“When you look at unbalanced people, how they respond to the vitriol that comes out of certain mouths about tearing down the government. The anger, the hatred, the bigotry that goes on in this country is getting to be outrageous. And, unfortunately, Arizona I think has become sort of the capital. We have become the Mecca for prejudice and bigotry.

“It’s not unusual for all public officials to get threats constantly, myself included. And that’s the sad thing of what’s going on in America. Pretty soon, we’re not going to be able to find reasonable, decent people who are willing to subject themselves to serve in public office.”

I’m really, really glad that it looks like the Congresswoman is going to live, and deeply saddened that so many others were killed and injured.  Anything that threatens to take away more of our freedom from living without fear is awful to me.

For now, I’m grateful that my life wasn’t directly affected, and that I was able to spend the afternoon with Birmingham walking my friend’s dog in the peaceful, quiet streets of a northern Hudson Valley town.  I’d like to think that the actions of a small number of crazy fringe individuals don’t keep changing our way of life in this pretty fantastic country.

• Leave the pool to drive to the train station no later than 7:40am (I’m not even going to tell you how early I get up to do the swimming)
• Get to the train station in 10 minutes with enough time to buy my ticket, pay for parking, and catch the 8am train
• Take the train south for exactly 1 hour.
• Change trains to the local, 5 minute layover, 13 minute train ride.
• Arrive in the city where I work!
• Wait for the bus for 15 minutes.
• Ride the bus for 14 minutes
• Walk from the bus stop to my desk in 4 minutes.
• Take any remaining time before 10am to turn on computer, pee, put my lunch in the fridge, let my boss know I’ve arrived.  (Not always in that order.)
• Work.
• Reverse steps, with some variation.
• Prep for tomorrow.
• Sleep.

It’s a mega commute, but I find living at the end of the train line really rewarding.  I can sleep, I can zone, I can read.  In fact, in the 17 days I’ve been at my job, I have read the following:

Shop Indie Bookstores – this book is AMAZING & full of happiness!

Shop Indie Bookstores – I read it as a Google edition on my computer.

Shop Indie Bookstores – Liked it more than I thought I would.

Shop Indie Bookstores – Birmingham made me read this, and he’s right.  Avatar did steal a lot of source material…

Shop Indie Bookstores – It’s not out until March, but totally worth it when it gets here, fantastic debut.

Shop Indie Bookstores – Speaking of being happy, this book will bring joy to your heart.

Shop Indie Bookstores – So good, it made me love my Mom enough to want to be one myself.  (briefly.)

Shop Indie Bookstores (in progress) – Also reading this as a Google edition.

Shop Indie Bookstores (in progress) – Started this today.

I also read a recent issue of the New Yorker, which was also the first of the subscription I just got for Christmas.

***All those links except the New Yorker go to indiebound & your local bookseller.  The New Yorker link will take you to an interesting note about the lack of female writers on staff at the New Yorker.***

I like living at the northernmost reaches.  When I lived in New York City, I made Washington Heights my home.  It meant always getting a seat on the A train because there were only two stops before mine.  I lived in an apartment that was so spacious I completely missed out on the shoebox living that’s supposed to be a staple of a 20-something in the city.  Now I’ve got this roomy little place up in the Hudson Valley, and while it lacks the charm of a psychotic landlesbian, I could do cartwheels in my bathroom.  If I was physically capable of a cartwheel, that is.  Or if I wasn’t scared that the sink is made of such solid stuff.

My lease goes until October.  I hope to have this job for a really long time.  That brings up some questions about the reality of moving to Westchester to be nearer to the job.  I want to ignore those questions for as long as possible, though.  I’m not ready to give up being at the end of the train line, even if it means waiting an extra week for my new New Yorker to arrive in the mail.

When we last left off, I was using my blog to write about The Poughkeepsie Farm Project.  And guess what?  I’m working them again!  The next event is on Saturday, and it’s called Soup-A-Bowl.  I have a lot of other things to write about, so if you would like to learn more about this event that combines eating local soup out of hand-made bowls, please visit Soup-A-Bowl on the events page of the Poughkeepsie Farm Project.  If you’re in the area, come join us!

In the real world, I’m still working at that other job that’s far away and pays peanuts.  My best friend there, my one ally in all situations, just got laid off a few days ago when her grant ended.  It’s been even harder to go to work now that there’s no one else to notice my cute shoes or when I wear a new shirt.  There’s no one to turn to who will confirm that the thing my co-worker just said was indeed ridiculously rude.  I’m working getting out of here the best way I know how: networking the hell out of myself.

