hi lovebuddies, rainy day here at the farm-like-place;
coffee gets cold before i finish it,
oatmeal never stops being good,
rain boots come in handy for cleaning out pools (pool party 2010! + flannel),
today is the animal auction and tomorrow is the goats' breeding party!
and i am bloated with frustration and excitement, love and boredom. how funny.
for now, here are some baskats! for your breakfasttime pleasures.
Grandma Hagan’s Biscuits
2 cups white flour*
3 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
¾ cup or more milk OR buttermilk
¼ cup oil
(add 1/8 tsp baking soda if using buttermilk)
Mix dry ingredients. (If adding additional dry ingredients such as herbs or spices**, add now to dry ingredients.) Mix together liquid ingredients, stir to form emulsion, add all at once and stir only enough to wet dry ingredients. Roll to ~1 inch thickness and cut with biscuit cutter.***
Bake at 450 F until lightly browned.
elz' notes:
*or any mixture of cornmeal, wheat flour, and white flour you like (i often do half white half something else.)
**for savory, i like nutritional yeast and sage/basil/ROSEMARY/garlic/pepper. or for sweet biscuits molasses or brown sugar make good additions.
***or heap into cute little lumpy piles on a greased pan.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
ok so i just discovered yesterday that posting a housing ad on craigslist is a
GREAT WAY
to meet people.
really..
cuz you get SWAMPED with responses from all sorts of different kindsa people
and they all wanna prove that they'd be an excellent person to live with
so they give little bios, talk about their interests,
about their pasts and ambitions,
and then you get their email address
AND then you can invite them over to see your place ;)))
cuz that's what they wanted anyway
and so did you.
haha!
GREAT WAY
to meet people.
really..
cuz you get SWAMPED with responses from all sorts of different kindsa people
and they all wanna prove that they'd be an excellent person to live with
so they give little bios, talk about their interests,
about their pasts and ambitions,
and then you get their email address
AND then you can invite them over to see your place ;)))
cuz that's what they wanted anyway
and so did you.
haha!
waking lives
Little squids, rained in across the map. Bored bunnies, yellow leaves.
The distance separating each raincloud is so much smaller than the distance separating our dirty fingernails.
And every transient farmer dreams of setting up their own place, their own friend-sparkle commune where love puddles transpire by the fireplace. I am living on one person's dreamland: hundreds of plants the first year to pay back the debt, and then a decreasing number every year. An experiment in taking raw land and turning it into abundance. I feel admiration, awe, but also yes readiness to move on. My dreamland, see, would sift out bad comedies.
"We are freaks. We follow the code of freaks." - hedwig
We fired up the sauna and hot tub Wednesday night for some deep cleansing. Lucky ducks, lucky me with a fire raging in my dome, warming my yoga-ing body, my reading body, my resting body, my warding-off-desire body. I am soaking in these last couple days of material comfort before I move on to a new farm a bit farther north (near willits), where we'll be milking goats and making djunn. Trading out a bed for a new community. We'll see how I deal with sleeping in my car for a month in the cold and rain. Lucky I'm young and undemanding. But it makes me wonder-- what, materially, do I need? The lower chakras crave sex, food, comfort--- but can't I get past that and move on up to the heart? (Then to knowledge, transcendence.) Well here's to experiments.
And here's (raising a pink lady) to friendship. And to friendship being political.
The distance separating each raincloud is so much smaller than the distance separating our dirty fingernails.
And every transient farmer dreams of setting up their own place, their own friend-sparkle commune where love puddles transpire by the fireplace. I am living on one person's dreamland: hundreds of plants the first year to pay back the debt, and then a decreasing number every year. An experiment in taking raw land and turning it into abundance. I feel admiration, awe, but also yes readiness to move on. My dreamland, see, would sift out bad comedies.
"We are freaks. We follow the code of freaks." - hedwig
We fired up the sauna and hot tub Wednesday night for some deep cleansing. Lucky ducks, lucky me with a fire raging in my dome, warming my yoga-ing body, my reading body, my resting body, my warding-off-desire body. I am soaking in these last couple days of material comfort before I move on to a new farm a bit farther north (near willits), where we'll be milking goats and making djunn. Trading out a bed for a new community. We'll see how I deal with sleeping in my car for a month in the cold and rain. Lucky I'm young and undemanding. But it makes me wonder-- what, materially, do I need? The lower chakras crave sex, food, comfort--- but can't I get past that and move on up to the heart? (Then to knowledge, transcendence.) Well here's to experiments.
And here's (raising a pink lady) to friendship. And to friendship being political.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
on boredom and what ensues
the rains are here and
soft animal bodies slow down, idle hands pick up books, and
this weekend i found myself bored to be idle bored to be breathing,
losing passion and excitement for small things--
what does a body used to being busy do with all this time,
when plants are going quiet and becca-goat's milk is drying up
and the animals are thinking of fucking and sleeping quiet
and the food is getting stored away for snowed-in days.
i forgot about this!
i forgot that when things get cold bodies get quiet too,
more thinking and planning and appreciating.
i meditated on boredom for an hour. then i looked at the leaves for a while.
this time of year they are beautiful here...green and red and yellow on the white oaks.
dancing in and out of oakmoss sculptured empires.
today i made fresh ravioli with squash & collard green filling and white sauce and navy bean soup and rice pilaf! we burned a big pile of wood, railroad bits and pieces of stuff and brush--a huge bonfire that went all day and we took turns tending. the first frosts have already come and much in the garden died with it though kale and chard are still goin strong. and the rains came! bringing some cold cold misery and some delight--the ground softening and wriggling a little in its descent toward sleep. no longer having to water baby trees and strawberries and the little ginseng plants that are struggling to make it in this strange unfamiliar climate. i had a slumber party with steve and ethan and we read some lewis carroll...other relationships are flourishing too, conversations with walt about patriarchy (always) and i led/mediated a convo about the gender roles/expectations folks were raised with (became mostly a convo about family structures, but definitely breaking ground-setting stage for future conversations).
