Douchebags.

A while ago, I posted this entry. La Nina then directed me to hotchickswithdouchebags.com. Today, my friend Talia forwarded me a link to a story of star crossed love betweent Olga and Dimitri, set in the Marina district of San Francisco. I, in turn, sent her to hotchickswithdouchebags.com, as Dimitri is such a douchbag, I was hoping to find his picture on the site.

She found the following picture, on the site. This is The Batbag, winner of 2007's Douchiest Super Hero award.
This is Talia, on her wedding day. Isn't she radiant?

And here is Talia on her Bachelorette night:

Room for Rent in San Francisco

We need a room mate! Here’s the ad. Let your favourite homeless people know.

7/7/2008 by biz

Hello all,

Please pass this on to the homeless nearest and dearest to your heart.

Thank you kindly. And yes Stephen, I still live amazlingly, stupendously far from the mission. At least 10 minutes.

Jon

———————————

Bright, beautiful br w/ bath. Cheerful roomies.

About us:

- I am a San Francisco State graduate student in my mid thirties, studying research psychology. Former room mates have described me as easygoing, cheerful and pleasant.
- My girlfriend Kate is a designer, and creates product packaging for one of those fancy-pants design firms that San Francisco is famous for. You have seen her work at your local supermarket/grocery/corner store, or the hackneyed “been living under a rock/on a desert island/in a monastery” applies. (That is a bit of an exaggeration. I am sure I will get into a lot of trouble when she reads this.) She is also a nice person to be around.
- I am vegan and Kate is vegetarian. Neither of us faint at the sight of meat, nor have we lived with a vegetarian roommate. We enjoy to cook and do so often. Our lives are busy and cluttered, but we do our best to make sure that common areas are not. We smoke cannabis. We don’t smoke cigarettes. We have our friends over every so often for dinner.

We are looking for:

- An easy going, considerate roommate knows how to pick up after themselves, pay their share of the bills and plays well with others. We are open to well-behaved, well cared-for pets. There are hopes to add a dog to our household, though these are still in the early stages – we intend to figure out the ifs-and-whens when you are here to discuss them.

The apartment:

The room is about 14 x 13 with a 15 foot ceilings, and a full length built-in closet. The house itself is a bit over 1000 ft.², a top (third) floor corner unit with views of McClaren park. Amenities:

- Washing machine and dryer
- Dishwasher, microwave, gas stove, garbage disposal.
- Full bathroom of your own (We use the other one).
- Back deck (We should use it more often)
- Internet access, and a generous selection of digital media: several terabytes movies, tv shows, documentaries and music. And every xbox game ever created, though we never play those these days. We don’t have cable – bit torrents make it a tad redundant. There is a cable hook-up in your room, should you require it.
- Plenty of permit-free street parking (Hah! Let’s see the other ads you read today top that :>), and parking space for a motorcycle in the garage.

Location :

- Less than two miles from the Balboa Park BART station and the 280 freeway, and an equal distance in the opposite direction from the 3rd St Muni line, the Bayshore Caltrain station and the 101. The 9x bus stops right outside, and the 29 stops about five minutes walk away. Kate takes the bus and Muni to work. I take the bus to school. Stonestown and Serramonte Malls are a few minutes drive.
- Right next to McLaren Park, the second largest stretch of open space in the city after the golden gate, and just below San Bruno Mountain. McLaren Park has a leash free zone, multiple basketball courts, and plenty of open space for games and picnics. There’s also lovely long walks with views — this is not a park you will get bored walking your dog with. If you like the outdoors, San Bruno mountain is one of San Francisco’s best kept secrets. Fortunately, the fires last week did not do much damage.

We are taking pictures today. Let us know, we’ll send them to you.

It just keeps getting better!

My brother and his girlfriend are also being entertained by Craigslist, seeing as they are advertising for a roommate:

i'm looking to sublet a room from 15th-18th. i noticed yar place is walking distance to cow palace and its where i will be during that week. i am trying out for the american idol auditions and i really really need a place to stay very bad. i'll be coming from LA, 25yo, recent college grad in biology, hoping my luck at a shot of stardom in the music industry.

all i need is a place to sleep and shower. will not use laundry or kitchen.

let me know if you are cool with this idea. i am on a tight budget and i hope to be considered. how much do you think is a fair price for these dates?
Kate said that her favourite part was the "yar" in the second sentence and I have to agree. I told her to ask for credit in the liner notes as part of the rent.

Maybe I am old fashioned, but I find the trend towards bad grammar, poor spelling and lack of proper punctuation extremely distasteful. Emails are such a poor way of communicating properly in the first place, why eliminate 75% of the tools we have to make ourselves and our intentions understood? In addition to this, the very fact that you choose not to use these tools suggests that you are uneducated, lazy or both. Whether or not that is true, is that something you really should be projecting to total strangers from whom you are asking a favour??

ADDENDUM: Just found out his email address name is "Mystery Guy". NO JOKE.

Craigslist follies, cont.

I did write back to him. The email follows.

***
Please make out the cashier's check for the purchase price of the
motorcycle, $3500, plus your shipping costs to

David Ryan D---------
1--- B-----Street
P--------, CA 9----

Also, please send to me your name and physical address, so that I can
make sure shipping details are in order before I send the motorcycle
with your shipping people.

Thanks,
-Ryan
***

I've never seen a fraudulent check before. I'm hoping it arrives
before we leave.

-Ryan

Ryan's first name is not David, by the way. Also, completeley unrelated to Craigslist, but still worthy of a note in my "odd things that happen" file, I wrote this yesterday at the airport:

I'm totally just about to get on a plane with Chris Matthews. Not that I think traveling with celebrities is really that big of a deal or anything, I just think the way I recognized him was funny:

Hey. That guy looks familiar. Is he an actor? Some 80's actor? God he looks depressed. He looks grumpy. I think he's someone who shouts a lot.

Is there an 80's actor who shouted a lot? No. He's not an actor. I think he shouts at people. OH. It's that guy from one of those shows that my father leaves on the television, that one where he shouts at people....what's his name?? Oh yeah, Chris Matthews!

For those of you who don't have a father who likes to rant at televisions, Chris Matthews is one of those "hard-hitting" journalists who asks the "tough" questions. His program is called Hardball with Chris Matthews. I've never liked what little I've seen of him and I'd like to point out that the picture on his website is severely photoshopped. He doesn't have creamy skin and rosy cheeks. He looks more grizzled in real life as well as considerably more "melted". But he had a Hardball back pack, so it had to have been him (I guess even famous people use their company swag). To be fair though, I did see him in an airport and it is a little below the belt to judge people when you see them in an airport. They are probably looking their absolute worst and feeling like crap. I know I was. Then I got on the plane and sat next to a man who had such terribly wind, I couldn't sleep.

Ahh, airtravel. I can't wait to go again and pay a large sum of money to be treated like a hostage for 5 hours. No food, barely enough liquid to keep one hydrated, and trapped in small space and very limited opportunity to relieve oneself.

