My first animal was a brown bear with yellow eyes. I think I got him as a baby, and I loved him and hugged him so much that now he is flat. He was the bear I needed when life was rough- if it was a scary night, or a sad night, he was the bear for me.
I once threw up on him inside of my purple Briarcrest book bag, on the bus on the way to school. The gross part was that I think I must have stashed the bag in a corner of the classroom, barfy bear and all, until my Dad came to pick me up. It is worth mentioning that the reason I barfed is that I was getting anxious about going to school, and would get myself so worked up I would refuse to ride the bus, or feel sick for the entire ride. My Mom got me stress workbooks to give me ideas for how to breath and relax, and I would sit on the porch holding a waffle in one hand, the book in the other, trying not to freak out. In truth it was a new school, I did not like that it was different, and I wanted to go back to second grade because that was the best year of my life. (That might still be true.) Eventually we made a deal, that I would ride the hateful bus if my Dad would come get me.
In elementary school our goofy family dog chewed the brown bear's ear off (and ruined a few pairs of my pants and numerous socks.) Side note: the dog's name was Dusty but Bubby's husband, Ben, would always call him the wrong name. He would sit on the couch and grumble, "Musty, rusty, lusty . . . come here." Then he would scratch the dogs curly red ears and look happy.
I also had a scary baby doll with eyes that rolled around and matted brown hair. When Shelley was born I got a cabbage patch doll, which I thought was a good trade at the time. (I was 3.)
Whenever we would come home from trips, the FIRST thing I would do would be to rush to my room, line up all my animals (and one big raggedy ann doll) and tell them all about my trip and ask them how they were. If you question this, there is photo proof.
Other animals I remember: a big green turtle, a monkey puppet with long legs and arms and a rubber mouth, an elephant wearing overalls, a pig, and a long purple caterpillar with lots of little legs, each of which had a colorful sneaker, too.
But my favorites were the bears and the dogs.
There was a white dog that Uncle Bill got me at Tree Top Toys in Edmonds, after we went and ate fish and chips and oysters and played with seaweed on the beach.
There were bears of all sizes, shapes, and colors. A world of dogs and bears!
The first thing I ever remember buying was a stuffed animal. It was a Turtle Tot- A little turtle with a soft shell that came on and off. I bought it at Fred Meyer with my allowance, and Mom, you are a saintly mother for sitting with me for the forty five minutes it probably took me to make a decision about what color Turtle Tot I wanted. But my god, I remember how excited I felt as I carried my soft baby turtle out to the station wagon in my plastic Fred Meyer bag- it was in a pretty box, and it smelled so new, and it was all mine. Buying things when you are grown up will rarely be as exciting as buying a Turtle Tot when you are seven.
My Dad was the stuffed animal aficionado in the family. Raised in Brooklyn, his Dad worked in a pharmacy and used to bring him home little collectible bears, which Bubby sadly gave away once he moved out of the apartment to wander the pot glazed streets of San Francisco.
My Dad taught me that picking out stuffed animals takes time, and patience. In our favorite toy store, Tree Top Toys, we would spend quality time at the wall of stuffed animals, studying the dogs and bears to make sure we found the little guys with the best, happiest faces.
The penultimate stuffed animal was the big panda that I longed for for years. He was so beautiful, with a big buddha panda belly, wise dark eyes, and a soft leather nose. His paws were brown, and he was the perfect size for hugging. I finally got him, circuitously, when I fell off my bike in 6th grade and fractured both my wrists, chipped my front tooth halfway off, and got a big fat lip. I think Bubby got him for me as a get well present- and when I chose him in the store I must have looked heart-warmingly pathetic- carrying him out to the car with my arms straight out because of the two casts, fat lip and all.
That panda bear came with me to college, and almost burned down our rental house when his ass got pressed up against a heater. He still has a big brown streak like a shit stain on his panda bottom.
At christmas, my favorite present was always the softest one, and I would wait until the very end to open up the package that hopefully contained my new friend.
I was at Ikea about a month ago, and found myself in a flashback scene, holding up an elephant and a seal and trying to decide which one I liked more. I think I even put my head on the them both, to test for comfort and pillow potential.
The point of the story is this: yesterday Steven asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and although I should have listed things like snow hats or a bottle of good whiskey, I found myself wanting to say the thing I should have probably grown out of by now.
God bless the bears and dogs, every one.
Also, if you wanted to know, each and every stuffed animal I described still lives at my parents house. (PLEASE don't send them all to Texas, I promise to take them one day when I have a bigger house!)
We all have our favorite things, and this happens to be mine.
Happy Holidays, y'all.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Dumpster Diving Dreams
I've started baking bread. A sack of flour costs $3 dollars, and it turns out to make rosemary foccacia you just need water and olive oil, a pinch of salt and sugar, one of those little yellow yeast packets, and some rosemary sprigs lifted out of your neighbor's garden.
I made my first foray into the yeasty wilds of bread making last sunday, following the trail of words left by Deborah Madison in her book, Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. I found that book for $5 at the used bookstore, and it is heavy like a bible. I decided on rosemary bread because that was my favorite bread to get out of the dumpster in back of Essential Bakery in Wallingford, before they moved their production to South Seattle, thus cutting off much of the city's supply of delicious day old loaves.
