The Didgeridoo Man

This weekend we played tourists in our own city (we like to do that sometimes) and discovered an amazing didgeridoo player in Seaport Village. The didgeridoo isn’t an instrument I think of very often, but whenever I hear one playing I’m mesmerized. I must not be alone, because a crowd gathered as soon as the man started playing.

His modest act captivated passersby. He sat behind his instrument in a small chair under an umbrella. Next to him stood an amplifier topped with a collection box for donations.

On each ankle he wore a thick bracelet of jingle bells, and an extra cluster of cow bells on one. One hand held an egg shaped shaker. In the other hand he held a short stick that he clacked against another on his thigh. That was the simple accompaniment to the echoes of the pipe. Long drones mixed with a combination of trills, clicks and growls called to mind the sounds of nature and the spirit of the landscape.

Besides the haunting music, the musician’s playful manner was welcoming. Every deposit in the collection box was met with a comical tip of the hat and a cartoony whistle, which delighted the kids in the audience especially. I noticed no one wanted to wander off without giving a grateful wave, which was returned with an equally appreciative one from behind the didgeridoo.

I found this short clip of him taken a couple of years ago by someone in Balboa Park. The sound on the video doesn’t do it justice, but you can get a sense of what the performance was like:

You'll Feel Smarter After Reading This

I was driving around yesterday with the gas light glowing on my dashboard, hoping to make it to the gas station in time (I did). It got me thinking of some recent moments that have been a little sub-stellar:

- As I backed my car out of the garage, I noticed my husband had already taken the trash cans out. They were really close to the door, so I kept an eye on them. It’d sure be embarrassing to knock one of those babies over. I kept a careful eye on those big ugly plastic trash bins. So careful, I turned and snapped the side view mirror right off the side of my car. It just dangled there on skinny little wire. On the bright side, no garbage was injured in the incident.

- We ran out of toothpaste. I dug around in the linen closet and found one of those little toothpaste samples the dentist gives out. I put it in our medicine cabinet. Later as I got ready for bed, I reached for the toothpaste, squished a dab on my brush and started brushing away. Only, I’d grabbed a tube of Benadryl cream. I can tell you it does not taste minty fresh. But at least my gums weren’t the least bit itchy all night.

- I got tired of having a different remote control for every gadget in the family room. For Christmas we got a universal remote. It has a million buttons the size of rice grains. I refuse to have my reading glasses around just for watching TV, so I tried to memorize what the buttons are for. The other night I was pressing away frantically and nothing was happening. Finally I gave up and asked my eleven year old in frustration, “What’s wrong with this thing?!”

He looked over at me. “Mom, you’re holding it backwards.”

I'm Not Indecisive, I Just Don't Know What I Want

I have this problem. A good sort of problem. I decided to cash in some reward points I’ve had sitting around. We hardly ever use a credit card, and I figured the rewards weren’t going to get any better. So I settled on four $50 Target gift cards. I gave one to each of the kids, spent one on a couple of things we needed for the house (after my husband declined to take one), and saved one for myself. I vowed not to fritter it away on stuff I’d get around to buying anyway, like shampoo and toilet bowl cleaner. I wanted to get something I ordinarily wouldn’t buy for myself.

That was months ago. It’s still sitting in my wallet, along with a Starbuck’s card that has $11 left on it, a $25 card to some coffee place I’ve never heard of, and a gift certificate for a spa pedicure that I’ve had since Christmas. Clearly I need some remedial help when it comes to splurging.

So I’m wondering…what sort of things do you treat yourself to?

Marzipan Easter Eggs

When my daughter was six, she was diagnosed with an egg allergy that lasted the next five years. Instead of dying eggs for Easter, we made them out of marzipan.

If you’ve never played with marzipan, it’s like play dough you can eat. What could be better than that? Okay, some kids might argue that you can eat the regular kind of play dough, but I’m sure this tastes way better. And our homemade marzipan tastes much better than any commercial type I’ve tried, but maybe I’m a little generous with the sugar and corn syrup.

We didn't stop at eggs. We made other things, too, like little animals…

One year we made a whole vegetable garden out of marzipan. We made cabbages, tomatoes, carrots, watermelon, gooseneck squash…

…believe me, it’s a lot easier to convince kids to eat a marzipan squash than the real thing.

We always made extra and packed them in pretty boxes to give away, too.

If you want to give it a try, here’s the recipe:

½ pound almond paste (it comes canned – I found it at World Market)
½ pound confectioner’s sugar
6 tablespoons light corn syrup

Mix together almond paste and confectioner’s sugar in food processor by pulsing on/off until combined. Add corn syrup and pulse again until thoroughly mixed. Mixture should hold together when pressed. Knead until smooth dough forms.

To color, separate into several Ziploc bags. Add a few drops of desired color to each, and squeeze to mix color (this part is also fun for kids).

Some tips for working with it – a dusting of confectioner’s sugar keeps it from sticking to surfaces. You can press it into candy or Fimo molds, or cut shapes with tiny cookie cutters. Toothpicks are great for drawing details.

Not Walking in Style

Yesterday Luna (Doggie of Destruction) jumped and ripped a hole in my favorite dog-walking pants. I went to the nearest clothing store to try to replace them.

I don’t know how many pairs I tried on, but none of them fit. They were too long, too short, too saddle-baggy, too muffin-toppy. Too wandering-up-the-whosits, too sliding-down-the-whatsits. A bit tent-flappish here, a bit vacuum-packish there. I’m a little too old to be wearing a belt down around my thighs, a little too young to wear one just under the armpits.

