Lentil Nut Loaf

Marsha mentioned that she cooks tofurkey because her family requires a turkey-ish thing on the Thanksgiving table. Here's what the Consort makes every year for Thanksgiving. I explain the Thanksgiving version after the regular loaf-pan directions.

Nut and Lentil Loaf

4 cups water
2 cups lentils (if you have red lentils, then do 2/3 cup red lentils and 1 1/3 cup brown lentils. It will stick together better that way. Otherwise, just use brown lentils and it will be fine).

Cook the lentils on the stove until the lentils are soft, about half an hour.

In a large saucepan, melt:
4 tablespoons butter
Add and cook over low heat for 15 mins:
12 stalks celery, finely minced
2 Tablespoons mixture of tarragon, thyme, sage, oregano, rosemary, and other herbs that you like
4 cloves of garlic, finely minced
4 teaspoons salt (seems like a lot, but we have been doing this for a wile, so trust me!)

Combine lentils and celery mixture and add:
4 cups finely minced onion
4 eggs, beaten
1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped
1 cup almonds, coarsely chopped

Turn into 2 well-buttered standard loaf pans. Bake in a 375 degrees oven for at least 1 hour, until a knife comes out fairly clean.
.
While the loaves are baking, make the sauce. in a saucepan, melt:
4 tablespoons butter

add and cook very slowly for 30 mins.:
2 cups minced onion
2 vegetable bouillon cubes, crushed

Add 2 cups water, bring to a boil

Then, add and cook until thickened, stirring constantly:
2 Tablespoons cornstarch, dissolved in a little water
1 Tablespoon all-purpose flour, dissolved in a little water

When thickened, add:
2 Tablespoons tomato ketchup

Serve some of the sauce over each portion of the loaf

For a real thanksgiving display, make the loaf in a large, oval baking dish, as well as filling a few muffin cups with loaf.

When done, put the oval nut loaf on a baking sheet, using the muffin-loaves to make the thighs on each side. Roll out some puff pastry for the "skin", and cover the loaf. Brush this with a mixture of soy sauce and ketchup for color, and bake at whatever temperature the puff pastry box says. Make a twist in the other end for the neck, maybe cut a slit between the legs and sew it up like you would a turkey, and so on. Chopsticks can make nice drumsticks. It all depends upon how creative you're feeling!

Front of nut loaf turkey

He usually does the stringing and chopsticking, but we didn't bring our chopsticks with us, and we had no toothpicks in the house to make the closed up turkey cavity this year. You can see the pictures larger on flickr.

Back of nut loaf turkey

NOTE-If you make it in the regular loaf pans, then it can be cut into portions when cold, wrapped in foil or plastic, put in a plastic bag, and frozen for future use. You need only defrost the number of slices you need (when defrosted, this is delicious microwaved as a sandwich, with ketchup and maybe some cheese).

I had one of those weekends where you want to do nothing (and therefore do nothing), but at the end of it you feel sort of let down.

Well, I didn't do absolutely nothing. I did lots of Web surfing. And I learned that there are some blogs that I shouldn't read. Because the negativity a blogger writes about can poison my own feelings, creating proverbial mountains out of molehills. I wondered why I was acting so volatile after certain familial phone calls, and I think that was a big part of it. (Let's be honest, though, it wasn't just the blog; I never enjoy forced conversation with Drama.)

We also made a dent in preparing for Christmas. Remember how we thought our home here would be teeny tiny? (I'm too lazy to get a link here right now.) So we brought no Christmas stuff. No ornaments, no tree stand, no lights. Currently, we are in the process of deciding whether we'll go with white lights (Impera's choice) or colored lights (Trixie's preference). I allowed that this year, we can get that crappy tinsel which I absolutely hate and we have never had. We also baked three cookie sheets worth of salt dough ornaments:

We are thin thin thin - Not too heavy for a tree!

We turned on some Christmas music. (In my ideal world, Christmas would be centered on the two weeks before Christmas. Period. Six weeks of it just drains me. But, the Consort loves Christmas [I'd argue I do, too, just not in such large doses], so he gets to turn on the Christmas music the day after Thanskgiving.)

We played cards. Spades (because my goal as a parent is to train my girls to be our pinochle partners; they know this and refuse to learn pinochle, insisting we continue playing Spades instead), and poker (we split up the coins in our Change Tin for betting; next time, I want the girls to use their own money -- nothing better than a little bit of family cutthroat betting to make things interesting...).

Oh, yeah. I also made a pie. Yes! The weekend after Thanksgiving! Realize, please, that the photo I shared on Thanksgiving was the extended family pie table. We only made two of those (upside down pear cake and cranberry tart), and they were both mostly eaten on Thanksgiving with the others. I still had one pie's worth of vodka dough. Wait, I never blogged about the failure which was vodka dough, did I? Here's the scoop: Adding vodka to pastry dough is the new Thing to do. Because vodka evaporates completely when baked (I ask, water doesn't?), it results in a fabulously flaky crust. Maybe. But the fact that vodka never freezes means the dough remains soft and sticky, so the beautiful crust edge you create just flumpfs in the oven, and you stand there, looking through the oven window, begging and pleading with Fate that the dough won't flumpf so much that the filling will ooze out and create a baked-on mess in the oven. Sure, the dough may be flaky (not significantly more so, in my opinion), but the ulcer you get during the baking process makes it anti-worthwhile.

One recipe made enough pastry for two pies, so I still had one disc of dough in the fridge. I had made a squash and sage risotto on Saturday, thus the knowledge that we had arborio rice in the pantry was fresh in my mind.

I took the vodka dough, some arborio rice, some milk, and some spices (plus eggs etc.), and made a Tarte Au Riz (Rice pudding pie, pretty much). This is a Belgian staple (actually, it's usually made with a yeasted tart dough, but what the hell), and I would really like to be able to make one like you get from the bakery in Belgium. I allow myself one try a year (so much creaminess, it's dangerous, otherwise). Mine are good, but not what I remember.

Tasty goodness, even without nutmeg.

Now, I need to find my motivation and finish a project. Anybody see it anywhere?

Gratitude Griday, No. 3

I am grateful for our mail carrier in Iowa, whose schedule is such that we get our delivery around 11 am. That's when I'm ready for a quick break to the door after a morning of work at my desk.

Early mail delivery is a necessity for a home-office person. It keeps us sane.

What I am not so grateful for is the mail carrier here in New Hampshire, whose schedule is such that mail often doesn't get delivered until after 5 pm (which means that I have to go out to check the mailbox with a flashlight).

Where's my darn mail? I got none yesterday, thanks to Thanksgiving; I want my mail!

Wishes

Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night*!



*Wait ... that last bit doesn't belong to this holiday. Have a good night anyway!

Preparing for a Weird Day

Tomorrow will be the first Thanksgiving ever that we will spend with family, locally. We've done our fair share of flying and driving to someone's house for the holiday. And even have had some people fly or drive to spend it at our house. But, spend the morning at our house, drive 20 minutes with our offerings to a relative's house, eat, belch, then drive 20 minutes home? Never before.

It feels weird. Today is pretty much a regular day. Not much prepping going on yet, the house is in its typical state of Strewn Detritus, and I'm sitting in the office working on a project, of all things.

Tomorrow will feel weird, too. There will be the usual in-family stress (it's not just my family that can't have a gathering without someone's feelings being purposely or inadvertently hurt). Although luckily, the Consort is the Beloved in everyone's eyes (the opposite of my placement in my family, oftentimes*), so the stress isn't directed at us, and I stand close enough to him to ensure some of the glow shines on me, too (heh).

To be honest, though, the weirdest part will be the wine (or, perhaps more accurately, the non-drinking of wine). We are partakers, and luckily, we've found a bunch of like-minded individuals to be friends with in Iowa. We're not overindulgers, mind you. But a gathering isn't a gathering without a bit of wine. (hic!)

My family partakes in grapey goodness as well. So we're always well-watered when visiting that side. (hic! hic!)

The Consort's family, not so much. One BIL doesn't drink at all. The other drinks a can or two of Bud Light. One SIL doesn't drink at all (not even the beer I keep telling her is fabulous for women who are breastfeeding [when I heard this as a nursing mom, I jumped on this information]). The other SIL will have one or two sips. My MIL? Maybe she will, maybe she won't (and prefers the sweet stuff, whereas I prefer dry stuff). But if there were no wine, they'd be just as happy. Is that crazy, or WHAT?