i have also been thinking of
autonomy and independence, developing and having
chest surgery, talking to my parents about
clothes in urban/rural places, wearing and having feelings about
desiring and loving, differentiating between and embracing
families, creating chosen
fear, finding and routing out
friendships, nurturing sexual and divided-by-space-or-time and intimate
gender, initiating conversations about
hate and enmity, the value or lack of value of
"natural" "law," what is, if anything
quiet, allowing myself to be
shakers, gardening practices of the
sluthood, everything about
traveling, doing-being-becoming-planning
that is something,
i am feeling glad to be in the world today
glad you are too
soft animal bodies slow down, idle hands pick up books, and
this weekend i found myself bored to be idle bored to be breathing,
losing passion and excitement for small things--
what does a body used to being busy do with all this time,
when plants are going quiet and becca-goat's milk is drying up
and the animals are thinking of fucking and sleeping quiet
and the food is getting stored away for snowed-in days.
i forgot about this!
i forgot that when things get cold bodies get quiet too,
more thinking and planning and appreciating.
i meditated on boredom for an hour. then i looked at the leaves for a while.
this time of year they are beautiful here...green and red and yellow on the white oaks.
dancing in and out of oakmoss sculptured empires.
today i made fresh ravioli with squash & collard green filling and white sauce and navy bean soup and rice pilaf! we burned a big pile of wood, railroad bits and pieces of stuff and brush--a huge bonfire that went all day and we took turns tending. the first frosts have already come and much in the garden died with it though kale and chard are still goin strong. and the rains came! bringing some cold cold misery and some delight--the ground softening and wriggling a little in its descent toward sleep. no longer having to water baby trees and strawberries and the little ginseng plants that are struggling to make it in this strange unfamiliar climate. i had a slumber party with steve and ethan and we read some lewis carroll...other relationships are flourishing too, conversations with walt about patriarchy (always) and i led/mediated a convo about the gender roles/expectations folks were raised with (became mostly a convo about family structures, but definitely breaking ground-setting stage for future conversations).
i have also been thinking of
autonomy and independence, developing and having
chest surgery, talking to my parents about
clothes in urban/rural places, wearing and having feelings about
desiring and loving, differentiating between and embracing
families, creating chosen
fear, finding and routing out
friendships, nurturing sexual and divided-by-space-or-time and intimate
gender, initiating conversations about
hate and enmity, the value or lack of value of
"natural" "law," what is, if anything
quiet, allowing myself to be
shakers, gardening practices of the
sluthood, everything about
traveling, doing-being-becoming-planning
that is something,
i am feeling glad to be in the world today
glad you are too
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
scene:
a bike shop, late afternoon, almost closing
most of the kids are gone,
chris, the dreamy mechanic i've known visually since high school,
and i, are squatting on the ground
on either side of the wheel between us,
putting our best efforts into
unscrewing a rusty hub
salt n pepa ask
"can't you hear the music's pumpin hard like i wish you would?"
he moves the wheel to a vice
most of the kids are gone,
chris, the dreamy mechanic i've known visually since high school,
and i, are squatting on the ground
on either side of the wheel between us,
putting our best efforts into
unscrewing a rusty hub
salt n pepa ask
"can't you hear the music's pumpin hard like i wish you would?"
he moves the wheel to a vice
Saturday, October 16, 2010
notes from the frontlines
is anyone reading the twitterfeed i linked to at the bottom right of the page? it's mine. most of it is quotes of other people though.
i had a nerdy moment earlier thinking about our global currency fiat system as a networking protocol, and how the banking + goverment "users" have effectively "hacked" it. we need better security.
yeah, where was i: it's funny being so invested in the S.Q... i never thought i'd see the day where i'm making car payments and holding down two jobs and i can accept my mom's friend request on facebook and i only play guitar drunk.
i can feel these cute little punches of anger from inside, pointing out, like i'm about to birth a revolution.
except that's silly, i don't think my body can make a baby. in other news i've decided that i want to go to mime school. i need to practice and i think a little instruction would make it better. all these years of doing the stupid box routine where you pretend you're stuck in a box that only you can see and you bang your head against it and try to look through it and you can't get out - well i suddenly realized today that i'm not very good at delineating the box with my motions, so although from my perspective i'm in a box, from the outside i just look dumb.
this is all literal. i'm almost done with lolita. the last 50 pages are taking forever because i got caught up in a new comic book called DMZ put out by DC. it was a glorious waste of 4 hours. i read 53 comics. i'm up to date on the series. i'm hooked. i'll have to start watching tv again, if only to temper my addiction with something slightly less awesome that still satisfies the same urge to be entertained.
maybe you can tell that i'm in a weird late night existential mood, which has historically been very good for me trying to put my head on paper. ooo i think i'll go play guitar (sober).
anyway i miss all the friendly squids. we're still kicking it here at baohaus 2.0 but it's not the same. in some ways it's better because i've been building things out of twobys and ply every week for 2 months and the house looks like a plywood-gaudi masterpiece, but that's for another post.
lots of love
lelz
i had a nerdy moment earlier thinking about our global currency fiat system as a networking protocol, and how the banking + goverment "users" have effectively "hacked" it. we need better security.
yeah, where was i: it's funny being so invested in the S.Q... i never thought i'd see the day where i'm making car payments and holding down two jobs and i can accept my mom's friend request on facebook and i only play guitar drunk.
i can feel these cute little punches of anger from inside, pointing out, like i'm about to birth a revolution.
except that's silly, i don't think my body can make a baby. in other news i've decided that i want to go to mime school. i need to practice and i think a little instruction would make it better. all these years of doing the stupid box routine where you pretend you're stuck in a box that only you can see and you bang your head against it and try to look through it and you can't get out - well i suddenly realized today that i'm not very good at delineating the box with my motions, so although from my perspective i'm in a box, from the outside i just look dumb.
this is all literal. i'm almost done with lolita. the last 50 pages are taking forever because i got caught up in a new comic book called DMZ put out by DC. it was a glorious waste of 4 hours. i read 53 comics. i'm up to date on the series. i'm hooked. i'll have to start watching tv again, if only to temper my addiction with something slightly less awesome that still satisfies the same urge to be entertained.
maybe you can tell that i'm in a weird late night existential mood, which has historically been very good for me trying to put my head on paper. ooo i think i'll go play guitar (sober).
anyway i miss all the friendly squids. we're still kicking it here at baohaus 2.0 but it's not the same. in some ways it's better because i've been building things out of twobys and ply every week for 2 months and the house looks like a plywood-gaudi masterpiece, but that's for another post.
lots of love
lelz
topsoil is my prophet
"Then an old man, a keeper of an inn, said, Speak to us of Eating and Drinking.
