things to do

Memories spoiled by neurotics

2012-01-25T01:12:00.012-05:00

Over the weekend I had this uneventful, goofy, fun evening with the Fella. Later, on further reflection, I wondered whether there would be other nights like that. They couldn't all be like that. They haven't all been like that. I don't know where it came from.

Would there be others? How many? I tried to project into the future, to extrapolate - to imagine. If we were together for eons at some point would we stop having funny goofy nights like that?

It is highly uncharacteristic for me to try to project into the future about anything, much less a relationship with a man.

It is typical of me to ruminate over a happy memory while feeling a sense of loss and a touch of sadness because that moment is over and there is an uncertainty about to whether there will be other moments in my life like it.

It's the "some is good, more is better" fallacy.

Would that I could separate my ability to count from my ability to experience and remember joy.

In this situation, AT would tell me that as important as it is to have it, it is also important to make sure that you do not spoil your own pleasure.

Much like what happens when you go from joy at hearing that someone loves you to agony trying to figure out how much they love you. Some things are better in binary.

Don't let me eat cake, put me to sleep

2012-01-23T00:45:00.011-05:00

I had cake. The office threw a little party. I was not going to go. But then changed my mind and went. I walked through the door, tossed the POLAOWN to the wind and made a beeline for the cake. I was on party auto-pilot and I cannot remember if it (the cake) was any good. I was a cake-eating robot vaccuum. I hoovered that plate clean in about 5 minute, hampered only by a minimal effort to make conversation with co-workers.

I have cheated this month. There have been small and large cheats. But with the exception of a slice of pizza and a half cooked baked potato loaded with sour cream and cheese, the really big cheats have not been all that enjoyable. Disappointing, even. They were cheats of convenience or politeness not sinful foodie-foodie pleasure cheats. There has been no Frito Pie. There has been no pilgrimage to Buttermilk Channel.

The full implications of eating cake did not dawn on me until I got back to my desk. It was so easy. *shame* I had chest pains. I do not know if they were due to guilt or my body reacting adversely to the food. *SHAME* It's possible that I am dying.

People have been asking me what I will do once the POLAOWN is over. ML is hoping that I stick to it and go even further. Get really clean and stay clean. I probably should aim to eat healthier and allow myself to cheat on the weekends or a certain number of meals a week. I'll cross that bridge when this comes to a close.

I have enjoyed making messes in the kitchen. I have been thinking a lot about braised meat and pasta. I've been thinking about baked pasta dishes: Ziti, lasagna, stuffed shells. I have thought a lot about the food but not about the wine. Except in the context of realizing that I have not had a social life for fear that I would be a wine swilling robot-vacuum. Braised short ribs, with a first course of ravioli and a nice bottle of red. This, I think is in my future, and I think I know just the place to have this.

I was feeling pretty decent overall. Some days ridiculously so. I would even wake up and consider exercising. A few mornings I did in fact do some sun salutations and sit ups. Tell no one!

But then I had a cup of green tea late in the evening and stayed up until 4am last Thursday. Gah! My sleep schedule has been off ever since. Not able to fall asleep and not able to stay asleep. It has had an enormous not positive effect on my days, my cognition and my mood. It might be that the challenge for next month will be to create a rigorous sleep regimen and try to get 7-8 hrs of sleep a night. Perhaps modifying my routine will reap great rewards. There is apparently more to life than food. There is also sleep.

A Saturday Oven-side

2012-01-22T11:09:00.009-05:00

As a post script to the tofu scrambles - I baked up an acorn squash and put the tofu scramble in the hollow along with some balsamic vinegar, olive oil, pinenuts and rosemary. Rosemary did indeed prove herself to be quite welcome to the party. In fact, I suspect that Rosemary, pine nuts and olive oil would have done just fine even without the scramble. Although the stuffing of food into food is always cool.

I daydream about baking another acorn squash with a cornbread stuffing and perhaps with a tiny bit of chicken sausage crumbled in. This would be an experiment for post-POLAOWN. But I suppose the cornbread part could happen now.

I also tried to bake some potatoes with the thought of topping them with some veggie chili and going all mad with the dairy: sour cream, cheese, and butter. Clearly I have given up on giving up dairy. That being said, I have been eating much less cheese than usual. Baking a potato sounds simple. Prick the skin, wrap in foil, baked until cooked. Unless you are hungry and antsy and insist on opening the open every 5 minutes to check the progress of your potatoes. In that case, it is very hard. The Fella preached patience. I only half listened.

Acorn squash does not mind if you open the oven to take a look. It will proceed calmly and steadily on its baking way. The potato, on the other hand, takes this as an affront to its ability to handle heat and will stubbornly hang on it's raw crunch in protest.

The Fella warned me that semi-baked potatoes smothered in dairy and chili would be plenty of food and that the acorn squash would be too much. He was right. Having that much bulky and filling baked vegetation at one meal induced extreme drowsiness.

After spending the better part of the day in a woozy cotton-y haze, I decided to tackle the bread baking yet again. This time with the guidance of the Fresh Loaf. I ran out of flour two cups into measuring out for the dough. So with my yeast bubbling in water that was 103 degrees (according to the thermometer), I threw on boots and a coat and ran to the grocery. I got bread flour this time to see if it would make a difference.

I had 2 cups of all-purpose and one cup of bread flour. And while kneading, I added bread flour where more flour was needed. Let me tell you, bread flour is a different animal. It's grittier than all-purpose. And for the first time, I had a ball of dough that put up a fight while kneading. People warn you that kneading dough is hard work. In my previous two attempts at bread making, I never understood this. The dough was never that tough to work with and was usually pretty pliable. But with the addition of even just one cup of bread flour I was working up a sweat.

I kneaded the crap out of the dough. Well over the recommended 10 minutes. The Fella witnessed my hysterical (as in not funny) predictions of doom with regard to the bread. When I opened the oven to look at it, things did not look good. It looked like a big pale rock with a thick incredibly hard crust. I do not know what professional bakers do to get that gorgeous browned crust. It will probably take some research to find out. So with much cursing and whingeing, I decided to try a cheat - melted a few pats of butter on the top and threw it back in the oven for a spell. Which probably did nothing but let me feel as if I had at least tried to do something about the situation.

The results were not up to my bread baking fantasies but definitely not as bad as I had feared.

It weighs a ton. It's a fairly flat loaf. The crust is impossibly hard. And on the inside, the crumb is dense but at least has more of a bread consistency and is less biscuit-like. Progress!!! Next time I will try using all bread flour and trying to be more patient with the rises. And I will start the process before 5pm so that the bread is ready before 11pm.

(Jargon for the day: BE told me that the outside of the bread is the crust and the inside is the crumb.)

Besides the uncertain and hysterical cooking, it was an evening warmed by the oven, frantic kneading, hugs of anticipation, and spontaneous dance to songs sprung from the radio in my subconscious. I've done a lot worse on a Saturday night.

Tofu Scramble

2012-01-21T12:08:00.007-05:00

It sounds like a dance move. Or a vegetarian themed video game. But it's tofu broken into bits and fried up with stuff. A veg alternative to scrambled eggs, although now having made it for the first time it occurs to me that a lot can be done with a tofu scramble beyond breakfast food.