Do we bring wine? I don't know. I stilll haven't asked the Consort what he thinks (are you reading this? What do you think? Should we bring a bottle [or two...]). I really want some wine with Thanksgiving dinner. But that wanting makes me wonder if I'm a slush. (Yes, I call it "slush", makes much more sense than lush, especially since Lush means bath bombs -- oh, yes, it does!) I don't feel like a slush. I don't drink every day. But I likes me some fihne wihne. Am I an alcky on the edge?

Who knows. Just pass me that bottle.


*Not intended to mean anything, siblings. (And where in his case everyone = everyone, in my case, everyone = for the most part, the parents.)

Yippee!!

Getting my tea this morning, I see this:


Really? Could it be? This is how the morning has progressed:

7:17 a.m.

9:10 a.m.

The Consort walked in to work this morning, although I offered to drive him in. He called when he got there and said there had been an accident on the road, so he had actually been faster walking than in a creeping car. Just yesterday morning, he mentioned he was really grateful we had picked the teeny tiny in-town house rather than the larger orchard house to rent this year. Because no matter the weather, we don't have to drive anywhere: he can walk to work, the girls walk to school, and there's a Co-op mini market two blocks away for milk and other necessities. (The large Co-op is walkable, too.)

Dear Body

Thank you for your thoughtfulness, but really, I can count to 28 pretty accurately. I don't need an entire week of warning (and don't go calling it a "dry run," either; because that would be a lie).

Best regards,

Imperatrix

Another One of Those Posts

The man who wrote the Hokey-Pokey died peacefully at age 93.

The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into his coffin. They put his left leg in. Then the trouble started.

Fridge Clean-out Lunch

In preparation for the Thanksgiving influx of food, I emptied out the fridge today. (Notice I didn't say "clean out." No washing was involved in my actions.)

We're pretty good about eating things up before they go bad, but certain things were taking up more room than they deserved: Two practically empty jars of jam, a jar of garlic olives with only two olives in it, and two mushrooms. I had a hankering for mushrooms sauteed in butter, so for lunch I sliced and sauteed the two mushrooms, ate the remaining olives while the mushrooms were browning, and had two slices of homemade bread with the leftover jam.

Yum. My lunch certainly hit the spot.

We are tasty, eat us up!

Gratitude Griday, No. 2

I love music. I love listening to music, I love discovering music, and I love making mixes.*

I am grateful that I am alive at a time when it is extremely easy to learn about new music without depending on ClearChannel dronesbroadcast radio.

Thanks to my iPod (curiously missing these past 30 hours [yes, I'm counting in hours], and I'm thinking I may need to worry about this soon), I can have music when I'm practically anywhere.

Thanks to Internet radio, I know that on any given day I will hear something I haven't heard before.

Thanks to online information tools, I can share music with all of you. No one ever commented on the song I embedded a few weeks ago, so I have no idea if project playlist works. I'm trying again.** I think this song is a great way to start the day. You can almost call it a musical morning blessing. Almost.

Oh. And, may I suggest? Listen to it loud.

*And I know I still owe several of you mixes; this knowledege keeps me up at night (not that I'm looking for sympathy, I totally deserve the insomniac guilt). I dare not say "Soon", but that's what I'm thinking.

**The subtle message incorporated in the previous two sentences is: Listen to this and then comment, dagnabbit!

Late Night Last-Minute Blogging

There's got to be something I can blog about. I know I did stuff today, just not the stuff I thought I would. (I was going to tell you about the knit sock issue I have with Trixie. But I'm too tired now.)

I know! If you like PostSecret (although I think a majority of the postcards are made up by the senders), you might enjoy FOUND, as well.

Proof that I'm Still Crafty

You wouldn't know it from the past few months, but I used to blog about my knitting. Although, to be honest, even when I participated in Secret Pal exchanges, and had a bit more drive to produce, I never really did. Produce much, that is.

Then it was summer, and we moved here. The heat didn't really inspire me to go looking for yarn shops.

Then we moved to town, unpacked all our boxes, and I realized that we hadn't brought the winter hats, scarves, and gloves. To New Hampshire! Land of winter sports!

That was just the nudge I needed to get cracking on finding a yarn shop. My first visit was to a shop in the neighbor chi-chi town to our chi-chi town. I figured I'd pay a little extra to support a local business. After my visit, I figured I might believe in supporting local business, but the local business needs to provide at least a smidgen of customer respect! (Maybe she could smell my non-hipness, despite my attempt at "dressing up" for the visit?)

I did buy three skeins of yarn. And I made the following hats:
We are pretending to be freezing despite the balmy weather.

For Trixie and Impera, I used this pattern as a base. However. When I was finished with the head part of Trixie's she said, "Stop!" No brim, just a stockinette cap. I may just knit the brim anyway, in case once winter comes along, the wind blows it right off her head. She wanted a pompom, and I may make her one, but she looks so cute without it. Impera wanted the brim, but I did not understand completely how the hat was to make a double thickness (I loved the pattern, but I like to be talked through the designer's concept; I don't seem to trust designers very much). This means that the hat is a bit too long, so you see some purling below the brim. I'm tempted to just sew up the top a bit to tighten it up. I don't know.

For the Consort, I "made it up." All he wanted was a stockinette cap with a ribbed brim, enough ribbing that he could fold it over and completely cover his ears with double thickness, to keep those poor ears warm. It mostly worked, but I was worried about making it too tight, so it ended up too loose, and because it is so wiiiiiiiiiide, there wasn't enough yarn left to make it as tall as I wanted, so (a) it may fly off in the winter wind and (b) his ears may not be fully double-covered. Sigh.

I was out of yarn, and it was my turn. You can imagine that I didn't really feel like returning to the fancy schmancy yarn shop. Instead, I went to this drab little building we pass from time to time in the antithesis-of-chi-chi neighboring town. It is called Country Woolens, and its white aluminum siding and very few windows worried me. "You should check that place out," the Consort had said more than once when we passed by. "Yeah, well, mmmbmbmbmmghhhuhunh," I'd reply.

Foolish, foolish me. This place was wonderful! The older woman who is clearly the owner was welcoming, she and her buddy chatted with me, they weren't pushy, nor were they aloof, and I came out with some Noro Kureyon and no loss of self-esteem. I am definitely going back there. (And it's on the [free] bus line!)

I am a pushover for a good blog recommendation, so even though I read that this hat sized small (it comes in only one size, and that is 18 inches [even Trixie has a bigger head circumference than 18 inches!]), I made Veronik Avery's Short Row Hat.

Don't look at the face, look at the hat!

I did one extra 4-section repeat, so it would actually fit around my head. This made it a bit too tall, though. I "fixed" that by doing some strategic sewing up along the crown, and hiding the surgery with a pompom. After I was all done, I realized I shouldn't have done surgery at all, I should just have folded over the ribbing (I am folding the ribbing, but without the sewing, I may have had enough to cover my ears completely. (No, wait, that's not my concern, that's the Consort's!) I had the Consort take a bunch of pictures, and I took some more this morning, but I wasn't happy with any of them. This was the least bad picture. But you can't really see the full pompom, and it is taken from the side I knit first -- I got lots better at knitting the short rows together. Really, I did.

Now that the hats are finished, my fingers are itching for a new project. But I'll have to keep these lessons in mind:

Trust the designer. They know what they're doing. (Even if they tell you to knit the cap part 9.5 inches before the decreases -- They've got a reason for doing it that way!)

Don't worry so much about tightness. Otherwise, hats (and socks, this happens when you knit socks, too) are too darn loose.

A good yarn shop = one run by a down-to-earth older woman. It was that way in Des Moines, and it is that way here, too.

Remember to get someone else to model your hat next time. You can't take the photo you want by shouting out things like, "Just get the hat! It doesn't need to have my whole body in it!" "Did you focus in on the color changes?" "Wait! These are taken on the bad side! I need the other side!" "Are you focusing on the hat?"

Taking Over the World

All right! Your comments on yesterday's post have given me hope that if I gave a revolution, some people would actually show up. Who knew that I could start my revolution right here?