And he said:
Would that you could live on the fragrance of the earth, and like an air plant be sustained by the light.
But since you must kill to eat, and rob the newly born of its mother's milk to quench your thirst, let it then be an act of worship,
And let your board stand an altar on which the pure and the innocent of the forest and plain are sacrificed for that which is purer and still more innocent in man.
When you kill a beast say to him in your heart,
"By the same power that slays you, I too am slain; and I too shall be consumed.
For the law that delivered you into my hand shall deliver me into a mightier hand.
Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feeds the tree of heaven."
And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart,
"Your seeds shall live in my body,
And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart,
And your fragrance shall be my breath,
And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons."
And in the autumn, when you gather the grapes of your vineyard for the winepress, say in your heart,
"I too am a vineyard, and my fruit shall be gathered for the winepress,
And like new wine I shall be kept in eternal vessels."
And in winter, when you draw the wine, let there be in your heart a song for each cup;
And let there be in the song a remembrance for the autumn days, and for the vineyard, and for the winepress."
from "the prophet"
i love to hear your voices from afar! what pleasure, what warm reminders of our shared and overlapping and distantly tied worlds.
i am settling into the simple pleasures here--a jar full of warm goat milk, feeding the bunnies corn husks before i sit down to my oatmeal, farmer's cheese with bee balm flowers, cold cold hands while i strain the sprouted wheat for the chickens, tucking the beans and tomatoes in at night, wandering into the woods to find baby trees to water and talk to. my relationships with each person spiralling and growing in richness and depth as we skip from bare facts of our lives to the architecture of our dreams and desire,
small consensual touches and warmths, testaments to our humanness,
always pandora in the background (now sponsored by starbucks...?)
and golden sunrises and sunsets,
i am learning always to ask for help (opalyn, i'm not ready to twist off the head of a chicken yet...but i skinned a chicken yesterday, undressed this beautiful hermaphroditic silent bird without seduction but with solemnity and love and a thankfulness for my own fragile skin, contained blood, moments to live in the world.)
i am reminding myself always of how my body and mind are interwoven...
fighting anxiety with sun salutes,
finding peace in stacking firewood, wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of poop-straw (the most valuable of the ignoble resources), chopping, plucking, clipping,
khalil says "you work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
for to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission toward the infinite.
...to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret.
...and what is it to work with love?
it is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
it is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
it is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
it is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
and to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
...work is love made visible."
we are redefining work!
as i move away from jobs, embrace the in-betweens of alleys, dumpsters, travelling, excess, closed loop systems, living from my labor,
i am finding my sanity and peace here in living in the service of life, flourishing in parallel to flourishing.
i have been here for a month! (today is windward's 33rd anniversary.) halfway through my time, stronger arms and heart, my body used to tiny pleasures and tears and small pains and love and missing--these things that never run out.
And he said:
Would that you could live on the fragrance of the earth, and like an air plant be sustained by the light.
But since you must kill to eat, and rob the newly born of its mother's milk to quench your thirst, let it then be an act of worship,
And let your board stand an altar on which the pure and the innocent of the forest and plain are sacrificed for that which is purer and still more innocent in man.
When you kill a beast say to him in your heart,
"By the same power that slays you, I too am slain; and I too shall be consumed.
For the law that delivered you into my hand shall deliver me into a mightier hand.
Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feeds the tree of heaven."
And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart,
"Your seeds shall live in my body,
And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart,
And your fragrance shall be my breath,
And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons."
And in the autumn, when you gather the grapes of your vineyard for the winepress, say in your heart,
"I too am a vineyard, and my fruit shall be gathered for the winepress,
And like new wine I shall be kept in eternal vessels."
And in winter, when you draw the wine, let there be in your heart a song for each cup;
And let there be in the song a remembrance for the autumn days, and for the vineyard, and for the winepress."
from "the prophet"
i love to hear your voices from afar! what pleasure, what warm reminders of our shared and overlapping and distantly tied worlds.
i am settling into the simple pleasures here--a jar full of warm goat milk, feeding the bunnies corn husks before i sit down to my oatmeal, farmer's cheese with bee balm flowers, cold cold hands while i strain the sprouted wheat for the chickens, tucking the beans and tomatoes in at night, wandering into the woods to find baby trees to water and talk to. my relationships with each person spiralling and growing in richness and depth as we skip from bare facts of our lives to the architecture of our dreams and desire,
small consensual touches and warmths, testaments to our humanness,
always pandora in the background (now sponsored by starbucks...?)
and golden sunrises and sunsets,
i am learning always to ask for help (opalyn, i'm not ready to twist off the head of a chicken yet...but i skinned a chicken yesterday, undressed this beautiful hermaphroditic silent bird without seduction but with solemnity and love and a thankfulness for my own fragile skin, contained blood, moments to live in the world.)
i am reminding myself always of how my body and mind are interwoven...
fighting anxiety with sun salutes,
finding peace in stacking firewood, wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of poop-straw (the most valuable of the ignoble resources), chopping, plucking, clipping,
khalil says "you work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
for to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission toward the infinite.
...to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret.
...and what is it to work with love?
it is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
it is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
it is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
it is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
and to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
...work is love made visible."
we are redefining work!
as i move away from jobs, embrace the in-betweens of alleys, dumpsters, travelling, excess, closed loop systems, living from my labor,
i am finding my sanity and peace here in living in the service of life, flourishing in parallel to flourishing.
i have been here for a month! (today is windward's 33rd anniversary.) halfway through my time, stronger arms and heart, my body used to tiny pleasures and tears and small pains and love and missing--these things that never run out.
towards season's end
How delicious to see these blog posts and recipes!
Wrist exercises have become routine; as has chair-sitting, dreaming, bewilderingly enthusiastic twenty questions games riled up on caffeine to spice up the monotony, the arguments about music (often Israeli now, with the introduction of Amir into our community-- but punctuated by Deep Forest and Freedom and reggae) reggae reggae
ohhhh my goddess! pumpkin coconut soup. Hadas did it again.
