may you live in interesting (financial) times

Here’s what I’m thinking: let’s sort out the questions of who defrauded whom of what before we start buying up worthless stocks willy nilly, shall we? The administration surely couldn’t want us to approve this enormous allocation of funds for liars and crooks. As several Senators posited yesterday, it’s not like the entire $700 billion-with-a-B is going to be spent in the next three months, right?

Unless folks are simply trying to enact a major public money grab ahead of official findings in criminal investigations and a handover of control of the government. That would be beyond the pale, though. You’d have to be a real crackhead to suspect something like that might be going on.

may you live in interesting (financial) times

don’t let them kill our wolves, government dudes!

Over the past 13 years, the federal government has spent $27 million on the restoration of gray wolves in the United States. Western states have also spent money, although it’s hard to identify the costs related to wolf reintroduction specifically versus things like public land management and rangers generally. With about 1,500 gray wolves now living in the lower 48 states as a result of this program, the publicly owned animals have a value of about $18,000 each: about what it would cost to buy a regular thoroughbred race horse.

Please, government officials unto whom we entrust the responsibility of wise management of public resources: do not allow folks to kill our valuable public property for anything less than $18,000 cash in hand.

don’t let them kill our wolves, government dudes!

just buy the houses, government dudes!

Here’s my proposal. Let’s spend x-hundred-billion dollars — and I do mean let us because you do know that’s where that future taxpayer money comes from, right? — and just buy the houses from the banks. Pay the remaining principal — I’m even open to paying the difference between equity and fair market value — on the mortgages, and let the banks eat the remaining interest. They’ll have their capital, and rather than taxpayers paying twice — once via the bailout and again via the payments on the mortgages no one can afford — we’ll pay once and own something of concrete value rather than just bad debt. And, the banks will have to figure out their own messes with the capital — and the new oversight restrictions, I’m all for those, especially the salary capping part.

Once the government owns the actual houses, a lot of things could happen. We could reinstate the personal bankruptcy system so that people could declare bankruptcy and move on from those obligations. We could institute a rent-to-own policy with regard to the houses people are in; with a shorter timeframe but no interest, people might actually be able to afford to stay in their homes. We could rent the unoccupied ones to people who needed to downsize from their McMansions. We could bulldoze the vacant McMansions and have government-owned property that could be used for all kinds of exciting things.

My point in all of this is: the possibilities are quite nearly endless, so why are we only talking about a plan where the banks get to keep (1) the money, (2) the houses, and/or (3) the interest income? That seems, well, completely asinine. I’m sure there are nuances of the agreement that I’m missing; I’m actually not at all sure of that, but consider this is the I’m-just-talking-and-MBA-blather-is-not-welcome-at-the-moment warning flag. Really, though: could we please just delay this a few months until the executive branch is run by people who are not complete [fill in the blank with your favorite expletive]s? I am sure there are lots of creative solutions out there, and if the government can not just keep the airlines in business by massive tax subsidies but also own the physical airplanes that they lease, surely we can calmly and rationally consider the benefits of actually owning the properties in question without getting ourselves all in a twitch? Empty land would probably be quite a bit preferable to empty houses, for reasons that I’m sure the community groups who protested the developments from the beginning would be glad to share with us.

At the very least, can we next time nationalize something valuable like oil, or gas, or minerals? Please?

just buy the houses, government dudes!

tomato season


About half the tomatoes we received from the folks we know in Frederick.

This summer we expected to have three sources of tomatoes: our farm share; our own plants; and my partner’s boss, who brings surplus vegetables from his home garden into the office. As expected, we did receive quite a few from the farm share, which I ate sliced onto sandwiches if they were big and my partner took as part of his lunch if they were small. Sadly, our homemade boxes did not really work out. I suspect that we both overwatered and overfertilized them, as the plants turned pretty much completely brown. We ended up getting about a half dozen cherry tomatoes and four regular ones from the seven plants, with a very daring squirrel making off with most of the green tomatoes as they reached a goodly size. We may try again next year, but it’s more likely that we’ll dig a garden into the ground either next summer or in two years, whenever the major work on the foundation and in the yard is completed.

By far the most prolific source of tomatoes, though, was my partner’s boss. He and his spouse have an enormous home garden that includes 40 tomato plants of 25 varieties, and that’s simply more than they’re able to eat and process. We were invited up to the house to see the property and have dinner; they built a house on former farmland that is now wooded and zoned for conservation. After a very nice evening walking in the woods, harvesting in the garden, and sharing a meal, we were sent home with a trunk full of mason jars — this was part of the plan, as they had acquired many more than they now need over the years and were looking to donate them to someone just starting out with canning, which would be me — and a back seat full of beautifully hued heirloom tomatoes. When we got home, I sorted them into baskets by type and promptly gave away about a third of them to neighbors and friends, discovering in the process that heirloom tomatoes are a perfectly valid and welcome contribution to a summer potluck. Even with eating the cherry tomatoes like they were candy, we were still left with about a dozen quarts of tomatoes of varies shapes, sizes, and flavors, which required me to get creative.