Now, I'm just going to assume that when KathyF said she was going to tell her vets what I was up to, she meant it in a nice way (because a coup would never work without some military support), and not an I'm-going-to-denounce-you-to-the-authorities kind of way...

Definitely, I would provide the benefits I proposed for vets for everyone. Taxes would go up (significantly), but it would make the world a better place if everyone had guaranteed health care. (But face lifts and viagra would not be covered by me. Period.)

Gil Scott Heron was more right than he knew: The revolution will not be televised (youtube video); it will be blogivised!

And if this piques your curiosity about Gil Scott Heron, may I suggest my favorite, "Whitey on the Moon." (video or audio only)

Rules Are Meant to be Broken

This weekend a great friend of ours came to visit. We had a blast, as usual. So much so that other than the joke I shared, I posted nothing. Then last night we went out to celebrate my sister-in-law's birthday. Food, not so great, but conversation, lots of fun!

I had a post in my head about Veterans Day. But I forgot to write it down. Let me just note: Vets, thank you for sacrificing your health, your sanity, your youth, your life. If I was in charge of the world, we'd respect your actions with generous lifelong healthcare, strong mental health programs, and supportive communities. We'd never go to war impulsively, nor would we abuse your life, mental health, or soul.

Fulfilling my NaBloPoMo Requirement

A masochist and a sadist get married. After a fabulous wedding reception, they retire to the honeymoon suite.

The masochist shuts the door, turns and says, "Slap me, pinch me, make me scream!"

The sadist replies,


"No."

Gratitude Griday

Some people follow themes when they participate in NaBloPoMo. There are all sorts of themes, but the ones I’ve noticed are the “Thirty Days of Thanks” (30 days? Now that’s just too much) or Thankful Thursdays (hmmmm, I wonder why they picked Thursdays. In November…). Now, because of emotional scars carved in memories of sitting around a table, desperately trying to find something to be thankful for, with grumpiness oozing from the people on your right and tears trickling from the people on your left, … I have a difficult time with this forced group lovefest so many in the U.S. enjoy inflicting on one another. And I swore never to make my children do this (pre-gorging, we can make chains of thanks that we can decorate the dining room with—that doesn’t count). And just thinking about ritualistic circle thanks-giving give me the heebie-jeebies.

But, as I’ve grown older, I find myself drawn to the idea. In general. But, being stubborn, and being a slave to my preconceptions, I just can’t do it.

So, I’ve decided to instead have Gratitude Gridays (see, it’s got the alliteration, but I can trick my neuroses this way [‘cause they are on the whole more brawn than brain]).

On this first Gratitude Griday, I am grateful for all of you, my blog readers. You guys are the best. Some of you visit and don’t comment. (That’s OK: you keep coming back, so either you like what you’re reading or you like to hate what you’re reading.) Some of you take the time out of your day to let me know what you think. (Even if your responses can be not at all what I expected. Case in point: my new living room wall art. Sheesh! For the most part you guys hated it. I hadn’t thought it was that bad!)

My mother-in-law has been worried about me. She figures that the Consort is meeting new people at his office in town, the girls are making friends at their new school, but I spend most of my day alone in our teeny tiny house. Didn’t I want to join a club of some kind? Maybe a knitting group? Something? Anything???

Well, sure, I might join some group at some point soon. But, see, my blog friends still visit every day. Keeping me grounded, stoking my ego, sharing ideas, and just stopping by to chat. (I have a hard time explaining blog friendships to people who don’t “do” blogs.) Many of you I would never have met otherwise. Longitude and latitude would have taken care of that. And even if we did happen to live near each other: in the same neighborhood or town, our lives are so different that we may never have taken the time to “discover” each other. But I’m glad we did.

You, my readers, keep me connected. And I’m grateful.

A Plethora of Bookmarks

I have too many bookmarks, people. What I really mean is, I have too many bookmarks in my Bookmarks Bar. You know, that thing that you can use to have a select few extra-special Web pages at your fingertips?



Do you see how the Bookmarks Bar not only spills over the width of my screen, but also bleeds both up and down? Can you see that some of those bookmark buttons are actually *folders* within the Bookmarks Bar? How many bookmarks can someone have on their Bookmarks Bar?



I don't know, but I'd venture to guess that my one thousand seven hundred sixty (note the nice, even number, tho!) is TOO DAMN MANY.

I admit I often drag a bookmark to the Bar when I find something interesting that I may want to check back for when I have more time (for example, beer chocolate cake -- wouldn't *that* be on your list of must-retrieve links?). But, dutch babies? Cheap yarn in Germany? Stretchy co? (That last one is really useful, though; it's how to make a stretchy cast-off for when knitting, say, the top of a toe-up sock.)

Would you like some links? 'Cause I've got more than my share:

The Postcrossing Project: A postcard exhange. (I just learned about this one today, so it's fresh! [thanks, Marsha])

Librivox: Audio versions of books in the public domain. You can listen, you can volunteer and record some for others. Cool.

Bookmaking: A video how-to on making photo-covered notebooks.

Go ahead, eat a dutch baby. You know you want to.

Songs of Innocence and Experience, 21st century edition

(A conversation begun in the comments to the previous post got me rememberingimagining this.)

Two completely fictional* and imaginary young characters: Innocence, who speaks in a dreamy and hopeful voice, and Experience, who speaks with the bitter tones of recently acquired knowledge.

Sigh. I can’t wait until I start my period…

Ha!

Just think, my body growing up, that’ll be just great!

Snort!

The nurse said in class that it doesn’t hurt.

That’s just what they tell you.



*Absolutely. Because do you really think William Blake actually heard a clod and a pebble talk? OK, bad example. But do you think anyone else would have heard them? Of course not!

"Hey lady, you wanna see my soap nuts?"

Ever on the lookout for ways to reduce the family’s ecological footprint, a little while ago I ordered a bag of soap nuts.

What are soap nuts, you ask? This:



They are the dried fruit of the soapberry tree. They contain saponin, the sudsy cleansing agent that is found in several plants, including soapwort and quinoa.* You take about five soap nuts, put them in a small sack (a sachet-size sack), and toss them in your washing machine with a load of dirty laundry. Your clothes get clean, without artificial detergents, perfumes, or additives. We ordered a 1 kg batch for $30. You can use the same soap nuts for five loads of wash (the Web site where I ordered them says 1 kg would wash 200 loads of laundry, so about 15 cents per load). Thirty dollars didn’t seem too much to risk in trying out an eco-friendly product.

I’ve used them for the past two laundry cycles, so about eight loads’ worth (I switched out the berries after 5 loads – I am nothing if not a direction-follower), and so far, I am happy with them. The berries themselves smell slightly vinegary, but the resultant clean laundry just smells fresh, without a scent. That’s a big plus in my book. I do not understand our cultural need to layer on so many scents: laundry detergent, fabric softener,** dryer sheets,** scented soap, scented shampoo, scented conditioner, scented moisturizer, scented deodorant, topped off with a heavy spray of perfume/cologne/aftershave. Sometimes, I can barely breathe with the amount of mingled scents others waft around with them.

Zephyr doesn’t like it when we leave her alone (not a non sequitur, just give me a minute). When we came home from an afternoon out on Sunday, we found one of the duvet covers splattered with chocolate stains and a few empty fun-size wrappers. Zephyr clearly had gotten into the Halloween treats and had herself a little party. Bad dog!***

I washed the duvet cover yesterday with soap nuts, and this is how it came out:



Do you see any stains? Neither do I. The soap berries successfully passed the stain test! (Although I probably would still treat a stronger stain, like blood or tomato sauce, say, with detergent; but it still represents a significant reduction in the amount of detergent used.)

15 cents per load, no obnoxious perfumes or dyes, no phosphates, no petrochemicals, no plastic jugs or cardboard boxes wasted (the list can be endless...), made from a renewable source, and they are biodegradable (*sigh*, I miss my compost!). I definitely would recommend them.

(Oh, and the title of this post is an homage to my favorite stand up comedian.)

* In fact, when we shared a house with friends in California, we grew quinoa, and the Consort used the saponin we removed from the grain (it has to be removed in order for the quinoa to be edible – imagine getting a mouthful of soap!) to wash his hair.
** I don’t ever use this, by the way.
*** All I can say is, thank god we had closed the bathroom door and the trash can in there was not accessible to her!

