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to me that he and I have two very different perspectives on some things, instead of “warning me” about what a “cold and withdrawn” person he is.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?

My dog has learned to clean up after himself

A few days ago, Ryan made a tart:It was delicious. We had eaten all but one slice as of this morning, which I noticed was sitting on the counter this morning when I woke up. I thought to myself:

"I must not forget to put that away before I leave Jeeves here alone with it."


Then I promptly forgot to put it away before I left Jeeves alone with it. As soon as I got to work, I remembered. On my way home I started seeing images of shattered pyrex and pie all over the kitchen and sure enough, as soon as I opened the front door, he tried to dart out with his tail between his legs. I thwarted this attempt and he then shot into the bedroom and curled up on his bed. I walked into the kitchen and nothing. No shattered pie plate. No bits of apple smeared across the linoleum. Not even an uneaten pie sitting calmly in it's dish where I'd left it. Nothing. I checked the fridge to see if I had actually put it away before I'd left and just forgotten.

Then I looked in the sink, where, sure enough the dish was sitting, empty.

So Jeeves had eaten the pie and then put the dish in the sink.

Now if only I could get him to clean up his toys.

Making soup out of things I find in the fridge that have been labeled: Need To Be Eaten

Last night:

Lentils (2 cups? 1.5 cups?)
Chopped up 1/2 bulb of fennel, browned in olive oil, garlic, salt & fresh cracked black pepper
Chopped up potato, browned in the same
All tossed into water with
a chopped up tomato
Cumin
Oregano
Thyme
Salt
Pepper
Garlic
Lemon juice

Yum!

I guess I'll stick to tea, then.

According to this article, if you're looking for a stimulant, caffeine is a greener choice than cocaine. Of course there are more gruesome reasons not to do coke, that I have learned about from a former Navy Seal.

For a number of reasons, this reminded me of something Ryan told me when we were first seeing each other:

"You're not like any of the other girls I've dated."

"Why do you say that?"

"The other girls were all squares."

I responded in kind. All the other guys I've dated were photographers, painters or musicians, certainly not rocket scientists or anything close to it. They were gregarious, super creative emotional wrecks that usually did not make green choices (see above).

I'm so happy I broke that trend. (Honestly, the guy draws his own paycheck and doesn't ever ask me to buy him cigarettes!)

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

On the knitting front: I have almost completed a bag, knitted in the round, out of chocolate brown 100% worsted weight wool. I just have to finish the flap to close it and seam the bottom. Oh and knit a strap for it and felt the whole project. And then I want to decorate it with green leaves. But I've got to find a felting needle for that.

Okay. So not almost completed. But almost, almost completed. Pictures soon!

Troglodyte

I was in a terrible mood last night and I apologize for the use of the word "troglodyte." It was unfair and unnecessary, I just really like the word. And (clearly) tend to overuse it.
I was bitter and my brother's ex-girlfriend most certainly did not deserve that epithet.

I have since mastered knitting in the round on double pointed needles. Sweaters and hats for everyone to follow.

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

We are building the guest list for the wedding and getting ready to send out the invitations. Mainly gathering everyone's mailing address.

We received a wedding invitation recently that featured an engagement photo where the groom had eyebrows that would have looked more appropriate on a Puerto Rican drag queen. They were waxed and filled in with a dark pencil. They weren't actually on a Puerto Rican drag queen, they were on a very happy, smiling, clean cut guy in a brand new sweater and button down shirt, clearly bought for the occasion.

Anyway. Back to our list. It's a little confusing. Do you invite people you used to be close to and at one point would most assuredly have been on the list and yet you don't really talk to them much anymore? Do you invite people you've only known for a few months, but are quite close to and would most certainly invite to any other party that was not a wedding? Do you invite people you really don't want to see but propriety indicates that they should be invited? Do you invite your fiance's ridiculous ex girlfriend that a) insisted that she did not ever want to meet you unless he was "serious" about you and b)when he contacted her, via email, to tell her he was going to get married she responded inappropriately and outrageously with jealous, rude, angry and intrusive emails finally demanding that he cease contact with her, despite her desire to remain close to his family? Do you invite close friends of your close friends that you end up hanging out with all the time?

brain hurts

I am not known for my patience and patience with myself is probably the shortest.