FS and SM both make really delicious tofu scrambles. I have not watched them make it and cannot replicate it. To try making my own I decided to go to the Post Punk Kitchen for their take on it. I have made a few of the recipes from the old version of the site and been pretty happy with them. To the point where I firmly believe that every bean chili recipe needs to include a sweet potato or two. Cause beans and sweet potatoes are a beautiful match.

The recipe calls for Nutritional Yeast. I have heard a bit about Nutritional Yeast from BE when he was a vegan but have never tried using it myself. It's apparently used for nutrition and for flavor - to impart umami to a dish. They don't carry Nutritional Yeast at the local CVS nor at the regular grocery store near me. I went to the local health food grocer and got a very large tin of it for use in the tofu scramble. If you'd like to try some, give me a call, I've got plenty.

Sometimes I read the recipes that I am following wrong or neglect to copy all necessary information from the recipe to the back of the envelope that I will use in at the counter top. I cooked the minced garlic on low heat in a ton of olive oil for 10 mins. Much longer than recommended. Then added the tofu crumbled up. I cooked on a medium low heat so I did not get anything browned or any crispiness. I will try much higher heat next time. I think it would add to a nice variation of texture and the flavor of browning.

The water and spice combo is a good idea as it helps incorporate the spices better into the tofu. It's possible that you can stop at this point without the nutritional yeast. Maybe explore adding more vegetables with or before the tofu, altering the spice blend.

It might be good to add a bit more water at the point where you are adding the spices and the yeast, 1/4 cup of nutritional yeast flakes is a lot of dry to be adding to a skillet of tofu. It got a good yellow color and sort of a substantial and less watery flavor. I added more salt, of course, but felt that there was still something missing.

So I added a healthy pour balsamic vinegar to my serving of the scramble. Which ended up being what my palate was seeking. It made the scrambles taste brighter and cleaned up the finish on what was a slightly funky aftertaste. However, at that point it ceased to be scrambled egg like.

And now I have leftovers for sandwiches! Or perhaps stuffing for baked acorn squash halves (with extra balsamic vinegar).

I think next time I will add some celery or other vegetables to the endeavor. Mushrooms and what not to add some variety to the texture. I think that my new friend Rosemary could add something very pleasant and fragrant to the party.

Introductions and adjustments

2012-01-19T23:41:00.005-05:00

I was introduced to a place called Eataly today. LV put together a farewell outing there. Sadly, folks just convened to have some beer. There was not eating at Eataly today. I am definitely going back. But it looks to be the Disney World of Italian food. I am not sure if it will live up to its looks but I am certainly headed there in February to find out.

LV calls me her Foodie friend. I am not comfortable with this tag. Because I am not much of a cook and I am not a gourmand with a scintillating palate. The preferences of my palate are pretty crude. I think that almost everything needs salt, garlic salt, oyster sauce or Tony Chachere's Creole Seasoning.

But I do love to eat and I have lots of opinions about things that I don't know much about. Does that count for anything?

Last week I formed an opinion about curry powder. The opinion that the generic grocery story brand of curry powder that I have smells and looks like curry but is missing a note that I associate with curry. What I wanted with my curry was fennel. A slightly sweet, licorice-y hint and aroma. That is what I expected from my Potato and Cauliflower curry that was lacking. So I have been taking the leftovers and adding, fennel, fenugreek, ground ginger, cinnamon and cayenne pepper. I haven't gotten the ratios right. Of course, I could also just toss the bargain curry powder and get a new one. But where is the fun in that.

On the internet they exclaim that the way to do it is to grind your own spices for a curry. This seems like an advanced thing to me. I'd need to get a grinder or at least a mortar and pestle. I like the idea of a mortar and pestle it sounds mystical like Merlin grinding herbs and extracts for potions. This is a subject for future meditation.

This week I have been eating Marcona almonds seasoned with olive oil, sea salt and rosemary. Rosemary has now achieved favored herb status and now I need to seek any and every food context that invites Rosemary to the party.

I am still resistant to Marjoram, though. She and I will meet in the school yard in another song.

Long-Ass POLAOWN update

2012-01-12T01:27:00.006-05:00

Booze - To date the sum of the alcohol that I have consumed is a sip of MLQ's cocktail at Sacred Chow. It was a delicious and unexpected combination of flavors that made me sad to not be drinking this month.

Bars - Twice I have been to a bar. I did not drink in either case. I did, however, leave early in both cases. I got sleepy.

Hiding things - I had to put the Hoppin' John, the Collards, and the Casserole in the freezer to keep myself from eating them. I also hid the potato chips, the Bugles, and other fatty and sugary snacks in a metal tin. I might have to throw that tin into the freezer. I might have to buy a larger freezer.

Meat - I have had one bite of Salmon. Besides this, no meat has been consumed yet. I think about chicken, grilled, fried, in salad, in sandwiches, baked. And tuna. I think about tuna sandwiches with lots of mayo. I miss the texture. The chewy denseness of eating something that has been eating all that plant matter, converting and accumulating it on your behalf.

Bahn Mi - I had a vegetarian Bahn Mi. It was on white bread. What can you do. The first half of it startled me by tasting like pork. It had that chewy, dense texture. The second half of it, eaten much later, tasted like Seitan. I wonder if this means that in a short span of time I will be insisting that a bagel with scallion tofu spread tastes just like a Big Mac. I might try the bagel thing tomorrow just to see what happens.

White bread - White bread was supposed to be on my do not eat list. But I am revisiting this because white bread is amazing. AMAZING. Like a food miracle.

Pasta - I had squash ravioli because the Fella offered to cook for me and it was a choice between that and mac and cheese. It tasted strange, like candy pasta with herbs and olive oil. The squash filling was super sweet.

Sugar - Sugar is ubiquitous. I had some ginger ale. I put sugar in things that I was cooking. It's probably in the yogurt, the jam, the sauces, the dressings, the juices, the bread, and everything industrially processed that I have eaten this month. I think about cookies a lot. I walked by a place that smelled like cake. Heavenly. I stood on the sidewalk out front just steeping in cake smells.

Carbs in General - I remembered that eating carbs is delicious and filling. And so I have embraced whole wheat bread, Wasa Wheat Crisps and potatoes. The potatoes in particular have balanced out with the other stuff to make me feel less bloaty and squishy. More substantial.

I took a second try at baking bread. In honor of POLAOWN, I tried to bake a whole wheat loaf. It ended up being this enormous yeasty biscuit. It tastes terrible but I keep eating it. The Fella had a slice and said that it reminded him of the bread that they put MRE's from his days in the Marine Corp. I have had this. It like eating a pop-tart, without the frosting, the sweet filling that is soft, bland, and less crumbly. I think he was trying to be supportive. I am going to try to bake more bread this weekend.