Funny things from Craigslist (again)

Ryan sold his motorbike using one of my favourite avenues for sampling the colourful soup that is the rest of the population, Craiglist. Here is a note he received from someone, in response to his ad.

Williams Smith:

Hi
am interested in buying the bike get back
to me with more info and how long you have owns it and also like to
know if you re the original owner.
Thanks


Ryan's response:

Sorry, the bike has been sold. I'll pull the ad this evening when I
get home from work.

-Ryan

Now the strange bit:

Ok
Got it i will like to purchase as it is, and like to make the
payment asap and the payment we be via cashiers check that
i will send to you so get to me with your name and address to write
the check out.And concerning the shipping i will handle
the shipping via my shipping company so all i need to do now is to
send you a check of excess fund so you can deduct your
money and send the excess to my shipping who is currently in bay area
for the pick at yourresidence after the check clears
to my house here in Florida so get back to me with the info to send
the check out.please contact me now for immediate
arrangement
Thanks
Am happy doing business with you.

After I read the above correspondence, I came up with a response, although I suspect Ryan will just ignore Mr. Williams Smith.


Dear Strange Person Who Clearly Does Not Read Very Well,

As I stated earlier, I have already SOLD THE BIKE. In addition to this, I refuse to do business with scam artists. Maybe you aren't a scam artist. If not, I strongly suggest you learn to write properly because your illiteracy strongly suggests to me that if you are not trying to "pull something" to use the parlance of our times, you would be incapable of completing even the smallest of transactions, let alone something that involved shipping a $3500 bike across the United States.

I am curious though: what the hell were you planning on doing?

-Ryan

Around the corner from our new house in Ithaca:

Hike!

Part of my goodbye to California weekend

Another hedge fund manager bites the dust. Well. Fakes biting it.

Chat from several months ago:

1:28 PM me: I've been following the Norman Hsu case. I think it's really funny.
I'm not sure why.

1:29 PM His pictures make him look like a basset hound.

He's also a moron.

I also think the phrase "Ponzi scheme" is funny. That might be part of it.

1:35 PM Ryan: I haven't heard of Norman Hsu.

I'll look it up

1:36 PM me: He's that democratic fund raiser from Hong Kong that was recently discovered to have a 15 year old outstanding warrant for his arrest in SM county.

Ryan: right

I recall now

me: He was summarily arrested and then brought to court, at which point he convinced them he was not a flight risk.

Then he took flight.

No one knew where he went.

1:37 PM Until he fell violently ill on a train in Colorado.

He will be extradited to California, where I imagine he will try and convince them that he is not a flight risk.

1:38 PM Ryan: which will probably not work again

1:39 PM and there are now charges against him in NY

me: He has since been found to be the mastermind of a Ponzi scheme, which was how he was getting the $850,000 he gave to Hillary Clinton's campaign in addition to the other money he has donated to the Democratic party.

Ryan: the NY fraud charges include investments totalling more than 40M$.

1:40 PM me: Yep. The reason he was caught in CO was because he fell "violently ill."

on the train.

1:41 PM I think that phrase itself is really, really funny.

Ryan: I imagine him throwing up in someone's lap

me: Violently!

Ryan: causing grievous bodily harm

I bring this chat to your attention because I found that story so funny. I mean, stuff like that doesn't even happen in movies. Why? Because even in the most farcical Schwarzeneggar/Van Damme/Segal movie the writers would find the whole story utterly implausible.

Maybe it isn't right to laugh at people who are obviously so sick in their heads with their megalomania that they actually believe they can get away with things like this. But here's another story that I find hilarious for the same, campy, ludicrously tragic (and tragically ludicrous) reasons.

A Paul Giamatti* doppelganger and former hedge fund manager, faked his own suicide by dramatically parking his car on a bridge, already popular amongst those wishing to kill themselves. He scrawled the words "Suicide is Painless" (I love it!) in the dust on his hood and then disappeared.

The best part? NOBODY BELIEVED HIM.

"“I’ll believe it when I see a body,” said Ross B. Intelisano, a lawyer at Rich & Intelisano, a law firm in New York. The firm is representing 20 investors who lost about $25 million in the collapse of Bayou, which was based in Stamford, Conn. “All of the clients I spoke to, their initial reaction was that it’s a ruse. It’s just another fraudulent act.”" -NYT

Apparently his mother talked him into turning himself in today. A big Edna Krapappel "HA!" for that one.

PS. I'd like to add that I drank Pinot Noir before Sideways came out AND I never saw it. I do love Paul Giamatti though, mainly for his portrayal of Harvey Pekar in American Splendor.

30 days

Well kids, Nothing witty or charming today, just a window into my sleepless little mind:

I have exactly one month to complete the following tasks:

* Have a wedding

* Have a going away party

* Fly to Ithaca to find a place to live

* Pack up all the things in our house to be taken away by the movers or to be taken in our little truck.

* Hang out with all my relatives that never ever come to the US

* Pack up all the things in our house to be taken away in our little truck

This list seems a little daunting, especially the first thing. Once that is taken care of and planned I think the other things will be easy.

Northern California is Burning Down

I have had a sore throat for 5 days because of this. I realise that California needs to burn because that's just how it works over here but I'm really uncomfortable and sleepy. Can't we just keep all the fires in Southern California? I don't like it as much as the Northern one.

Time Zones

This morning I was woken up at 5:30 in the am by someone incapable of subtracting 3 from 8:30. My instinct at when the phone rings at 5:30 am is to assume that someone has died, which makes the chemicals in my brain go cuckoo-bananas! and I am rendered unable to go back to sleep, even after discerning that it was Don from Prestigious Traditional Homes or something or other, trying to rent a house in Lansing to me. Thank you very much, Don from Prestigious Traditional Homes or whatever it is your rental company is called, I do not want to live in Lansing, I want to live in Ithaca, in a nice house downtown with a yard for my dog, like the one you had advertised.

I'm so resentful at having been woken up two times by this same person (he called Saturday morning at 8:45 am - a more respectable hour but still impolite) that I can't bring myself to return his phone call. There are some other factors as well - feeling a little baited by his ad and also the knowledge that he's going to try and convince me to do everything via fax and email, instead of arranging for me to see it in person, when I make my trip out to secure our lodgings.

Attica! Attica!

Kids, I am moving to Ithaca, not Attica, as the poor moving man mistakenly asked me today. He came to give me an estimate on how much it will cost to take our whopping 800lbs worth of stuff across the country and said

"You're moving from here tooooo....let's see...Attica, New York?"

This is what I thought about when he asked me that question:

Valances don't make houses ugly, people do.

Ryan says I'm being unkind and narrow minded for complaining about awful "window treatments" in all the houses we're looking to buy in Ithaca.

"They were from a different era, Alice."

"Yeah? My parents don't have awful window treatments."

"Your parents windows couldn't have those kind of curtains on their windows."

"But if they could, they wouldn't."

