The ROC outsider

My determination to have a life must be waning because I haven't done much that's bloggable lately. The week's activities have included things like driving around the Marketplace Mall loop until Duncan finally fell asleep so I could then carefully extract him, put him in the stroller and do some shopping. That was on Wednesday in the pelting rain. Other activities have included buying electronic gadgets from Amazon.com and taking apart my computer.

I really need to get out more.

Tonight, however, is not the night. Tonight I'll be staying home with one of 3 bottles of wine purchased this afternoon from EM Liquor on S. Clinton Ave (473-7335). That's the beauty of living in the city -- I can go for a walk, get some exercise and do my errands (which today included another trip to Park Ave Pets for yet more cat food). If there were a decent little grocery store nearby that I could walk to, I'd shop there a few times a week and pretend I'm European again. I think Abundance Co-op might be within walking distance, if I'm up for a long walk. I measured the distance once, it's 1.5 miles or so. Doable, especially with the baby stroller basket to carry the food in. See, Duncan comes in handy.

But back to the wine. I'm never quite sure about the liquor store. There's that door with a peephole that goes to a mysterious back room where numbers of Russian men gather. It's a bit expensive on the whole. But they're always really nice to me and don't make me feel like a terrible mother for bringing Duncan in the store with me (again, the stroller basket is especially useful in getting the wine home - and like leaving him). And as long as you steer clear of the unpronounceable Russian wines, you're OK.

I'm a red wine drinker. I like Merlot. I did not watch Sideways. I admit to buying wine based on the price (under $10 please) and if the bottle looks cool. Oh, and where it comes from. California wine doesn't usually come home with me. French, Australian, Chilean -- that's good, cheap stuff.

Today I made an exception to the no California wine rule (and also the checking the price rule as one of the bottles was $12.99). So my selection for this evening is:

Big Ass Shiraz 2004

Little Boomey Merlot 2004

Talomas Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon blend 2001 (a blend of Central Coast Californian and Australian wines)

Now, what to make for dinner...

• a couple hundred pounds of gravel (from a gravel path that seemed like a good idea before I produced a being that thought eating it sounded like fun)
• an entertainment center (donated to us by Kevin's sister, so it's just continuing its freecycling journey)
• lemon balm and oregano plants and cut herbs
• old windows (that someone will presumably use to make a greenhouse, since we never will)
• a furby (that unfortunately decided not to work and probably ended up in the landfill anyway)
• various pieces of software that don't work on my computer
• a really huge nursing bra that I got my mistake
• two dozen MREs that I have too many tastebuds to eat
• a queen mattress and boxspring (the very first item we freecycled)

For the past couple of months, people keep talking to me about Community Supported Agriculture -- locally grown food, usually organic, that you pick up at the farm or a drop-off location every week through the growing season.

My future brother-in-law, Jon, is all excited to buy a share next year. An ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend was going on about it at a party (OK, so she wasn't talking to me, I just overheard that one). A friend was all hyped up about it because she found a farm near her house and wanted me to sign up with her. It seems like everyone's talking about it.

Sarah, my friend, wanted to go in on a share at Porter Farms and, as she promised to pick it up every Saturday and bring me my half to church on Sunday and the farm doesn't have any work requirement (a lot of them do), I wrote a check and signed up. I realize this means I have to go to church every Sunday until Thanksgiving, but communion with God and consumption of vegetables are both good ways to look after yourself.

I got my first bag today. In it was swiss chard, red oak leaf lettuce, green butterhead lettuce, green leaf lettuce and spinach. That's a lot of lettuce. And we just got some from the public market yesterday so our fridge is overflowing with green leafy things now.

But lettuce I know what to do with -- make salad and put it in sandwiches. And give some to Jon. Spinach I can also handle. Jut pop it in the microwave and cook it. Easy. Swiss chard, however...

Kevin talked me into planting some in the garden this year as it's pretty (the Bright Lights variety) and he can feed it to the turtles. So we already have a ton of it. Now I have more. What do I do with it? The info sheet/newsletter Porter Farms put in the bag of veggies says it's best used fresh but can keep for 2-4 days (OK, so I have to do something with it by Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest). And they have a recipe for Swiss Chard Pie, but it looks like it's basically a recipe for quiche. Two of them.

In my mind, that just multiplies the chard. Because then I have to eat 2 quiches worth of it for it to all be gone.

Ever the 21st Century girl, I've been searching online for other ways to cook it. So far I've found out that it's super healthy for you and is best consumed as close as possible to being picked.

Watch Your Garden Grow suggests a Wilted Swiss Chard with Garlic recipe which looks pretty decent, so I guess I'd better get cooking.

When I first moved to Rochester, the second-most asked question after "Where did you move from?" (answer: Florida) was, "Why did you move here?!" This was said with incredulity as if no one would ever want to move to Rochester, especially from Florida. Apparently the migration is supposed to go the other way.

What I didn't know then was that I was the only person moving into the region. Everyone else was leaving. I found out soon enough. It's a recurring news story every few months. You've seen the headlines -- Rochester's brain drain, People fleeing region, Rochester has no future (I'm just making these up). In Wednesday's D&C, Area's loss of people persists say that since 2000, the city has lost 3.8 percent of its population. No wonder it seems that the longer I'm here, the smaller Rochester gets. And I thought it was because I was getting to know more and more people who knew other people that I also knew. It seems you can't go anywhere without bumping into someone. No, there are just less total people to know.

