the power of the nut cup

About a year ago, my then seven-year-old nephew sent a thank you card to Stud and me. We didn't actually receive it until last week. The address was incorrect so it probably took a while to get back to my sister...who then probably took a while to correct it and send it out again. Doesn't matter, in fact it was a lovely reminder of said nephew's excitement about a very important first in his life (transcribed by my sister):

Note my nephew's rendering of Mr.Nut Cup. He told me on the phone once, at the time of this momentous acquisition, that he was "knocking on it right now."

the egg shell exception

You're probably familiar with the reality that food scraps—onion peels, zucchini butts, unwanted meat bits—can make one's garbage smelly, and that summer temperatures quicken the stinkification.

It has been an exploratory process at my house to find the best way to avoid the funk. The man of the house, I'll call him "stud" (inspired by cool ranch luke's comment), has led the charge. He is, after all, a slightly better house keeper than I. Of course, I would never admit that to him. Instead, I argue the opposite because he regularly points out his superior domestic skills relative to mine. And because, after all, what is life without banter on the minutia?

And so sets the stage for the following conversation in my abode:

stud [yelling from downstairs]: Hey! How come you put egg shells in the garbage can?

erin [long, loud, exasperated groan]: Are you kidding me?

stud: We're trying to prevent the garbage from stinking so you're supposed to put food in that separate bag in the can.

erin: Egg shells don't get stinky, and I don't recall a decree on the Separate Bag.

stud: Yes, they could, and you're the one who put the Bag in there in the first place.

erin: I guess that makes me the Keeper of the Separate Bag, and therefore...

stud: Well you're not doing a very good job.

erin: I make the rules. Egg shells are an exception.

going with the phloem

I am mesmerized by leafed trees in the wind.

We had the most perfect tree gazing weather today. I was lured outside by the breeze sweeping through the house. Decided I should make use of my new picnic table and read my first issue of The Sun (thanks to Leila for the good word). It wasn't long before I was distracted by the show, lying on the bench, magazine on my belly, staring upward, entranced.

Movement and fluidity—like yoga for trees after a long, cold, branch rattling winter. Here warrior. There triangle. Then child's pose. Inhale. Exhale. The wind relents, and a smooth return to mountain.

I wonder if this is more than passive movement. By catching wind and stretching limbs, does tree yoga facilitate circulation? I know about transpiration pulling water and nutrients up. Would motion help move the leaves' products down and about—similar to the lymphatic system or circulation in insects? There are other forces at play, I know, but you'd think it would contribute.

I probably knew the answer to that question at some point in my life.

diversion

There's a whirlwind whipping around me. I'm trying to lay low and dodge the debris.

What occupied my mind for a happy period this evening is the fact that I've upgraded, ladies and gentlemen. I now own a snazzy laptop.

Never mind that I still have dial up. As of about two months ago, the little local greasy spoon cafe changed owners, expanded hours, and added free WiFi. One burger (tomato, onion, and plenty of mustard), chips, pickles, and a soda for $6 and change, PLUS free access...all only about a block and a half away.

Yee haw.This may mean you hear more from me.Lord help my waistline.