On a side note, one of the things I loved about the Essential Bakery dumpster was that it brought people together. My roommates dumpster dove. My cousins from Virginia dumpster dove. So did my neighbors, and my Mom. Once I went there to stock up and there was a couple who had just cleaned out the Naked Juice dumpster, so we exchanged goods and headed to our respective homes to feast on pecan and raisin loaves and orange juice.
We would keep the loaves in the freezer, and heat them up in the oven whenever we needed some for dinner, sandwiches, or toast in the morning. It fed so many people, and I frequented the bakery more and bought sandwiches inside to thank them for the sweet bounty they threw out.
Since I don't have a bread dumpster at my disposal here in Austin, I decided it was time to recreate the rosemary bread that I had loved so much.
In addition to bread I've been cooking other things too, dishes like pot roast and potato leek soup, apple cake and pumpkin pies, chocolate chip pumpkin bread and our family recipe for chili.
All of this food is nourishing for me in a soulful kind of way. And something about bread in particular, is so fun to make. The mixing and the kneading and the magical rising, and the smells that fill house. And, you can throw so many things in bread- like cheese and nuts and pumpkins! As much as a I love snacks such as carrot sticks, they are no match for a hunk of fresh baked bread with butter.
If you were wondering about the rosemary foccacia, it turned out splendidly. Next time I may throw in a handful of olives, or some roasted garlic and gorgonzola.
My friend came over, and we had a big salad for dinner, with thick slices warmed up in the oven, covered with goat cheese and honey. It was paradise.
On another note- speaking of cheap and easy, yesterday I went to the neighborhood cafe down the street to get a hamburger. When the girl asked for my name, I said, "Lindsey."
She looked at me and said, "Easy?"
"No," I said, "LINDSEY."
Now, why in the hell would someone's name be "Easy?" I think the appropriate thing to say is "Sorry, didn't catch your name. Could you say that again?"
Alas, I get called "easy" by an east austin hipster wearing coveralls and a bowl cut. So bizarre.
It reminded me though, that some things in life, like making bread, can be just that- easy. Sometimes we underestimate the creative and nourishing payoff of things like long walks, reading, mending torn clothes, or spending the afternoon making Challah. And when our pocketbooks are feeling threadbare, things like $3 sacks of flour present a world of possibility.
.
I made my first foray into the yeasty wilds of bread making last sunday, following the trail of words left by Deborah Madison in her book, Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. I found that book for $5 at the used bookstore, and it is heavy like a bible. I decided on rosemary bread because that was my favorite bread to get out of the dumpster in back of Essential Bakery in Wallingford, before they moved their production to South Seattle, thus cutting off much of the city's supply of delicious day old loaves.
On a side note, one of the things I loved about the Essential Bakery dumpster was that it brought people together. My roommates dumpster dove. My cousins from Virginia dumpster dove. So did my neighbors, and my Mom. Once I went there to stock up and there was a couple who had just cleaned out the Naked Juice dumpster, so we exchanged goods and headed to our respective homes to feast on pecan and raisin loaves and orange juice.
We would keep the loaves in the freezer, and heat them up in the oven whenever we needed some for dinner, sandwiches, or toast in the morning. It fed so many people, and I frequented the bakery more and bought sandwiches inside to thank them for the sweet bounty they threw out.
Since I don't have a bread dumpster at my disposal here in Austin, I decided it was time to recreate the rosemary bread that I had loved so much.
In addition to bread I've been cooking other things too, dishes like pot roast and potato leek soup, apple cake and pumpkin pies, chocolate chip pumpkin bread and our family recipe for chili.
All of this food is nourishing for me in a soulful kind of way. And something about bread in particular, is so fun to make. The mixing and the kneading and the magical rising, and the smells that fill house. And, you can throw so many things in bread- like cheese and nuts and pumpkins! As much as a I love snacks such as carrot sticks, they are no match for a hunk of fresh baked bread with butter.
If you were wondering about the rosemary foccacia, it turned out splendidly. Next time I may throw in a handful of olives, or some roasted garlic and gorgonzola.
My friend came over, and we had a big salad for dinner, with thick slices warmed up in the oven, covered with goat cheese and honey. It was paradise.
On another note- speaking of cheap and easy, yesterday I went to the neighborhood cafe down the street to get a hamburger. When the girl asked for my name, I said, "Lindsey."
She looked at me and said, "Easy?"
"No," I said, "LINDSEY."
Now, why in the hell would someone's name be "Easy?" I think the appropriate thing to say is "Sorry, didn't catch your name. Could you say that again?"
Alas, I get called "easy" by an east austin hipster wearing coveralls and a bowl cut. So bizarre.
It reminded me though, that some things in life, like making bread, can be just that- easy. Sometimes we underestimate the creative and nourishing payoff of things like long walks, reading, mending torn clothes, or spending the afternoon making Challah. And when our pocketbooks are feeling threadbare, things like $3 sacks of flour present a world of possibility.
.
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