Juices - on the recommendation of my cube-mate, I have had a few juice bar drinks. Juice bar juices are not like Naked Juice. Nor are they like the bottled offerings of Welch's or Tropicana. They can be pretty bland. Which puts the whole concept of concentrated juice in an entirely different light. For years, I have regarded juice concentrate as inferior and adulterated. Now I realize that it takes a lot of apples, concentrated into a small volume, to capture the vivid apple flavor in bottled apple juice. It probably helps to know the full range of your options, perhaps pick something from the juice menu. A random fruits and vegetables tossed into a juicer will not guarantee deliciousness. My first juice was had berries and nice things but was ruined by the addition of carrots and watermelon. Despite being watery, watermelon ends up having a very strong taste that will assert itself in a not enjoyable way. The second one was beets, carrots, lemon, celery, orange, ginger and kale - not much better. The third time, I got a smoothie. It had banana, strawberries, and pineapple, crushed ice, and Tropicana orange juice. That one was delicious. I attribute this to the industrial OJ. The Cube-mate has since offered to send me juice and smoothie recipes.

Healthnut restaurants - The Fella and I went to this macrobiotic place and had the blandest food ever. His was actually kinda nice but mine was exceptionally bland. And this was not the sort of place to have a salt shaker at the table. During the course of the meal I started hallucinate that the carrots and onions were actually delicious and everything else was bland "It's a shame about the rest of this meal, the onions and carrots are so flavorful flavor, and suggest potential." The Fella had wisely pre-gamed by snacking on fried chicken at Popeye's. While I was not bowled over by the food, it did seem to put me in a slightly euphoric and goofy mood. It might have been my relief at not having to eat my own cooking.

In my second adventure I went to Sacred Chow with MLQ. And the food was pretty good. I had half a Tempeh Reuben and a bowl of New England Cauliflower Chowder. Both pretty good. Although it wreaked havoc on my system. The waiter told us a little bit about the dangers of gluten for those who are sensitive. I wonder if I am one of them. That or it might have been the cauliflower.

Brown Rice - Brown rice was supposed to be my carb for the month. But I am not having much luck with making it. The recent batch came out like a big pot of paste. It was like oatmeal! At the macrobiotic place the brown rice was very enjoyable and I think short grain. I might try the short grain stuff to see if I like the texture a little better.

I am trying to sprout brown rice. I have had this long-grain brown rice for several years and am amazed that it would sprout at all. Seeds are a wonder. It's sitting in the fridge waiting for me to cook it. Back to my brown rice mental block. Perhaps by the end of the month, I will get the knack of this brown rice thing.

Had I embarked on a set diet or eating strategy, instead of this aimless parade of ad hoc moderation/deprivation I would be putting less mental energy into it.

Mental space that could be devoted to reading, writing, a job search, music, yoga, cleaning, exercise, organizing, improving my sleep habits, well the list goes on and on. I like that the list goes on from things that I actually would do all the way to things that I will probably never do, despite my best intentions.

But no, all I think about is food. With any edible thing that I see, I ask myself, "Do I want to eat this? Should I eat it?"

I am not sure what I am getting out of this besides a thing to focus on besides the quiet desperation of living. I suppose it is also a month-long exercise in mental recasting. Food has been my happiness, my solace, my comfort, my entertainment, my stress reliever. And now food is a question for constant meditation. To eat or not. And to eat what?

For now, I consider that to be plenty.

RSVP to Public TV

2012-01-09T23:39:00.010-05:00

I have just watched the first season of Downton Abbey, my what a cliffhanger. With so many of these British costume dramas about the country estates, one would think that there was a limit to my capacity for watching them. But there is not.

While a young woman, I would have been watching the show in pins and needles over Lady Mary. The show would have been all about her quest for happiness or at least satisfaction. But I find that I turn my attention to other amusements.

Dame Maggie Smith is hilarious as Violet.

Mr. Bates is ever so grand.

And Lord Grantham is dreamy.

Isn't he?

PBS is showing Season Two this month and next. Ladies and Gents, it is with much regret that I must decline your Sunday evening invitations for a prior engagement.

Dreaming of Fish

2012-01-07T12:12:00.009-05:00

People are rarely interested in each other's dreams. Probably because dreams generally lack the context for the listener that makes them so compelling to the dreamer. They don't make sense. And for the listener the emotion that was experienced by the dreamer is almost impossible to convey. At yet we all want to share the dream that we had last night. We are amazed by the strangeness of our own dreams and unwilling to admit that they hold a fascination only to us. We want to make sense of them and hope that discussion will shed light on what they mean or where they came from. And telling someone about our dream helps reinforce the memory of them and allows us to relive them.

I rarely remember my dreams anymore. When I did it was usually due to an epic struggle between the snooze bar and my desire to lay in bed with my eyes closed for five more minutes. I remember them but not vividly or for very long. They tend to all mush together. There are imaginary places that represent real places where many of my dreams used to take place. As I try to remember one dream, I find that I am remembering a bunch of dreams as happening at the same time or remember them as having happened in the same places concurrently.

Two nights ago, I dreamed about fish. I dreamed that I was in my house and there was a fish bowl and then a fish tank, and then two fish tanks, and then more and more fish tanks, stacked on racks like they are at the pet store. And then there was a fish pond and then another fish pond and then a tub with fish in it. And I was showing all the fish to some people. One of whom, was an elderly gentleman who was my father-in-law. I was trying to persuade him to take some of my fish, to build his own fish pond for them.

"Carp are so pretty and they can grow to such impressive sizes," I said, pointing to the orange and yellow carp now crowded and churning in one of the ponds. I saw goldfish and a tiny tetra who when grabbing onto a gum ball would expand to 20 times his original size. I had fish leaping up out of the water. A few lept onto my leg and were flopping their way up my body, I had to pick them off and put them back in the water. I had so many fish. I needed to give them away. I did not want to kill them, they all deserved to flourish. They needed new homes, room to expand. But people were not taking my fish, they were leaving more fish for me to collect. Fish in tanks and ponds all over my house. I considered scooping up the fish eggs from the tanks so that they would not be eaten.

So what does it mean? No idea.

The Fella suggested that it might mean that there are creative inspirations in my life that have been dammed up and are about to burst forward.

CK has suggested that I am subconsciously feeling really ovewhelmed.

According to dreamforth.com:

To see an aquarium in your dream indicates that you are aware of certain feelings that you possess but haven't been able to deal with. This may include needs, wants, and fantasies related to sex. Alternately, it may imply that you are at a stagnant point in your life and are confused as to which path to follow. It may also suggest that you are overly stressed and need to slow down, take a deep breath, and try to focus.

To dream of a carp suggests that you should be more humble and respectful of others. If you are too selfish and conceited, this can affect your personal relationships.

To dream about goldfish predicts that you will come into prosperity and many wonderful and thrilling escapades.

To dream that you see fish in clear water streams indicates that you will find approval from the wealthy and the distinguished.

For young women to dream of fish suggests that she will find a charming, good-looking mate. If the fish is swimming, then this could indicate conception. Some women will dream of fish swimming when they become pregnant.

To dream about a flying fish suggests that you feel unencumbered by your emotions and that you are unrestrained.

To dream about fish eggs suggests that there is some notion that has risen up from your subconscious.

So perhaps, I am repressing something, perhaps a desire to have children and I feel that my life is stagnant place. I have been too selfish and conceited but I am going to have wealth and adventure and things are rising up from my subconscious despite my efforts to repress them.

According to dreammoods.com

If you are watching the fish in the fish tank, then you may feel that your life is going nowhere or that you are going in circles with your life.