I Had a Tiring Day

It's the start of a new quarter at the middle school, so Impera is no longer taking Ultimate frisbee for P.E. class (although she became very good at that game!). I suggested signing up for yoga. Instead, she signed up for "Outdoor Games".

I can't help it; every time I think about it, it comes out "Reindeer Games."

Family Flu Shot Day

A good thing about New Hampshire: free flu shots for adults and children. This thing was so well organized. I told the girls to bring a book in case the wait was long. There was no wait, just a well-oiled machine: fill out the form, get in line, within two heartbeats, it's your turn. Wipe, jab, bandage, you're done!

Then we wandered the health fair, picked up lots of pencils and candy (yes! at a health fair!), and went home.

All done within one hour.

A Friendly Word of Warning

If you happen to find yourself alone in the house in the early afternoon, and you decide to indulge in a mid-day bath; ... If, while drawing this bath, you decide it would be fun to read that book of essays, which happens to be in the living room; ... And if, already disrobed, you walk into the living room to take the book off the shelf,

do not,

I repeat--do not,

forget that the windows in this house have no sheer curtains.

For this said un-sheerédness will allow any passer-by to glance in and take a look at you in all your glory, requiring you to execute the fastest damned Stop, Drop, and Roll ever seen.

So, yeah

...about that wall quilt I was making? Well, work got kind of super busy, and I didn't have the time pull out the sewing machine, let alone go to the fabric store.

And we're having guests coming over for supper tonight. I really didn't want us to have a big blank wall -- heck, we've been here for two months, already!

Enter, plan B:
I am now adorned.

It's a wooden frame, with some thick fabric (in our case, duck) stretched across it and the whole thing hung on the wall.

Check out my detail, it's almost like a painting, right?...RIGHT?


I got the idea here. Unfortunately, the selection of home dec fabric here in the wilds of New Hampshire isn't as vast as it is in the Chicagoland area. So instead of "oooh! so chic!" we've got the Ramada Inn look again.

But at least the wall isn't bare.

Halloween 2007

Hello, we are a chic vampire, a medieval herbalist, and a zombie.

Trick or treating was a success. The girls came back with tons of goodies, and the weather was unexpectedly mild.

The Consort brought Trixie to her friend's house, and had a great time chatting with the dad. Seems the two dads have a lot in common (both on sabbatical, both alums of the Woodrow Wilson School, both in the field of environmental studies). Impera went out with a bunch of her girlfriends, and hit the notoriously generous part of town.

Trixie always picks rather obscure personas for her costumes. This year's choice of medieval herbalist was less confusing to strangers than usual. But no one guessed it right off the bat. I think she likes to confuse people.

I worried about Impera for a while in the run-up to Halloween, because she really wanted to be a zombie and make herself as ugly as possible (torn clothes, Crisco and leaves in her hair, rotting flesh face paint). (She also never wants to wear anything that makes her "pretty" and refuses to do anything with her hair -- it's either down with two hair clips at the temples, or up in a ponytail with two clips at the temples). Turns out, I needn't have worried. The group of girls she went out with were mostly undead. Must be the new thing.

You can kind of see the blood and torn pants of the complete zombie costume in the five measly shots the kids let me take before they went out.

(And today begins National Blog Posting Month. I promise you thirty consecutive posts. Note: quality not guaranteed.)

The Ghost of Halloween Present

The Ghost of Halloween Present
Originally uploaded by friuduric.

Happy Halloween! Happy Samhain!
I'm still buried under a deadlined* project. So I'm making do with posting a picture of the jack o'lanterns we carved Monday night**. I've been getting lots of traffic on the site lately from folks trying to understand the concept of Beggars Night, and checking out my post from last year. They don't do Beggars Night here in New Hampshire, and I have to say, I kind of miss it (!!!).



*Apt condition for this day, don't you think?
**It's fuzzy because I took it in a dark room, with a flashlight, and a very slow shutter speed. (But look -- I have the spirit of a jack o'lantern taking me over [you may have to click on it at see it bigger on flickr]. OOOOOoooooOOOOO.)

Quickie Rant

I'm so so very busy, and I planned to write a real post, but instead, I choose only to write a cryptic rant.

Would it be so hard to hope that my 40th birthday (which falls in the middle of a week in the winter) could have been celebrated with a weekend of fun and quality time with my family? Instead, I learn today that the relative (and offspring) I have the least interest in will be arriving that weekend, for a week of winter snow sports.

Woo fricking hoo.

i'll try to post something less self-pitiful later.

Calling All French Speakers

Growing up in a bilingual household, the most important phrase a kid could use was puis-je. Because without it, one could never ask,

Puis-je avoir cinq dollars pour la foire?*
Puis-je quitter la table?**

Or, the most important: Puis-je avoir un autre morceau de gateau?***

This year, living in elite-land, Trixie is learning French as part of the sixth grade curriculum (something the Des Moines school district can’t afford to do). And may I just say, she is doing a fabulous job? I’m amazed at how quickly she’s taken to it, and how much fun she’s having learning those little dialogs for class. She even spells well in French (yes the language of pebblex and owlx)!****

This makes me happy. (Especially since she was the kid who told me that, given the choice, she didn’t want to learn French ever—she wanted to learn Spanish instead [Oooh! Dagger through my heart!])

Except.

They are taught, not puis-je, but est-ce que je peux (lit., is it that I can; can I).

In my youth, if we ever said est-ce que je peux, we’d get a look, and silence until we asked correctly. It just wasn’t done!

Sound-wise, too, where pwee-zhe kind of just glides through your lips, ess-uh-kuh-zhe-peuh hangs around a sprays a bit of spittle on the person you are speaking to. Blech. Not pretty.

Am I making this up? Is est-ce que je peux the more correct usage? Could puis-je be a Belgian thing? (Like the crass Belgian usage of saying “seventy-three” rather than the much daintier French “sixty-thirteen”?*****) The Consort, who learned French in this very same school district when he was a kid, tells me he never came across the puis-je form until he met me.

Of course, she’s also being taught the word magaziner, so I should probably just give up.(6*)



*May I have five dollars for the carnival?
**May I be excused from the table?
***May I have another piece of cake?
****I grew up on a steady diet of phonics, and I loved it. Trixie is a pure child of the “whole language” concept (where the teachers encourage writing without learning spelling first, because the kids will just “pick up the spelling as they go” [which is crap, in my opinion; Trixie would read and comprehend way above her age level, but wasn’t very good at spelling those very same words].
*****Oh, those silly Belgians. [Is the thick sarcasm in my tone coming through? ;-)]
6* [I figured you lost count at five asterisks, because I did] That’s the French Canadian word for shopping. It is literally “store-ing”. Does that sound weird or what?

Message to a Stranger

Photo from the New York Times

Lady, please, get the heck out of there! The fire is right at your doorstep. No house is worth your life.

250,000 urged to Evacuate Southern California

Food and Blogging (but not food blog)

Earlier this week, Mizmell shared her solutions to feeding unexpected guests. I promised I’d share one of our quick recipes, too. As you can see from the photo, the Consort thinks this particular recipe is perfect for those last-minute guesses ;-)


Note the splatters on the page. We are messy cooks.

What’s great about this recipe is that you probably already have all these ingredients in your cupboard (because everybody keeps pine nuts on hand, right?). I would have made some this week, just so I could take pictures for this post, except we had it when our Boston friends were visiting a few weeks ago, and we had pasta twice already this week (once with the last of the season’s basil – the girls made pesto; and once with vodka sauce—jarred, but all-natural and oh, so good) and I wasn’t sure that the Consort would be happy with pasta three times in one week (he’s all about ‘variety’ and crap like that, the crazy guy).

Here you go: Tomato Pesto Pasta Sauce, from Quick Vegetarian Pleasures

1/3 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
6-oz. can tomato paste
1/2 cup minced fresh parsley
2 teaspoons dried basil
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 cup grated parmesan or Romano cheese
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 teaspoon salt
freshly ground pepper to taste

Combine all the ingredients in a bowl. You’re done. Ta-daaaaa! Now go socialize with your last-minutes guests.

Actually, I often mix in 2-3 tablespoons of the pasta water to the sauce to thin it a bit. And don’t forget this sauce goes on top of one pound of pasta, so you’ll have to cook that up, too. The cookbook says capellini, but we’ve made this on everything from thin spaghetti to penne, and it always tastes great.

