Papal Fortress

We didn't get much snow in North Carolina when I was a kid, so instead of snowballs, we threw other stuff at each other. Painful, messy stuff like unripe persimmons and sap-covered green pine cones that would stick in your hair. These missiles called for serious protection, so we became serious fort builders. We had a big wood pile in our backyard that always served as one wall, and then my friends and I improvised the other three. The best was the time we found huge pallets and made a bunker with a roof. It was almost safe. I still have a small scar on my scalp from when it collapsed under the combined weight of John Lusk and Scotty Miller... man, were they fat.

These days, the weapons have changed. It's mostly lightsabers in the hallway, or the occassional towel snapping battle in the kitchen, but the need for a sound fortress into which one can retreat remains. I don't know, maybe it's the male version of that nesting urge that women get. At any rate, I gave in to my need for a fort this past weekend, and constructed my very own ghetto fabulous Fortress of Solitude (and it's really quite cool, despite the fact that I stole the name from Superman, who is totally lame).

The bed is 64" high, which leaves ample room underneath for my "lair"...

As Captain Corley put it, "My fortress brings all the kids to the yard..."

(Note: Fuck-proof brackets by Strong Soviet Mother Inc.)

My Bread

Tessa got me a Cooking With Honey cookbook, and as some of you know, but probably not that many, I really enjoy honey. Also, when I was living with Benny K and Kit we invested in a gi-normous bag of organic cracked wheat. So I put two and two together (and made four... ha ha ha) and made some bread (we already had the yeast too).

It seems to have been a hit so far, it was only my first batch, so we'll see how the second batch goes and work from there. Ben (el capitan) has already suggested that I get a booth down at the Farmer's Market, could be fun.

Well, come on over for a slice of bread some day, later.

The Kitchen's Alive!!!!!

For the past three to four weeks now I have been the one to clean up the week's worth of dishes in the kitchen. I'm not complaining or anything, but rather making some interesting observations.

The Kitchen, being cleaned the weekend (or friday) before gets progressively worse until all of the glassware and silverware have all been completely used up and are found within every possible room and corner in the house. The kitchen table is full of the past week's mail and assorted lunches.... and the living room is where you go to collect the dirty dishes that have not migrated to the kitchen sink yet.

I start by sorting the dishes into piles of similar type on the kitchen table, we don't have a dish washer, but we do have two sinks and a drying rack. The silverware and utensils go into one of the sinks to soak. and I proceed to wash some and then dry some... and then wash some and then dry some... and then wash some and then dry some, and then wash and dry, and then wash and then dry... (repeat as necessary).

It is not as though no one in the house never does dishes, it's just that they a) do them poorly, or b) don't dry them, they just fill up the drying rack and call it done. No one bothers to collect dishes and take them to the sink or even clean off the table from time to time. But as the monks at Mt. Michael taught me, "drying is half the dishes." So in order to claim that I did the dishes I would need to wash and dry the dishes, multiple times even.... what a novel concept one might say... well, I do what I can.

During this weekly rite i grab the stereo out of the living room and put it atop the frig/microwave combo so that only the male population of the house can reach it. This ensures that I get to listen to whatever I want to listen to as I wash AND dry the dishes (i emphasize this so that it might be engrained into the subconsciousness of my flatmates). I also clean the stove-top, the counters, and the table, as well as sweep and mop the floors. It has become a very meditative and envigoring assignment.

For a while I thought that the house was just too lazy to get the dishes done, but now i realize that people are never home, and that when they are home they are sleeping, rushing to leave, or other. I am glad to live in such an affordable place which such wonderful people, but sometimes I wish that the house was cleaner more often.