled sweet potatoes, the juice of one lime (which hopefully you also washed), and a tablespoon of the Thai red curry paste. Add a small amount of olive oil and begin to mash all ingredients. Add more olive oil as needed to smooth out the texture.
And that's all it takes for a perfect side dish or vegetarian main. I ate mine with sliced cucumber drizzled with balsamic vinegar.
As a side note, if you do much Asian-inspired cooking (south or east, doesn't matter), limes, fresh ginger, and Thai red curry paste should be staples in your kitchen. If you don't work with fresh limes that often, select thinner-skinned, very slightly squishier ones (in other words, avoid the rock-hard ones with very thick rinds) and roll them around under your palm on a cutting board, pressing down firmly, before slicing. This makes it much easier to juice them.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Social Butterfly
Those are certainly two words that I never thought that I would use to describe Azza. But there's no other way to put it: tonight in class, she was a wiggly, tail-wagging, googly-eye-making, treat-begging social butterfly.
It was amazing.
After teaching all those basic obedience and agility classes myself, I observed this phenomenon quite a few times. Somewhere around week four or five, a shy or anxious dog will blossom, sometimes explode is the only way to put it, and start to display the social skills and bravado of a seasoned entertainer (I link to that video because NPH is utterly, jaw-dropping amazing and everyone in the world needs to watch that spectacle half a dozen times at least). Not only is this blossoming a sign that the owner is doing their homework, but it shows the power of positive training. It is also a testament to the fact that most pet dogs want nothing more than a little structure and attention from their people.
Of course, Azza's situation is rather more complex than a little structure and attention will resolve but the idea is the same. Still, I was quite surprised to see her reach this emotional state. It was so much more than I expected for her out of this class.
She is infatuated with the small dogs, and tonight's favorite was the sandy colored terrier mix. She had no time at all for the half a dozen BCs in the room. She also decided that every single person in the room was her bestest bestie ever and that she would try to beg treats from them all. The instructors gave her treats and pet her but we only allowed the other handlers to give her treats, no touching. Just in case. I completely concurred with this given her previous behavior, and in fact, a couple of the other handlers were reluctant to touch her anyway (she was quite an mess the first two weeks and I can hardly blame them).
We did a classic recall with distraction exercise where we put our dogs on a long line and allowed them to approach one of the instructors who pet them and gave them treats as we backed up then recalled our dogs to us. Azza was totally into this game, realizing that she would get excellent treats and attention on both ends if she played along. Still, I was only able to recall her with difficulty.
Let me repeat that.
I was only able to recall Azza with difficulty from visiting with a human she's seen four times and previously only taken a single treat from, and that reluctantly and not directly from the human's hand. She was pressed up next to the instructor's side (Azza's default position for rewards is the heel position), thumping her tail on the ground and eagerly eating cheese and a beef stick like she hadn't been fed in weeks.
During the down exercise, Azza didn't just go into the down, she went into her spider dog position, chin on the floor, paws splayed awkwardly, patiently waiting for me to toss her another treat.
At one point, she flopped over onto her side and went into a little trance, just chilling on the floor.
In a room with FOUR unleashed dogs (BCs all) and four other dogs of uncertain affection towards her. We all stopped and stared.
I'm quite certain that Azza misses her BFF Nellie in Dhahran and is starting to figure out that other dogs and other people might be a similar source of attention and play and treats that Penny and Nellie and Moya and Boodle did.
We've learned a few new behaviors from the class but this social lesson is by far the most valuable for Azza.
It was amazing.
After teaching all those basic obedience and agility classes myself, I observed this phenomenon quite a few times. Somewhere around week four or five, a shy or anxious dog will blossom, sometimes explode is the only way to put it, and start to display the social skills and bravado of a seasoned entertainer (I link to that video because NPH is utterly, jaw-dropping amazing and everyone in the world needs to watch that spectacle half a dozen times at least). Not only is this blossoming a sign that the owner is doing their homework, but it shows the power of positive training. It is also a testament to the fact that most pet dogs want nothing more than a little structure and attention from their people.
Of course, Azza's situation is rather more complex than a little structure and attention will resolve but the idea is the same. Still, I was quite surprised to see her reach this emotional state. It was so much more than I expected for her out of this class.
