domestications.

Someone, somewhere, flipped a switch that triggered an end to the record-breaking heat we've experienced for weeks (but not the drought) and brought on cool, clear, crisp weather for the weekend. Which was perfect for the two projects we undertook: canning and seeding.

Re: the latter—Lawn Master Rob was dissatisfied with the patches of weird grass scattered around the yard and so tackled his annual seeding project, first killing the offending grasses, then pulling up the chaff, laying down topsoil, scattering seed and then finishing with a top-dressing. Now, we water and wait for the seedlings to emerge.

I was unable to scratch my canning itch while we were living in New Jersey, and last fall the preserving project involved jelly, not tomato sauce. So I got about 30 pounds of tomatoes (romas and regulars) at Findlay Market on Saturday morning, scoured the basement for supplies (canning pot: check, jars and lids: check, Ball Blue Book: check) and started work. I ended up with 8 pints of tomato sauce and 5 pints of salsa (one of which didn't seal properly; oh well). Then I attempted tomato preserves, with so-so results.

Sitting outdoors at lunch today, I continued reading Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle," which I highly recommend. After our weekend activities, one passage really struck a chord:

Eternal is the right frame of mind for making food for a family: cooking down the tomatoes into a red-gold oregano-scented sauce for pasta. Before that, harvesting sun-ripened fruits, pinching oregano leaves from their stems, growing these things from seed—yes. A lifetime is what I'm after. Cooking is definitely one of the things we do for fun around here.

dog at the ballpark.

The Cincinnati Reds, in an effort to boost late-season-we-have-no-shot-at-the-pennant attendance, hosted a dog night at the ballpark on Wednesday. Natch, Wrigley took full advantage.

We met up with our friends Sarah and Kevin and their dog Gilmore. The Reds set aside a section of seating on the right field line, and hosted all kinds of silly contests. The biggest dog, a Saint Bernard, weighed in at about 180 pounds; the smallest, a teacup Yorkie, tipped the scales at just over 16 ounces. We walked in the Dog Parade around the warning track before the game, and then sat in the stands while the Reds played the Cardinals. Wrigley started barking when the crowd erupted as Ken Griffey snagged a great catch -- and then he continued barking pretty much the rest of the game.

The Wrigley Effect was in full force -- we fielded the usual "What kind of dog is this?" questions, kids latched onto him, and people sort of cracked up at his silly appearance. As we watched the game, all around us were dogs (and people) of every size, and overall the whole thing was a total blast!

how hard is it, really?

Today on "Today" there was a story about diacetyl, the "butter" flavor that's added to microwave popcorn and a whole bunch of other prepared and convenience foods. The whole idea scares the bejeebers out of me, especially since we've been trying to avoid preservatives and artificial anything in our cooking and eating Chez Mooth. Turns out, this stuff is killing the food-prep workers who make and handle it. And "Today" featured some guy who had a lung illness that was (somewhat sketchily) associated with the fact that he'd eaten two (!) bags of microwave popcorn every (!) day for years. Now, it could have been the diacetyl, or it could have been, you know, an overindulgence in junky food. But whatever.

Anyway, I bought a bag of Black Cat popcorn at the store recently, and I'm keen to make my popcorn the old-fashioned way: in a pan on the stove. It tastes great, doesn't take any more time (really) than nuking a paper bag and is so much better for me. (That, plus we don't have a microwave in the first place.) The NYTimes has a good recipe for stovetop popcorn.