Then I remembered the awful artwork that decorated my parents house when we moved into it, all those years ago. It took months, perhaps years, for the awful 80's prints to get removed from the wall space which they occupied, banished into the garage and finally into a garage sale and out of the house forever.

"But I would never do that. I'd take that stuff down the day we moved in."

He muttered something in Latin about not faulting people with regards to their personal taste. I retorted with something in English about pots calling kettles black.

I wanted to say something about not faulting the people but instead faulting the treatments and then I realised that no, I really was holding it against them for having such ugly floral curtains.

Valances don't make houses ugly, people do.

Catharsis

I have written a letter-never-to-send because there were things I needed to vocalize and get off my chest, but I really felt that no one else should have to hear them nor do I think they would actually help the situation in any way, I hoped it would be cathartic. We'll see.

Maybe not as cathartic as the following though (warning, quite, quite NSFW and in case you're curious, the Wikipedia article on Norman Fowler):

A Final Indulgence

I finally feel normal. After 2.5 days of feeling really sick*, this morning, or perhaps late last night, I finally began to feel more human.

*sick as defined by, excruciating headache, sore throat, stuffed up nose and a general propensity to burst into tears for no legitimate reason.

It started when I got home from my incredible weekend. Here is a picture from my incredible weekend:

Margo, Me, Nikki, Larke

My wonderful friends, whom I suspect perhaps know me better than I know myself sometimes, surprised be with a trip to Cyrus in Healdsburg for an 8 course tasting menu. The meal was so amazing that we were still talking about it the next day. I'm still thinking about it and that was Saturday night! The wine! The sugared mint leaf that topped the first dessert course! The cucumber consommé! That, along with the bathing ritual in the Fairmont Sonoma mineral baths plus a barefoot Shiatsu massage! Heaven!

Then I got home, took a nap and woke up sick with Ryan's Cold From The Airplane. And for whatever reason, I was inexplicably emotional. Normally when I'm sick, I'm just sick. I get on with my life. But for whatever reason, my brain chemicals were affected this time as well and I felt so sad for two whole days!

As of this morning, I am snuffly but much cheerier. I've even finished editing a press release and writing an opening pitch. So. Here's to getting things done!

QI

I'm terrible at multitasking. Admittedly so. My last boss complimented me on my admittance of this to him: I admitted it in an effort to get him to actually give me things instructions, instead of smiling at me and telling me to be a "leader" not a "follower" (and then saying "We want you to be a Superstar").

HOWEVER. When I am cleaning the house, I invariably end up listening to either NPR or This American Life.

Since my last night in London though, when I had the fortune to have a free "newspaper" thrust at me several times outside the Russell Square tube station, and while I turned the man down, because I generally turn everything down that is shoved into my face, later one that day, I picked up someone's abandoned copy on the train and it had a television schedule in it. An episode of Stephen Fry's panel show QI was scheduled and I watched it. In my little bed-and-breakfast with an airlock for a bathroom (this place seriously had an airplane toilet shoved into on corner of the room, sealed off like a walk in refrigerator). And I enjoyed it and have been enjoying it this week, instead of TAL and NPR.

Buttercup

Perspectives

This weekend is my "bachelorette" (I really hate that word. Hate. Hate. HATE.). I am being swooped away to the Fairmont in Sonoma for a spa weekend and wine tasting by 3 of the dearest people to me. I am very excited. It will most likely be my last luxurious exploit before my departure into wife-of-a-grad-student land so I intend to relish it.

I am unfortunately missing Ryan's sister's college graduation. Actually, unfortunate is the incorrect word. Although I am disappointed that I will not be able to celebrate this rather important event, it is actually fortunate that I cannot go. Ryan’s strange ex-girlfriend, who has maintained a presence in his family's life, despite registering her utter mortification and disapproval at Ryan's engagement by way of a 1700 word diatribe about what a cruel, immature and unfeeling bastard and as such has no business getting married, finishing with asking him to never contact her again, will be in attendance.

ICK.

She and I have never met, and while part of me would relish watching her squirm and another part of me would like to have words with her, inappropriate as that might (or my words might) be, the other, more important part of me, the part of me concerned with my own future comfort and happiness, would really rather just enjoy a weekend with my caring, fun, open minded, supportive friends, than be in a tense situation created by the presence and actions of such a ridiculous person, entertaining though it might be.

*

*

*

And while her correspondence did make me quite upset, her plan may have backfired though, depending on exactly what they were - neither I, nor Ryan, have been able to discern exactly what she wishes to get out of the situation. Anyway, Ryan and I got in an argument in the Tate Modern in London with regards to the validity of most modern art. In short, I really like Rothko and he does not. I felt quite badly afterwards because I, in a fevered effort to understand Ryan’s perspective, had placed words in his mouth. I regretted what I said fully, because it wasn’t fair and I knew better. I knew better because the whole debacle with this silly girl highlighted to me that he and I have two very different perspectives on some things, instead of “warning me” about what a “cold and withdrawn” person he is. And while he and I have lived very different lives, we have reached a lot of the same conclusions but not all of the same conclusions. Which should keep things interesting for years to come.

I’m so in love.

Life Imitates Fiction

Dick King Smith stories come to life in this article about a pig who is afraid of mud.

For the unitiated and unfamiliar, Dick King Smith has written numerous children's stories, the one you may be familiar was turned into an appallingly bad film called Babe based on his charming book, The Sheep-Pig. My favourite was always Daggie Dogfoot.

It is unfortunate that so many British children's authors just never made it over here, although, perhaps if they had, JK Rowling wouldn't have been elevated to the creative genius status that she has. Not to say that her books aren't good: she's just following in the tradition of many British children's authors that have written creative and compelling stories that are as entertaining to adults as they are to children.

Interesting Things on The Internet

Found this today while doing research at work. Apparently this veterinary trade magazine, Veterinary Practice News, has a contest called "They ate WHAT?!". Contestants are invited to submit x-rays. This year's winner: A Burmese Python "that had not only consumed its dinner, a rabbit, but the electric blanket underneath the bunny."

The student prize winner was a dog that ate a stuffed dog. The (real) dog apparently has a "history of eating socks".

Check out the slide show of runner-ups.

Urad Dal

Good news!

Ryan and I made Real Indian Food last night! We bought some asafoedita to go with some urad dal found in Wegmans whilst on our jaunt to Ithaca (that's the sort of souvenir we buy - weird food that we have been unable to find elsewhere).

Perhaps this is bad news though. Because once I learned that I could make delicious Italian food at home that was usually better (if I do say so myself) than the stuff you find in most restaurants, I was put off going to Italian restaurants. I refuse to go to "Mediterranean" or "Greek" restaurants as I can make better humus and tastier tabbouleh at home for a fraction of the cost. Incidentally, most "Greek" or "Mediterranean" restaurants are called so as to hide the fact that they are serving tasteless, less interesting versions of Arab food, which is food I grew up eating, so I know how it's supposed to taste.