To see fish swimming in your dream signifies insights from your unconscious mind. Thus to catch a fish represents insights which have been brought to the surface. Alternatively, a fish swimming in your dream may symbolize conception. Some women dream of swimming fish when they get pregnant. "

To see a clear, well-stocked fishpond foretells of profitable enterprises and great pleasures.

To see a goldfish in your dream signifies, wealth, success, and pleasant adventures. Alternatively, goldfish represents some important emotional matter or valuable insight.

To see a carp in your dream indicates that you need to put aside your pride and ego and not let it get in the way of friendships and relationships. Alternatively, the carp is symbolic of patience, perseverance, determination, tenacity, courage and success.

To see a betta fish in your dream indicates that thoughts from your unconscious is close to emerging to the surface. You are ready to confront your repressed thoughts. If there are two betta fish in your dream, then it signifies conflicting issues that you are dealing with.

To see a flying fish in your dream indicates that you are feeling emotionally free and uninhibited.

To see fish eggs in your dream represent an idea that has emerged from your unconscious.

Consider the common phrases "like a cold fish", "fish out of water" or something that is "fishy" about a situation. It may also imply a slippery or elusive situation.

This site has almost identical interpretations to the other one. Again with the stagnation in my life. I have suppressed insights from my subconscious mind. They are leaping out of the tanks onto me, trying to get my attention and I am throwing them back in the tanks in denial. It's possible that prosperity and adventure are in my future or a significant emotional matter or insight. And I either need to put my ego in check or have patience, perseverance, determination, tenacity and courage.

According to dreamdoctor.com

Fish in dreams are fertility symbols, because they are small, primitive creatures that live in water, not unlike an embryo in the womb. Dreams of fish are not precognitive. It doesn't mean that you or someone you know is going to have a baby... only that babies are on your mind.

Dreams of fish in aquariums that are low or running out of water symbolize fears that time may be running out to conceive. Dreams of jellyfish and stingrays reflect concerns of getting “stung” emotionally in waking life. Dreams of fish attacking may symbolize concerns about reproductive health.

An aquarium or fish tank in a dream is a fertility symbol, made evident by the fact that pregnant women carry around an internal “tank” of embryonic fluid to sustain their little “fish.”

This one is all about the babies and my biological clock.

Ok, so at the end of this dream based tarot card reading session, all of this is plausible and probably all true. All pretty typical of the conscious and subconscious thoughts of a single, childless woman in her 40's. And I certainly have felt stuck for several years. I disagree with the pride and ego part of it all but who knows. Perhaps that is an issue that I have been unwilling to face about myself as well.

But the dream was more fun as a comical scene where I contended with lots and lots of fishes. In my dream it was a bit like the fish tank version of this:

My subway fear realized

2012-01-05T16:37:00.002-05:00

In my rush to get up the steps I tripped on the top one and fell. Yes, I smacked right on my hands right onto the subway floor. Fortunately, I suffered no injuries and did not land in a spot that was wet, muddy, sticky or gummy.

Hurray!

Hari Kondabolu on Ethnicity

2012-01-05T01:25:00.004-05:00

A translation of the where are you from question.

Comedy Central Stand-Up
Get More: Jokes,Joke of the Day,Funny Jokes

Day Two

2012-01-05T00:55:00.002-05:00

Eating lots of fruits and vegetables makes me feel squishy. In time, I imagine that this will pass or it will also make me feel smug. Smug and squishy. Pleased to meet me

The Quotable Aldous Huxley

2012-01-05T00:33:00.006-05:00

I was trying to remember a line from "A Brave New World" yesterday and was scrolling through Aldous Huxley quotes. The dude is pretty quotable. He is now on my list of authors to read. What else in his body of work I should pick up?

The quote I was looking for was:

“I ate civilization. It poisoned me; I was defiled. And then," he added in a lower tone, "I ate my own wickedness.”
― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

It took some doing to find it. There were many other quotes of note to peruse in the first two pages. There were seven pages of quotes. I will have to stay up too late another night to read them all.

A few that struck me:

“Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.”
― Aldous Huxley, Complete Essays 2, 1926-29

“Happiness is not achieved by the conscious pursuit of happiness; it is generally the by-product of other activities.”
― Aldous Huxley

“It is a bit embarrassing to have been concerned with the human problem all one's life and find at the end that one has no more to offer by way of advice than 'Try to be a little kinder.”
― Aldous Huxley, Moksha: Writings on Psychedelics & the Visionary Experience

My Excuses

2012-01-04T00:02:00.003-05:00

My excuses for falling off the POLAOWN wagon almost as quickly as I hopped on go something like this:

Firstly, there are leftovers. JK and I went to the Meatball Shop for a farewell to bad foods. I ordered everything. A meatball hero with beef meatballs, spicy meat sauce and provelone cheese. I also had the Kale (which was AMAZING) and the mashed potatoes (also very good). And as a starter while I waited - a rootbeer float.

Their polenta is fabulous, creamy and smooth with just enough corn meal texture. If ever I go back there I will definitely get it.

I came home with half a meatball sandwich and some mashed potatoes. I also had a container of disappointing leftover mac and cheese. I had hoped that the restaurant in question would have good mac and cheese but instead, they served Stouffer's mac and cheese with the mushy fat noodles and the processed orangey cheese. But there was so much of it that there was plenty to take home. Note to self - do not order mac and cheese at a place known for their wings.

Secondly, I kept reading the Beans book. By NYE I was up to the chapter on Black Eyed Peas. Despite the fact that I am not from the South and I do not know a thing about soul food. I got it in my head that what I needed to do was make Hoppin' John and Collard Greens to usher in the New Year.

I bought smoked ham hocks because I liked the romance of getting them. I bought a bundle of collard greens and several cans of black eye peas. I still don't know a thing about soul food but near as I can tell, the ham hock will take an hour to give up it's smokey, salty, porky goodness. That is an hour of quality time with the hock before anything else gets cooked.

So I chopped up two onions, minced several cloves of garlic, tossed them in a pot of water with two ham hocks and some thyme, brought that to a boil, then a simmer for an hour.

Then split the water between two pots: a pot for collards and a ham hock and a pot beans and a ham hock.

I covered and cooked the heck out of the collards, pulled out the ham hock, added back the tablespoon worth of meat that was on it and added some sliced turnips and cooked the heck out of that. Added tons of salt, pepper and garlic powder. Next time I would probably go with cubed turnip pieces, lots more collards and maybe a ham broth alternative.

After it seemed like the beans were starting to warm up and maybe pick up a little smokiness, I pulled out the ham hock, added back the slivers of meat and threw in two cups of rice. Too much rice!!! It ended up making more of hammy rice porridge with beans.

So I have a fridge full of greens, beans and rice steeped in smoky fatty ham broth. the second excuse could be lumped with the first. Except that for the superstitious hopes that the meal offers towards a prosperous New Year.

After work today, I headed to Trader Joe's. The Trader Joe's in Chelsea was a mob scene. They were totally out of onions and almost out of bread. The line for check out snaked back and forth through the store. They stopped letting people in the store. At which point, a line of grocery shoppers started to form on the sidewalk. People all bundled up and shivering in the cold. You would have thought that Louboutin was having the mother of all sample sales. Surely these people were not waiting in line for Joe's O's.