One thing that came of that getting my name out there was a proofreading job for one of the local colleges.  It was hands-down the most made for me work I’ve had since the big job loss of 2008.  I got to put punctuation in order and bury my nose in MLA, APA and Chicago Manual Style Guides.  I got to work from home, or the library, or the waiting room of the oil change place.  Basically anywhere with an internet connection.  I got paid a living wage and then some.  Also, I was given praise when I did well, and they even said “thank you.”

(side note: is anyone else watching Mad Men this season?  Did you see that episode last week – amazing, no?  If you did, you know that scene where Peggy says, “you never say “thank you!” and Don says “that’s what the money is for!”?  That’s what my life is like at my day job, except my clothes are more comfortable, and my boss is not a ridiculously attractive man.  Or a drunk.  And I probably get paid the same as Peggy Olson, not adjusted for inflation.)

…part of this post has been edited…  Things in the love life just changed & they’re not blogable yet….

Oh, I’m sure other stuff is going on…  There’s a lot of swimming.  Spent many a day this summer going up to Lake Minnewaska to hop in there and swim circles around the 200 yard-long lane line.  Our team swims start again in a week or two.

There was a lot of sailing, because I have a great friend with a boat.  We’re going on a weekend trip after Soup-A-Bowl.

We had a shower for my sister, and it was much fun.  It was a Hawaiian Luau theme, and we opened a lot of presents.  I have no desire to ever have a full-blow wedding.  But if I did, I would agree with most of my sister’s wedding choices, so it’s enjoyable to live a little vicariously through her.  I made her invitations and they looked a little like this:

I’ve been reading some books!  Mockingjay, The Gurnsey Literary and Potato Peel Society and Stay.  Allie came by our fair town recently for a reading, and it was a huge success and I met a bunch of her friends who were in the nearby.  I love having friends who are published, makes me feel important and literary.  One of her friends from high school happened to be associated with the Hudson Valley Green Festival, and got me press passes to it, which was sweet as hell.  I was not feeling well enough to stay up to 10:30 and see Blues Traveller, but I got there early enough to see some of the opening bands, who were quite enjoyable, and meet some of the vendors who were quite green.  The nice people at Teany gave me a bottle of the stuff because I mentioned I wrote about Teany when I started the blog.  (Whoa, 2006!  Did we even have the internet back then?)  I told them I’d write about them in return, so here’s a picture of the cool folks at the place:

Mad props to Sabrina and Mark & Phil for the tickets!

Another thing that happened this summer was that on one of the really hot, hot days, I went to the refrigerator and took dough that I made and put it on the dashboard of my car.  Two hours later, I had cookies:

I call them “Sentra Chip Cookies” but my ever so creative Facebook friends called them “Nestle Toll-Road Cookies,” EZ Pass Bake Oven Cookies,” and “CHiPs Ahoy.”  They were really good and shared by the fellow swimmers at the end of season party.

How was your summer?

As we sipped glasses of wine and tea from local vineyards, the farm manager gave us a short tour of the farm’s workings, where I learned about their organic philosophy of crop rotation and cover crops to minimize invasive pests and infections.  They have ten acres to grow crops to support a healthy CSA community of about 400 families, and sell at the Friday Farmer’s Market, AND donate fresh fruits and vegetables to the local food bank.  It was neat to hear about the farm, but really I wanted to get to dinner.  So let’s at it.

The Menu, (OMG)

Hors d’oeuvres

• Miniature beef Wellingtons
• Goat Cheese and olive Tarts
• Miniature mushroom risotto turbans
• Empanadas cilantro crema
• Local braised lamb sliders with NY cheddar and slaw

First Course

• Swiss chard and red leaf lettuce salad with roasted beet-raspberry vinagrette.

Where's the main course? you ask... I was so excited to try the lamb that I forgot to photograph it. Imagine it in that empty space...

Entree course

• Marinated and slow roasted Sheep Crossing Farm lamb with curried eggplant
• Grilled Murray’s organic chicken baked with peppers, garlic, tomato and fresh basil

Sides (selected sides pictured here)

• Cucumber, heirloom tomato and fresh basil salad, dressed with organic olive oil
• Roasted new potatoes with fresh thyme, garlic and olive oil
• Cabbage and carrot slaw with fresh cilantro, lime, and onion
• Stewed medley of fresh summer squash

Cheese Course (seriously, all meals should have one of these!)

