SAID THE CAT: June 2018

Last Saturday saw the last weekend of Keoni's stay in Pennsylvania. He headed off to the Aspen Music Institute in Colorado on Tuesday. It was a delight to have him and Aidan over for a brunch on Marge's patio where we could enjoy her wonderful landscape, a gorgeous morning, and plenty of good conversation. Here they are checking out the fish pond...

It had been a very long time since I'd made Gazpacho and I improvised. The Allentown Road farmstand over at Tylersport has tomatoes again. Yay! And cucumbers and zucchini.

I wrote down what I did because it turned out well. I'll share it with you...

Seat of the Pants* Gazpacho

4 lg, ripe tomatoes, skinned**, quartered

1 medium onion, coarsely chopped, Vidalia if in season

1 clove garlic, finely chopped

juice of 1 lime

2 inches of cucumber, coarsely chopped

2 ribs celery, coarsely chopped

¼ C chopped bell pepper, yellow, red, or green

½ sm. can Ortega mild chilis

1 tsp red wine vinegar

¼ C grapeseed oil, or extra virgin olive oil

1 12 oz can unsalted V8

½ tsp salt

Hot stuff—personal choice, to taste—e.g., tobasco, cholula, Trader Joe green salsa, etc.

Pulse in blender (or food processor) 2-3 seconds, scrape down sides, repeat. Allow to remain slightly chunky.

Refrigerate a couple hours (or more—overnight is fine).

Stir occasionally.

Serve cold in bowls. Garnish—e.g., thinly sliced cucumber, lime, avocado slices, or parsley sprig, etc.

*Evolutionary idiom meaning what's in the pantry and 'fridge right now. Also, a nuance of “Say, this turned out pretty good!”

**Score an X on bottom of each tomato, put them in a bowl, pour boiling water over them to cover. Let sit 3 minutes; then, pour off water and slip off tomato skins.

***

I guess Phil's photo of the Javelina on his Tucson patio made me think of making southwestern Gazpacho.

While Keoni was heading off to his summer in Colorado, Aidan was still kicking back and enjoying some days without school in them. The snow days lasted until June 12th. He was mightily glad to wake up the morning of the 13th and not get on a bus.

Marge's yard requires good old-fashioned weeding. Fortunately, she can still get on her hands and knees to get the job done...

Here, Fishie, Fishies.

Just over the back property line some Clematis were all happy on the old overturned tree stump...

Marge's nephews Adam and Jonathan came over from Ohio for a week's visit. She took them for an overnight trip to New York City. I was fortunate to coattail on the enterprise and we took the bus from Wescosville by Allentown to NYC. It's about and hour and 45 minutes depending on the traffic and they run every hour. Many commuters from the Lehigh Valley area use this route.

Adam and Jonathan.

Wouldn't you know one of the days was the hottest we have had so far this year. Still, it was an adventure. While Marge and her nephews went off to the 911 Memorial and such, I tried out my new walking shoes without which I would not have considered a plan with so much walking in it. I wanted to take in some of the places the family had gone a few years ago when we made a visit to New York together.

It took three weeks to find this pair of Clark's shoes that took care of my feet so well. (You know you're not a spring chicken when such matters are of great concern.)

What I found out that first day was that Lindy's of the great New York cheesecake reputation had closed--forever. I am sad. I mostly loved it because it is where Damon Runyon hung out with the denizens of Broadway. It is Mindy's in his stories.

Lindy's is no more.

But the José Martí equestrian statue on the edge of Central Park was still there...

Some of you out there know the story but if you are scratching your head...well, either way it's a treat to hear Pete Seegar tell the story...

Evidence of FIFA was everywhere, especially sports bars...

All of a sudden the light was just right...

...and there was a New York Dandelion.

Meanwhile, on the back porch at the farm Toby was handling the heat well...

Aidan captured and sent this.

A storm blew through NYC during the night and made the next morning very different for us. I headed to Central Park while Marge and her nephews went on to other adventures.

Shoes. Did I mention shoes? What a great walk it was. It's the simple stuff after all...

A group making art in the park. That reminded me of Jim Waid's Art Park at Pima College in Tucson when he taught there and I took my first ever drawing class.

Speaking of Jim Waid, let yourself enjoy his extraordinary paintings and works at Jim Waid Art. I never get tired of them.

It was a necessary part of the walk to stop here and there for a little rest. At one bench a Buddhist Monk came by, showed me a picture of Quan Yin the female Buddha of Compassion and Mercy, and offered prayers for peace. He gave me a small gift and I added my name to his book and a small donation to further his prayers and travels. I was glad to be thinking of Compassion and Mercy and Peace and Prayers. It was an antidote to the spectre of what is happening to border crossers.

Waging Peace.

After 37 blocks...

The Guggenheim Museum of Art.

Footresting. Maybe.

A Giacometti. And, a Giacometti inspired hairdo.

Braque violin.

Add some piano.

And a Picasso guitar and mandolin.

On the way back...

General William Tecumseh Sherman equestrian statue. The gentleman seated beneath was eating a late lunch.

I grabbed a cab to ease the trip back to get my luggage at the hotel and gave up on it after the meter hit $10 and we'd only gone about 20 blocks. So, I paid up and walked the rest of the way to meet Marge and the boys at the hotel before heading back to Port Authority and our bus home.

Heretofore, I've been told we separate art from the artist. Last night, during the In My Humble Opinion segment of PBS Newshour there was a cogent, 3-minute, rethink called Art IS the Artist. I am persuaded. If you have three minutes, it's worth seeing what you think.

***

The week's excitement wasn't about to be over though. My sister Jeanenne and her husband Larry and their grandson Ollie were all here in the Lancaster, Pennsylvania area from their home in Missouri working on assembling and packaging all manner of goods to be shipped to help people in other countries. Really all manner--from beans and rice, clothing, and school supplies, to making feminine products; all being done assembly line style by volunteers from various churches. My family members took a break Thursday afternoon and we met at James Buchanan's home, Wheatland, right there in their area which is an hour and 45 minutes drive from Quakertown. What a gorgeous drive it was for me on our twisty little Pennsylvania back roads for 2/3 of the way.

It was so good to have those hours together to visit and catch up a little and get to know my grand nephew a bit better. Ollie is nine years old. The mansion docent was excellent and kept his interest going, too. The drive back was as beautiful as earlier and I made it home before dark. Well, it was the longest day of the year, after all.

Buchanan's house, back entrance...

Lined up for tour tickets; Ollie, Jeanenne and Larry.

Buchanan's niece's piano. Made me think of Aidan beginning piano lessons with Seth.

Oliver.

On the front porch of Wheatland.

***

Now, when I got up this morning I didn't know I was going to decide to get a haircut, though it could have been in the back of my mind for a few days. But that's what happened. I looked online for a haircut near me and came up with Mirror Image Family Hair about six blocks away. It turned out the salon was in the oldest building in Quakertown; the property was purchased in 1712 and the house built on it in 1734. The stone walls are 14 inches thick; the proprietress, Melinda, has restored quite a bit of it and runs her salon and another person a massage business in the downstairs portion. There remains part of its original tannery business building across the street.

Taken in the mid-1800s.

One of the fireplaces.

Detail of the markings on the fireplace. Each mark represents one person who came through on the Underground Railway. Quakers were active in that movement. It is hard to believe that was only a few blocks from here.

Original corner cabinet.

A college student researched the house for a coursework paper and found this poem associated with it. Fries Rebellion took place a couple blocks away.