When I finally got to check out, I felt foolish watching the cashier scan my tofu and fruits and vegetables. What if I was deluding myself and all of this food was destined to end up in the trash uneaten, not even composting. What if I am. How sad that would be.

I got home had three pieces of fruit and could not resist the lure of my leftovers. But rather than just reheat and eat them, I got the notion to make a casserole because I am foolish. Some part of me was convinced that making it a more labor intensive activity would make it okay to eat this junk. Whilst I am from the Midwest, I did not grow up in the hotdish part of the region. And I certainly do not come from a casserole family. I could not shake the notion that cauliflower and mac and cheese are a good match. Probably because of a similarity in coloring.

Steamed up half a head of cauliflower florets, tossed them with butter, garlic salt and black pepper. Chopped up the Meatball and mixed it with the soft part of the whole grain bread. Threw the whole grain crust into the oven the crisp up. Mixed the mashed potatoes with a good helping of collard green juice, some milk and the stouffer's mac and cheese and heated that on the stove. Mixed it with the cauliflower and the bread meatball mix and some grated cheese. Topped it with more grated cheese, the crumbled whole grain crust and some breadcrumbs. And baked it until smells started coming from the oven.

The results were not pretty. And let's put it this way, you have to be careful how many different styles of food that you mix together in a baking dish. If you are not careful it will start smelling like what comes back up after a long night of drinking. I blame the tomato sauce blended with ham broth. I am grateful that botulism has not killed me. Knock on wood. Perhaps in February I will properly explore the mysteries of hot dish. In particular, I have always wondered about the recipes that call for tater tots or cornflakes as the topping.

But in a day or two that unpretty casserole will be gone and the grand POLAOWN will begin.

Day One

2012-01-03T22:16:00.006-05:00

Happy New Year!

Yes, I know that it is the third day of the New Year. But it is the first day of my month long attempt at detox.

I am sorry to report that I have already failed. It's possible that Day Two will be my actual Day One.

Of what? I am not sure what to call it. I am alternately calling it a Detox and fake Lent. I hesitate to call it anything like Lent. The observance of Lent is a serious part of the religious practice of Christian people. Perhaps in my case it is more correctly referred to as a period of Lifestyle Austerity or Winter Nesting (POLAOWN).

It started with a book. "Beans: A History" by Ken Albala. I keep grumbling as I read it that beans are not all that exciting. Yet somehow they are just compelling enough that I keep reading.

In the section on Fava Beans, Ken Albala writes:

"...by the time of the Council of Nicea in 325, a period of forty days or Quadragesima, preceding Easter, was set aside for prayer and self-denial."

This idea resonated with me as something that I needed. Not being a religious woman, what am I looking for? What is this need that some buffet style secular version of Quaragesima (POLAOWN) would satisfy?

I am in a phase of my life where I feel like there has just been too much of everything. Which for Mae West was wonderful. But for me has just been too much. Too much booze, too much food, too much work, too much stress, too much running about, not enough sleep, not enough downtime, not enough understanding. There has been a definite diminishing return on the too much side and and the sense that the too much end is not compensating for the deficiencies. It is possible that a POLAOWN is not the answer. The answer could be meditation or going to more ska shows or giving and receiving more hugs or burning incense and ringing bells while chanting. Those may be challenges for upcoming months.

Added to this is the inspiration of JK's resolution to give up white foods and alcohol. By white foods she means give up refined sugar, white rice, white flour, perhaps dairy for a month.

So I have been formulating this plan in my head to:

1. Give up alcohol
2. Give up meat (if I can't take it, red meat)
3. Eat whole grain products
4. Eat more fruits and veggies
5. Eat brown rice
6. Give up fried foods

I get hungry just thinking about this. I had pondered giving up dairy and eggs and trying to go vegan. But it's hard to imagine life without cheese and all the glorious things that the marvelous egg can offer.

I worry that this pledge will mean that I will have no social life at all. Or at least, even less of one than I currently have. I worry that this pledge will lead to misery as I have gotten to the point where I associate happiness with unhealthy eating. JK and I have based our relationship on a shared passion for eating deep fried things. But I feel that it is not sustainable. I cannot fit into a substantial part of my wardrobe and I am experiencing food related bodily discomforts.

As for the prayer - well I'll have to work that out during the course of this.

My arbitrarily selected dates are January 3rd through February 8th.

There will be an exception for CK's birthday and then it's back on the wagon until February 9th. From there, I don't know. This is all I can see.

My parents upon hearing of this plan applauded it, asked why I was not doing it for an entire year, and then felt entirely justified in overfeeding me during my entire visit home. It would be fine because when I got back to Brooklyn, I would be eating right.

This is the plan. How have I already derailed myself? I have my excuses. My excuses have that "For want of a nail ..." feel to them. Essentially, I stand in my own way. I should have donated or tossed out all offending foods from my fridge. Or put them all in the Freezer to be opened in February.

How you play the game

2011-12-16T01:49:00.012-05:00

"Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have found out the exact measure of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them, and these will continue till they are resisted with either words or blows, or both. The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress."
- Fredrick Douglass

I did not Occupy Wall Street. But I am grateful that the movement exists. People complain about their methods. They do not like their style. They need to shower. They need more focus. They need to be reasonable or more goal oriented. They need to articulate one realistic and achievable demand and then go home.

Frankly things are so f'ed up that coming together to make only one simple demand seems irresponsible.

In these polarized times, being reasonable or rational does not appear to be very effective. Perhaps a compromise dressed in the rhetoric of reasonableness is a place where you end up with all of the icky horsetrading that probably goes along with it. But in the opening moves of your negotiation, it is a terrible place to start.

Especially when a Republican Senator will publicly say inflammatory things that are "not intended to be a factual statement."

In these polarized times, perhaps a page is best taken from the political playbook of Hari Kondabolu.

"In this country, when you start out with a reasonable proposal it gets - it gets watered down."

It makes rescinding the Bush tax cuts look extremely reasonable and rational in comparison.

The Kerning Game

2011-12-01T23:21:00.000-05:00

I'm obsessed with this game:

http://type.method.ac/

"Someday I'll be living in a big old city"

2011-12-01T23:08:00.006-05:00

At long last I have heard the songs of Taylor Swift.

PJS told me that I really needed to listen to Mean. Turns out she was right. Not only did I need to listen to the song, I found that I needed to listen to this song almost continuously for a couple of weeks. It's been a while since that happened. I am with her until the part where she calls the mean girl "a liar and pathetic." For some reason that bugs me each and every time I hear it.

But I find that I cannot listen to her other songs. They make me too sad. They make me realize how jaded I have become. Not so jaded that I can dismiss the point of view and sentiments of these songs. But enough to recognize the distance between where I am and what I had imagined as a young girl.

Mini Mid-life Crisis

2011-11-27T19:41:00.003-05:00

Press play here: Miniskirt by Esquivel

I am 41. I spent my 20's and my 30's acting like I was in my 20's and I have crashed right into my 40's. I am not sure what I was supposed to go through in my 30's. I hope that I do not find myself at a disadvantage later in life for having skipped the life lessons of that decade as the years roll on.