Can I get some more bud buddies, Felicia?
When I was sitting on the shitter this morning....
some new music for the new generation!
snatches, repeated. we are growing closer and learning more about each other as we sit. I admire how Shane picks up after everybody, collects the eggs, quietly. I try to do the same.
Can't wait until we're working outside again! Push through, should be less than a week now.
(Brown rice, chopped almonds, raisins, and caramelized onions)
(Dates, corn flakes, sunflower seeds, flax)
(Breathlessly uphill)
Monday, October 11, 2010
boomerang
summer, the season of exercising the power
the steam
the jet streaming light
that you are, that you've become
aglow in your fury...
two and a half months of 74 days of so many waking moments
of where am i? what am i? how will i make it to tonight?
landscapes a blur of urban cradles, mazey mountains,
skirting the city at night, pant pant not stopping to look back
run to the mountains only to make it out of the forest, onto a clear-skied peak
look a distance
and suddenly decide to jump, landing back in city dumpster -- what!
constant migration,
all heads attuned to the wind
and all noses noticing rain
everyday a question
some nights, in the trance induced by dark and slurs and stars, an answer
funny how we wait for it too
maybe tonight will be the one
the moon the musician, look how we dance
take one of these, look at me in the morning
hi
flash forward, turn the page
enter stage south, back in the city
except san francisco is not what it used to be
the growing pains have already started
my furs
and feathers
are growing in
my eyes more designed to see in the dark
are we so domesticated like our own pups that we'd not stand a chance at a night in the wild?
not i said the fox
this time we survive
happy birthday
welcome to your life
Sunday, October 10, 2010
hokay lovebuddies...food to share, food to make, food of communities.
on the thought of hunger as a circuit which keeps us alive, life comes with death, fuck annual monocrops and the degradation of topsoil all over the world (it takes so long to rebuild itself) and i cannot deny my own addiction to grains, grains, grains. perhaps they are more deadly, more environmentally damaging than responsibly farmed meat. perhaps this is imminent, perhaps environmentalists should drop their vegetarian ethics and focus on eating from their bioregion and perennial polycultures and the animals that graze happily on pastures (and not federally subsidized corn that is making people jobless and hungry everywhere!)
amid those thoughts, and thoughts of community and love and food for souls and tables,
here are three recipes--two old one new--that have fed many a soul in many a living room.
peanut noodles, eliot-style.
things you really need (for a pot o noodles, say a 3-4 person serving): about 2 big spoonfuls peanut butter*, 1-2 T oil (in order of idealness: sesame, sunflower/something like that, canola, olive), 2-3 T soy sauce or Braggs, a small dollop of vinegar (i.o.o.i.: rice wine, apple cider, white, red/white wine; balsamic does not taste good), about 2 T something sweet (molasses, white or brown sugar or honey as you desire), something sour (lime juice or lemon juice; about 1 lime, half a lemon, or 1-2 T of juice), noodles or quinoa or rice or something else to put it on.
nice additions: basil, lemongrass, peanuts, carrot or cucumber pieces (add at the end, otherwise they get cooked and a little squishy), sesame seeds (the more the better!), crushed red chili peppers or hot sauce, coconut flakes/shreds.
* jiffy/skippy peanut butter tastes good (and then you don't usually need to add sugar) but yeah, it has corn syrup and is pretty nasty too. these days i prefer good peanut butter and then adding a little extra oil/sugar and mixing hard.
a note: it's actually easier to mix it all up in a bowl and then pour it on. if you're mixing it into the noodles or quinoa, it can be hard to mix. but that's fine too. if you like it saucy, add a little more water and liquids.
no-knead whole wheat bread
this is the master recipe from this bread book i've been working with by hertzberg & francois (zoe and jeff...we've gotten rather close.) it's a pretty good whole wheat, can be made into anything from pizza dough to rolls to baguettes to focaccia to sandwich (sanduiche!) loaves. it's pretty tasty. i don't have all purpose flour here so i've been using 4.5 c soft white winter wheat flour and 3 c. hard red winter wheat flour.
so the background chemistry-info is that usually you need to knead bread to get the gluten to develop and align into a protein-net that'll trap the gas bubbles produced by the yeast fermenting, producing the desirable Airy Crumb. but an alternative way, remniscent of how artesanal bread is made in bread shops and some larger-scale conditions, is to use a high-moisture dough and refrigerate it...if there's enough moisture, the gluten strands will go mobile and align by themselves! aw yeah. so this bread ends up rising ~3 times: once after you mix it all up, once when you take it out, and then when you stick it in the oven.
you Can use the dough after the initial rise, but i think it works better to refrigerate it for at least a day and then bake it. you can refrigerate it for up to 2 weeks and it develops some good complex sourdough-esque flavors after about a week.
here's the original recipe (makes 4 1-lb loaves)
1. in a container that you could refrigerate, mix together: 5.5 c whole wheat flour, 2 c all-purpose unbleached flour, 1.5 T yeast (2 packets), 1 T kosher/sea salt (i use a little less), 1/4 vital wheat gluten (i use 6 T). (also add any herbs, sliced olives, garlic, onions, dried fruit, nuts, etc. you want.) no need to proof the yeast (unless it's really old.)
2. mix with 4 c. water; don't knead, just mix until it's homo-geneous.
3. allow to rise for 2 hours covered by non-airtight lid or plastic wrap. after that, refrigerate and use it over the next 14 days. (after a week, it starts getting a nice sourdough-like flavor. and if you reuse the bowl you mixed it in for another loaf, the flavor gets better and better.)
when you want to bake it:
1. cornmeal/parchment paper/grease a pan. cut out 1/4 (1 lb) of the dough. dust it with flour and make it into a ball--don't squeeze it too much, you're trying to keep as much gas bubbliness in there as possible. form into a loaf, sprinkle with seeds or whatever, and let it rest for 90 minutes (40 minutes if you didn't refrigerate the dough).
2. preheat oven to 450. just before baking, sprinkle loaf with water or paint with egg white. slash with a serrated knife.