Oh, and lest I forget: MizMell also urged me to join National Blog Posting Month (or, NaBloPoMo). I figured, since I failed so miserably at NaNoWriMo last year, that I probably should have started smaller, and posting on my blog daily (including weekends!) probably has a better chance of success than writing 50,000 words of a novel (Note: you’re just promising to post daily, not lengthily). If anyone else would like to join, let me know and I can send you an invite (you can do it yourself, but this way you’d be automatically added to my friends list, which currently numbers one friend: MizMell). This would be a wonderful way for people who have not blogged in a year (or two) to get back into it. *hint, hint*

Deviations from the Mean

Earlier this week, I came across the Carbon Conscious Consumer site, and, without really thinking about it, signed their Monthly Action Pledge.

It sounds like a great idea. Each month, you pledge to make one small change in your life (because “BIG changes start with small steps,” as their tagline says). You can also win prizes depending on how many people you get to sign up (so totally not my thing, but hey, whatever works to rope in the most people, right?).

Then I took a look at what I was pledging to do, as well as the list of previous monthly pledges, and it seems that I’m not pledging to do anything more than I already do (sort of like me signing a pledge to not eat beef for a month).

I think I have a disconnect with what constitutes normal behavior. I know I always get into trouble when I specifically request input from my readers (you all will comment away happily, until I ask you to, and then the comments dry up, like *that!*). If you were so inclined, could you tell me which of these actions you already do on a regular basis, which you wouldn’t do, and which you might do (but it would be a sacrifice, no doubt about it). I’m not trying to shame anyone, but I’m just curious how far from normal the Consort and I really are.

I’ll go first.
The C3 Challenge Actions:

1. In July we asked you to Eat Locally - Buy one pound of local food a week.

During farmers market season, we buy practically all our produce from the vendors. On a regular week we might bring home: a bunch of broccoli, a bunch of chard, brussels sprouts, onions, potatoes, tomatoes, garlic, eggplant, celery, a melon (pee-yew!), some blueberries, cheese, and salad mix.

2. In August we asked you to Downshift your Driving - Carve out one car-free day a week.

The girls walk to school, the Consort bikes to work, I work from home. When we take the car, we try to combine errands into a single trip. We shop for dry goods once a week, rather than pop in at the store every couple of days.

3. In September we asked you to: Junk Your Junk Mail - Use online forms to eliminate most of your unwanted ad mail.

We did this years ago. We don’t sign up for catalogs, and cancel them when some slip through.

4. In October we'll: Break the Bottled Water Habit - use a non-toxic reusable bottle for water on the go! And a high-quality filter in your home.

We rarely buy bottled water. We each have a Nalgene water bottle that we use for hikes (and the girls use theirs to bring water for lunch at school; they pack a lunch every day, BTW). The Consort doesn’t use disposable cups at the office, and I try to remember to bring a travel mug when I buy a cup of coffee at the library (where I hang out on fencing nights, so I don’t have to make two round trips to drop the girls off and then pick them up again two hours later).

We drink tap water in Des Moines, and I started using a Brita filter this summer when I was not too sure of the quality of the water coming out of the pipes here in NH.

5. In November we'll: Clean Green – Cold wash your clothes and choose the no-heat dry cycle on your dishwasher.

OK, I do one hot and cold load per week. But I only do laundry once a week, so the loads are always full. The girls do their own laundry, and when they actually get around to doing their wash, the amount of clothes they let pile up has gotten to the full size, as well.

We have always used the no-heat dry on our dishwasher. I usually open the door when the dry cycle starts, and let things air dry. Since July, we’ve done all our dishes by hand. (The girls are hoping we find a used portable dishwasher soon. But they aren’t complaining.)

6. In December we'll: Bring Your Own Bag – Neither paper nor plastic when you take part in “The New BYOB.”

We bring our own bags to the farmers market. When we aren’t purchasing more than will fit in our arms (book shopping, for example), we’ll say, “No sack, please.” (Yep, I really say “sack.” It’s one midwestern thing I’ve adopted quite happily into my speech.)

We do get at least one paper bag per week and use it to collect our newsprint, etc., for recycling. We use the plastic bags from the grocery store to line our trash cans. We don’t buy special boxes of “trash bags” for that.

There you have it. Anyone else want to share? (And go take the C3 pledge, if you like, too.)

Multimedia argument

Consider a man, who, during those halcyon pillowtalk days of yore, is told, “You have the largest, brownest eyes I have ever seen. *Sigh* They are so beautiful. Like a big, loveable, puppy dog’s eyes.”

And who responds to his beloved with:

Your eyes remind me of a turtle!



Consider a man, who, upon first hearing this song:

Says:

Eeeeesh. She sounds like she was high when she wrote this!

Consider a man, who, when played this capture (from this Slate.com article) of someone breathing heavy (“light” snoring),



when told this is what he does from time to time, and is asked if this is a good representation of what his beloved does from time to time, replies:


Ummmm. What you do is more what one generally thinks of when one hears the term “snooooorrrrring”.


I ask you, can this man’s judgment be trusted?

Clearly, no.




Right? I mean, gosh—I hate the fact that I have no control over what I sound like when I’m asleep. I hate not being in control, period. But. For full disclosure purposes, when I wailed that now I would never feel comfortable sharing a room with anyone ever again, this selfsame man reassured me that (a) he hadn’t noticed an occurrence of this snoooorrrring in the past year, and (b) it didn’t really matter because he was planning to be the one to share a bed with me for many more decades to come. (Awwwwww. [But I’m still never going to forget the turtle comment!])

Ooooo! And isn't this embedded playlist thing cool? I think I may have to start using this.

Blog Action Day

Today is Blog Action Day: The Environment.* So, I will do my part by sharing the following information with my loyal readers:

Economics Can Be Sexy

I love Paul Krugman**, and I think everybody should read his NYT columns. What’s not to like about a Princeton economist who actually cares about the poor and the environment, and who finds a way for economics to work with social issues, rather than against them? I missed him when NYT was behind a pay-per-view wall, but now that everyone can read his thoughts for free, you should go check him out (if you haven't already). Today his piece was on Al Gore, climate change, and the rabid reactionary right***. See? Even Paul Krugman honored Blog Action Day!

Sometimes, Sexy Isn’t Best****

Some of the current environmental sexy hunks are: the Toyota Prius, solar panels, and organic foods.

But really, things that would make a much bigger impact on the environment are: ensuring sure your current car is tuned up (nobody ever thinks about the replacement costs of all that metal, plastic, etc., that make up a car, and that in large part is wasted when one trades an “old” car for a new car), geothermal energy (it’s underground, where you can’t see it, unlike solar panels, which are on your roof for everyone to see), and local foods (organic foods that travel the traditional 1,500 miles per item [i.e., most of those items sold by Whole Foods and even your local grocery store in the Organic Foods aisle] aren’t particularly earth-friendly).

We really need to start thinking about the choices we make, on a deeper level than the reasons marketers shove in our faces.

And now, if you care for more Imperatrix pontification, you can check out my opinion on "fast" food and why making your own yogurt makes sense.

I also put up a set from our Sunday hike up Mt. Cube. (And I actually titled these photos, rather than keeping the DSC98475 numbering they get in the camera!)



*Maybe it’s Blog Action Day just in the craft-blog miniverse. One thing I’ve noticed about craft bloggers is that there does seem to be a strong tendency towards group blog action. (Think about all those swaps, knit-alongs, and gift exchanges crafters are constantly joining.) Last year, it was the search for the Kim family. It became impossible to visit a crafter’s blog without reading about the blogger’s heartache over the missing family; you didn’t even have to visit news sites because bloggers were continuously updating the latest information about the search and rescue operation. Not that this groupthink is bad, just a little surprising.

**I love him so much I am seriously considering temporarily putting aside my desire for a bread baking book and buying his new book Conscience of a Liberal first.

***What, me, biased? Nah.

****This is based on thoughts the Consort shared with me last week. I probably haven't remembered it quite right, so, any good parts about this is his, and incorrect parts are mine (except for the food vs. food thing; that's all mine).