She is infatuated with the small dogs, and tonight's favorite was the sandy colored terrier mix. She had no time at all for the half a dozen BCs in the room. She also decided that every single person in the room was her bestest bestie ever and that she would try to beg treats from them all. The instructors gave her treats and pet her but we only allowed the other handlers to give her treats, no touching. Just in case. I completely concurred with this given her previous behavior, and in fact, a couple of the other handlers were reluctant to touch her anyway (she was quite an mess the first two weeks and I can hardly blame them).
We did a classic recall with distraction exercise where we put our dogs on a long line and allowed them to approach one of the instructors who pet them and gave them treats as we backed up then recalled our dogs to us. Azza was totally into this game, realizing that she would get excellent treats and attention on both ends if she played along. Still, I was only able to recall her with difficulty.
Let me repeat that.
I was only able to recall Azza with difficulty from visiting with a human she's seen four times and previously only taken a single treat from, and that reluctantly and not directly from the human's hand. She was pressed up next to the instructor's side (Azza's default position for rewards is the heel position), thumping her tail on the ground and eagerly eating cheese and a beef stick like she hadn't been fed in weeks.
During the down exercise, Azza didn't just go into the down, she went into her spider dog position, chin on the floor, paws splayed awkwardly, patiently waiting for me to toss her another treat.
At one point, she flopped over onto her side and went into a little trance, just chilling on the floor.
In a room with FOUR unleashed dogs (BCs all) and four other dogs of uncertain affection towards her. We all stopped and stared.
I'm quite certain that Azza misses her BFF Nellie in Dhahran and is starting to figure out that other dogs and other people might be a similar source of attention and play and treats that Penny and Nellie and Moya and Boodle did.
We've learned a few new behaviors from the class but this social lesson is by far the most valuable for Azza.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Dried Catfish Skins
My friend Gosia sent us a housewarming gift box and one of the items in it was a package of dried Icelandic catfish skins (here is a really good article about this North Atlantic fish). The treats look like flattened, silvery grey sticks. With effort, you can cut them into smaller pieces with a pair of heavy kitchen shears or give them to your dog as is (everything in my house gets divided into three parts to make them last longer).
Terrier Toy Testing Institute (T3i) gives them an enthusiastic review! Even HellBeast enjoyed the small flaky bits from the bottom of the bag.
If your local specialty pet food store carries these, buy a bag and surprise your pups!
Terrier Toy Testing Institute (T3i) gives them an enthusiastic review! Even HellBeast enjoyed the small flaky bits from the bottom of the bag.
If your local specialty pet food store carries these, buy a bag and surprise your pups!
Monkeys in the Zoo
When I'm out walking with the dogs each morning, we see joggers and bikers and other walkers. Without fail, everyone gives us a smile and often a "good morning!". Who can help but be in a good mood when you live in such a beautiful part of the world? And be out in the glorious fresh air of the new day? Fairly often, we also receive this compliment: "beautiful dogs!".
Of course they are beautiful dogs. They are groomed, in good physical condition, and, most importantly, trained (i.e., heavily rewarded) to behave themselves, more or less, on lead and in public. Even Azza has learned how to accept these compliments gracefully (she usually growls at people who speak to me).
But the larger issue is contained in the smiles and the greetings--such a pleasing social custom. See, in Dhahran, I might see other people while out walking the dogs but unless I knew them, there would be no eye contact, no smile, no greeting. Definitely none of those things if they were Saudi or Asian.
Bizarrely, there were some rather specific times in Dhahran we generated a response in passers-by. On multiple occasions when I was walking the dogs, an enormous SUV would pull up next to us, heavily tinted windows coming down to reveal a car crammed with fully veiled women and half a dozen frenetic toddlers and children, none of whom were in car seats, pointing and gibbering at me and the dogs.
Like we were monkeys in the zoo.
I nearly always had a baggie of dog poop in one hand since pooping was a primary reason for walking the dogs. I quickly began to tap into the zoo monkey umwelt because after the fifth or dozenth time this happened, I found myself overwhelmed by a desire to fling that bag of shit right into that car.
We are not exhibits in the zoo anymore.
Of course they are beautiful dogs. They are groomed, in good physical condition, and, most importantly, trained (i.e., heavily rewarded) to behave themselves, more or less, on lead and in public. Even Azza has learned how to accept these compliments gracefully (she usually growls at people who speak to me).