So perhaps now that we have the secret ingredient...I'll no longer like going to Indian restaurants. At least in this country. Because the 2 (well 3, if you count the deli in Russell Square at which I gobbled down 2 veggie samosas in a matter of minutes) Indian restaurants I ate at in London kicked the crap out of the restaurants in this country. Why? The food was appropriately spicy and flavourful. For a country that used to be famed for it's poor cuisine, the adopted national food of the British is far more adventurous than the Indian food in this country - and I live in the Bay Area. Where there are tons of Indians. If you didn't know.

I had leftover urad dal for elevensies, and I'm thinking about eating some more, except Ryan is probably thinking about having it for dinner (I'll bet he took some with him for lunch) and a really frustrating thing is to be looking forward to something you have at home to eat only to find it not there.

Return!

I have returned. I saw all of my relatives. It was beautiful and restorative and I drank more tea than I knew what to do with. I ate pickled onions and wensleydale cheese. My grandmother turned 100. It was Green, Everywhere. I watched sheep shearing. I visited old castles. I spent hours in used bookstores. I drank a lot of beer. A lot.

You can look at pictures from the trip here and here. There will be more to follow.

This is why I'm going to England

(stolen image from my silly brother's blog)

Tomorrow I leave for England.

Hopefully my experience at the airport won't be like this:

Searching for Jobs In Ithaca

Remember this?

Well I've found something even better.

"I don't see what the problem was."

Ryan's grandfather, I gather, was an interesting man. Ryan told me a story this morning about how he was kicked out of a bank because he called a teller a lard ass. His account was closed and he was handed a cashiers check.

"I don't see what the problem was. She was a lard ass."

Ryan has also mentioned words of guidance that his grandfather gave him. Something about broken hearts and people liking him for no good reason.
--------------
One of his friends "rejected" our invitation. That is to say, upon request for her address, she told him she wouldn't be comfortable attending. I wonder what would possess anyone to do that. I thought about it and thought about it and realized that the -polite- thing to do is to just respond to the invitation with a "not attending". As it stands, it feels like she's boycotting the wedding. (Yes, this is the second person not attending the wedding because it is "uncomfortable" for them)

Granted I've never met her so I really can't say why she would feel uncomfortable at the wedding. There are theories, but I shouldn't really speculate. It's unfair. She's missing a great party.
--------------
I have just been feeling so upset recently. Oversensitive. Scared. Insecure. I attributed it last week to my female brain chemicals going a little haywire as they are wont to do, oh, about once every 28 days or so. (I honestly started crying at the beginning of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - who does that?? what the hell is wrong with me??). But that's all over with now and I'm still a Bundle Of Nerves and feeling very, very unlike myself.

I feel a little guilty now.

The Patients Voice invites to a ResBlog about Gout


Dear Friend


May I take this opportunity to invite you to a new online research blog discussing the impact of gout on lifestyle and environment?


If you suffer from gout then this is a great opportunity to share your views. By doing so you may have a positive impact on the treatment options on offer in the future.


To take part please click the link below:


http://www.thepatientconnections.com/blog.asp?uid=z0nsrl



Please bear in mind that all contributions can be anonymous and your comments will be used to design a new international research project.


Contribution is easy! Just fill in a user name of your choice and type in your comments.


Feel free to share this link with anyone you may feel would be interested. We are very keen to hear their views as well.


Kind regards and many thanks for your help


Belinda
The Patients Voice – Community Manager

Drivetrains and what not

Inventors have developed a variety of methods to transmit power from the rider’s legs to the bicycle, but none can compete with the high efficiency, reliability, and low cost of chain drives. Derailleurs and internal hub gears are devices that allow riders to match pedaling speed (cadence) to changing terrain.

The rear derailleur moves the chain from one rear sprocket to the next. The front derailleur moves the chain from one front chainwheel to the next. By varying the size of the sprockets and chainwheels, the rear wheel can turn faster or slower than the crank. Modern bicycles have up to 10 sprockets on the rear freewheel and 3 chainwheels on the crank, providing a theoretical maximum of 30 different gear ratios. The rear derailleur includes a spring-loaded pulley to take up chain slack. In the 1990s simple levers for shifting were replaced by trigger and twist-grip mechanisms that precisely positioned the derailleurs in the centred positions and thereby reduced the skill required for shifting gears. Rear internal hub gears are available with 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, and 14 speeds. They are slightly less efficient than derailleurs.

-Encyclopaedia Britannica

I'm trying to figure out the cheapest way to fix up the bike Jessie gave me. I may have to purchase a whole new drivetrain, I have been told. But before I do that, I think I need to know exactly what a drivetrain is. So I'm learning.

I think I have gout.

Or something. Ever since Saturday morning, my calcaneus has been really, really, really painful. I realise that this is probably not gout, as gout affects joints, not calcaneus bones but wouldn't it be sort of humorous if I did have gout?

I could grow a big red nose and wear a tam-o-shanter, drink whiskey constantly, shout at the "help" and molest the parlour maids. Occasionally, when my gout wasn't acting up, I would go for walks on the moors to look at my sheep and mutter to myself.


It's actually the right side of my calcaneus, which is a word I learned in anatomy class. A class I almost failed. But I do remember the calcaneus. I also remember sitting with my professor after the final - I had been consistently doing abysmally on all the exams in the lab, so my poor performance on the final was not a complete shock to either of us. The problem, though, was not with my intentions. I had studied and studied and studied, to no avail. I tried so hard to cram the information into my head, but it just would not stick. My brain would willfully cry out: "There must be another, shorter, easier, faster way! This isn't the way we do things! We can't be expected to remember tiny details that have little or no consequence to the way things work!" But cram I would, despite the fact that it was a little like trying to put up wallpaper without any adhesive except your own saliva.

My professor stared across the lab table from me. He was such a nice man, with a haircut leftover from a time when he must have been a member of a folk band, shaggy and ear covering but purposefully so. We called him Peter, Paul, Mary, and Peter (his first name, was in fact, Peter) and in class, he often talked about love.

"I just don't get it. You clearly study. You ask questions. You got an A in the lecture portion. You pay attention, you've been to every lab section. Why did you do so poorly??"

"I don't know." I responded tearfully.

"Well. As long as you promise never to be a doctor, I'll see what I can do. What's the lowest grade you need for this to count for your major?"

So, I solemnly promised never to be a doctor and I passed human anatomy. So I know how the human body works, I just can't name all the parts.

My calcaneus doesn't hurt any less though, for me being able to remember it's name and the muscle attachments surrounding it also hurt, from compensating for it. I'm pretty sure I don't have gout, but I wonder what I do have - there's no bruise or other visible injury and no swelling. I haven't done anything to warrant such excruciating pain and it has only subsided minimally since Monday which was the worst day. The dog is suffering because I have not been able to walk him to full capacity. Hi-Ho. At least, thanks to the internet, I should be able to self diagnose in a few minutes, although I'm not sure if that may be violating my promise to Peter, Paul, Mary and Peter...

Old Entry!

There was a point in my life when I was convinced I was going crazy and, in and effort to disprove this fact, I started cataloguing random people I thought might be crazier than me. Here was the first entry.