3. stick it in there for 30 minutes! when you put it in, also stick in a cup of water (in a metal bowl/broiler tray/cast iron pan). that makes the crust crunchy.
yum. so it takes about 15-20 min to mix up and then 15 or so minutes when you want to prep it to bake it. which is pretty sweet.
here's one more that's a staple in my life.
curry polenta
- sautee some garlic and onion with curry powder, turmeric, etc.
- add cornmeal. about 1/2-2/3 c is good for one person, 2 c is enough for 4-6 folks (ish).
- mix that up and let the cornmeal brown a bit (just for like a minute or two). then add water...enough to cover the cornmeal, usually about 2ce the amount of cornmeal you added.
- let it boil & shit until it's a texture you like...anywhere from creamy to pretty solid. add, if you like, cheese or nutritional yeast, some braggs, hot sauce, herbs, etc. traditionally if you let it get solid and cool a bit you could in theory slice it and bake, fry, do whatever you want with it. pour sauce on it. whatevs.
the rains are arriving here...it's grey and chilly and the bunnies are a little anxious to run around and get touched but i don't want to deal with muddy bunnies. i am dwelling in routines and trying to hang on to spontanaeity and emotional honesty, honor that in myself and others. keep things in the open, imaginable realm. yesterday we bottled the hard cider we made--it had probably surpassed beer-alcohol-level, in the 10-13% range. there's such a funny balance here of being wary of dependence and alcoholism and thinking of this hard cider as responsible caloric preservation, and then craving rituals and explosion and celebration too. probably the community leans toward the former rather than the latter. it's good for me, to distance myself from needing those lubrications and addictions to allow me to act.
and...today there's chili on the stove, yesterday i made baguettes, reading about monocrops and cannibalism,
standing close to people and wondering about how they work on the inside,
how much and how little i know about these folks.
silence is deceptive, when it suggests that all that could be said has been said,
sometimes it's comfortable and most of the time i find myself treading water, confused by silences,
the stimuli that keep this little community alive.
ruben playing the flute.
john lennon on the radio.
ethan napping.
gina clattering, tapping out her anger in pots and clattering spoons and bubbling pots.
a shelf full of good d.i.y. books and cookbooks, "how to live on wheat," "home cheese making"...
am i boring or bored? i'm not sure.
amid those thoughts, and thoughts of community and love and food for souls and tables,
here are three recipes--two old one new--that have fed many a soul in many a living room.
peanut noodles, eliot-style.
things you really need (for a pot o noodles, say a 3-4 person serving): about 2 big spoonfuls peanut butter*, 1-2 T oil (in order of idealness: sesame, sunflower/something like that, canola, olive), 2-3 T soy sauce or Braggs, a small dollop of vinegar (i.o.o.i.: rice wine, apple cider, white, red/white wine; balsamic does not taste good), about 2 T something sweet (molasses, white or brown sugar or honey as you desire), something sour (lime juice or lemon juice; about 1 lime, half a lemon, or 1-2 T of juice), noodles or quinoa or rice or something else to put it on.
nice additions: basil, lemongrass, peanuts, carrot or cucumber pieces (add at the end, otherwise they get cooked and a little squishy), sesame seeds (the more the better!), crushed red chili peppers or hot sauce, coconut flakes/shreds.
* jiffy/skippy peanut butter tastes good (and then you don't usually need to add sugar) but yeah, it has corn syrup and is pretty nasty too. these days i prefer good peanut butter and then adding a little extra oil/sugar and mixing hard.
a note: it's actually easier to mix it all up in a bowl and then pour it on. if you're mixing it into the noodles or quinoa, it can be hard to mix. but that's fine too. if you like it saucy, add a little more water and liquids.
no-knead whole wheat bread
this is the master recipe from this bread book i've been working with by hertzberg & francois (zoe and jeff...we've gotten rather close.) it's a pretty good whole wheat, can be made into anything from pizza dough to rolls to baguettes to focaccia to sandwich (sanduiche!) loaves. it's pretty tasty. i don't have all purpose flour here so i've been using 4.5 c soft white winter wheat flour and 3 c. hard red winter wheat flour.
so the background chemistry-info is that usually you need to knead bread to get the gluten to develop and align into a protein-net that'll trap the gas bubbles produced by the yeast fermenting, producing the desirable Airy Crumb. but an alternative way, remniscent of how artesanal bread is made in bread shops and some larger-scale conditions, is to use a high-moisture dough and refrigerate it...if there's enough moisture, the gluten strands will go mobile and align by themselves! aw yeah. so this bread ends up rising ~3 times: once after you mix it all up, once when you take it out, and then when you stick it in the oven.
you Can use the dough after the initial rise, but i think it works better to refrigerate it for at least a day and then bake it. you can refrigerate it for up to 2 weeks and it develops some good complex sourdough-esque flavors after about a week.
here's the original recipe (makes 4 1-lb loaves)
1. in a container that you could refrigerate, mix together: 5.5 c whole wheat flour, 2 c all-purpose unbleached flour, 1.5 T yeast (2 packets), 1 T kosher/sea salt (i use a little less), 1/4 vital wheat gluten (i use 6 T). (also add any herbs, sliced olives, garlic, onions, dried fruit, nuts, etc. you want.) no need to proof the yeast (unless it's really old.)
2. mix with 4 c. water; don't knead, just mix until it's homo-geneous.
3. allow to rise for 2 hours covered by non-airtight lid or plastic wrap. after that, refrigerate and use it over the next 14 days. (after a week, it starts getting a nice sourdough-like flavor. and if you reuse the bowl you mixed it in for another loaf, the flavor gets better and better.)
when you want to bake it:
1. cornmeal/parchment paper/grease a pan. cut out 1/4 (1 lb) of the dough. dust it with flour and make it into a ball--don't squeeze it too much, you're trying to keep as much gas bubbliness in there as possible. form into a loaf, sprinkle with seeds or whatever, and let it rest for 90 minutes (40 minutes if you didn't refrigerate the dough).
2. preheat oven to 450. just before baking, sprinkle loaf with water or paint with egg white. slash with a serrated knife.