• Assorted Sprout Creek Farm and Coach Farm artisan cheeses.

Dessert (OMFG)

• Fresh Drumlin Farms peaches and mixed berries with fresh thyme, Wile Hive Farm polenta lavender pound cake and whipped Coach Farm goat cheese with clover honey.

All of the above was prepared by the chefs at The Artist’s Palate.

Dessert was actually the worst part of the meal for me.  Not because it wasn’t the most amazingly luxurious finish to a meal I’ve ever had, because it was.  It’s just that all that stuff that came before it?  I ate it all.  Plus two pieces of the fresh-baked bread from Bread Alone Bakery, slathered with Ronnybrook Farm Dairy butter.  At the half-way point of eating this dessert, I tried to sit up straight in my chair to make more room in my stomach.  I tried standing up to walk off something.  But damn, I was full.  And I couldn’t finish it. And that made me sad.

So I left the memory of that dessert on the table.  For my homies that couldn’t be there, or something.

In addition to the fantastic food, I also had great company.  Most of the providers of the food were in attendance, and I sat near the woman who raised the lamb we ate (she told a funny story about how she decided to donate the one animal she simply couldn’t stand.  Like people, some sheep are just jerks.)  I also talked with the guys who manage their website, the farm manager, and an opera composer.  We did not lack for conversation.

In short, every meal should be this meal.  Yet again, I have found a reason to love my adopted Hudson Valley home.  Next time, I hope they’ll let me get dirty and try my hand at some of the farming as well.

But then a thing happened.  The economy went to shit.  And my super international bank, that saved me who knows how many tens of dollars in fees over the years got a bailout.  And they started charging me little fees here and there, like when in desperate circumstances I had to get cash from an alien ATM.  And even though they have a handful of branches here in the Hudson Valley and a catchy marketing plan touting how well they know the locals, they’re not really local.  The same goes for the banks that are holding my two credit cards.

So today, after a year of knowing it was time for a change, I finally got up and opened an account with a local bank.  They’re so local, they even have “Hudson Valley” in their name.  And they’re not a bank.  They’re a credit union.  They donate money locally, and many of their employees are loyal donors and volunteers for the very non-profit where I work.  In fact, my new bank is Hudson Valley Federal Credit Union.  And it helping inspire me to take this step was the Move Your Money campaign on the Huffington Post.  I usually don’t like being told to do like that, but I was thinking about it anyway.

I haven’t opened a new checking account since the ‘aughts, and it took no time at all.  I showed my license, made up a PIN, gave ‘em a fiver for the new account, and walked out with five starter checks and a new debit card.  (Although just today I learned some interesting stuff about how those really work.)  Cliff Notes version: Visa always wins.  The next step is to go in there with my credit card statements and move those balances over to an institution that won’t raise my rate to 28% because I paid the bill late one day late.  (On five separate occasions.  Despite my best efforts to alert myself…)

The only drawback I see is that I’ll have to think ahead if I want cash without an ATM fee if I happen to be somewhere other than the Hudson Valley.  So I have to plan ahead.  I think I can handle it.

If you need inspiration, check out this clever mash-up of “It’s A Wonderful Life” and a buy local movement.  And then go find your local bank!

And here’s a close-up of the front door:

If you can’t make out the sign on that front door, here’s my attempt at a close-up:

I regret that the photo is not more clear, but in big letters, it states “ALARM SYSTEM.” In smaller letters, it goes on to tell you that the door is alarmed so don’t even try to break in.  The bulletproof door to the brick and stone fortress with barred windows is equiped with an alarm system.  That’s awesome to know, because the first line of defense for any fort has always been a 24-hour call center.  It’s good to know that if we ever get into a war on our home turf, the enemy won’t be able to penetrate our ability to recruit new members of the national guard, becuase they will be stymied by the obnoxious wails of security sirens.

I told him, “You know what?  I love living in the Hudson Valley!”

Then he said, “And how is that job going?”

I told him, “You know what? I love living in the Hudson Valley!”