People Weirder Than Me

Sunday, October 01, 2006

In the spirit of making lists, I thought it only fair that if I am keeping track of people who think _I'm_ crazy, I should keep track of people who _I think_ are crazy.

Here's the first entry:

http://www.unicorn-dream.co.uk/hooves2.html

This is a website about how to make your own hooves. It's not really that funny, just alarming. Especially because the demonstration picture features a hand belonging to a grown man:

The website, which explains exhaustively (in 6 stages to be exact) the process of making hooves for oneself, also points out that although the directions are for single-toed hooves, "With some thought, there is no reason why the same technique cannot be adapted for bifurcated hooves, so all you wouldbe unicorns, deer, goats, sheep, and cattle - don't despair"

It also instructs it's readers to go and look at a real horse, by way of booking a riding lesson at a local riding program. Because just marching up to a riding instructor and telling them you need to look at some hooves, as you are making a pair to wear around the house would just be plain weird.

The best part is the very end though. I can't really summarize it, I just start laughing too hard every time I read it:

"Unless things have gone drastically wrong, You should now be a quadruped! Hope you have as much fun with them as I have! (And if you want to take the challenge, wearing hooves I've managed to dress, type, write with a pen, read a book, and pick up individual nuts from a bowlful!)"

There you have it. Someone wierder than me.

Much weirder.

Cleaning Strategization

The dinner was a success. After 2 whole days of cooking and one evening of eating, I am holed up in the bedroom, really not motivated to go into the kitchen. I feel that I must strategise the cleaning process before I can face it. But that could just be procrastination.

The food was really, really yummy though and everything went really well together. The next job is to eat all the leftovers before we leave for England in a little under 2 weeks.

A word from our sponsors:

So the meal is coming along the way, I'll have an update soon. In the meantime, here's some music:

Addendum:

The menu will now consist of:

Antipasto:
Pickled onions (made again - this time crunchier and thus better) (check)
Olives (check)
Pickled mushrooms (a delicious check)
Something other than the awful Marinated Artichokes I made this evening.
Roasted Green Beans
Just White Beans (Moosewood again)
Fresh bread (a-rising as I type)


Main Course:
Stuffed Courgettes in a Red Pepper Sauce, with Tomato Risotto, plus Multi Bean Salad

Dessert:
Chocolate mousse, with Kate's Vegan Cheesecake with Blood Orange Glaze.

The lemon mousse was a disaster, and clearly the people who instructed me to use "silken tofu" to make mousse have never actually eaten mousse. Because it's nothing like mousse, no matter how you blend it. It is pudding that they are instructing you to make, so rather than make the intended mousse, I made Lemon Pudding. Which wasn't terrible, it just wasn't mousse. Far better choice: Coconut milk, whipped in a chilled bowl, with a teaspoon of agar and some cream of tartar. The added bonus is that you don't have to use tofu, which is not my favourite for a number of reasons. Being linked to Alzheimers, the Plaster of Paris content, and the fact that it is in so many vegetarian dishes that I eat at restaurants, leave me bored, a little terrified of it and not interested in cooking it at home very often. Not that I don't eat it often, but seitan or tempeh are both much more interesting "substitutes".

Mother's Day

The whole family will be here. My parents, my brother, his girlfriend, Ryan's parents & his sister. I intend to cook an entirely vegan meal. I have been cogitating and conferring and have come up with an idea of a meal.

Antipasto:
Pickled onions (already done)
Olives (already...purchased - I'll get around to this one day! It just takes so damn long unless you want to use lye!)
Pickled mushrooms (Ryan made these - was sampled them last night and they were flavoured well but oh so salty, but we removed some brine and replaced it with hot water, hopefully to mitigate the saltiness)
Marinated Artichokes (It's artichoke season! Yay! Why am I moving to New York again??)
Roasted Green Beans (from the Moosewood Cookbook)
Fresh bread (We'll start the dough rising this evening or tomorrow, so it will have at least a whole day to rise before it gets baked)

Main Course:
Stuffed Courgettes (from Moosewood again) with Seasonal Risotto (I've been making Spring Pea Risotto, but as in season as they are, the peas are too expensive. Since I've got to buy a lot of other stuff, I think I won't splurge this time on the peas- usually when cooking for dinner guests, I allow one "splurge" - last time I bought 3 heirloom tomatoes for the salad that went with an amazing vegetarian Shepherd's Pie)

Dessert:
Lemon Mousse with Berry Sauce

The mousse I intend to make today. Unfortunately I have been unsuccessful finding a vegan lemon mousse recipe, so I am going to experiment. If it works, then it can keep in the fridge until Sunday and be just as good with berry sauce then. If it doesn't work (and is Awful), well, we can resort to the usual delicious pie of some variety Ryan has been perfecting for years.

Pickled Onions

I have been somewhat neglectful about my recipes on here. Recently, we made a terrible batch of yoghurt that got all grainy and weird as soon as the starter was added, so I made it into yoghurt cheese and have been eating it alternately with sugar and vanilla or with bread, olives and pickled onions that I pickled, yummily, with cider vinegar and salt.

They are an awesome pink colour and the recipe could not be simpler:

2 chopped up red onions
1 cup cider vinegar
salt

I blanched the red onions in water, drained them and then put them back in the pot they were blanched in, with 1 cup of vinegar and about a teaspoon of salt. I added a little cold water to cover the onions and brought it back to a boil, after which I simmered for 1 minute. Transferred the contents of the pot to a jar and stuck it in the fridge and then had them for breakfast the next day.

YUM.

Please Make The Gardenburgers Stop

This article in Slate Magazine has a great point:

"As long as we're discussing restaurants, allow me a quick word with the hardworking chefs at America's dining establishments. We really appreciate that you included a vegetarian option on your menu (and if you didn't, is our money not green?), but it may interest you to know that most of us are not salad freaks on a grim slog for nourishment. We actually enjoy food, especially the kind that tastes good. So enough with the bland vegetable dishes, and, for God's sake, please make the Gardenburgers stop; it's stunning how many restaurants lavish unending care on their meat dishes yet are content to throw a flavorless hockey puck from Costco into the microwave and call it cuisine. Every vegetarian is used to slim pickings when dining out, so we're not asking for much—just for something you'd like to eat. I'll even offer a handy trick. Pretend you're trapped in a kitchen stocked with every ingredient imaginable, from asiago to zucchini, but with zero meat. With no flesh available, picture what you'd make for yourself; this is what we want, too."

Knowing how easy it is to make a delicious, satisfying vegetarian (even vegan) meal, there is no excuse for restaurants that offer a vegetarian option, to offer something as revolting as a Gardenburger. Case in point 7 in San Jose , on my friend Larke's birthday(a warning on the link to the restaurant I provided, turn your speakers off before you follow it, unless you are super into cheesy 90's synth xylophone lounge music). They had nothing vegetarian on the menu, except on thing that would require some minor adjustments. I explained my adjustments to the waitress, only to be greeted by an interruption and a frowny face: they were out of that particular dish. I explained my predicament, she said, no problem, I'll have the chef whip something up.

