Want to be a Hobbit extra?

For those aspiring to be elves, orcs, or dwarfs, casting for extras on the two Hobbit films has begun. Some caveats:

• You must be able to work legally in New Zealand.
• You can't be picky.

"Do not bother to tell them what you think you'd be most suitable at (hobbit, elf, human, orc)," said Mr Machiela, who worked for five days on King Kong as an extra. "Most people will want to be a hobbit or an elf anyway, but will end up being an orc or a dead dwarf, and in the background".

I See Cows

My mistake

Our new washer leaks sometimes. The water creeps across the floor and gets under the wall in a corner between the washer room and the mud room. The last time it did this, I noticed that some mold was forming on the lower part of the sheetrock. So it was time to clean out all the old magazines, books, and papers from that corner so that we could work on replacing the drywall (er...wet wall). Most of the stuff I chucked since I hadn't touched it for years. But I did find a folder of partial writings from who knows when. And there was one complete piece that I don't remember writing, nor do I remember the circumstances that led me to write it. So I don't know if it's based on fact. I know I don't have an Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary. But the subject of the piece sounds vaguely (embarrassingly) familiar. I've probably repressed it.

My Mistake

The chair broke,
so I gave it to our stove to chew on.
But I don't think our stove likes chairs
because the legs were still there in the morning,
black and not even smoldering.

That is how I learned
that metal does not burn.

So when Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary
and all my cousins
come over -
well, then - that's when everyone
hears about my mistake
(for the umpteenth time).

I would not mind
if they all did not cry so much
when they laughed.

I was supposed to have learned
a lesson.
And I think I did
because I don't burn metal chairs anymore,
especially since my mistake is
a subject of endless mirth.

But once in a while I get the urge
to feed the stove a relative or two.

Chinese food

From an old scrapbook Elly's mom had kept. She loved puns, and this one's a groaner.

Garlic planting time

A great day for planting the stinky bulbs, 50s and sunny. I co-opted the rows we used for the string beans since those were the easiest to turn over. I plant a little more each year. One of these days our back yard will be filled with garlic...mmm.

The bag o' bulbs

See you next spring little buddy!

Asleep in their beds while visions of earthworms dance through their heads

Mulched with oak leaves under the watchful eyes of our constant gardener. What would we do without you, Sponge Bob?

Do-it-yourself butchering

A course in carving up your own meat (though it's a tad incongruous to find this article under the NY Times Fashion and Style section).

A possible career move? Definitely not a desk job.

The program began about six months ago, but it has quickly became a darling in food circles, despite its $10,000 price tag, which just covers the costs, including practice meat, Mr. Applestone said. He said the program was intended to pass on ancient skills, not turn a profit, and has drawn interest from lawyers and a music executive interested in butchery as a second career.

But I'd need to get over the whole gore thing...

In Ryan Farr’s whole-hog classes in San Francisco, students use hacksaws and hatchets to remove hooves and brains. One volunteer in every class — lucky if you want to call it that — gets to chop off the head. "That always sort of breaks the ice," Mr. Farr said. "When you come to class, wear your rain gear and boots, because there’s going to be blood," he said.