the perfect boot finale

part one and part two are here.

a new season! a renewed sense of hope of finding the perfect boot! in typical fashion, the world of fashion has caught up with me--every time, for as long as i can recall, if i've searched despearately for an item, there is always a plethera the following year. this is why i was studying fashion merchandising in college before i dropped out, to fulfill my own needs of having access to the clothing i wanted before it was easily available, and to use my knack of being one step ahead of the world of ready-to-wear, and get paid for it.

a sit-down on the zappos site and confirmed a large selection of tall leather boots, both functional, quality, and stylish. i quickly settled on two pairs and convinced blake to let me max out our credit card and order both, see which one is better, and send the loser back. you will recall last time my saga took place over january, so most of the boots my size and color choice were sold out. i was just a wee bit paranoid about that happening again. but here i was early in the season, with all these hot boots fresh for the picking!

last year, when i gave up the search, i ended up surviving the rest of the wet season with a fine pair of black rubber rain boots with laces up the front that i found for half-off online. they are great but don't live up to many of the criteria of that "perfect boot." the perfect boot, just for review, needs to be leather, an appealing shade of brown, have secure tread for slippery surfaces, and (the toughy) needs to have a large enough circumference in the calf (sadly, my calf is the same circumference as last year dispite my efforts to lose weight.) plus it has to be pretty.



pair #1:


the franco sarto telluride. mmmmmm.......this boot gives me the chills. its seeeeeexy, but would be even sexier broken-in, like a true leather boot. the buckle (which i'm usually opposed to) is just the right touch, not too tough, just there. the shade of brown--warm, reddish, yummy. the zipper was beefy and industrial and, the twist, on the outside of the shaft--oh, yeah.

the fit: a no-go. shit, shit, shitty-shit. not big enough around the calf, and stretching would have been a risk at that price. and in the foot area: ow. ow. ow. very narrow with stiff leather. one trip around the living room and i was wincing. with a sigh, i printed the label for their return.

besides all of that, its still my favorite looking boot i've seen all year. i guess it will remain "boot porn," and i can imagine wearing them in my dreams.


pair #2:
i gave another pair of timberlands a shot. these were $100 more than the timberlands of boot search part one, so i knew the quality would be better than those cheap-o's. i liked the color, too--very different. almost a grey or green hue to them in person. compared to the tellurides the style is....um, bland. but the beauty of these is that the style could go either way: a little country, a little rock and rock, a little boho...they are a whatever, wherever and don't make a huge statement. the tread: respectable. the fit: a clear, clear winner. they went on like butter, had a roomie, comfortable footbed and didn't squeeze. the calf was just enough with no room to spare, but a small hidden panel of elastic to make them work. phew! the relief!!

what i've discovered it that the best bet for a larger calf is a pull-on style boot--these are meant to, on a smaller-sized calf, have space between your leg and the boot top so it can be pulled on and off without the need for a zipper. no harm done if your calf fills up the extra room--especially nice if there is a small section of elastic at the top for comfort and ease.


the leather is soft and does slouch a bit now that they are worn-in, but not so much that it affects the tallness of the boot, or kills the shape of my leg--i still have an ankle, but also they are easy to wear, not stiff at all. i can run errands and crouch and carry kids, and my feet don't hurt at the end of the day. my look has been these with opaque black tights and a sweater dress almost everyday: my fall look is complete! and to think, i have all of the remainder of fall and winter to enjoy my perfect pair of boots...isn't that how it should be? only time will tell if they last more than one year, but until then, after all i've been through in my search, i am already getting my money's worth.

Oc-slow-ber

October is a month I look forward to all year long, one because its the first full month of fall, the best season on the planet, the one which beckons out sweaters, tights, woolen belted coats, and tall leather boots. Tanktops and tan lines and sunscreens begone! But the main reason why I covet the tenth month is its where we take our yearly family excursion away from the daily grind and make a week-long memory that we draw from throughout the year. Traditionally, this is because October is the slowest month for business: Oct-slooooow-ber. I love the planning involved, the unexpected moments, the let's-have-another-one-we're-on-vacation attitude, the autumn-rich photos, and even the post-adventure scrapbooking or blogging that follows. Goooood times....even when there is the inevitable argument, or we're caught in a downpour, or I get crabby beacuse I can't find a restaurant I can eat at, etc. You all recall the Pee-Tea story of Seattle '08. But it all makes for another riveting chapter of the Perlingieri Family Experience.