3. stick it in there for 30 minutes! when you put it in, also stick in a cup of water (in a metal bowl/broiler tray/cast iron pan). that makes the crust crunchy.
yum. so it takes about 15-20 min to mix up and then 15 or so minutes when you want to prep it to bake it. which is pretty sweet.
here's one more that's a staple in my life.
curry polenta
- sautee some garlic and onion with curry powder, turmeric, etc.
- add cornmeal. about 1/2-2/3 c is good for one person, 2 c is enough for 4-6 folks (ish).
- mix that up and let the cornmeal brown a bit (just for like a minute or two). then add water...enough to cover the cornmeal, usually about 2ce the amount of cornmeal you added.
- let it boil & shit until it's a texture you like...anywhere from creamy to pretty solid. add, if you like, cheese or nutritional yeast, some braggs, hot sauce, herbs, etc. traditionally if you let it get solid and cool a bit you could in theory slice it and bake, fry, do whatever you want with it. pour sauce on it. whatevs.
the rains are arriving here...it's grey and chilly and the bunnies are a little anxious to run around and get touched but i don't want to deal with muddy bunnies. i am dwelling in routines and trying to hang on to spontanaeity and emotional honesty, honor that in myself and others. keep things in the open, imaginable realm. yesterday we bottled the hard cider we made--it had probably surpassed beer-alcohol-level, in the 10-13% range. there's such a funny balance here of being wary of dependence and alcoholism and thinking of this hard cider as responsible caloric preservation, and then craving rituals and explosion and celebration too. probably the community leans toward the former rather than the latter. it's good for me, to distance myself from needing those lubrications and addictions to allow me to act.
and...today there's chili on the stove, yesterday i made baguettes, reading about monocrops and cannibalism,
standing close to people and wondering about how they work on the inside,
how much and how little i know about these folks.
silence is deceptive, when it suggests that all that could be said has been said,
sometimes it's comfortable and most of the time i find myself treading water, confused by silences,
the stimuli that keep this little community alive.
ruben playing the flute.
john lennon on the radio.
ethan napping.
gina clattering, tapping out her anger in pots and clattering spoons and bubbling pots.
a shelf full of good d.i.y. books and cookbooks, "how to live on wheat," "home cheese making"...
am i boring or bored? i'm not sure.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
a baohaus update
so, they've FINALLY repainted the baohaus. it was a team of really cool looking, not very professional (bring your kid to work day anyone?) painters, who commented on EVERYTHING they were painting. I know because I went in and introduced myself as a neighbor. They loved the scrawls, they thought the paintings showed great talent (ahem ev), they thought the quote about the kilos of cocaine was nice, and they were under the weird impression that all of this was accomplished by one (1) male-bodied person. heh.
random quote: "some of the stuff he wrote was DEEP, wow!"
so it's a nice ending in my mind.
also, i finally rescued that door, cuz i figure they've definitely assessed the place by now, and they still haven't changed the lock on the back door. so the squid is back upstairs (daryl put it down again a while ago, long story).
lots of loooove
lelz
random quote: "some of the stuff he wrote was DEEP, wow!"
so it's a nice ending in my mind.
also, i finally rescued that door, cuz i figure they've definitely assessed the place by now, and they still haven't changed the lock on the back door. so the squid is back upstairs (daryl put it down again a while ago, long story).
lots of loooove
lelz
on being obliged to watch
on tuesday, whitey the sheep was slaughtered*. i felt obliged to be present for a lot of reasons, none of them peer pressure--i wanted to bear witness, to experience the impact of a life passing to take responsibility for the role of death in producing a meat- and animal-driven lifestyle, to face my complicitness, to see which parts or which people seemed cruel, if any...i don't think anyone is particularly cruel, and it's not easy for anyone. walt says that if it were easy, one shouldn't be doing it--there's a risk of detachment, of becoming too capable of killing something without thinking about it too much. i took the opposite route, holding on tight to the memory of whitey eating as she bled to death from her neck, slowly crumpling onto the ground but never in pain, never bleating--in short, remembering life as the cost through the process of removing the hide, fat, organs, cutting up the meat into chunks the next day.
in some ways, the experience of watching whitey die and the next day eating a bite of her was a beautiful closed-loop system...her body going to nourish windward, the people and earth and animals, and the impact of the flock on the land is being balanced so that they can survive the winter and to make space for new lambs to be born. i'm coming to feel and recognize my place in these cycles and circles of things--domesticator and cultivator but also spreader-of-seeds, feeder-of-bunnies, enricher-of-earth, consumer-of-predators-and-prey. the truth is that i, and most people i think, don't have nearly enough information to figure out how to choose a diet or way of living that impacts the earth as little (or as positively) as possible...monocrop agriculture and the cultivation of annual grains has fucked a lot of shit up too. and although humans have fucked up a lot more than our due on this planet, it also doesn't seem quite right to put us on the top of it all, the Ruiners and the FuckUppers...the earth has evolved along with us, animals evolved to live in synchrony with humans, cars replaced natural predators in controlling the deer population...how do we begin to take responsibility for all this?
something is always dying for us to eat,
and i think that is one reason i felt obliged to watch.
watching whitey get hoisted up, dying quietly--it didn't make me want to eat meat, really,
and when i ate a little it tasted...okay, i guess.
all my little molecules and cells, nourished on this and that, more and more from this land, from the garden and the goat milk and the soft white wheat, and eventually i will be eaten by a tree hungry for bones and calcium or some grasses or maybe some critter. who knows. but that it as it should be, i think, in this cycle of nutrients and lifegiving and lifetaking. life and death and birth go together, cycling and cycling and keeping each other in check--what separates us is not our faces or our speaking abilities or our ability to build televisions, i think, but our sense that we have a choice about how we want to compete or cooperate, take responsibility or destroy, take lives gracefully in order to live or destroy life in order to dominate. we don't know how, or we have forgotten why, to keep ourselves in check. how to recognize that the resources for us to live and bear children are no longer available...because they're not, we're past topsoil and living on fossil fuels, eating and drinking this painfully extracted blood of the earth.
and what to do with all this knowledge,
all this information that we were never told,
i was never taught,
some of me craves cities and traveling, people people people,
easy small relationships, opening myself daily,
i am not ready to settle and dwell. not here, anyway.
but it lets me see the possibility of how it might be done,
how we might live responsibly with the land and its critters--plants and animals and bacteria and us.
nothing is easy. but we have so many choices.