Years ago, while at a horse show in AZ:


I was bored and miserable for a number of reasons, so I started to knit. I hadn't really done any since I was little, but some trips to a local Jo-Ann Fabrics to pick up braiding equipment (for some reason there were no braiders at this show, so I braided everyone's horses in addition to my own. This may have been part of the reason I was miserable) I walked through the knitting section and thought that it might be fun to start again.

I knit a bag - basically just a rectangle in garter stitch that had two longer rectangles coming out of one side of the corners that I then joined to the other corners. I then bought the Stitch & Bitch book. I knitted a hat and a few scarves and another bag.

Soon after this I moved to SF where I was much busier and much more depressed and thus much more easily discouraged. My main discouragement, besides my own impatience and lack of funds was my brother's awful girlfriend sitting on my couch every day knitting. She even knit at parties - she would sit on the couch, barking at people occasionally, rudely interrupting my conversations, all while knitting a delicate, beautiful powder blue sweater that would fit her beautifully. She started AFTER me. She bought the same book as me. She refused to discuss knitting with me AT ALL despite several rebuffed attempts on my part. I had thought that this was something to bond over, a positive thing because she was such a difficult person, rather than another way for her to feel like she had to compete with me (my brother says she was terrified of me). She also got a lot better than me a lot faster, which made it worse. She was a nerdy engineer, so I'm sure that reading knitting patterns was like reading code and came easily to her, as opposed to me who tends to skim and look at entire pictures - details just get in the way. Something about reading knitting patterns just irks the hell out of me. Of course I realize that looking at knitted stuff, admiring it, wanting to knit it and then knitting it means you have to follow a pattern. But me being miserable, discouraged and impatient with myself in addition to my couch (read: knitting) space being taken up by a rude troglodyte just made me give up.

I have started again, thanks to various inspirations. One of them being La Nina's fabulous scarf/shawl that I saw first hand at Christmas time among other projects of hers, another inspiration being Margo's scarf making and a third being the realization that I will be alone and cold in Ithaca and it seems like a very apt thing to do.

So I started with a ribbed rectangle that was way too wide for a scarf. I frogged that despite a very pleasurable few hours spent knitting it. Then I decided I would learn to use double pointed needles to knit a bag. More on this later when I have stopped scaring the dog with my profanity.

I really want to master this but it incorporates literally All The Things I Am Terrible At. Paying attention, little details, patience and practice among a few other things.

ARGH.

Dinner last night

One of my favourite people came over for dinner last night. This was the menu:

Sprouted Mung Bean Chaat
Potato-Fennel Soup
Cranberry Juice
Lemon Meringue Pie

I started sprouting the mung beans last week when I was really craving the mung bean chaat salad that Junnoon serves. Junnoon is, I'm convinced, the only good restaurant in Palo Alto. I like Vino Locale as well but the service is so appalling, in addition to the fact that the food they serve are things we make at home plus the fact that the owner, Randy, insists that it is a wine bar and not a restaurant, bring it in under Junnoon.

So. Not actually wanting to walk to Junnoon, and realizing that I had mung beans left over from an adequate but not fantastic casserole, I realized that I, myself, could sprout the mung beans and make my own chaat.

Of course it takes days for this, so we ate something else for dinner that night.

To sprout the mung beans, I went to the Sprout People website and vaguely followed their directions. I basically put the mung beans in a bowl, left them to soak for 12 hours, rinsed them and put them in a flatter dish and then continued adding water as the beans drank it up or changing it as I deemed necessary.