This October proved to be as slow as any other, with one painful difference: no vacation. I had a period of denial, maybe a touch of anger however fleeting, a little bargaining on both Blake's and my part, but in the end, acceptance. We strive to be, and to teach our children to be, grateful people. We are doing what we must to make ends meet, and honestly its not hard to see that others have it much worse--and that we have many blessings to count. We had a bit of a vacation weaning process anyhow to lighten the blow--early vacations we flew to New York and Mexico, then we began doing the Canada-thing to save money and avoid flying, and finally, last year we took a shorter trip and fled to the closest city possible. So, we'll be fine. (But, I swear to you, dammit, if things ever improve, I insist on an entire month in Europe to make up for it.)

So here are October's highlights, all within our dear city of Portland.

bet you didn't know we had three kitties

getting ready to start the first fire

that apple festival at portland nursery

apples everywhere!

i only made it through the first 1/4 of the tasting...there was a LOT of apples

mayan learning to blow bubbles with her gum

Blake's birthday dinner: morrocan-style lamb shanks with red lentils, over rice with toasted pine-nuts, almonds, and pistachios, and a pear and blue cheese salad.

the birthday boy sucking marrow with intensity
the play area under autumn's magical touch

the boy plays with his Tonka

papa and his boy enjoy a warm fall day

parsnip haiku:
planted in the spring
these giant autumn parsnips
taste great in pot roast

more funky fruits...er, veggies...of the fall garden

blake's old boss Vaughn came to visit. this is the guy who when blake, two decades ago, wanted to pierce professionally (as opposed to piercing his friends at the park or at parties) went to to ask for a job. Vaughn gave that young man a chance and the rest is history...or as blake and his sister chemynne would say: "20yearsagoB"

vaughn and his girlfriend were on their way to a steam punk convention (google it) and this is vaughn's little "toy" that he showed off to the girls--a heat-powered piston engine, made from glass so you can see how it works.

impromptu science lesson!

my brother and his wife and son visited as well and took isadore, george, and i to the zoo.

too cute....see the giraffe behind them!

i insisted on a family shot even though wesley was totally NOT into getting his picture taken--he wanted to explore every corner of the zoo! there was no cruising by any building or exhibit, he wanted to see it all, without stopping...meshem and rachel were so ready to lay down. why don't they serve beer at the zoo again??

blake makes isadore's kitty-pumpkin dreams come true

this is my favorite pumpkin i've ever carved...spooky!

kitty-women takes it to the streets

mayan needs BLOOD!!

the little monster and his secretary get ready to hit some houses

pumpkins-all-aglow

the end!

just like that

without even thinking about the consequences i am throwing myself into national blog posting month, a day late. in fact, someone just asked me "hey, are you going to do it this year?", and i said no....and then promptly i went straight here to milk and ink and un-privatized the blog and here i am. talk about being easily swayed by the power of suggestion. just don't tell me i HAVE to do. i'm not too attached to the outcome--who knows, my computer could take a fatal turn any day. i may even employ some "cheater" tricks like pre-writing and post-dating. and don't expect capitalization.

but i have been wanting to write. plus i don't like being left out and it seems like "everyone is doing it." and finally, i love november and blogging is a perfect way to document its glory which contains: my two favorite holidays--day of the dead and thanksgiving, my birthday, anniversary (the wedding one)....i am also scheduled to get a new tattoo. so there is is. milk and ink is back. just. like. that.

let's review the cast of characters:

papa nomad

goobie

MG

kitty-dore

and yours truly, mama nomad

(photo taken by Goobie)

a post with some heart

what's wrong with me? i don't know. i can make all kind of excuses for not blogging--like our computer is on the fritz and i've been sucked into the facebook nexus instead...but really i think there is something deeper, and i can't quite put my finger on it. i have lots of things to say, but i seem to have this wall between me and the actual sitting down and writing process, even in my journal (which has always been sporadic and spans many different felt and leather books.) i feel something emotionally toxic building up inside me, as well: negativity, jealousies, unstoppable impatience, laziness. its amazing to me how forgiving my family has been, but i don't like what's going on. i feel like i've regressed a decade in maturity over just a few weeks, and i am not sure who or what to blame--i'd like to blame myself but in the past i've been able to pull myself up by my clog-straps when i've recognized a problem. i'm perplexed because i've been doing much for myself and my relationships: i work a few days a month outside the home making good money, i am exercising regularly, eating well and avoiding soy reactions, having nights-out once or twice a week with good company, blake and i are connected and getting along well, and my house is almost always tidy and clean. i should be tip-top!

but something is amiss. the worst part is my mothering. i'm awful right now--no where near being the kind of parent i want to be, approaches and philosophies be damned. my poor children get the brunt of my frustrations everytime. i find myself apologizing for my riduculous outbursts too often. most concerning is how this affects my relationship with mayan, who even on our best days have to work at a connection. to remove her from the mine field of my potential rants, which do nothing for her self-worth, she has been spending more days at nomad, where she is very happy to play chess and being the nomad assistant (she now sets up for piercings and stocks needles from the back.)