But the larger issue is contained in the smiles and the greetings--such a pleasing social custom. See, in Dhahran, I might see other people while out walking the dogs but unless I knew them, there would be no eye contact, no smile, no greeting. Definitely none of those things if they were Saudi or Asian.
Bizarrely, there were some rather specific times in Dhahran we generated a response in passers-by. On multiple occasions when I was walking the dogs, an enormous SUV would pull up next to us, heavily tinted windows coming down to reveal a car crammed with fully veiled women and half a dozen frenetic toddlers and children, none of whom were in car seats, pointing and gibbering at me and the dogs.
Like we were monkeys in the zoo.
I nearly always had a baggie of dog poop in one hand since pooping was a primary reason for walking the dogs. I quickly began to tap into the zoo monkey umwelt because after the fifth or dozenth time this happened, I found myself overwhelmed by a desire to fling that bag of shit right into that car.
We are not exhibits in the zoo anymore.
Sleeping With Dogs
There's already been a lot said about sleeping with dogs, from the maudlin to the medical to the stupid (and rebutted nicely here) to the far, far fringe of reality (here and here, although that isn't the "sleeping" I was referring to), but nonetheless I thought I'd add my two cents.
The primary source of heat in my house is in the living room. It is a propane-sourced gas stove with ceramic logs and a blower wired to a programmable thermostat. The house was designed with this stove and it works well. Still, it can get chilly in the bedrooms at the back of the house farthest from the stove, particularly in the early mornings when I open the curtains to watch the rising sun, in the process letting out all of the accumulated nighttime warmth.
I certainly enjoy good wine, thoughtfully cooked food, a diverting book. But by far the most fantastic luxury available to me is being able to curl up in flannel sheets under a feather duvet surrounded by my dogs. Mimi's preferred spot is curled up under the covers next to me. Harry takes the coveted spot on my other side (on top of the covers), easily within reach of my hand. He is usually covered with a small fleece blanket and a corner of the duvet (not too much covering, and never his head; he gets hot). Azza curls up in a tight ball in the corner between my legs and Harry, as close as she can get without annoying either of us. She stuffs her snout into her belly to keep warm, although she too is learning how to enjoy being covered with a blanket.
I get up around 4 a.m. to let the dogs out to pee then we all troop back to bed and arrange the tableau I've described above. And with a hearty doggy sigh or two, we drop back into warm, fuzzy, early morning dreams.
The primary source of heat in my house is in the living room. It is a propane-sourced gas stove with ceramic logs and a blower wired to a programmable thermostat. The house was designed with this stove and it works well. Still, it can get chilly in the bedrooms at the back of the house farthest from the stove, particularly in the early mornings when I open the curtains to watch the rising sun, in the process letting out all of the accumulated nighttime warmth.
I certainly enjoy good wine, thoughtfully cooked food, a diverting book. But by far the most fantastic luxury available to me is being able to curl up in flannel sheets under a feather duvet surrounded by my dogs. Mimi's preferred spot is curled up under the covers next to me. Harry takes the coveted spot on my other side (on top of the covers), easily within reach of my hand. He is usually covered with a small fleece blanket and a corner of the duvet (not too much covering, and never his head; he gets hot). Azza curls up in a tight ball in the corner between my legs and Harry, as close as she can get without annoying either of us. She stuffs her snout into her belly to keep warm, although she too is learning how to enjoy being covered with a blanket.
I get up around 4 a.m. to let the dogs out to pee then we all troop back to bed and arrange the tableau I've described above. And with a hearty doggy sigh or two, we drop back into warm, fuzzy, early morning dreams.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Composting!
I got about 100 gallons of good soil out of the compost pile (around 20 fillings of a five-gallon bucket). Dirt for free! You can see my setup in the photo below. It was time consuming but not particularly difficult work.
The pile was full of enormous worms, most of which I returned to the bin. The dirt has been scattered around the yard, filling many of the annoying holes. The volume of the pile is reduced by over two-thirds. The stuff that is left is too wet (bad hippies for not turning the pile often enough) or too coarse--not ready to use yet. But getting everything turned and adding some fresh material will take care of both problems.
