Summer of the Nest

Though a glutton for free time, I have never been one for sitting around. I like the idea of lethargy, and I enjoy the first few minutes and even hours of spreading myself out slothfully on the day bed; however, my mind is constantly planning ways to wear out my restless body. As a result, this summer of domesticity has found me digging (you'll understand the pun later) into a few memorable projects that have long been on the to-do list.

My proudest home improvement effort thus far wrapped up at the end of June when I cut the ribbon on the Man Room. Some may take issue with the name, but I have yet to hear an apter title for the smelly garage turned ultimate masculine music room. One of the more hilarious measures I took to pimp out the space was when I changed the hinges on the mini fridge to allow a sedentary couch user to open the door without obstructing his beer view. It's nice enough for in-law stays yet equipped for band practice. Bring your special friend for a romantic evening or just stop by and pick a while; it's all possible in the Man Room.

Behind the structure formerly known as the garage is an earthen hemisphere that has risen from the clay. I've always wanted a pizza and bread oven, and after helping repair earthen ovens on the Zuni reservation in southern New Mexico last summer, I decided to make one of my own (interestingly enough, the Spanish actually taught the Zuni how to build their "traditional" ovens, but civilizations all over the ancient world had some version of the earth oven - tandoori ovens, for example). I borrowed a book from a friend and followed the directions. I dug a deep hole and filled it with substrate. The dirt from deep down in the hole was a rich clay, which I would later use to build the oven. I built a brick and mortar base from old red pavers I had laying around. I created an insulating floor layer with old beer bottles, hamster bedding, and mud. I bought a few yellow fire bricks (hard to find) to make a hearth and archway (what a pain). I made a dome of wet sand, covered it with a layer of newspaper, then began packing on a four-inch thick layer of clay mixed with sand and water. A few days later, I tenuously dug out the sand (touch-and-go) and lit a fire to harden the walls. I added another four-inch layer of mud and hamster bedding and I had myself an oven. I have cooked two delicious meals in it, and I have yet to burn down anyone's house. Pizza and sourdough bread are next. Add that to your reasons to stay a night in the Man Room.

Lastly, the vegetable garden has been going off this year, and especially the zucchinis. Someone remind me to plant only one zuc plant next year, because I have a plethora of squash that likes to go gargantuan overnight. As I brainstormed dishes to help consume my zucchini, I eventually came to pickles. I consulted the comprehensive Joy of Pickling and a more accessible source: my mother. I ended up making a beautiful batch of zucchini pickles that she and my grandmother, Babi, used to make many moons ago. Family recipes are indeed precious - this may be the only one I have - but I don't have any proprietary notions about it, so please shoot me an email if you have a zucchini explosion and want some tips. You may want to wait to see if I get boccholism.

Gotta go, as Leila is starting to have back pains, which could mean something!