Chopped up and headed into sauce.


Chopped up and headed into turkey lentil pilaf.

The first thing I did with the tomatoes was stew them up with onions and the spicy peppers we received from our farm share into a sauce that I served over cornbread. I use the cornbread recipe from Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant, substituting just about everything: I like the recipe because it remains delicious with rice milk, whole wheat flour and egg beaters. We had that meal for a couple of nights, I put three containers of sauce in the freezer, and we were still looking for something to do with the rest of the tomatoes. I turned at that point to my new favorite cookbook, Simply In Season and hit upon turkey lentil pilaf. This recipe not only used a bunch of fresh tomatoes, but had the added advantage of using the two packages of ground turkey that had been in the freezer for nearly a year. It also used up a of couple of containers of chicken broth that I made last winter from the farm share’s stewing chicken and some of the lentils and some of the stockpile of lentils and rice, so it was a good eating-from-the-stores recipe all around. Between making that twice, eating sliced or cherry tomatoes as snacks, and mixing up a couple of large batches of cucumber-tomato-mint salad, we managed to make our way through the tomatoes in about two weeks.

Of course, our farm share tomatoes kept coming: I have about a quart in the kitchen right now and will pick up more tomorrow. The ones in the yard, we decided to just leave for the squirrels.

tomato season

home log : new toilets


The new Toto Drake in our snazzy yellow master bathroom.

As part of our long-term plan to never go on vacation again, we are slowly fixing up our house. ‘Fixing up’ is probably too strong, as the house was fundamentally sound and generally nice-looking and functional when we bought it. It is by no means a classic fixer-upper: we are not rewiring, replumbing, taking out or putting in walls, et cetera. It is, however, a treasure chest of hidden defects, mostly in the form of (1) necessary maintenance deferred for 20+ years by the cheap former owner or (2) barely functional antique appliances and fixtures never replaced by the cheap former owner. The toilets commodes in the house were a happy combination of both: high-flow models that were no doubt installed when the house was built in the 1930s, with tanks held together by judicious amounts of caulk, that leaked and dripped when they weren’t lowering the water table with each flush. Clearly, they Had To Go.

Since we participate in the Maryland Heritage Preservation Tax Credit Program, we seek preapproval for each home repair project we undertake. The lag time between our proposal and their approval gives us plenty of time to make final decisions about what we are going to do. In this case, we spent months deciding whether we were really ready to spend $400 on a toilet (it certainly sounds more reasonable if you call it a ‘commode’). In the end, I successfully argued that reliable flushing was not a ‘luxury’ in a commode, and while it was a darn shame that other manufacturers had not yet created good low-flow models, I was not willing to compromise on that point. Which means that we decided to go with the low-flow commodes the internets and personal experience told us worked: those made by Toto.

Having made that first round decision to take the plunge, we researched different models and decided on the Drake, mostly because (1) an online guide to installation made it look easy, (2) we wanted something basic that would blend in with our older home, and (3) we weren’t sure we could fit the one-piece Ultramax into our smallish car. I knew that the Gmax flushing system was what I wanted, and I also knew that I wanted at least one ADA model in the house, for all the tall people with joint trouble who might be using it in years to come. With a little searching, we were able to find a dealer and inspect the pieces in person; we probably could have saved a little money by finding a way to order them online but I was nervous about breakage during shipping and happy to support a more local business.

Two trips to the store later (we wanted to test the smaller size in one bathroom before committing to the taller elongated models) and we have two new commodes installed and one on deck for tonight. Between the online guide I found and the instructions in what we fondly refer to as ‘The Man Book‘ the installation was a piece of cake. Wrestling the old toilets out to the alley for pickup (thank you, public works!) and cleaning up the nasty spaces underneath, though? Let’s just say there wasn’t enough beer in the house and leave it at that. The third one should be easier to remove — it’s on the first floor — and I’m hoping to donate it to Community Forklift since it still functions; maybe someone with more skills and patience than we have can rig it up to make it lower-flow.

After tonight, the final commode-related task is to have a plumber come out to remove the toilet from the basement and cap the sewer line. All the houses on our block have little shacks in the basement that include a toilet only, the 1930s version of a port-a-potty. I have no idea if the toilet even works, but I want it gone. The long-term plan is to remove the walls of the shack, address the basement water problems, and eventually put in a darkroom using that outgoing pipe.

For now, though, I’m just looking forward to next quarter’s water bill.

home log : new toilets