I then looked up a few recipes for chaat, but found them all to sound not quite right (Why does everyone want to put cilantro in things? It's like this giant secret plan to make all our food taste like soap), so I combined the ingredients that I liked based on the recipes I found and my own memory of Junnoon's fantastic dish and came up with (please bear with me, I don't remember any of the amounts):

Diced cucumber
Diced tomato
Sprouted mung beans (duh)
Dried mint
Lemon juice from 2 ridiculously tiny lemons (damn you Improved Midtown Safeway! I should have gone to the Milk Pail!)
Sugar
Cinnamon (Ryan thought I added to much at first, but after chilling, I feel that all the flavours complemented each other)
Cayenne
Salt

Yum! As I said, it chilled in the fridge for 2 hours and I meant to take pictures and next time I 'speriment, I will.

The potato-fennel soup recipe straight from the New Moosewood Cookbook by Mollie Katzen (strangely not available on the Moosewood Restaurant website) coincidentally given to us by Ryan's aunt Marcia for Christmas. We didn't know we were moving to Ithaca then. Here is what we made, it's different from the book mainly because we didn't have the right amounts of anything. But that's one of the best things about the Moosewood Cookbook - that sort of stuff does not matter.

some oil/butter
2 cups thinly sliced onions
some salt
3 strangely shaped, quite large potatoes
1/2 a fennel bulb, minced (in retrospect, we wished we had used the whole bulb)
toasted caraway seeds
4 cups of water
white pepper (Ween!)

Added oil to soup pot, then onions and a little salt. Cooked over a low heat, so they are soft and brown. Added potatoes, some salt, fennel, caraway. Sauteed for a few minutes and then added water.

Bring to a boil and then simmer until potatoes are soft. Blend resulting soup so it is nice and creamy (that wasn't in the recipe book). Serve with minced fennel feathers on top (that was).

So we had a yummy, "rib sticking" soup with a crunchy fresh salad. Entirely vegan! Well. Until dessert.

Ryan made a yummy, yummy lemon meringue pie which I was mostly involved in via beating eggs whites or stirring egg yolks or mixing things and which I will be eating for breakfast.

Judge denies firing-squad bid

I am, alas, unwell.

Anyway.

In August I wrote about The Amplification of the Con, the con being a homeless guy from the Tenderloin who makes bids on and attempts takeovers of multi billion dollar corporations.

Well. It seems he's going to have to pay a fine of $900,000.


The judge denied his request for death by firing squad.

I am -alas- forgettable.

It seems, once again, that people do read this blog after all. In September, I wrote about not liking doughnuts and in it, I mentioned a frustrating conversation with a then friend of mine, Jared Raskind. He, apparently, found my blog and didn't remember me, leaving the following comment:

"UHHHHH....who are you? This is "photographer Jared Raskind"
I don't remember this conversation. Please refresh my memory."

Oh well. People may read my blog, but it turns out I am forgettable. We were quite good friends for a few months, going to get dinner here and there. We went sea kayaking once. Then he casually mentioned that he was thinking of moving to LA. I never heard from him again. I met him through an ex boyfriend and then summarily started casually dating his other friend, who became his roommate and who is now his business partner (the "Smallz" in Smallz and Raskind).

I hope that he didn't take offense to my entry about our conversation regarding Steven Spielberg, I was merely trying to point out my frustration with having opinions associated with a certain "kind of person" but not necessarily feeling like I am that particular person and feeling punished for having opinions. I really enjoyed his friendship as brief as it may have been, I enjoyed that he argued with me.

more pictures

Icicles and beer

For those of you that want to be eco-friendly alcoholics, the Green Lantern suggests drinking from the tap.

In other news:

Unlearn

I have so many things to unlearn! :

Ryan called this evening on his way to super hero practice and I was sure that it was because he had wrecked the truck. Until I answered and he had actually called to tell me that there was an interesting Terry Gross interview on the radio. This is not the first time he's called and I have been sure that it was something dreadful like that. I learned this line of thinking or rather my brain wired itself that way after several phone calls (clearly not from Ryan...) which that was the case .