Finally, I found one pair that fit perfectly. They fit and they looked awesome. They fit, looked awesome, and were ridiculously cheap. They fit, looked awesome, were dirt cheap, and were THE most UNbelievably itchy things ever. They itched like a burlap sack drenched in Mountain Dew, rolled in the sand and worn on a hot day at a country church. I gave up.

I strolled over to the shoe rack. Soon enough the temperature will be in triple digits, and I need a pair of sandals. The kind you can actually walk in, not the kind that looks cute when you kick them off by the pool. Last year I made the mistake of buying a pair without a strap in the back, because that’s all they make anymore. Am I the only one sick of mules? You have to grip those things with your toes. There’s nothing else keeping them on your feet. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when you continuously clench your toes, you tend to clench other parts of your body, too. Besides, every time I want to relax my toes for half a second, I end up flinging a shoe across the room.

I finally found sandals that were pretty comfy, but the color was ugly. I searched around and found the very same pair in a nicer color, only they cost two dollars more. I thought it was funny that you could save a couple bucks if you were willing to settle for the ones that were the color of puke. I decided they weren’t really that comfy, anyway.

And I decided I hate clothes shopping.

Speaking of Fish

Meet Marco Polo, our newest acquisition. He’s a little nicer to look at than Monday’s Mr. Blobfish.

When my daughter went to her water polo banquet the other night, she texted me halfway through the festivities:

I won a new pet fish.

Oh, great, I thought. I hoped that was some kind of code name for the awards they were handing out. A few moments later she sent a new text:

What should we name it?

Good grief. What was she thinking? What were the banquet organizers thinking? I pictured her coming home with some half dead feeder fish in a baggie. The poor thing would probably be gone by morning. I decided not to respond to her text. Better put off naming it, just in case.

I went to the garage and dug out our fish bowl. We’ve had two bettas that lived long happy betta lives, but the bowl has been empty for a while. My daughter texted me again:

Coach Kristy thinks we should name it Kristy.

I thought about texting back that we should name it Stop Texting Me Or You’ll Lose Your Cell Phone Privileges, but that would have taken too long. I now had a fish bowl to clean out. Urgh. If it was still swimming in the morning, I’d go buy gravel.

When the banquet was over, my husband arrived with daughter and Marco Polo, who to my relief was a hardy-looking betta. The fish came complete with a bowl tied with a fancy ribbon that included food and feeding instructions. My daughter had already removed the floating candle that topped off the arrangement. I’ve never been a fan of using live fish for centerpieces, but I have to say Marco Polo looked pretty well attended to.

Now our pets represent four animal classes: fish, bird, reptile, mammal. Make that five, if you count the spiders in the bathroom.

It's Fun and Educational, and Teaches Line Drawing, Too (Sort Of)

The new issue of National Geographic Kids just arrived at our house. The kids went through it from cover to cover, like they always do. The item that made the biggest impression on them this month was a deep sea creature called the blobfish, which scientists nicknamed “Mr. Blobby”. If you aren’t in the middle of eating something, feel free to get a load of Mr. Blobby here. To me he looks like a boneless chicken breast with eyeballs.

Shortly after the kids had reviewed the latest issue, their conversation went something like this:

“You’re a blobfish!”

“No, you’re a blobfish!”

“No, you are!”

Okay, time for a little review. Over the past months my kids have affectionately called each other Fatty, Stupid, Stupe, Scary, Ning-Nong, Disgusting, Disgrace to human society, Slippery git, Flame-broiled steak, Mutt Williams, Rosa Klebb… the list goes on. Besides that, they routinely have to remind each other that they suck.

But this particular conversation ended like this:

“Ugh. Let’s agree not to call each other Blobfish, okay? That’s just wrong.”

So relieved to know there is a line. And it has finally been drawn.

As long as we’re on the subject of line drawing and ning-nongs, check out this fun animation based on the nonsense poem On the Ning Nang Nong, by Spike Milligan. It’s only 37 seconds, and one of the characters even looks a little like Mr. Blobby:

Haven't We Had Pasta Twice This Week Already?

My husband was going out of town for a day, and I asked the kids what they wanted to eat for dinner. “Shrimp!” they chimed. They only get to eat shrimp when Dad’s out of town, since he’s allergic to it.

I was glad to have something different, and not to have to think it up. There must be more people like me who get in a rut of rotating the same eight or ten tired old meals. Suddenly you’re sick of everything and too numb to come up with anything new. Oh, the menu changes a little each season, but in no time the novelty wears off.

I jot down pretty much the same things every week on the grocery list. (Why haven’t I bothered to type it up yet? Who knows.) When I get desperate for ideas, I flip through my bulging folder of recipes I’ve ripped from magazines and never once prepared because they have more than six ingredients. They call for things like smoked paprika and guava paste. Those are not weekday ingredients. I have to search for those. The most exotic item they sell at Food4Less is instant mashed potatoes with chives. Ooooh.

So I thought – why not find out what everyone else is fixing? Surely we’re not all making the same tired old meals every week.

The best thing in my current repertoire is turkey burgers with cheese on the inside. I really need to come up with a name for that. Inside-out cheeseburgers? Okay, the name needs work, but they are yummy and no one’s sick of them yet.

So, how ‘bout it? Whatcha eating? Anything good in this week’s line-up?