Portrait of the Artist as an Unfocused Woman

“Wow! Our living room is so bare in our itty bitty sabbatical house. And the walls! They exude such … beigeness.”



“But hark! What do I notice to the side there? Could it be? Yes! It is! It is a framed loon triptych*!



*think* *think* *think*

“I bet I could make a wall hanging to fill that space! Yes, indeed. In fact, I found this cool method for making wavy seams. I could totally make something for that space. Totally. In fact, all I’d need to get started is twelve fabrics!”



“Okay! Let’s get started. Wait—it’s too difficult to wavy-cut 42-inch lengths of fabric. I know, I’ll have 20-inch strips, but I’ll stack them, so I’ll still get 40-inch height.”

*cut, match, sew, iron* *cut, match, sew, iron* *cut, match, sew, iron*

“Grrrrrr. This is taking a looooong time:”



“Gosh, I’m only two thirds of the way done. Hmmm. I know! I’ll just do the last third with the strips going horizontally:”



*cut, match, sew, iron* *cut, match, sew, iron* *cut, match, sew, iron*

“Bored now. What can I do? … Dang! I’ve forgotten to use one of the fabrics! Oooh! I think I have a solution. Tadaaa!”



(And a curse on anyone who even thinks that this looks like an upside-down flag.**)

“Hmmm. This doesn't look anything like how I envisoined it.

"Urgh. I need a beer. And maybe a multi-day break from this project."



*No, actually, it isn’t.
**And a pox on anyone who reminds me that originally, this was going to be two strips high. I’m just going to make a wider border than I planned, is all.

Thankful

In honor of Canadian Thanksgiving, which was this past weekend, I just wanted to say that I am thankful that none of my regular readers is a bitter old crone who spends her time knocking other people's comments.

Every. single. time.

(What, me bitter? Nah. I'm just trying to keep up with all the multipost days you all have been having.)

Rambling Catch-Up Post

Oh, my goodness, people! I stay offline for four days (two of which were weekend days), and I come back to 67 new posts! Some of you posted 6 or 7 times in that short span. How on earth am I going to catch up? And what on earth are you all doing posting multiple times over a single day?

[N.B.: This has turned out to be quite a long post. I’ve helpfully highlighted the important asides with italics, so if you’re in a hurry, just skip the blah-blah and read the meat of the story.]

First, about my previous post. Some of you wanted to know what blogs I was referencing. Well, I can tell you about them, but I won’t post links. These are just regular folks with blogs and it wouldn’t be fair to give them traffic just from people checking out how poor their life skills are (plus, I wouldn’t want them to come back at me and kick my pixelated* ass, you know?). One of them is the blog of a woman who just doesn’t seem to be able to look past herself in larger issues, and who has a bit of a problem making mountains into molehills with people she disagrees with. She also is a typical American in that while living in a foreign country, she practically alienated an entire university department by attempting to bully her advisor and other mentors into letting her do things the way *she* wanted to do them for her doctorate, rather than following the method of her adopted country. (Not everyone does things like Americans, you see?) The other blog I have a macabre fascination with is a woman who is clearly working through some issues (healthy), but is in a relationship where they seem to drink a lot (not healthy). She has become used to a child-free life these past two years, which is a fine choice to make, but really wants her kids (currently living with their dad) to come live with her. I don’t think it will work.

Why do I keep checking these blogs out? Probably, I’ve decided, because I am a snoop at heart who is working very hard to break the generational snooping behavior she was exposed to as a child. I’m not doing it to my children, so I’ve redirected my proclivities towards total strangers. I don’t know if this is a good solution, but the Internet makes it so easy!

Some of you thought I was talking about political blogs, but no. I just cannot imagine keeping sane if I were to regularly read conservative backwash. Ugh.

Aside #1: I’ve been trying to read more nonfiction lately, but my choices aren’t inspiring me. Mostly because I know it wouldn’t be healthy for me or my family if I were to read right-wing ulcer-inducing baloney, but the things I am reading aren’t keeping my interest. Examples: I finally read Nickel and Dimed this summer, and I am reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle right now. I think everyone should read both of these books, and I bet many people would learn a thing or two (in fact, I think Barbara Kingsolver’s book would be a great gift to give out to people [if I ever give in and become a preachy gift-giver]). Problem is, I already know more than the average person about these issues, so I’m not surprised or invigorated to make changes in my life (we already eat local, seasonal, and chemical-free, for example). I also picked up that Mayflower book from the library’s New Books shelf, and after 15 pages I—well, I was bored. Any suggestions?

The reason I was offline was that this was a busy holiday weekend for us. (After 7 years in the midwest, where we never got Columbus Day off [they’d give the kids a 3-day weekend the following week, so it was clear we weren’t celebrating the Beginning of the End of Native North American Independence], it was weird to be getting such an out-of-favor holiday. New Englanders are so … quaint.) We went camping in the White Mountains on Friday (The girls had off on Friday as well as Monday). We learned that Dramamine will not help Impera all that much during a long windy-road drive, and will make her extremely tired for the rest of the day; so any hike we have planned will be difficult for her, especially a super steep hike the likes of which we had never attempted before. But, being a trooper, she will complete the hike (although she’ll make it clear that “views” are not worth doing a hike for). The hike on Saturday was much less steep, Impera wasn’t drugged out, and the Consort and Trixie were able to swim in the pond at the end of the hike. We also enjoyed the smoothed out modernistic rocks of Franconia Falls (I’ll get the pictures up on flickr later this afternoon).

Aside #2: One unpleasant thing about camping is the midnight trek to the lavatory (in this case, a pit toilet in the National Park no-frills campground [no showers, water only at a communal well, and no electricity] where we stayed). I know some of you jumbo-sized bladder people have yet to need a midnight visit, but I’ve been partaking in that particular ritual for years now (the Consort, too, which is why I think it’s you other people who are bizarre, not me). I learned on this trip that, if you stop drinking at 4 pm, you can make it through the night without getting out of your sleeping bag. I made note of this and will definitely be taking advantage of this information at future campouts. What will keep me awake, however, is the Consort mentioning just as we are getting into our sleeping bags that the gorp left over from the day’s hike is still in his small pack, WHICH IS WITH US IN THE TENT. This did not bode well, considering that there are signs everywhere (including RIGHT ON THE CAMPSITE TABLE) that all food should be returned to campers’ cars at night, because of the bears. (The Consort’s response to me that, “The bears here in New England are baby bears,” just didn’t seem to soothe me as much as he thought it would.)

On Sunday, we spent the day with some friends from Boston. We went apple picking, made applesauce and apple crisp, played a great game called Robo-Rally, and had a yummy supper of tomato pesto pasta (with garlic bread).

Yesterday (the notorious Columbus Day), we had planned to do work, veg out, and take it easy, but it was raining in the morning, so we contacted our friends and told them that if they didn’t feel like doing the Fall Foliage thing in the rain, they could come spend some time with us, and there could maybe even be a group adventure completed using our wifi router (they both play World of Warcraft, too). And that’s what the Consort, the girls, and our friends did. For four and a half hours. I made chocolate chip muffins, and knit. Everybody was happy. And we even had time to do the necessary work and homework in the afternoon before supper.

Aside #3: We realized soon after we got to New Hampshire that we had forgotten to pack our winter hats, mittens, and scarves. How stupid was that? So I’m planning to make at least hats for everyone. We’ll see if I get them done in time. The girls want to go camping again this coming weekend (mostly because we said they were old enough to start the fire in the morning if the Consort and I aren’t up yet [we are happy to report that the pyromania that both the Consort and I have was passed down in spades to the girls. You should have seen them scouring the campground for bits of wood and leaves they could burn in the fire]), and it was getting to the point that sleeping with a hat on might be a good idea. Oh, the joys of autumn camping!

Now that I’ve caught up here, I will spend too much time visiting all my regular online haunts, trying to catch up with all of you. Because I take my blogging responsibilities seriously.


*Or should that be pixilated? I leave you** to decide.

**But who has an impish ass to kick, I ask you? Certainly not me.

Questions for Me

Why am I tempted to follow the blogs of people I don't respect?

How long will I be able to keep from commenting to said people about their delusions?

Do I realize that anything I say to them will not be taken in good spirit? (Come on, would *I* like to receive emails from random people telling me I'm making major mistakes?)