While I was screening the pile (I am wearing rubber gardening gloves and simply rubbing the stuff over my spiffy screen; if it's dirt, it falls through, and if it isn't ready, it doesn't), I extracted a few pounds of peach pits, corn cobs, whole potatoes, and enormous squash stems, none of which will readily break down in this kind of compost bin. Seriously, whole potatoes. Some of them were even sprouting. What the hell where those hippies thinking? Composting is an amazingly simple yet powerful biological process but there are limits to what you can accomplish with it in your backyard.
The pile was full of enormous worms, most of which I returned to the bin. The dirt has been scattered around the yard, filling many of the annoying holes. The volume of the pile is reduced by over two-thirds. The stuff that is left is too wet (bad hippies for not turning the pile often enough) or too coarse--not ready to use yet. But getting everything turned and adding some fresh material will take care of both problems.
While I was screening the pile (I am wearing rubber gardening gloves and simply rubbing the stuff over my spiffy screen; if it's dirt, it falls through, and if it isn't ready, it doesn't), I extracted a few pounds of peach pits, corn cobs, whole potatoes, and enormous squash stems, none of which will readily break down in this kind of compost bin. Seriously, whole potatoes. Some of them were even sprouting. What the hell where those hippies thinking? Composting is an amazingly simple yet powerful biological process but there are limits to what you can accomplish with it in your backyard.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Our Back Yard
I haven't been posting much because we've been doing a lot of this:
Now before you get the wrong idea, I will say that I have been doing a lot around the house: organizing the garage, putting weatherstripping around the front door, weeding, removing all of the window screens and sweeping off the spiderwebs and cleaning the exterior glass, doing a deep clean of corners that I didn't get to in the initial move-in clean (white vinegar is the most amazing all-purpose cleaning tool--and cheap too!).
Two large, ongoing projects are the back yard and the compost pile.
As you can see in the photo, the backyard looks pretty ratty. Partly it's a lack of TLC but the hippies that lived here before me made some rather odd choices. They were really into gardening. They build up a large garden plot, perhaps 300 square feet in size, at one end of the yard. It is mounded, rising up a good 6 inches or more above the ground level. The soil there is of much better quality than the rest of the yard and it has obviously been amended by compost (more on that below). But you can't make a garden out of compost alone--you still need a lot of dirt too. Where did they get the dirt? They dug it out of the rest of the yard! No, not from a single, large hole. That would have been too sensible. They took shovelfuls from the rest of the yard in a checkerboard pattern. Ah! Now the shitty yard begins to make a bit more sense.
So one of my projects is moving the soil from the garden mound back to its original location in the rest of the yard, bucket by bucket. This is not the Sisyphean task that it sounds like. In the areas where I started the dirt relocation, the yard is already looking better. In the fall, when it begins to rain again, I'll scatter grass seed and fertilizer. Perhaps by next spring, the yard will begin to look halfway decent.
The hippies also set up an open compost pile in a "box" created by three wooden pallets nailed together. They took fairly good care of it but it hasn't been turned since they left and the landlady dumped a bunch of large, chunky crap in there when she did a clean up before I got here. There's probably a solid three cubic feet of cured compost at the bottom ready to go, but there's a similar volume of crap on top that hasn't been composted yet.
Turning an open compost pile like that isn't trivial. And if you aren't too picky about what you toss in there (the hippies weren't--I've encountered entire and unrotted potatoes, eggshells, avocado rinds, etc., which means whenever I approach the bin, the dogs get very interested because stuff like that is fricking treasure, I tell you), then you need to screen the large chunks out before you use it (you return them to the pile; they aren't wasted). When turning it, you need a place to put the uncomposted stuff from the top layer, another work location to do the screening of the bottom layer, and a screen. I've got a trip to Home Depot planned for the afternoon to pick up a tarp, some 1" x 2" wood for a frame, which I will build, and metal mesh, and I'll be in compost business by the weekend.
Getting more raw material for the bin isn't a problem. I cook most of my meals from scratch and I eat a lot of vegetables. Pretty much the only prepared products I use are tomatoes and tuna. Just in the process of my daily eating schedule, I generate a lot of organic matter--good, clean bits ready for the compost bin. Think of all the lovely stuff just waiting for a new life in the composter: garlic clove paper, onion tops, ends of zuccinis and carrots, spinach leaf stems, mango rinds, tea bags. I've got plenty of yard waste too, like grass clippings and leaves. You have to have the right balance of things, can't just toss in anything (like whole potatoes, sheesh, silly hippies). It will be good to put all that stuff to some use rather than throwing it out with my non-recycling trash.