I have started facing down the many boxes of things that I abandoned to the basement of the house of my parents. A lot of dreams delayed and a lot of relics of the life and person that I once was. Among these items, I found four miniskirts. I do not remember wearing them as a youth and I should get rid of them.

Hello Kitty t-shirts, short shorts, halter tops, tube tops, mini-skirts, velvet dresses with big bows - these are the trappings of youth. On a woman of a certain age, they look weird. They look wrong.

But my subconscious cannot quite accept this yet. I have been wearing them, the skirts, that is. Wearing them to lunch, wearing them to brunch, wearing them to work. Granted, I am short, so the skirts are not as short as they ought to be, more like an inch above the knee. But still, I imagine myself to be very close to getting some sort of reprimand from HR. BE has advised me to at least throw some thick tights on with them.

I am "The delusional woman who is still trying to pull it off." I am trying to prevent myself from buying any new miniskirts and have told myself that I must donate the skirts in question to Goodwill on my 45th birthday. Check in with me on that one.

It might have been Gwyneth Paltrow's appearance on Glee that first sparked this crime against fashion. With the difference in our ages, height and figures, the effect is not the same. But heck, I figure it's now or never. Perhaps next year I will start wearing bikinis to lunch, brunch and the office. I am, after all, 30 years from wearing Christmas tree sweaters with Santa Claus pins.

It possible that I would be better off buying a red convertible sports car.

Food, glorious food

2011-11-03T21:35:00.003-04:00

On my flight to SF on Virgin Atlantic I watched a video segment created by Chefs Feed. The program is based on an iphone app which gets the recommendations of the best chefs in a given city on where and what they eat when they are not working.

Curious, I took notes on the places recommended, got off the plane, dropped off my bag and went to Lung Shan Restaurant, also known as Mission Chinese Food. It's a short walk from the 16th St. and Mission stop of the BART.

It's crowded and dark and has a faded chinese restaurant decor. I was the only table of one during their lunch rush and they were extremely unhappy about this.

The waitstaff seemed to be a mix of Asian American dudes and tiny older Asian women who don't speak much English. They smiled and chatted with everyone else in the place except me at my four top solo. It was extremely not subtle.

I ordered the Tea-Smoked Eel and the Salted Cod Fried Rice. The Fried Rice was the Chefs Feed chef's recommendation.

The Tea-Smoked Eel arrived and went and then they tried to give me the check and shoo me from the place. I am glad that I insisted on staying for the other course.

The Tea-Smoked Eel sounded like it would be heavenly. I love Eel. I love noodles. A noodle wrapped mess of tea-smoked eel with chinese celery, sounded like it would be a great balance between smokey soy eel, with the crisp celery blanketed in lovely noodle. There was also some kind of crunchy thing, like corn flakes but not. Eel can be a bit boney, scratching your throat with the swallow, the crunchies did not help. I could see adding it to balance the texture of the big floppy noodle.

But.

They also included pulled ham hock in the noodle wrap. The ham hock of itself was delicious. It was also excellently paired with a lovely noodle and chinese celery. And totally went with the crispy thing. But it masked any evidence that there's eel in there.

I was disappointed.

But then there was Salted Cod Fried Rice. It looks like a big heap of fried rice with egg, scallions, chinese sausage and tons of cilantro. And then. Ginger. They also put in thinly sliced slivers of ginger.

Amazing. It was salty and not too oily, very light, and ginger scallion-y. The egg was perfect. The sausage. I thought I was full when the rice arrived. And I promptly scarfed half the plate down. It was love. It was 10 years of hugs. I didn't care how much the staff scowled at me or the about the anxious hungry waiting customers. I was communing with something sublime. And by God, it was going to be a part of me. Such satisfaction. Perfect on a grey drizzly day.

I wished that I had come with a group of people so that I could taste and then gobble up the rest of the menu - the broccoli beef cheek or the sizzling cumin lamb, at least.

So, go with friends. If you don't have friends get take out or make friends for this purpose.

Have the Salted Cod Fried Rice, order everything except the Tea-Smoked Eel and tell me how it is.

They serve booze. They take credit cards.

That fried rice is so good that they don't have to be nice, they just have to bring the plate.

GO!

what I am really thinking

2011-10-12T20:37:00.006-04:00

The other day I thought to myself:

I want to be adored. I should get a dog.

Six of One

2011-10-09T16:55:00.010-04:00

1. Continental Airlines busted my new piece of wheeled luggage. It was one of those things with the four independently spinning wheels. Strangely, the way the weight was distributed it was easier to push on all four wheels than pull on two. And those things really need a different sort of push handle from the pull type. Despite this, it's a marvelous innovation. Sometimes innovation is not the introduction of new technology but the application of an existing technology to a new use or context. In this case, the independently spinning wheel has been at the front of your shopping cart with either the front left or the front right one getting stuck and causing you much grief for quite a while now.

But back to the luggage, I got to use mine for four trips before one of the front wheels got busted off. A bag with three wheels is not as good as two and certainly not as good as four. However they were sufficient to get me home in one piece and the gorilla at the Munich airport can celebrate a job well done with a banana split.

Improving the robustness of the front spinning wheel would put a company at the head of the class in luggage or grocery shopping carts. It would also make me their loyal customer.

2. I have not slept for weeks and suspect that an emotional cog has gotten loose as a result. I have been crying during the in-flight movies. I am not sure whether this is because they are really moving or because I am so tired. I am pleased to report that I did not cry during "The Zookeeper" but I did cry during "Mr Popper's Penguins" and during "Monte Carlo." I even cried during a scene or two of "The Green Lantern" and not because I find it so bizarre to see Ryan Reynolds cast as a leading man (even more bizarre to see Ryan Reynolds cast as a superhero). If time had permitted me to watch the Dragonball Z live action movie, I have no doubt that it would have made me cry too.

3. Yesterday an airport security dog ( a spaniel or a beagle) was trotting around the baggage claim area sniffing things and people. I assumed sniffing for bombs. At one point I saw the officer with the dog walk up to a man and a woman wearing backpacks and start talking with them. She (the officer) asked to search the backpack of the man. In the backpack was an orange. The dog had sniffed out an orange from foreign lands deep in the backpack of a very tall German dude. It was my real time Animal Planet moment. I was waiting for the narration to kick in. And now I wonder what this dog's job is. Does it sniff for hazardous things or contraband? All of the above? If you placed that orange in a metal container full of coffee grounds, would the dog still detect it? And after an 8-10 hour flight packed in coffee grounds, would you still want to eat it?

A foreign orange is verboten. Invasive microbial species are no joke, Kids. An invasive fungus or plant virus could do a hell of a lot of damage. It would come in invisible, undetected. But if it spread to Florida or California from one European orange and if our local oranges had no natural protective strategy and if they were not being treated with chemicals that would protect them, well, it could be a very big deal. Dutch Elm disease. There, I said it.

Although I wonder if you could quarantine and decontaminate it. Maybe stick it under a UV light for several minutes. After all, we bring in agricultural imports all the time. What is the procedure in that case?