Should I create a blog category called "Private Messages for People Who Don't Know Me"?

(Would anyone read these posts?)

Don't I realize that just because I've finished one project doesn't mean I should forget about the other project I should be working on?

Why do I assume I deserve a break?

Why am I not working right now?

Pay Attention, Goddammit!

Arctic Melt Unnerves the Experts

[T]he floating ice dwindled to an extent unparalleled in a century or more, by several estimates...

Is this so abstract that people just don't care? A century or more. Wake up, world!

Oh wait -- I think people in power know about this. I think they've got reasons for not acting:

While open Arctic waters could be a boon for shipping, fishing and oil exploration, ...

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: sometimes I wish I believed in god, so I could damn people to hell.

But that's OK, they're damning us all to life in the New Hell: planet earth.

At least take a look at the multimedia graphic, Sea Ice in Retreat.

Recipe Exchange

This morning, someone* invited me to join an online recipe exchange. I was to email a favorite quick recipe to name #1, move up name #2 to line #1, add my name to line #2 and mail this request out to 20 of my closest friends. I had to decline, for four reasons. First—twenty friends? I don’t think I’ve ever had that many friends at any one time (perhaps, ever in my life?—nah, let’s not go there, I don’t want to get depressed on a Friday!**). Second, I had a pretty good idea who two other people were on this person’s mailing list, so I’d have to delete them from my list, which would make my friends list even shorter (and more depression-inducing). Third, doesn’t this smack of a Ponzi scheme to you? Maybe we should ask our friend Norman. Or, maybe we shouldn’t (remember, it’s Friday). Fourth, although the sender wisely sent this email out to the internationally known “undisclosed recipients” list, did I really want my email address everywhere and in everybody’s mail program, to be sucked up when a naïve Internet Explorer person got their mail hijacked by a nasty ’bot?***

But just because I didn’t participate in the email exchange, doesn’t mean I can’t share a recipe. So, here is my quick recipe offering.



Fresh Tomato and Corn Soup

Note: This is only worth making when the tomatoes and corn are vine-ripe and local (from your garden or local farmer’s market). DO NOT make this with crappy vegs. You'll just end up with crappy soup.

2 Tablespoons butter
2 large onions
4 garlic cloves
1-2 ribs celery
1-2 carrots

1. Chop the vegetables, melt the butter, saute them all together until they begin to get brown (10 mins.)

2. While Step 1 is going on, core and cut up:

3 lbs. (5 very large or the equivalent) tomatoes

3. Add to the pot:

those tomatoes
4 cups vegetable broth
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
Generous grinding of fresh pepper

4. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to a burbling simmer and cook 20 minutes.

5. Take pot off the heat, process with a hand-held blender or in a food processor (really, just go out and buy a hand blender. They’re $20 and make your soup-making life so much easier).

6. Return to the pot, and stir in:

1/2 cup parsley, chopped
the kernels from 2 ears of corn

Enjoy!

NOTES: The heat of the soup will “un-raw-ify” the corn without overcooking it. It'll still be crunchy when you eat the soup. I love this soup, and if you wish you could make gazpacho with your garden tomatoes, but really don’t like the bitterness of raw garlic and onion, this is a good compromise. The cooking sweetens the onions and garlic, and makes this soup a more palatable choice for non-gazpacho-loving humans. If you have time, make it early and let it cool. That’s good, too.

_________

Now, if you’re feeling a bit depressed that I don’t have more friends, you can go cheer yourself up by watching this YouTube video.****



*Who shall remain Nameless. I don’t want a black eye!*****

**No, no—the correct reply is, “Oh, Imperatrix, it’s just that you go for quality, not quantity!” [pat, pat, pat]

***It’s inevitable. It’s Microsoftworst.

****My sister Cowgirl shared it with her email list yesterday, and I thought it was very funny. I’m not really swiping her find, because 24 hours have passed, so it’s now in the public domain. Also, since she isn’t visiting lately, I bet she won’t even know I’ve used it. Hah. Take that, you non-blog-visiting sibling! (Oh, but she’s not the one who sent the Ponzi scam.) (Not that I’m implying it was Three of Four who sent it, either. Nope.) (It was that Other One. The Nameless One.)

*****Yes, you did! You gave me a black eye! I don’t care that you say it was an accident. Three-year-olds do not “accidentally” punch their peaceful 5-year-old sister in the eye (even if by “punch” I may mean “run one’s head into”).

Last Night's Debate

So, did everybody watch the Democratic debate* last night?

Good for you. We didn’t.

Not for lack of trying. You see, we (being the weirdo non-TV watchers that we are), only ordered Basic Service (and pay 20 bucks a month for the privilege of knowing that, if we so chose, we could watch crap without fuzziness) – because that way we’d get good reception of the “traditional” stations, which should be enough to get what we might ever need: general news and live coverage of political events. Heck, with Basic Service, we get two CBSs, two ABCs, two NBCs, and two PBSs. Surely someone other than MSNBC would show debates, right? Wrong!!!! Even the PBS stations were showing some “War” show, which could be shown on any other night, right? (Shame on you, Vermont and New Hampshire Public Broadcasting. Shame, shame, shame.)

Of course, MSNBC was streaming the debates live online. Except that you needed Microsoft’s video software (rather than Apple’s QuickTime or the free [gasp!] RealPlayer). The Consort has it on his laptop, but his is an older machine and it would huff and puff and freeze up constantly. I never downloaded any of the MSCrap, because – well, because Microsoft sucks, and we all know it.

So we ended up listening to the debate on New Hampshire Public Radio. Impera had wanted to see the debates, so she sat in with us for a while, the Consort and I calling out the invisible speakers to her when they’d begin their answers: “That’s Edwards,” or “Obama’s speaking,” and so on.

But, can someone please tell me who the heck the older guy who bragged about sticking his credit card companies with $90,000 of debt when he declared bankruptcy was???

(I felt so bad for him. Call me crazy, but I don’t get the feeling he’s going to win the nomination.)

*Do you know that even though it was taking place at Bouche de Dard, they only gave out 30 (thirty!) tickets total to faculty.

Twelve steps

Twelve steps
Originally uploaded by friuduric.

Twelve fabrics. Washed, pressed, and trimmed. This is for a project I've had in my mind for a couple of weeks now. The problem is, it's all in my head, and I'm not sure the physics of the real world will allow my idea to work.

I'm anticipating lots of frustration ahead. And lots of cries of "Why can't I just make something like this from a pattern??!!!!!"

We'll see. And the only hint I'll give here is: loon.

Support

Go, UAW, go!

*raises fist*

Best quote heard today: On how long the union can afford to strike: "We can afford to go one day more than the company can."

Runner up quote: "“Workers should not solely bear the brunt of decades of bad business decisions by G.M. management."

Worst. Ideas. Ever (Episode 72)

Hey! New York Times online articles are free now. No need to use bogus registrations. So I can link to articles with wild abandon!

Photographing the Proposal. The new "in" thing is to hire a photographer to record your wedding proposal for posterity. I don't know -- if some skeezy guy in dark clothes was hanging around taking pictures of *me* when I'm out with my lovey, I don't think I'd be able to focus on anything but the stalker. "I love you, honey. Will you--" "Boyfriend! Have you noticed that guy?" "What guy?" "Him! Over there!" "Forget about him. Listen to me honey. Will you--" "Boyfriend!! I see a cop at the corner. I'm going to tell him!" "What? Wait! Come back here, honey!"

Genital Mutilation. Every time I read about this practice, I feel terribly sad. And angry. And I feel a desire to adopt an entire nation of girl children. But heck, I never thought I'd think of Saudi Arabians as enlightened!

Wiring the Subways. The Metro Transit Authority is planning to have all 277 subway stations wired for cell phone usage. Great. Now we'll all have to hear conversations like this when we visit New York. (*Sigh* I really really really don't like cell phones.)

PS: The Consort felt bad about my nonposting blues, so he's come up with a solution. He'll just BANG AROUND in the kitchen at 5 am, ensuring that I'm wide awake two hours before I expect to be. This will be particularly successful after going to bed later than usual the night before.