And it’s true.  I’ve lived, which for this purpose we will define as “stayed for seven weeks or more” in suburban New Jersey, Maine, Virginia, Colorado, London, and now Poughkeepsie.  In my mind, I’ve lived in California, but none of those places fit so well as here.  And why is that?  Well, let’s get a bullet point out:

• I just got my lease renewal form.  My rent is going up exactly $0.  For those of you who love math, that is a 0% increase.  For those of you who love English, that is a ZERO PERCENT increase!  I didn’t even negotiate, it just came in the mail that way.  Anyone who has lived NYC and experienced the standard “as much as we can leagally charge you” yearly increase will know how shocking that is.
• Dutchess County, like Putnam, Westchester, and New York Counties to its south is a superior county, which is why it costs a toll to come to this side of the river, and none to leave it.
• We don’t have wildfires.
• We don’t have hurricanes.
• We don’t have the Taliban.
• Our top-level county managers make $50,000-$152,000 a year and have a full benefit package.  For life.
• Ulster county managers make seriously less, and get fewer benefits.
• Sure it rained a lot this summer, but was 3/10ths of an inch less than 1975, the record-holding rain year.
• (the preceding six items were generated while I was listening to the morning news update on the radio.)
• Speaking of, we have WDST, which has opened my eyes to some great music.

That’s all I can think of in my alloted blogging time.  But there’s so much more I could say.  I love living here so much, I’m going to see about running for a county management seat because I’m that dedicated to public service.  And cushy benefits packages.

me: I’m a financial planner!

lifeguard: Cool. So you can help me make millions?

me: You bet.  No promises, though.

lifeguard: So, did you, like, have to go to school to be an accountant to do that?

me: Actually, I was a theatre major.

lifeguard: Meaning you studied Russian acting technique and all that?

me: Exactly.  And you’d be surprised how handy all that can be, even when you’re doing finance.

lifeguard: I bet.

me: In fact, I now practice the Stanislavsky Method of Financial Planning.  I made myself poor, and now I’m making myself not poor.  It’s very method.

lifeguard: you should give me your card! (yeay!)

And that’s probably going to be the opening chapter to the book I’ll write in a few years titled, “The Cherry Orchard Financial Technique: Get Yourself From Serfdom to The Middle Class Through Smart Estate Management.”  I’m going to be bigger than Suze Orman, at least in theatre geek circles.

And since I need to make up for the embarrassment I feel about the last post’s “B1″ “BI” mix-up (I drove past it today, and now all I can feel is DUH! and HOWEVER!, they do use the same exact letters for “I” and “1.”) Moving on in this project of things I pass on my way North to South, here is a picture of everyone’s favorite shop that sort of comes out of nowhere when you drive on route 9D in Wappingers Falls, Nesting Dolls:

Oh, and I do love my little Garmin, even as it takes up most of this field of view.

Yes, this curiosity shop almost exclusively sells Russian Nesting Dolls.  It’s run by a globetrotting couple (they’ve even been to Antarctica!) that collect items from the places they go.  But everyone needs a niche, so theirs is nesting dolls, and oh, this store has so many wonderful varieties from classic to baseball players to cartoon characters, and as you can see, has just about the brightest paint job in the entire Hudson Valley.  The day before I shot this photo I was running early to an appointment and had a moment to stop in, and I purchased something wonderful that will either become a birthday present of some sort, or mine.  I haven’t decided yet, so I’m not sharing what it is here.  I have no idea how a store that only sells one item stays in business when it is nowhere near a destination point, but if you ever find yourself driving down 9D on your way to somewhere, I recommend stopping in.

For instance, his church is right near the start of my day.  They have a sign that changes periodically between intentionally funny and unintentionally funny, with a smattering of just plain churchy.  This is what’s showing now:

If you can't make that out, it says: "The Best Vitamin for A Christian is BI"

I THINK, and if there are any people out there who are familiar with modern Christian lingo, please correct me if I’m wrong, that “BI” stands for “Bible Instruction.”  But I also watched every episode of “My So-Called Life” so I know that “BI” is also slang for “Bi-sexual,” meaning one who wants to sleep with everybody (and I’m using the scientific, Kinsey-based definition here.)  And yes, it’s true, a good way to vitamin the Christian out of a stubborn conservative is to introduce them to someone who’s found happiness through sexual awakening.  But the BEST way?  I’m not so sure.