4. Waiting in line for the bathroom in the aisle of the plane, I thought about how I was standing in a big metal tube barreling through the air at speeds and distances that I can not match on foot, what a miracle modern flight technologies is. This rarely occurs to me. I mostly complain about the food and the seats and the people around me (especially the ones that hog all the carry-on luggage space and lower their seat backs all the way into my lap), the bathrooms and gas cramps. Oh, the gas cramps. But really, it's an amazing thing that I am taking for granted. Truly remarkable. A miracle of our modern times. And the fact that one such as I would have access to it, is doubly remarkable.

5. My smartphone does not have data connectivity when I am in Europe. It becomes a big heavy cell phone with very expensive service. It's mostly a big pocket watch. When the plane touches down and I can see the 3G logo in the upper right hand corner and it flashes orange and green, I get a little happy.

6. There is a grocery chain in Germany called Edeka. They have two locations at the Munich airport. I am very fond of the one in Terminal 1. I have a thing for grocery stores.

They have a contraption that will give you fresh squeezed orange juice. You put a bottle on a platform, push a button and orange juice gets freshly squeezed right into the bottle. The housing of the machinery is clear so you can watch the oranges roll up to the juicer and get squeezed. It's pretty cool.

They also have a bottle recycling deposit machine. The plastic bottles all have an added deposit cost associated with them, as is the case in some states in the US. Anywhere from 0.15 to 0.35 Euro. It's a big machine with a hole in the middle. You stick the bottles in an opening and the machine uses some kind of laser or sensor to scan the bottle and make sure that it is recyclable. Maybe scan the label? I don't know. It beeps red if it's going to reject the bottle and green if it's acceptable. Very SciFi. After you have put in all of your bottles, you push a button and it spits out a voucher for your money which you can use at the grocery store checkout. Motivation to recycle and then spend that money right there.

6. I told someone that I currently have a job but no career. I have had this job for 5 years and am growing old while doing it. He asked what my career plans were. No idea. Goddamn Steve Jobs for dying. I had seen this commencement speech before. And when he died, I remembered watching it and have watched it again a few times. What a character. What conviction. What an interesting life.

7. My plans to sleep late and spend the day puttering at home are basically destroyed. There are workmen banging on the walls outside replacing the siding. So much for unpacking and organizing. I moved about a month ago and have been so on the move that I have not had a chance to unpack yet. The sound of banging, power tools, hollering and singing makes it hard to focus. Plus walking by a window and seeing workmen standing on a scaffolding right there, is a bit disconcerting. The sleeping late did not happen. I am trying to putter through the din. They took a lunch break but I hear them walking back upstairs to resume their work. So I'm going to go out into the world.

Five Years, here

2011-07-14T23:24:00.006-04:00

1. This week marks my five year anniversary. Five years in New York and five years at the place where I work. Five years of floatery. And in honor of this I intend to throw a shindig, at some point. But for now, I called my folks to announce the news and then took myself out on a date.

2. I have great dates with myself. It's easy to do in NYC. There are places that you can go and just linger - have some quality time with yourself. I went to a place called the Risotteria. I love risotto especially when it is made by others. What I did not realize was that I was walking into a Gluten-free haven. It was narrow, crowded and warm. Too warm for summer but at other times of the year, I'm sure very cozy.

This did not change the fact that the risotto with fontina, zucchini and oven baked tomatoes was delicious.

3. I kept myself company with a book. I have been reading a book called "How to Be Idle" by Tom Hodgkinson which is just lovely. Idleness is what I miss most in this stage of my life. Those endless stretches of time in which to ponder and reflect, in which to dream and nap.

I am not a go-getter. But there has been a lot of busy-ness and busy work to take up large swathes of my time of late. Many distractions. Distractions and entertainment are pleasures as well, but the languid passage of time, delicious.

Pure idling makes me antsy these days. It takes time for me to ease myself into it sometimes there is not enough time for me reach that state. I do try to do nothing on occassion. My preferred method is that of the flâneur or in my case, la flâneuse. I want to buy 10 copies of it and send them to friends and loved ones. Because of this I thought that I had missed Manhattanhenge.

4. Two days of the year, the sun sets at an angle such when you look down a city street from east to west, the sun sets right down the middle of the street, framed by buildings on both sides. Were it not for Twitter and MomVee, I would not have ever know about this. Manhattanhenge.

The day after, I dragged the Fella out to the Crocodile Lounge for beers and free pizza and to ensure that we were on 14th street to see the sunset. To see whether some remnant of the Manhattanhenge effect could be seen.

5. Let me begin by saying that the pizza at the Crocodile Lounge is best eaten hot. You need to let it cool enough to eat. But do not let it cool so much that the cheese gets cold and congealed. The pizza has a very narrow window for enjoyable eating if you have not yet had enough to drink.

6. As for watching the sunset on 14th street - 14th street actually has trees. So if you are too far east, the trees obscure your view of the west side of the island and the sun itself.

The Fella and I got around this by crossing back and forth across 14th street as slowly as we could while staring Westward. And behold, the sun was setting in frame although a bit to the north of the middle of the street. As we walked westward down the street, at one point, we joined a group of other people who wanted to witness this phenomena and many of the bushy-est trees were behind us. We all stood in the middle of the street whenever the traffic lights permitted and gawked and took pictures and oooh'd and aaawww'd. There were probably about 20 of us.

The second recommendation I would have is to wear sunglasses. The sun is not as strong but it is still bright.

The third recommendation I would have is be present for the experience. I was trying to adjust the camera settings on my phone and heard everyone else say, "It's over. Let's go." I missed the actual moment when the Sun crept below the horizon. Or you could adjust the settings on your camera before the festivities get underway.

Lastly, you might want to try a street that is not 14th. Although that being said, 14th was kinda cool. After this the Fella and I continued wandering the city, a favorite pasttime of mine, until late.

7. Which meant that I got a late start on the next day and in a fit of deranged, cranky, ravenous hunger dragged BE out with me to get a sandwich. He had discovered that a nearby place on Varick Street called the Little Italy Pizzeria has a corned beef sandwich that cannot be beat. If ever there was a sandwich that could soothe the raging beast to the point of pure food inspired happiness, it would be corned beef on a roll with mustard and mayo from this place. BE got the brisket sandwich with gravy, which I am sure is also good.

8. It was so filling that after eating 3/4 of it, I was good for the rest of the day until later when I went to Pier 54 for a River Rocks show. The tUnEyArDs played a show. (a band that BE introduced me to) Waited in a not horrible line. Couldn't see a thing and was surrounded by tall people. So I have to watch some youtube vidoes to see how she does what she do. It was, near as I can tell, a bass player, two saxophones and Merrill Garbus, drumming, singing, harmonizing, playing the ukelele and god knows what else. It was incredible. Just incredible. I was blown away. And then. and then, as the tUnEyArDs finished playing the encore, there were fireworks.

9. I got very sick on the 4th of July weekend and missed the fireworks. Only to get to enjoy a fireworks display from the pier. I do not believe people who say that they are unimpressed by fireworks and don't enjoy zoos. I say, no matter how jaded you become. A fireworks display is a winner. I don't care how many you have seen. Pretty, colored explosions in the sky - bad ass.