Note to My Readers

I have abandoned my promise of a return to daily posting, I know. I'm sorry. *Sigh*. It's that darn Daily Photo Diary at flickr. You see, there are only so many wasted minutes (in all truth, hours) in a day, and adding another daily chatty / creative place means that I've been running out of energy for posts over here. (Stop that snickering in the back row: Yes, as a matter of fact I do consider this blog a creative outlet. [Not that I lie to you all, of course, I don't mean "creative" in that way.]) Every day I think, "today for sure I will post at both places" -- but then 8:30 pm rolls around and I just can't do it.

While we're talking, I should also point out that I've been slacking off in my conventional crafting, too. Heck, I've got a pair of socks for Trixie that simply need the picot edging finished on one sock and it's done. But have I finished it? No. (Let's not talk about that seascape shawl, OK?)

I did complete something recently, though, and I realized this morning that I could hug two dogs with one arm (as Trixie says; she doesn't like phrases that include animal brutality. Stones? Birds? --Barbarism!). I can post about it here!

I bought some used window treatments at the thrift store and cut them into strips:



I armed myself with a size P (11.5 cm!) crochet hook, and started single-crocheting. I added increases at appropriate points. And I ended up with this:



A sheepish dog rug!

(No, a bathroom rug to set by the sink, there just wasn't enough light in the bathroom, and I put the dog there for perspective). The entire set is, as you guessed, on flickr.

I used the directions from this site, and I liked doing this so much I'm thinking of making a larger one for the living room.

(Edit: In the comments, Carri said something that reminded me there was a bit more detail I wanted to give. When crocheting a rug, you have to be careful that it doesn't curl up on you -- it has to remain flat to be useful! After reading about rag rugs, I was very conscious of the possibility of the "bowl effect", so as well as adding increases at every row (two increases at each end), I would tug and wiggle the stitches around the perimeter when I made the increases to make sure things stayed as flat as possible. Also, after I was done and started using the rug, I still noticed a bit of curl, so I just flipped it over, and now it doesn't curl up. For the next rug I make, I will plan on the bottom side (the side I don't see as I'm crocheting) being the top side when it's done.)

But, there's also a wall-hanging that I want to get to. Oh, and a sweater for me. And some projects with yarn the Consort and girls insisted I buy at a garage sale several weeks ago.

Uh oh. Something's gotta give. (I wonder if I actually have to do all that client work?...)

Hiking Lessons

This weekend we went on another hike: This time to Black Mountain. I took a bunch of pictures and you can see the entire set, if you like. (You can even check out the hike collection, if you're really bored.)

This one was pretty steep climbing. And the steepness wasn't a big deal, actually. In fact, the cooler weather made it much more pleasant than, say, the Moose Mountain hike we did just a month ago.

The descent, on the other hand, was hell. Oof! My knees! Not pain, really, just muscle annoyance. You're supposed to go down as slowly as you go up, but where on the ascent lugging your frame up means you're going as quickly as you can, on the descent you're holding you body back from gravity, and the power of that restraint is all in your knees.

It made me realize something. You know those childhood stories of adults saying they "had to walk to school, three miles uphill in both directions"? At this point in my life, I would *much* prefer hiking up a mountain both coming and going.

Forgive Me, I Was Unclear

IMG_0079.JPG
Originally uploaded by friuduric.

When I said yesterday that I missed my washer and dryer, what I meant was, I miss my high efficiency, front-loading, runs-a-load-of-laundry-in-more-than-10-minutes washer and my matching-large-capacity-dryer-whose-automatic-drying-sensor-actually-works.

We did pick up a used W/D pair from a local garage sale. I took a picture of the washer. Does it look familiar? Of course it does! Everybody's mom had one in the early 1970s.

Which means that I'm washing our clothes in a 30+ year-old machine. One that figures that if you get the clothes wet, rinse them, and spin them out under 10 minutes, you've done your job. I think I'm going to start lying to the machine and tell it that every load I'm washing is HEAVILY SOILED. Because then it might actually wash them for a reasonable amount of time.

And let's not even talk about its partner in crime (the dryer that thinks that a 10-minute* tumble is the way to a lady's heart).


*What is it with these two and ten minutes?

Some Things

Some things I miss:
A microwave
My kitchen scale
My washer and dryer
The big garden
A second toilet
A second towel bar
Enough storage furniture (shelves, cabinets, etc.)

Some things I don’t miss:
Weekend party-people on the street at 2 a.m.
Neverending upkeep of big garden

Some things I get:
Free (yes, free!) public transportation between/within 4+ towns in this area

Some things I don’t get:
Trash pickup not provided by town (recycling, however, is provided by town. [???????])

Last week, MizMell named this site as one of the blogs that makes her smile. I was honored, and I have to say, it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Lately, I feel like I’ve been silencing myself. More and more people are visiting the blog, and my anonymity is pretty much hanging by a thread. Innocent comments by the Consort had me questioning whether I should be saying some of the things I say in this forum (I never thought I was being over-the-top, but I do have a tendency towards melodrama). Add to that a move near family (sure, it’s my in-laws, but moving close to my family would have created the same tension, believe you me [as the comments to my Christmas return post 9 months ago proved!]). So, even though my in-laws haven’t visited the blog since I began it two years ago, and even though I wouldn’t have said anything terrible about them, I’ve felt muzzled.

Then there’s the changing family dynamic. My kids are some of my most loyal readers, and right now I’m trying to get a handle on being the parent of two … errr … hmmm … growing kids. (Trixie at 11 insists she’s a pre-teen, Impera at 13 refuses to define herself as a teenager, despite showing textbook symptoms of teenhood.) I was comfortable in the role of Benign Dictator that comes with the territory of parenting young children. Whatever I said, went. I was the be-all end-all of happiness, information, and comfort. That’s changing, and although I believed in my heart of hearts I would be a near-perfect mom of teens, I find that I was deluding myself. Who am I, and who are these strangers in my house?!

So, today, I come back to tell all my readers: Caveat Lector. This is my web log. If you know me in the Real World, reading this is like reading my diary. It’s OK -- I know you’re reading it (I left it open on my desk, didn’t I?). But it’s mostly about my take on things; it’s not true journalistic reportage. If you don’t like how I’ve painted a particular encounter, well, I’m not going to change anything. (Come on, have I ever mentioned the orangutan foot fetish of one of the siblings? Or the warty nose of that one relative? No! I haven’t even mentioned that mustard and engine oil incident with the Sheriff in Anchorage.)

I think the move took more out of me than I expected, too. It had seemed like such a simple thing: move to a town 20 minutes away from where we had been staying. Except, now I don’t have my sister-in-law downstairs to cover all the bases I left in Iowa.

For example, I wanted to do some laundry.

BUT! We needed to get a dryer exhaust vent to be able to use the dryer.

After I bought one, we realized that it still wasn’t long enough to reach from where the monster electrical plug is set in the wall to the vent hole.

When we fixed that, I realized that I didn’t have any laundry detergent.

When the Consort bought some at the corner store, the used washer we had purchased wouldn’t start.

This morning, the Consort came home from work to put on new water connectors. (He was out of underwear, you see.)

I started some laundry, and was able to wash the fabrics I bought for a project I’ve been meaning to start for a week.

BUT! I forgot that although I brought the iron, I didn’t bring our broken ironing board, so I need to got out and buy one. Soon.

And then, for no apparent reason, this weekend I found myself wondering how pleasant or unpleasant it would be to have my mood chemically enhanced.

Hmmmmmmm…..

Bruises

The second move of the summer is over. Boxes were packed, lugged down the stairs, lifted into my BIL's 4x4 truck, driven to the itty bitty house, taken off the truck, lugged into the itty bitty house, unpacked, broken down, and are now awaiting the recyling truck to take them away.

The house is tiny, but larger than the apartment we lived in during the summer.

After organizing the kitchen, then taking everything out of the cabinets and starting over (three times), I finally got everything to fit. In a manner of speaking.

Now that things are un-topsy-turvying, I hope to follow through on some promises I made back in July: I owe several of you mix CDs -- I haven't forgotten, they should be coming soon!

Oh, did I mention I took on another client? They came to me, I didn't search them out. This will be very good, seeing as living the adventurous life on 70% pay does have its drawbacks (we jumped in with our eyes open, but still).

And, a last tidbit: It's amazing how many bruises one can get in 10 hours of bending, lifting, and carrying boxes, furniture, and large appliances. And the color variation: impressive!