My dish was an amazing stuffed bell pepper full of seasonal vegetables, flavoured with cumin & coriander and lovingly placed on a mat woven out of zucchini and carrot strips. In short, it was delicious. I sent my complements to the chef.

Granted this was a nice restaurant with real chefs, etc. But, so many times I've gone to similar establishments and had the waitress furrow her eyebrows and finally bring me out steamed vegetables with a side of mashed potatoes (incidentally, this has become my staple at un-vegetarian friendly restaurants. Chances are, if they have "Gardenburger" on the menu, they'll be able to make the dish for you and it will be at least edible - after all who can mess up steamed vegetables or mashed potatoes??).

It's an interesting article (albeit poorly written - his main problem appearing to be not having a thesaurus handy) and reflects a lot of my own sentiments about being vegetarian. Some particularly pertinent points:

"For those kind-hearted omnivores who willingly invite feral vegetarians into their homes for dinner parties and barbecues (really! we do that, too!), the same rule applies—but also know that unless you're dealing with an herbivore who is a prick for unrelated reasons, we don't expect you to bend over backward for us. In fact, if we get the sense that you cooked for three extra hours to accommodate our dietary preferences, we will marvel at your considerate nature, but we will also feel insanely guilty."


"The U.S. boasts more than 10 million herbivores today, yet most Americans assume that every last one is a loopy, self-satisfied health fanatic, hellbent on draining all the joy out of life."

"Now, when I say that vegetarians are normal people with normal food cravings, many omnivores will hoist a lamb shank in triumph and point out that you can hardly call yourself normal if the aroma of, say, sizzling bacon doesn't fill you with deepest yearning. To which I reply: We're not insane. We know meat tastes good; it's why there's a freezer case at your supermarket full of woefully inadequate meat substitutes."

(interestingly enough a lot of cultures have separate words for "hunger" and "hunger for meat", we also have an enzyme, that we create, in our bodies, for digesting cooked meat.)

"Finally, grant me one more cordial request: Please don't try to convince us that being vegetarian is somehow wrong. If you're concerned for my health, that's very nice, though you can rest assured that I'm in shipshape. If you want to have an amiable tête-à-tête about vegetarianism, that's great. But if you insist on being the aggressive blowhard who takes meatlessness as a personal insult and rails about what fools we all are, you're only going to persuade me that you're a dickhead."

More strange things I found on the internet.

Hold onto your hats, fellow brides! You're not going to want to be out of the loop on this latest bridal fashion trend! "Savvy Sneakers"!! See below:


Also available on the site, for the ease of those who like everything to be labeled as the thing that it is, this lovely t-shirt:

!

Addendum, July 2008: Oh you wily, sneaky sneaker makers who changed the addresses for the above photos: no amount of web hackery will make your wares any less disgusting. Particularly that awful tank top that reads: "Finally!" in rhinestones across the boobs, followed with the description "Have you been waiting for to be engaged, and you finally are? This tank is perfect for you! Sparkling crystals spell out "finally!" in your choice of colors. and you can choose between a tiara, solitaire ring or BRIDE brooch." I don't need to go into the bad grammar nor should I have to go into why that particular sentiment is so disgusting.

Worst weekend ever

Okay. So maybe not ever. But still for awhile.

Highlight (lowlights?)

-Being flaked on by my own mother. To work on planning the wedding. She actually went and did something with my brother instead. The something was something that I wanted to do, but had turned down because I had plans with my mother.

-Falling off my Brand New Bike. Okay so it's not brand new, but it's new for me. It's a 1970 Centurion road bike, so retro! and so much lighter than the free mountain bike I got from the nonogenarian across the street from my parents. I fell off avoiding a small dog, scraped up my hands and then Ryan ran over my back wheel, thus bending it, perhaps irreparably. Stupid dog.

-We were out of peas for the scramble I wanted to make on Sunday morning.

-My car is ill. So very ill. $3200 ill. I also had one of those days when I start to feel really upset about moving. The expense, the decisions, the hassle. I like my furniture, I like our home. I like all my friends and I'm going to miss them so terribly.

Anyway. Here's a link to picture of my family, enjoying themselves, without me.

Breakfast this morning:

Home made wheat bread, home made pickled red onions, home made lebne (made from home made yoghurt), olives and fried potatoes.

Delish!

Speakeasy

I went to see Chris Cotton play last night. Here's a news article about him. It was at Biscuits & Blues, downtown, and perhaps I've been reading too much Dashiell Hammett and PG Wodehouse recently, but I felt like I'd been sent back in time to some 1920's speakeasy, except we weren't all as well dressed as we would have been. You walk into a blue grey room with a girl sitting behind a counter and merchandise lying around. It could easily be some little SF boutique that sells who knows what, except that there's a stairwell at the back, which you go down into a dimly lit room with red table cloths and candles. And of course the music is old time, finger picking blues. He even played "Won't you come home Bill Bailey" at one point. It also helped that I knew a lot of people there and people who I'd seen around and recognized kept appearing.

Lots of fun.

Lists: more from the Internet

This article in the NY Times, lead me to a picture of Tennessee Fainting Goats, which of course lead me to YouTube, where I found the following clip:



Summary of the comments that I scanned: Mostly just people feeling sorry for the goats (which I agree with) or they think the goats are funny (which I also agree with). There were people discussing how stupid the goats were for evolving such a useless trait and worst of all, using the goats as an argument in favour of creationism and one comment suggesting group selectionism (shudder) as a possible positive result of the mutation. There were also quite a few comments with regards to the fact that the trait has remained in the species because people keep breeding the goats with the mutation and thus is continues to be passed on (and is it really such a stupid trait, if it managed to interest humans enough to continue to breed from the 3 original goats with the mutation?).

I was going to have a long diatribe at how awful our public school education system is and how stupid people are and what a crime it is that parents don't instruct their kids about the value of knowledge and learning about the world around you.

But you all know that stuff already. Poor goats.

Lists: Funny Things I Found Today On The Internet

1. Emailed to my spam account:

Confirming a cash deposit totaling Fifteen million five hundred thousand united state dollars. [15.5m] kept in custody for us in a security company unknown to the company that the content is money hence it was deposited as personal belongings.I want to transfer this money to your account. Contact me direct to my private box so that I can feed you full with details. Email:jacobkamala@gmail.com Phone:+27 83 237 33 22. Jacob Kamala (for the family)

Please feel free to email this man, so he can be sure to "feed you full with details." You know. For the family.

2. Google Sponsored link, in an email from Ryan, regarding a conversation his mother had with the mother of one of his ex-girlfriends (the one that behaved civilly upon hearing the news that he is engaged, as opposed to the one that threw a tantrum).

http://re-attraction.com

For those too lazy to visit the link, here is a smattering of the text, it reminds me of the ads for Axe body spray:

"Best-Selling Seduction Author Reveals How He Has Taught Hundreds Of Men To Attract Their Ex Back Into Their Arms... And How You Can Use These Secrets To Get Your Girl Back -- Even If She Told You Never To Call Again!"