"Alice. I need you to come and pick me up. I ran out of gas on the highway."

"Alice. Alice. Wake up. I crashed your car."

"God dammit! Some fucking bitch was on the wrong side of the road. I need you to come get me. The bike's trashed and my knees fucked up."

"Alice. Hey. Yeah. So I just got back from the hospital. I rear ended some Asian guy on my bike. The bike's totaled."

"So. I crashed the truck."

"So. I crashed the bike. Again. I have to have surgery. No, I don't know what happened. No, I don't remember. No! I don't know how it happened! They're putting pins in my foot."

In other news:

We went to Ithaca!

It was like Narnia!

Pictures soon!

Quick Story.

Last night, for some reason I can't remember, I was reminded of an incident that occurred in the 7th grade although it took me several years afterwards to realize how weird it was.

After school, almost everyday for several months, a boy named Sean would call me to chat. I didn't think about it at the time, but he probably had a crush on me. One day I stated a desire to have my navel pierced. He said,

"EWWW. What??! That's gross."

I asked why.

"Girls don't have navels."

I think I tried to explain to him that yes, they do because everyone does. But the realization of the oddness of his statment years later begs a much stranger question.

What on earth did he think a navel was?

Paul Simon

I always wondered if Paul Simon wrote the song "Allergies" in anticipation of needing some quick cash, later on in life.

"Well. I might be doing all right now, but you never know what sort of substance addiction I might develop or serious lawsuit might come up against me. I'd better write a song I can sell to Proctor & Gamble now rather than later."

Speaking of allergies, I have them. BADLY. I think the worst I've had since I woke up next to Lake Tahoe, literally covered in that awful yellow pollen that blankets that whole region during the midsummer months.

I fled my house: I believe I am allergic to something in it. I woke up this morning, after 12 hours of sleep, disturbed once by my alarm clock that I had forgotten to turn off and once by Jeeves, who required his usual morning micturation at 5:45. Other than that, I was out like the proverbial log and barely able to lift the blankets off of myself at 11:30am.

I felt like I was walking through pea soup as I made my way to the living room and collapsed again next to the pile of clean laundry. I folded 2 shirts and then decided I should take a shower. Back through the soup again to the bathroom.

Finally at about 1:00 after a loratadine, a shower and a cup of tea, I thought I should take Jeeves out. I felt considerably better outside, but no completely. I came home again, piled him and myself in the car and fled to my parents house, laundry still uncompleted.

This is disheartening.

I promised myself I would clean the house today. I made a deal with myself that I would. There are people coming over tonight! One of them is someone I went to high school with and haven't seen since!

This is disastrous. Because instead of returning home, I am writing a blog entry, trying to inspire myself by looking up knitting patterns, writing emails and watching the clock.

3 hours until they're supposed to arrive: I must remember to pick up a bottle of wine. At least the glasses are clean.

2.75 hours. I guess I could move the laundry into the bedroom. As long as I fold it before I go to bed. As long as I fold it before I go to bed.

2.5 hours. It's so uncomfortable being there. What on earth am I going to do?

2.25 hours. I have no idea where Kresge auditorium is. I'd better look that up.

2 hours. Crap! 2 Hours!

And so on.

good bye!

clean desk clean head. I'm gone.

Note: I don't like dougnuts

As mentioned here and here, quoted from the NYT:

"Noted avant-garde film auteur, philanthropist and fashion designer, Alice"Bojangles" B----, said candidly in an interview with Fast Company that doughnuts are played out, too sugary and mostly, too round.

"What's with the shape? A circle with a hole in it? Come on - so predictable. Sheesh. I mean I get the whole campy - white trash thing, but can't the same effect be achieved with Rice Krispy Squares and Tang?"

She further criticizes doughnuts by calling them the "Hitler" of snack food and claiming responsible for keeping the working man down."

I'm looking for employment in Ithaca.

OMFG! MY DREAM JOB! I'M SO EXCITED I'M SHOUTING!