*the words chosen carefully to describe death are prolific...culling, harvesting, giving death to, slaughtering, butchering, doing...rarely killing.
in some ways, the experience of watching whitey die and the next day eating a bite of her was a beautiful closed-loop system...her body going to nourish windward, the people and earth and animals, and the impact of the flock on the land is being balanced so that they can survive the winter and to make space for new lambs to be born. i'm coming to feel and recognize my place in these cycles and circles of things--domesticator and cultivator but also spreader-of-seeds, feeder-of-bunnies, enricher-of-earth, consumer-of-predators-and-prey. the truth is that i, and most people i think, don't have nearly enough information to figure out how to choose a diet or way of living that impacts the earth as little (or as positively) as possible...monocrop agriculture and the cultivation of annual grains has fucked a lot of shit up too. and although humans have fucked up a lot more than our due on this planet, it also doesn't seem quite right to put us on the top of it all, the Ruiners and the FuckUppers...the earth has evolved along with us, animals evolved to live in synchrony with humans, cars replaced natural predators in controlling the deer population...how do we begin to take responsibility for all this?
something is always dying for us to eat,
and i think that is one reason i felt obliged to watch.
watching whitey get hoisted up, dying quietly--it didn't make me want to eat meat, really,
and when i ate a little it tasted...okay, i guess.
all my little molecules and cells, nourished on this and that, more and more from this land, from the garden and the goat milk and the soft white wheat, and eventually i will be eaten by a tree hungry for bones and calcium or some grasses or maybe some critter. who knows. but that it as it should be, i think, in this cycle of nutrients and lifegiving and lifetaking. life and death and birth go together, cycling and cycling and keeping each other in check--what separates us is not our faces or our speaking abilities or our ability to build televisions, i think, but our sense that we have a choice about how we want to compete or cooperate, take responsibility or destroy, take lives gracefully in order to live or destroy life in order to dominate. we don't know how, or we have forgotten why, to keep ourselves in check. how to recognize that the resources for us to live and bear children are no longer available...because they're not, we're past topsoil and living on fossil fuels, eating and drinking this painfully extracted blood of the earth.
and what to do with all this knowledge,
all this information that we were never told,
i was never taught,
some of me craves cities and traveling, people people people,
easy small relationships, opening myself daily,
i am not ready to settle and dwell. not here, anyway.
but it lets me see the possibility of how it might be done,
how we might live responsibly with the land and its critters--plants and animals and bacteria and us.
nothing is easy. but we have so many choices.
*the words chosen carefully to describe death are prolific...culling, harvesting, giving death to, slaughtering, butchering, doing...rarely killing.
What money?
Dear David Casner, VP, UChicago Alumni Board of Govenors,
I don't have a penny to spare to donate to your fund. Not for your university, not for pumping up prestige, not for helping to create unquantifiable numbers to go in brochures, not show other people how much your institution is loooooved by its young alums, not to support a place that shuffles along and pokes and prods the kids who don't want to learn your way, not to put extra shine on the windows of your new arts center, not to attach my name ever more to place that does not represent who I am in totality.
In short, I am other things before I am a UofC graduate. Sometimes I have a hard time figuring out what those things are, but this week I am a reader of Nabokov (Transparent Things, Lolita, whatever's in the house) and swimmer without goggles because I like the sting of chlorine in my eyes. This week I am busy shaking of a creepy cab driver on a drenched Saturday night who insists that I sit up front with him, have a cigarette with him before I head home, who grabs my hand and makes me employ not my social graces but my ability to tell someone to fuck off. I am busy shaking off bullshit and buying curtains.
So, it's awful presumptuous of you to ask me for money. If you think you know where my loyalties lie because you gave me an embossed piece of paper in maroon envelope, you, sir, are sorely mistaken.
T'mo
I don't have a penny to spare to donate to your fund. Not for your university, not for pumping up prestige, not for helping to create unquantifiable numbers to go in brochures, not show other people how much your institution is loooooved by its young alums, not to support a place that shuffles along and pokes and prods the kids who don't want to learn your way, not to put extra shine on the windows of your new arts center, not to attach my name ever more to place that does not represent who I am in totality.
In short, I am other things before I am a UofC graduate. Sometimes I have a hard time figuring out what those things are, but this week I am a reader of Nabokov (Transparent Things, Lolita, whatever's in the house) and swimmer without goggles because I like the sting of chlorine in my eyes. This week I am busy shaking of a creepy cab driver on a drenched Saturday night who insists that I sit up front with him, have a cigarette with him before I head home, who grabs my hand and makes me employ not my social graces but my ability to tell someone to fuck off. I am busy shaking off bullshit and buying curtains.
So, it's awful presumptuous of you to ask me for money. If you think you know where my loyalties lie because you gave me an embossed piece of paper in maroon envelope, you, sir, are sorely mistaken.
T'mo
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
lovin my blood
i want to shout it from the rooftops! today, as expected, i started bleeding (in prep for the new moon tomorrow...it's already been a cycle of the moon since rosh hashanah on 3rd beach in lapush with stam bex and elz), a few days after having used fertility awareness method (FAM) as birth control. i wasn't unprotected, i was protected by my own knowledge of my own body! fuck yeah!
also, if anyone wants a kombucha mother-- we have some pretty little babies ready to leave.
also, happy birthday to justin, our little boogerbutt:
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
a funny thing happened on the way to the admin building
the setting:
a pretty fall friday on the U of C quads. what appear to be the remnants of an RSO fair scattered around, including about 2000 balloons.
the cast: lelimonster and his three young chargers, ages 9, 11, and 13, on their way to visit the mom in the admin building (babysitting [manny?] FTW!). later, Sharlene Holly and eddie from downstairs.
enter lelz with kids:
kids: oooo balloons!!!
lelz: who wants a balloon?
kids: meeeeeee
lelz to only person sitting at any tables anymore: hey mind if we take a couple?
random person: here's my really sharp key go ahead!
lelz: here ya go kids!
enter eddie: hi lelz, nice balloons.