However, I’m guessing that’s not what this sign means to say.  I think they’re trying to promote a religious instruction of some sort.  And I’m thinking that they declined to do a quick internet search before posting their sign this week.  It’s the same malady that befell the folks that started BJ’s Wholesale Club, Dick’s Sporting Goods Store, and the Sacred Heart In Toyko school.  (My elementary school friend went there during the four years she lived in Japan during which time they wisely changed the name after someone wrote out the acronym on a sweatshirt.)

That’s the little chuckle that starts my day.  Coming up next: The Havarest Motel.  Cracks me up every time.

UPDATE: Comment consensus says that the sign actually says “B1″ as in “be one.”  That makes a little more sense being that “B1″ is a type of actual vitamin, but it still looks like “BI” to me.

Cadiz asked about my favorite book as a kid.  I was a Dr. Seuss fan through and through, and I devoured every new Babysitter’s Club book as it arrived.  I had an unreasonable hatred for Beverly Cleary, but I think that was just me establishing my personhood.  The one book I remember reading over and over was Three Days on a River in a Red Canoe.  I used to wish that my family was a camping kind of family, but Mom is 100% hotel-(or B&B)-centric.  But I got my fill when I went to summer camp, those were the happiest of my life.

Chris, aka apollocreed, asked me to write a post on swimmer’s towels.  He’s right, they’re weird.  They only work when they’re wet, and they had a ridiculous capacity for absorption of water and smell.  An inferior version, the sham-wow, is sold by a freak with a microphone.  Maybe I’ll save that topic for an in-depth discussion when I get back.  It’s always good to have a back burner post.

-R-, Courtney and Abbersnail wanted to know about the cult of commenting.  See yesterday’s post, which I believe you did.  Courtney also wanted to know if there were any new boys in my life.  Honestly, no.  Since November, when I realized I would probably have to find a new job, that’s been all-consuming for me.  I have a great group of friends here that I see almost every day, and they provide my daily companionship needs.  Sometimes I worry that it’s keeping me from going out and getting someone, but I can honestly say that I’m not worried about it right now.  There is one person on the far-far horizon that I’ve met twice, and a mutual friend is trying to facilitate our future meetings, but he’s geographically undesirable at the moment. Birmingham and I remain good friends.

Howling Hill asks that I keep blogging.  And I ask her to get a full RSS feed.  But I’m not promising that I’ll come back once she does.  I will probably keep Twittering and Facebooking, though.

Bing asks about my favorite local eats.  While the Culinary Institute of America is so close to here, I’ve only been once, and it was meh.  I might should go again soon, because it was still fun to be there.  When given the choice, my favorite lunches come from Adams Fairacre Farms.  They have a great salad and sushi bar, and the best ingredients when I’m cooking for myself.  I’m currently writing this from Panera Bread, because they have an awesome comfy couch next to a fireplace, and I need to get away from my own couch.  I wish hadn’t just checked online to realize that the egg souffle I ate was 470 calories, and probably has enough sodium to kill a horse.  I probably won’t eat out again for the rest of the week because of that, unless I go to the movies in Rhinebeck and eat at the Garden Street Cafe.  The woman who runs the place is a lioness, and she scares me, but it is worth it for their fantastic salad with brown rice and Japanese dressing, or whatever insane dessert she’s concocted.  I also love all the ethnic restaurants near Vassar College (Thai Spice!) and the new bakery, Baby Cakes.  Osho is a fun place for Hibachi parties, and the Chinese restaurant across the street from my apartment did not give me food poisoning, and that’s about the best thing I can say about that.  I’m probably missing a few others, but lately I’ve been working hard to save money and calories by eating at home more.

The Modern Gal wants to know who was the boy on my April 2008 masthead.  Thanks for bringing back up that MAJOR INTERNET CONTROVERSY, MG, but I’ll still never tell.

Tomorrow is my fourth interview with the insurance company.  I’ve spent much of this potentially final unemployment week watching the Academy Award nominated movies, which have been great.  Thumbs up to Slumdog Millionaire and Frost/Nixon.  I also really loved Milk, but I kind of wish that it didn’t start out with Harvey Milk being desperately unhappy because he is an insurance salesman.  I also got a little bummed out on Tuesday when one of my top ten favorite movies of all time, Groundhog Day, was playing on TV.  The idea of being a financial planner, a.k.a.: glorified insurance sales person is growing on me, but I do not want to become Ned Ryerson and I do not want to be punched in the face by people from high school, even if I sure as heck-fire remember them.

That is all.  See you soon, I’m sure, but maybe not before this year’s Blog Share.