Bloomberg Television

Finally, a network where the subjects of the interviews are even uglier than the people on C-Span.

Yesterday there was a guy with some form of arsenic poisoning and today it's tracheotomy man. The only reason these guys are allowed anywhere near the lens side of the camera is because they are very very very very very very very very extraordinarily very very rich and everyone wants to know how they became very very very very very very very very extraordinarily very very rich.

Hypocrite!

So only just the other day, I was complaining about the Life of Brian and how the ending is awful. So awful, in fact, that I pretend that I've never seen it.

"Oh you're English? I just love British Comedy. Have you seen The Life Of Brian?"

"Yes, just not the ending though. For some reason, despite the fact that I've seen it a few hundred times, mostly on Comedy Central and in fragments, I've just never managed to catch the ending."

You see, I think Eric Idle's songs are awful. I think that they are trite and pandering and so unlike the rest of the comedy associated with Monty Python. They're instantly the first thing Americans like about the program because it's really obvious, dumb humour (no offense). HOWEVER last night, while feeling frustrated and sorry for myself for a number of reasons*, I found the following and have posted it for mutual enjoyment.



So I am, indeed a hypocrite. I don't know why I think it's so much funnier than "Always Look On The Bright Side," it's certainly just as inane.

Lists: Angsty nervey ouch!

+ Last night my shoulder cramped, painfully. If I had not done as poorly as I did in Human Anatomy, I would be able to tell you what muscle it was. It is still bothering me.

+My mother 64 year old mother has decided to buy a six year old Arab. Arab horses are well known to be ridiculously smart, flighty and insane. I disapprove. I am wary. She consistently disregards my advice and prefers to listen to some woman she knows named Tracy. This is because Tracy does endurance and not hunter/jumpers and as such, the things coming out of Tracy's mouth are things my mother has not heard before, and therefore "correct." I'm worried my mother thinks she's buying one of these:

When, in fact, it might be one of these:


+ Speaking of horse, I have been looking in Ithaca for places to ride. I have sent 2 emails and not heard anything. I am worried that I am asking too much of the places I am emailing. All the places I have found in the area look like weekend rider* barns. I do not wish to be a weekend rider. I am anxious because I am already terrified about what I will be when I go there. I don't have a job, I don't have any nearby friends, it doesn't seem to have much of a nightlife. I'm having trouble sleeping because of the raised eyebrows from people who know me and who know Ithaca.

"What are you going to do there?"

+The place I found that I thought would be great for the wedding is great. It's just half the size it needs to be. Not to mention some guy I went to high school with works there. So that source of frustration is back on the plate.


*weekend rider: the horsie equivalent of a crazy cat lady. Usually a Monty Roberts (a "horse whisperer") fan, they wear sweat shirts that say awful things like "Use the Force" and "A Woman's Place is On A Horse!" They usually have not bothered to educate themselves about proper horse care, preferring to get most of their information from such films as Black Beauty and Flicka and other films that feature horses as "magical saviours for all of life's problems" when really they are just like any other very expensive thing and not at all like really big Labrador Retrievers.

Craigslist (again)

Doing more research on Ithaca and I've found a job!

a little more than a assistant.

---

ATTENTION LADIES LOOKING FOR A FUN and informal part-time situation/job.

I am a Business owner, executive, looking for a hot personal assistant who can serve as my personal assistant and hot playmate. Please send your information, qualifications, picture and contact info ASAP.

Must be sexy and stunning! Great personality and playfulness required! I will only respond to candidates that provide a picture.

I am respectful, professional, mid 30's. Contact me today to explore this opportunity. Understand what I am looking for, an attractive female, honest, has some brains and business experience (can add up checks, make bank deposits, etc), and willing to be a 'playmate' of sorts.

If this is something you are interested in, please drop me a line today. I am a normal guy, not crazy, not weird, just trying to fill a gap in my life. "I'm not crazy or weird." HA!