(they chat for a bit - kids play with balloons - lelz ties youngest's balloon to her wrist)
enter Sharlene Holly
(angry) SH: excuse me, do you work for ORCSA?
lelz: uh oh
SH: are those your balloons?
lelz: um
SH: did you steal those balloons?
lelz: no
SH: are you affiliated with the university?
lelz: i work for the hospital
SH: what's your name?
lelz: etc
SH (into microphone): will someone with paper write down (name) + neurology?
lelz: sigh
sh: i'm going to call your supervisor and explain to them that you defaced university property. i would never want to set such an example for children. i would never let you near my own kids.
kids offer balloons back to SH.
SH: no, i would never take balloons from a child!
turns back to lelz
SH: BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH
eddie: lady, you're crazy!
kids laugh
eddie continues. sh continues ranting, stalks away angrily.
duration of encounter: 5 minutes
CURTAIN!
so....
in classic LPM style, the email i just sent. we'll have a vote (in the comments, sivooplay):
1. email makes matters worse
2. email results in apology from all sides and warm feelings
3. email gets LPM fired
4. email is ignored.
the email:
Hi Sharlene,
I sometimes make people angry unintentionally, but I really wish I didn't.
Maybe you don't remember, but we crossed paths over 6 helium balloons in the middle of the quads last Friday. I know you were in "event" mode, so I don't hold your actions against you (very much). Still, I feel bad about our interaction - in attempting to ridicule me in front of the kids, although you ended up making yourself look much worse, you also confused the kids, and it was already a stressful day.
Stressful because their mother, who works closely with a very important man in the administration and a former boss of yours, was trying to get a lot done at once and also have a couple minutes to say hi with her kids. She is recently divorced. They were so happy to have a few balloons.
Your actions were, in their mother's words, completely out of line.
So, to conclude, I didn't mean to make you mad then or now. I want to be up front and give you your chance at satisfaction, either by a civilized conversation (hopefully), or by carrying your threat out against me. I didn't lie to you that day, which was what I explained to the children after you stalked away. Lying in any situation, even when confronted by an angry person of authority, is not acceptable. Taking a few balloons, especially when given explicit permission by the only person around (even if slightly misguided), is not a big deal.
Respectfully,
Eli Albert, BA 2010
a pretty fall friday on the U of C quads. what appear to be the remnants of an RSO fair scattered around, including about 2000 balloons.
the cast: lelimonster and his three young chargers, ages 9, 11, and 13, on their way to visit the mom in the admin building (babysitting [manny?] FTW!). later, Sharlene Holly and eddie from downstairs.
enter lelz with kids:
kids: oooo balloons!!!
lelz: who wants a balloon?
kids: meeeeeee
lelz to only person sitting at any tables anymore: hey mind if we take a couple?
random person: here's my really sharp key go ahead!
lelz: here ya go kids!
enter eddie: hi lelz, nice balloons.
(they chat for a bit - kids play with balloons - lelz ties youngest's balloon to her wrist)
enter Sharlene Holly
(angry) SH: excuse me, do you work for ORCSA?
lelz: uh oh
SH: are those your balloons?
lelz: um
SH: did you steal those balloons?
lelz: no
SH: are you affiliated with the university?
lelz: i work for the hospital
SH: what's your name?
lelz: etc
SH (into microphone): will someone with paper write down (name) + neurology?
lelz: sigh
sh: i'm going to call your supervisor and explain to them that you defaced university property. i would never want to set such an example for children. i would never let you near my own kids.
kids offer balloons back to SH.
SH: no, i would never take balloons from a child!
turns back to lelz
SH: BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH
eddie: lady, you're crazy!
kids laugh
eddie continues. sh continues ranting, stalks away angrily.
duration of encounter: 5 minutes
CURTAIN!
so....
in classic LPM style, the email i just sent. we'll have a vote (in the comments, sivooplay):
1. email makes matters worse
2. email results in apology from all sides and warm feelings
3. email gets LPM fired
4. email is ignored.
the email:
Hi Sharlene,
I sometimes make people angry unintentionally, but I really wish I didn't.
Maybe you don't remember, but we crossed paths over 6 helium balloons in the middle of the quads last Friday. I know you were in "event" mode, so I don't hold your actions against you (very much). Still, I feel bad about our interaction - in attempting to ridicule me in front of the kids, although you ended up making yourself look much worse, you also confused the kids, and it was already a stressful day.
Stressful because their mother, who works closely with a very important man in the administration and a former boss of yours, was trying to get a lot done at once and also have a couple minutes to say hi with her kids. She is recently divorced. They were so happy to have a few balloons.
Your actions were, in their mother's words, completely out of line.
So, to conclude, I didn't mean to make you mad then or now. I want to be up front and give you your chance at satisfaction, either by a civilized conversation (hopefully), or by carrying your threat out against me. I didn't lie to you that day, which was what I explained to the children after you stalked away. Lying in any situation, even when confronted by an angry person of authority, is not acceptable. Taking a few balloons, especially when given explicit permission by the only person around (even if slightly misguided), is not a big deal.
Respectfully,
Eli Albert, BA 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Lights up farm factory
The past three days I've only seen my dome at nighttime. Just as I'm losing myself, bewildered on my nighttime walk through the woods, the brush, the downhill slippery leaves (contact improv has helped me to fall gently) I see the outline of my home, my dome, my magical spot with running water and electricity and a hula hoop. We settle in, get naked together, meditate through open space and gratitude and warmth.
I am so well taken care of here. Yoga at 6:30 in the morning. Two delicious home-grown meals cooked every day by our resident chefs and eaten communally in the yurt to power us through farm factory time. Let's get these fisker-wielders some cucumber mate smoothie! How wild? How shaved? How many different ways can you cook zucchini? Work work work until lunchtime. Eat. Sit sit work work until dinner. Breathe. Puff. Walk home.
It'll be like this for the next two weeks or so. Profit rises as the weather cools. We saw our first rainbow yesterday evening.
And though I have no buddy-buddies to play with, there are the stars and my hula hoop, which both make good dance partners. There is the solitude to really feel myself out, learn more about my own needs and desires, breathe into the woodpeckers knock knock knocking.
And I miss. Expanding into elsewhere and back into here.
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