"You can win your woman back. You can do it within just 30 days. And this system works no matter how complicated your situation is... no matter how bad you screwed up... and even if she's now dating another guy!"

[Really?? Even if I gave her herpes??No!]

"When you regain your woman's love and affection, it's not going to be by continuing to be a beta male who constantly kisses her ass. Nor is it going to be by calling her and texting her 18 times a day. (That just drives her away.)"

[Apparently.]

"A word of caution: this Is NOT the kind of guide you'll find in bookstores. It's way too controversial to be picked up by a mainstream publisher."

[Whoa! Mainstream publishers think that this is too controversial? I understand that book publishers as a rule have a moral standard that they feel they need to uphold, even if it means that they lose money, but surely this is such valuable information that it must be their duty to provide this information to people! Standards be hanged!]

"You should only get this guide if you can handle the power of knowing the exact mental hot buttons to press with your ex-girlfriend... and promise to use these remarkable mind-control techniques for moral purposes only!"

[Hear that? Moral Purposes Only.]

"No offense to the guy (because he didn't know any better), but by being so clingy and stalking his ex, he was going about it all wrong."

[Sage advice.]

In Which Alice Is Mistaken For A Mormon

This last weekend we went to the wedding of Ryan's cousin. She is Mormon, as are her parents and most of her siblings.

It was a little strange and at times I felt like I had been time and location warped to some small town in Kansas in 1952. Complete with orange sherbet (non alcoholic) punch and things made with lots of food colouring.
I was asked over and over again the following questions:

"So....What do you do?" (Work for a publicist. No not admin, I write copy and edit and help build campaigns.)
"Where are you from?" (I was born in England. I lived in Syria, my father is Syrian, my mother is English. Then we moved to the Bay Area.)
"Oh...I can kind of hear your accent..." (Yes. You can.)
"How did you and Ryan meet?? (The Onion.)

It was a little tiresome...but they were all so welcoming and nice that I didn't really mind.

It started with family portraits in the morning (Which was fun as I am included when the word family is invoked!) and then we went to Ryan's aunt's house, ate sandwiches from "La Bou" (I hate it when companies try and sharpen their image by shortening their name to something entirely inane) and explained the theory of evolution by natural selection to Ryan's 12 year old cousin. It made me even more upset with the public school system - she asked her teacher the following question:

"If we came from monkeys then does that mean the monkeys will one day become us?"

Her teacher's response:

"Yes."

Which is worrisome. It's a perfectly reasonable question for a 12 year old, particularly if you come from a family that believes "What man is, God once was; What God is man will be" BUT to have a middle school science teacher not understand the theory of evolution by natural selection? And to spread this kind of misinformation? Worrisome.

Anyway. It was a fun afternoon, albeit a little long. It was nice to meet all these people who share genetic information with my (future) husband.

The reception was where things became a little eery, and more than a little of that was due to the fact that Summer leaned over towards the beginning of the evening and whispered:

"Everyone here is wearing secret underwear but us!"

I spent a good portion of the rest of the evening staring at men's necks and women's panty lines, trying to discern the silhouette of the "garment" that they were most assuredly wearing and also wondering how on earth they had managed that day in the blistering central valley heat. The two glimpses I got of actual garment (one when a cousin was adjusting her skirt and the other when another cousin leaned back in his chair while wearing shorts) made it seem to me that they were rather thick and made of some sort of ace bandage like material, although the pictures on this site make it look like they are of a lighter, more breathable material.

I was wearing a new dress from BCBG that I had bought because I thought it would be versatile, the kind of thing I could wear to a barbecue wearing flats or put on heels and wear it to a dinner... it also has short sleeves instead of spaghetti straps (or no sleeves) and as I realized later on, provided enough coverage that I could easily be concealing my own secret underwear.

At one point I was introduced to a man, who I later found out was the groom's father. He was all a twitter when he found out where I lived, as his other son was going to be moving there for an internship. He said, the first time we talked about it, that I would have to talk to his son about living in this area.

I thought this was an empty threat, the kind of thing that people say at cocktail parties, "Oh sure, we should totally go bike riding some time. I'll take you to this awesome place." or "Yeah, you should really talk to my friend's cousin, he's a doctor and he knows about that sort of thing." or "I'll get your email address and send you that link, it's so funny." So I nodded and agreed, "Yeah, I should talk to him. You know it's really expensive there..."

Little did I know that it wasn't an empty threat, that this strange man I'd never seen before (and will most likely never see again) actually did want me to talk to his son. Later on in the evening, he found me and ushered me over to a baby faced boy named Jessemiah or Macob or Dovid or Abrafrom or something (they all seemed to have vaguely biblical names that also sounded made up) and said, "Here's my son, he's a senior and he's going to be moving to your town soon." I assumed, by the guys appearance that he was implying that he was a senior in high school. I asked him if he knew where he was going to be living, thinking that I could direct him to interesting places near by. He said no, and then, gesturing to a very pregnant girl sitting on a chair nearby,
"We've been looking in Menlo Park, Palo Alto...honey, where else have we looked?"
The first thought in my head was, "I knew they got married young but this is ridiculous! She looks 7 months pregnant! Maybe those FLDS Mormons aren't as far removed from the mainstream religion as they all want us to think..."
Then I realized that he must just be getting ready to graduate college, not high school (which is still young, but not quite as scary).
His father stood next to me and I started feeling more and more awkward. Just what was I supposed to tell these people? Where the bars were? My favourite restaurants? At that moment Ryan walked up and the dad, seemingly somewhat relieved, grabbed him and introduced him to Jerub or Marshom or whatever his name was, and I watched Ryan fumble through exactly the same conversation. Thankfully he was interrupted by a skinny photographer, who whisked us away to have our picture taken. I avoided the groom's father for the rest of the evening.

In the car on the way home, I told the story to the rest of Ryan's immediate family.

"Just what did he expect me to say?" I added. "Was I supposed to invite his son over for dinner? Introduce his son to my friends?"

Ryan's mother said, "Ohhh. He thought you were Mormon. You were supposed to tell his son which ward to join and where the churches were."

That was when I realized that my dress could very well have been concealing secret underwear. Then I started to think about how strange that was because for me, it was like a complete stranger had walked up to me and asked me to discuss something intensely personal with another complete stranger and I thought it was rude. But it did not appear that way to him: it was matter of course. So I guess we were both offended.

Getting Paid to Drink

I clicked on this link because I was intrigued by the headline, "Getting paid to drink."

If you'll read the article, you'll find it is about a man who's son has hired 2 people to take his 88 year old dad out to the pubs every evening - "to give him some of his old life back."

Quite sweet, don't you think? I really love old people.

Yoghurt

Tonight I am making Summer's birthday present. Several weeks ago, Ryan & I decided that we'd try making our own bread regularly instead of buying it from the store. This has worked so far. I even made focaccia - although we had no rosemary handy, so I used thyme instead - highly recommended (by me).