somehow isadore weathers these storms with more grace than any five year old i've ever met. a few days ago, i was coming down pretty hard on mayan over something stupid i'm sure, like housework or homework, and isadore witnessed the whole event from her barstool, while coloring and practicing her handwriting. mayan had stormed off bubbling with anger and i let her go so i could allow myself to calm down. isadore casually climbed down from her stool and into the kitchen and began to do a little housework, and as she did this she mused, "i love you, mom." and when i say "mused" i really mean that--it was not some please-don't-turn-that-anger-toward-me attempt, it was relaxed and matter-of-fact. i was stunned by it and plainly said "isadore, how can you say that after my terrible outburst?"

"i don't care about that. i only care that i love you," she told me.

at this point i had to sit down. i was in awe of her unconditional love, such a stark contrast of my own example i'd just set, and could only say "where did you come from??"

she smiled and leaned on the counter and replied, "i come from my heart."

maybe that's what missing for me right now--a path to my heart. i don't seem to operating from that place, so how could i possiby write without that source? i have much to learn from all of my children, and right now isadore is my top mentor--her forgiveness, her bravery, her big wide-open heart. i'd like to be like that when i grow up.

i can't promise i will start writing again any time soon. although i will say writing this feels pretty darn good. i don't feel depressed per se, which i've experienced before so i am not sure what to pursue to feel better. i can promise i will continue to try and put my finger on it; that never stops for me. i'm alwasy examining and reflecting on my behavior, just lately it feel like the "do-er" and "reflector" are two different people, worlds apart. in the meantime, i just hope and pray that my children are well-equipped with their grouchy-mama-repellant rain gear.

one turned out to be a rooster....

Bought 13 chicks, sexed, to raise eggs. but as they grew up, one particular bird got bigger, faster, than all the rest. then one day we heard the croaky attempts at a call...two weeks later he had it down pretty good, and cock-doodled ALL DAY. that won't fly in our neighborhood, so as they say...off with his head.

****WARNING, MY VEGETARIAN/VEGAN FRIENDS OR THOSE OTHERWISE TRYING TO REMAIN IN BLISSFUL IGNORANCE OF THE SOURCE OF THOSE CHICKEN NUGGETS, THESE PICTURES ARE GRAPHIC****

ready?

in position

got to look him in the eye first

my man does the deed

blood-stained hands (sounds like a Nick Cave song...)

taking a dip

what's this? asks the cat

...and then hangs around to watch the plucking

now we have blood on the pages of "how to raise chickens the modern way"--its like having flour and chocolate smears on your favorite cookbook pages...only more hardcore

taking a breath

rinsing the bird, hold its heart

the knife and the liver

20 minutes ago this was alive. whoa.

the fillings

the goods

the meal

(Poppa Nomad speaks) DIY: That Shit Don’t Grow on Trees

Since moving to Portland over two years ago, escaping the imploding Death Star of Bend, and since the economy has gone to shit, our family has engaged in a profound paradigm shift: a (our) new model of urban sustainability. More specifically, our redefinition of essential life practices and values. In our disposable, instant-gratification McCulture, a culture of consumption without actual necessity, we’ve all but forgotten what it means to “Do It Yourself”. I refer primarily to the life sustaining act of eating. Sure we all have material wants (even the more Zen among us), and all consume and use up resources...but can we breeders rekindle the fires of the ancients AND sustain ourselves and our families? With three kids can we be in it, but not of it? (A question I have posed to various monks, sages and other Buddhist-oriented teachers). Our family is blessed with a small urban farm that is our model for future sustainability; a living, changing daily mantra that we and our three children “meditate over” on a daily basis. For us and our little tribe, knowing where our food comes from is an integral part of that mindfulness.

We are a race of modern humans who purchase our boxed and frozen cubes of processed, modified, manipulated, and irradiated food from big box stores. We are scarcely aware of the process of growing and cultivating; farming. Victims of progress, we are frighteningly disassociated from the seasonal cycles. Really, I have not been Mr. Righteous my whole life, but our belief that the kids are greatly enriched by participating in the process that puts food in front of their mouths is an edict I now stand firmly by. Let it be said that I have a profound appreciation for Leah who daily prepares multiple organic, gourmet meals for our family. Meals that take into account personal taste, nutrition, our respective allergies...her awareness of the seasonal and sustainable is profound. As the once-in-a-while Chef in our house, I would like to note the extreme satisfaction associated with preparing food to sustain the lives of one’s family. I can only imagine how it must be for Leah, as she has been doing exactly that for what will soon be a decade for our growing family. She is quite the gourmet chef now.