Why did I opt for Rochester's long, cold, harsh winters instead of Florida's soggy, unbearable, humid heat? A few sound, logical reasons:

1. I hate the heat.

2. I had no idea about the winters. Sure, people told me, but I lived in the North Carolina mountains for a few years basically camping through the winter so I figured it wouldn't be too bad. I was right, it wasn't-- until we ran out of places to put the snow and were still waiting for spring in June.

3. I moved here with a guy. Who promptly broke up with me 2 months later.

I've never been accused of being a Pollyanna, but here's my take on the upside to this upstate New York exodus. Whenever I'm on the highway, getting from one side of town to another in 15-20 minutes and I ponder the plight of our city, I come back to the same thought: at least there's less traffic. Have you driven in Florida?

Duncan and I took a stroll to Park Ave Pets (256-0006) this afternoon to get some food for Hobbes (the cat) and the turtles (too many to name). It's a pleasant, sunny day, so I was in shorts, a sleeveless top and black sandals and he was decked out in a romper with the Super Doggie Duo -- Super Puppy and Wonder Dog -- emblazoned on the front. (We were going to the pet store; I'm sure he appreciated being dressed appropriately.)

As we were walking down the street, enjoying the neighbors' yards and the sunlight, it seemed like I was getting more attention than usual, making me wonder if it was my imagination or if I really have become super hot. But, I chalked it up to wishful thinking and minded my own business, except when I got busted "talking to Duncan" about what a nice walk we were having. (I was really talking to myself. I do that a lot.)

We got there; we bought our food. Lisa, the owner, is a good friend -- she hooked me and Kevin up a few years ago -- so we chatted for a bit while Duncan was entertained by the fish, catching up on life's latest developments, which for me tend to focus on the little guy and the new things he does. He now says Hobbes and is working on fish to go along with mama, dada and nananannananananaa (no).

We start back for home. I talk to an actual other adult person on the phone. And then I notice that my left foot feels a bit funny, like there's a piece of paper stuck between it and my sandal. So I look down.

I'm wearing two different shoes. They were the same color, but not a matching pair. It took me close to an hour to notice this -- all through walking there, buying food, getting stuff out of the bottom of the stroller I was completely oblivious. I guess as least I'm not walking around looking at my feet.

Neighborhood garage sales are the best. They avoid all the things I dislike about going yardsale-ing -- no driving around trying to find unfamiliar streets or spy itty bitty yard sale signs, no making quick and dangerous turns when you see those signs, no getting in and out of the car.

That last one is the ringer for me, especially with a baby. When the whole neighborhood coordinates their garage sale efforts, you park at one end or somewhere in the middle, get out, plonk the baby in the stroller and wander around. It allows you to explore a neighborhood you ordinarily wouldn't, take in the architecture, steal some landscaping ideas and possibly make a few good finds. And if it's your own neighborhood sale, you can be friendly with your neighbors and maybe get to know them a bit better.

It was my neighborhood's annual yard sale this past weekend, organized by the Swillburg Neighborhood Association . It was largely rained out unfortunately, but Kevin (my husband), Duncan (my 10-month-old son) and I still walked up and down the streets and made a couple of finds -- a Diaper Genie to keep down that poopy diaper smell and some plastic shelving so we can theoretically organize the basement. All for $2. Well, OK, we got the shelving for free.

After all that wandering around, however, there was no trip to the Rochester public market in search of my clematis vine. Maybe next Saturday. Or maybe we'll check the Roselawn neighborhood or Castlebar Road sales in Brighton.

Most people are under the assumption that to shop at the Rochester Public Market, you have to go on a Saturday and early in the morning. Early Saturday mornings are meant for catching up on sleep in my book, not for inhaling exhaust fumes looking for parking and bumping shoulders with other shoppers.

It used to be that by the time I got around to leaving the house on a Saturday and getting to the market -- around 12:30 p.m. -- the crowds had thinned out, parking was less of a hassle and the deals were better as vendors wanted to pack up and go home. Not lately, though. Apparently everyone else caught on and now they're all showing up around noon as well. Maybe by 3 p.m. when the market closes? Yeah, it's open 5 a.m. to 3 p.m. on a Saturday. I never knew that. I thought I was squeaking in before closing by getting there just before 1 p.m.

The public market is also open on Tuesday and Thursdays from 6 a.m. to 1 p.m. Much less traffic and easy parking if you're free to go then. As I'm a lucky beast with a flexible schedule, and by Thursday I've gotten the bulk of my work for the week out of the way, it's a great day for me to go. Fewer offerings, too, though -- as I found out today when I went in search of a clematis plant. The clematis plant guy, who's always right next to Rick from Heiden Valley Farms (the Egg Guy) on Saturdays, wasn't there. I should have bought that perfect clematis vine with deep purple flowers with white star centers when I saw it a few weeks ago! I should know by now to just buy the things I want when I see them and not dither and attempt to shop around. I rarely get to actually do the shopping around, or do a little bit and don't find it better or cheaper anywhere else, and regret not buying the thing in the first place. In this case, I'll have to park way down the hill and brave the crowds on a Saturday. I've been looking for the right clematis vine for the front of the house since last summer. It's getting ridiculous.

At least today I scored three geranium plants, fresh tomatoes, green peppers and free range eggs, all for under $10.