We have also started making our own yoghurt. So this evening, I am making frozen yoghurt from yoghurt that Ryan made...without an ice cream maker.

This is time consuming. I am following these instructions. And folding laundry in between the 20 minute increments.

Mother's Day Fun!

Just in time for Mother's Day, a new book out, written by a plastic surgeon, is designed to help kids cope with their mother's plastic surgery, resulting from the "mommy makeover" trend. It's called "My Beautiful Mommy" by Michael Salzhauer, M.D. and my sentiments are correctly represented in this review from the Times.

Sick, sick, sick.

"but it's okay, because I'd seen everything..."

Borrowed from Kenny L.:

tee hee!

Ripped off from my brother's page:

Bad ideas made worse by cheesy mascots

While doing research today, I came across pickle flavoured ice lollies (or "popsicles" as I think they are referred to in this country) -the idea is as thoroughly revolting as the previously mentioned Cel-Ray drink.

According to the "culinary experts of Texas" though, I'm wrong and they're delicious.

I'm not sure really what the point is. Pickle juice is rather disgusting. The product itself isn't made out of the leftover liquid after you finish a jar; it's made from pickles themselves.

So why not just eat frozen pickles? Or regular pickles?

The answer:

Because then you don't get to have a cheesy mascot + sidekicks. And isn't that the sweetest taste of all?

2 Unrelated Topics.

"There is nothing wrong with it — it’s not illegal. But it’s ugly."
WILLIAM H. GROSS, chief investment officer of Pacific Investment Management, on hedge fund managers’ earnings.

Here, here.

------------------------------

Here's an article about whether eating dogs is okay. I say, if you eat other animals, then yes, eating dogs is okay.

It made me think of something that I have discussed with various people in the past though. Extremist animal rights activists are often in favour of not having pets and not having domesticated animals. But I think that's a very human-centrist point of view. If it's in the best interest of the individual species to continue to pass on it's genetic material, then what better way than to latch on to another species that will raise them, feed them and keep them safe from predators? Is domestication really as one sided as we have been led to believe?

prug.

I'd like to instruct everyone to listen to this man's music. It's been in my head for days. I really think it's awesome.

broked window

N,

Why don't you give me a call tonight when you guys are wrapping up this evening and we'll go from there - I'll see if Margo & David want to join us. As far as Sunday goes, I think that John's thing starts at 6 but I have to double check...

Here's a funny story: I'm sitting at on my couch, having just got home from work and in a fit of appreciation for the amazing weather, decided to open every single window in my house. I started with the back door and the kitchen, moved into the dining room and then the set on the side of the living room, finally getting to the windows in the front, above the couch.

Ryan is always warning me about opening the front windows - one side is painted shut and the other is hanging on by one hinge. I threw caution to the wind and opened the first side, (the side that opens) rationalizing that if the window fell off it's one hinge, the rental company would be forced to send someone out to fix the window. I was incited then, perhaps by the fresh air, to push once again against the painted shut side - surely just a little push might dislodge the paint at least a little. With my palm pressed against the frame and my fingers against the metal at the bottom, I gave it a gently shove only to have the entire window fall out of the frame and shatter on the deck.

The good news is that the rental company did send someone out immediately - to replace the entire window no less. I still feel like an idiot though.

a

2 Pies

The first pie was a vegetable pie and it was kind of a miserable failure. Despite it's delicious looking ingredients:

It took FOREVER to cook (3 hours!) and came out dry and rather uninteresting - unlike our previous 4 attempts. Vegetable pies are a great alternative to soup when you have a lot of vegetables that you purchased with the best intentions but now need to be eaten-up-or-else. I unfortunately neglected to put the recipes in this blog, but I assure you they are hearty, yummy and last for several days (nice for breakfast, lunch or dinner). I'll post a recipe up here soon.

The second pie pictured was a Delicious Strawberry Pie. I had over zealously purchased 3 punnets of strawberries and only managed to eat one in a timely manner. I started by chopping up all the strawberries into 3rds or halves, whatever their shape warranted. I took some of them, along with some frozen raspberries that we had hanging around the freezer and pureed the lot in a blender and then heated the resulting puree, adding sugar and butter (not a large amount of sugar because I think pies are supposed to showcase the deliciousness of the fruit, not the sweetness of sugar). The un pureed strawberries went in a bowl to marinade with some more sugar for a bit. Ryan made his signature crust and the puree + chopped strawberries went in the crust, he finished by making the delicate lattice work you see above. Then it went in the oven and, following that, we ate it.

Old news

So I finished the knitting and felting portion of my bag about a week or so ago. I have just been excruciatingly lazy about getting the pictures onto the computer and then uploaded, MAINLY because we do not, at the moment, have Photoshop, so resizing them is a pain. Regardless, in the interest of documentation, here are the photos of the bag (well, really it's more of a clutch) that I created.


Look at the fine stitching on the word dope!

Here are the felty pictures. Felting was a rather smelly but thoroughly rewarding step. (please excuse the bottles of grög, it is being used as a vase, as is the pink lemonade bottle)


With vegetables inside (a tomato, potato and sweet potato), so that you may approximate the size of the bag:


I am currently working on a latch to keep it closed using i-chord, as well as scheming to purchase a felting needle so I can decorate the back (it's a little boring at the moment...)

But, it is, at the moment, USABLE AS A BAG, so it is, for the most part, finished.

NEXT PROJECT: The Inevitable Scarf. I am still working up the courage to try a sweater, and figure that despite my plethora of scarves that I already own/have made, I should make another one for Ithaca, mainly because I am So Afraid Of Being Cold. It would be comical, if it weren't so pathetic, how much my laziness is influenced by the possibility that I might get cold. "I could get ready for bed, but that would mean changing into my pajamas which might result in briefly getting a little chilly. I'll just sit here and watch another episode of A Bit Of Fry & Laurie on YouTube". The scarf is halfway done and is creamy white with brown flowers.

'hedgehog as weapon'

The article in the BBC news this morning, about a man who used a hedgehog as a weapon (he through it at a 15 year old boy) evokes the same feelings in me that the signs for a lost turtle decorating the trees in my neighbourhood.

1) It's so sad. So sad.
2) It's one of those things that makes me so sad, all I can do is laugh because I am so uncomfortable.

The Only Way To Crown Your Throne

I'm so excited that Ryan and I may get to buy a house, I'm already thinking of ways to decorate it. I totally admire my friend Margo's taste in furniture and I helped her move this last weekend and remembered how much I like it. Since we are discussing most likely not bringing our furniture with us to Ithaca, (although the anxious, borderline OCD, nervous wreck inside me finds that prospect alarming), it does get to mean that I get to pick out new furniture. I'm hoping to steal Margo's combination of pretty antique furniture with more modern, clean lined pieces and splashes of colour.

More than anything, I'm excited about potentially having multiple bathrooms to decorate, ever since I found this website. I sort of want to get one right away, but then if I match it to our current bathroom, who knows if it will match the one in Ithaca?