As husband and wife we are fairly traditional: I hunt and gather, and she tends family and hearth. More recently we both have poured our blood and sweat , literally, into our garden. Those of you who know me know I am an “All or Nothing” personality type. In that spirit, my most recent experience of killing and consuming the food we raised was that reconnection the the ancient I spoke of. As an omnivore, I am mindful of how our ability to hunt compels protein and master fire enabled humans to evolve; as a species, we would have perished long ago if it were not for meat (and agriculture). I’ll spare the readers with my diatribe on “Freegans and Hippiecrite” practices, as it does come down to personal choice, but most of us, if faced with starvation would put aside our PC affiliations and consume meat to avoid death. Few political choices are stronger than the will to live. Personally, I grew up in a “gourmet” home....I love food and meat (and get debilitating headaches without my complete proteins)...my mother was a good cook...she was friends with James Beard and Julia Child. James Beard, in fact single-handedly defined the modern American palate. Both made being a chef cool for millions; everybody could do it, we just had to enjoy food. In James and Julia’s day, the advent of technology for the nuclear family of the 50’s and 60’s made for an uphill battle: canned and freeze dried, instant and (later) microwavable. Teaching the modern housewife that fresh was better, would take some time to realize.

Hunting, gathering and farming are the quintessential archetypes for tribal survival. Consumption of complete proteins (not found in plants) play an essential role for the development of synaptic pathways of young human brains. That being said, my recent butchering class with my brother-in-law Michael tested my resolve in a new way: looking into the eyes of your dinner before killing it. (It should be noted that the birds we slaughtered came from our farm: we knew them; we raised them, we named them.) It was overcast and raining. Our class, filled with people of various levels of personal conviction was conducted by a mindful farmer who instructed us to "thank the chicken for giving it’s life”. Like any new practice, some were more adept than others. I found myself annoyed at the “timid butchers” among us; there is much to be said for doing it humanely; quickly and efficiently. “Don’t torture the poor beast”, I thought, “Just Do It”! We learned the finer points of bird preparation, after the deed was done....careful excision of the anal cavity, so as not to rupture intestines...gutting and removal of the internals (which were equipped with eggs in various stages of development, like that frog back in seventh-grade science class). A hot-dip and feather removal, cutting off of the head, and legs at the knees, and appropriate gland removal, so as not to leak bile or other toxins into the bird and spoil the meat were some of the procedural highlights. On the drive home, Michael and I were quiet with our two birds on ice. I was not in the mood for a chicken dinner that night, and for several days saw my beloved family members as piles of guts; an existentialist twist on a factual condition. Leah complimented me on my work as we cooked Obama, remarking how she looked just like as if we had gone to the store and bought a chicken for dinner. Its the in-between process that most of us are disassociated from. That was the big enlightener here.

20+ years ago, I lived on a sailboat (commuted to work as a sailing instructor on my rowboat) and fished daily for my meals for some two years. I slept on the sea and ate from it. Yet, fishing and slaughtering a higher life form (that you raised, fed and interacted with on a daily basis) seem quite “different animals” to me. Hunting or fishing to survive is something few of have ever had to do, yet it is the reason why all of us are here today. It is my belief that this skill is something all modern humans should again nurture. Few understand the difficulty and complexities of cultivating even simple rice and beans; making tofu. Fewer still could do it even if it was a matter or survival.

Urban Farming is the new cool thing to do (especially in PDX). Just listen to NPR and pay attention to media. For me, it’s more than a PC trend; I want to practice what I preach, as it were. I’d be a total “Hippiecrite” if I wasn’t willing to kill, then pull the still-pulsating guts from the abdominal cavity of a chicken (or any other farm animal I keep) in order to feed our family. Truly, being a butcher is a fine art, and I have renewed respect for those who prepare our meat. Presently our survival is not based on my hunting and slaughtering skills, but it may one day be. This felt very different from the catch of the day provided by the ocean so many years ago.

Last year, I cooked eggs from our chickens with potatoes that we grew on our wood burning stove with wood from our property that I cut and split myself...oh yeah, and the stove heated our house, too. This meal had a profoundly different feeling associated with it. DIY never felt so good. Caveman DNA runs deep. Thank you eternally to my wonderful wife for her hard work, constant growth and nurturing of our family. I never wanted children until I met Leah, and now fatherhood is the greatest gift three times over on top of our marriage. The daily practice and ritual of farming and gardening engenders discipline for children as well as adults; mindfulness of the cycles of life and death; growth and change. Self sufficiency: something that you can’t buy at the supermarket. That shit don’t grow on trees!

~Poppa Nomad