Unfortunately, you can't put dog poop in a household compost bin. It doesn't get hot enough to kill parasites and harmful bacteria. Don't want to be scattering E. coli around the yard now, do we? Poop, and cat litter cleanings, have to go out bagged in my curbside trash bin.
Of course I spend plenty of time dozing in the fresh air of the back yard with the dogs, but only after I spend a morning of hard work making this place a little more comfortable.
Now before you get the wrong idea, I will say that I have been doing a lot around the house: organizing the garage, putting weatherstripping around the front door, weeding, removing all of the window screens and sweeping off the spiderwebs and cleaning the exterior glass, doing a deep clean of corners that I didn't get to in the initial move-in clean (white vinegar is the most amazing all-purpose cleaning tool--and cheap too!).
Two large, ongoing projects are the back yard and the compost pile.
As you can see in the photo, the backyard looks pretty ratty. Partly it's a lack of TLC but the hippies that lived here before me made some rather odd choices. They were really into gardening. They build up a large garden plot, perhaps 300 square feet in size, at one end of the yard. It is mounded, rising up a good 6 inches or more above the ground level. The soil there is of much better quality than the rest of the yard and it has obviously been amended by compost (more on that below). But you can't make a garden out of compost alone--you still need a lot of dirt too. Where did they get the dirt? They dug it out of the rest of the yard! No, not from a single, large hole. That would have been too sensible. They took shovelfuls from the rest of the yard in a checkerboard pattern. Ah! Now the shitty yard begins to make a bit more sense.
So one of my projects is moving the soil from the garden mound back to its original location in the rest of the yard, bucket by bucket. This is not the Sisyphean task that it sounds like. In the areas where I started the dirt relocation, the yard is already looking better. In the fall, when it begins to rain again, I'll scatter grass seed and fertilizer. Perhaps by next spring, the yard will begin to look halfway decent.
The hippies also set up an open compost pile in a "box" created by three wooden pallets nailed together. They took fairly good care of it but it hasn't been turned since they left and the landlady dumped a bunch of large, chunky crap in there when she did a clean up before I got here. There's probably a solid three cubic feet of cured compost at the bottom ready to go, but there's a similar volume of crap on top that hasn't been composted yet.
Turning an open compost pile like that isn't trivial. And if you aren't too picky about what you toss in there (the hippies weren't--I've encountered entire and unrotted potatoes, eggshells, avocado rinds, etc., which means whenever I approach the bin, the dogs get very interested because stuff like that is fricking treasure, I tell you), then you need to screen the large chunks out before you use it (you return them to the pile; they aren't wasted). When turning it, you need a place to put the uncomposted stuff from the top layer, another work location to do the screening of the bottom layer, and a screen. I've got a trip to Home Depot planned for the afternoon to pick up a tarp, some 1" x 2" wood for a frame, which I will build, and metal mesh, and I'll be in compost business by the weekend.
Getting more raw material for the bin isn't a problem. I cook most of my meals from scratch and I eat a lot of vegetables. Pretty much the only prepared products I use are tomatoes and tuna. Just in the process of my daily eating schedule, I generate a lot of organic matter--good, clean bits ready for the compost bin. Think of all the lovely stuff just waiting for a new life in the composter: garlic clove paper, onion tops, ends of zuccinis and carrots, spinach leaf stems, mango rinds, tea bags. I've got plenty of yard waste too, like grass clippings and leaves. You have to have the right balance of things, can't just toss in anything (like whole potatoes, sheesh, silly hippies). It will be good to put all that stuff to some use rather than throwing it out with my non-recycling trash.
Unfortunately, you can't put dog poop in a household compost bin. It doesn't get hot enough to kill parasites and harmful bacteria. Don't want to be scattering E. coli around the yard now, do we? Poop, and cat litter cleanings, have to go out bagged in my curbside trash bin.
Of course I spend plenty of time dozing in the fresh air of the back yard with the dogs, but only after I spend a morning of hard work making this place a little more comfortable.
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