So far, it's been a good week, the week of my 5th anniversary.

The Problem with Problems

2011-06-11T17:45:00.005-04:00

I was crankypants yesterday. And still am a bit today. I have a litany of disappointments and irritations. They are minor and trifling but utterly engrossing me right now.

UPS, my neighbors, the Brooklyn Public Library, the limited utility of a repeater, my inability to make a decision based on incomplete information, how quickly the time passes, how difficult it is to get things done, how expensive travel can be, the dollar/euro exchange rate, and on and on and on.

I think it mostly comes down to having difficulty accepting the imperfection of the world, myself and other people.

The funny thing is, even when things are resolved, I cannot let myself be happy about the resolution and the fact that a problem is solved. I continue to upset myself over the fact that the problem occurred at all. Or I realize that the identified and solved problem is not the only one that needs addressing. Or I discover another problem almost immediately. Or then encounter the same problem again in a slightly different context. Or decide that the problem is indicative of a much larger issue, one that is intrinsic and perhaps impossible to deal with. And then I feel a kind of futility.

When, really, that is a part of what life is. An endless series of problems to be solved, avoided or accepted.

The phrase, "Our problems are over!" is a fantasy. You can say, "This problem is solved." But you have to understand that that is not the end of it. That solution is not going to make all of your problems go away forever.

Fairy Tales end with happily ever after. And movies can too. Perhaps in some cases novels as well. But life, we overcome, we carry on and encounter new obstacles. It's more like a TV series. Every episode has it's own situation, it's own conflict to tackle.

And that is a silly thing to be crankypants about because I am not the only one and this is just the nature of things.

A demonstration:

You: "Why are you unhappy?"

Me: "Because my life is not a fairy tale."

Ridiculous.

And really, how boring would life be without a focus, a goal, a conflict or problem to address. Maybe the challenge is to find what is interesting in the obstacles encountered while seeking out other obstacles associated with goals that are more engaging and / or rewarding.

Which only makes me feel slightly better.

Foreshadowing?

2011-04-14T02:45:00.001-04:00

I unpacked my bags today, only to discover that I packed two bottles of Advil.

Hmmmmmm......

Rediscoveries and Second Lives

2011-04-02T14:14:00.003-04:00

I can pick a single from an album. Back when they used to make albums, I could listen to one and pick out the singles before turning on the radio.

But with TV, I do not have this ability. If I love a show it is very likely to be canceled. My So-Called Life, Felicity, Dawson's Creek, Firefly, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Studio 60.

CBS had this great sitcom, "The Class." Crazy, right? a great sitcom on CBS.

It came out at the same time as "How I Met Your Mother". They were scheduled back to back. CBS canceled it after one season.

The head of this Class was Jesse Tyler Ferguson as Richie Velch. He has amazing physical comedy skills. Amazing.

The rest of the cast was also excellent including: Heather Goldenhersh as Lina Warbler and John Ritter's son Jason Ritter as Ethan Haas, the man who brings them all together in the pilot.

To my utter delight the episodes of "The Class" can be found on youtube.

Dear CBS, you were the shortsighted corporate dumbasses who canceled this amazing show. You did not know what you had. And considering that you never released the complete season on DVD, you don't know what to do with it now. So steer clear. Allow it to have a continued life online for all of us to enjoy.

shouting at paper to get the shouting right on paper

2011-03-23T11:31:00.002-04:00

Someday, I will do a staged reading of emails where the text in all caps will be read as screaming. I am curious to see whether they have the emphasis placed on the right words and phrases. It would suggest to me that they speak aloud while they are composing these messages to make sure that the phrasing is correct.

Among causes for violence

2011-03-17T14:52:00.003-04:00

I have only encountered one situation in which near violent behavior towards an inanimate object made me the recipient of great sympathy.

When the tampon machine in the ladies' room ate my quarter.

Even better

2011-03-16T10:15:00.003-04:00

Better than really tall women are really tall women wearing very tall shoes.

difficult people

2011-03-16T10:13:00.005-04:00

Difficult people often have this curious attitude in which they are difficult and make your life difficult and yet they so clearly very much want you to sympathize with them and care about their feelings either because or despite what a pain in the ass they are.

They don't seem to realize that you have your own point of view that is strongly influenced by what a colossal pain in your ass they are.

Coming back to earth

2011-03-01T10:22:00.002-05:00

Sometimes the distance between what the world is and what you wish it to be is very vast. One would think that with age, the shock of this would dull.

And perhaps it does.

futility of trust

2011-02-28T10:52:00.001-05:00

I want to trust in the fact that other people are doing their jobs and doing them well.

But so far, this desire has only bitten me in the ass. Repeatedly.

Gloomy thought

2011-02-20T00:15:00.004-05:00

I had this depressing thought. The very rich don't have to worry about the environment. They will find a way to get theirs and make money off of everyone else whether things are good or bad.

And not only do the rest of us need to do something about it, we have to find a way to fight and ignore the propaganda, marketing and misinformation that they spread that encourage us to support and aid in the destruction of said environment.

This one only goes to Seven

2011-02-03T01:20:00.003-05:00

1. The sidewalks are impossibly icy. I wish I owned cleats.

I walked home in mincing fragile little steps. And cursed and shrieked every time I slipped.

2. Of the five windows I spent weeks weatherproofing, only two are intact. The landlady has seen fit to open the windows to go out and deal with ice problems. They, of course, opened the draftiest ones. Hello, Cold, come right in, make yourself at home. Sometimes I wonder why I even try

3. We have mice again. I have not seen them myself but apparently they are here.

4. It feels like whatever I do is undone by those around me. Or someone has decided that it is their job to have me do and redo the damn thing.

5. I tried to go to Drink and Draw. But it was canceled. I considered going to a different figure drawing event but then work swallowed me whole and did not spit me out until it was too late.

6. CK asked me if I was depressed. I think it's the giant invisible bird that's mistaken my skull for an egg and will not get up from it's nested position on my noggin. (shakes fist and invisible giant bird.)

7. I revamped my online dating profile and now I have a fan. Someone who likes my profile so much that he is bound to be disappointed in me. I cannot decide if this means that I should be more specific or more vague in the future.

So nice hearing from you

2011-02-02T20:19:00.002-05:00

Astrology.com sent me two horoscopes for the day.

And I got emails from three yoga studios.

The mystical must miss me. That, or the mystical must think that I miss it. Equally plausible.

The A is silent

2011-02-02T20:17:00.001-05:00

I have been setting up and testing automated "email a friend" functions today.

Because they are tests that I am sending to myself, in the main body I have been typing "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"
I find it strangely cleansing, as if I were actually screaming at the top of my lungs.

My Thursday Companion

2011-01-20T09:54:00.000-05:00

The Shins, oh how I love you.

Truly and Purely.

Continuing education

2011-01-18T00:43:00.005-05:00

The Brooklyn Kitchen, perhaps known to some of you as The Meat Hook, in Williamsburg offers cooking classes.

LV pointed this out to me and we signed up for the pizza making class.

The guys teaching (from Roberta's) were really great - funny, knowledgeable, friendly. As might be expected, they were passionate about pizza. It was a hands on class. We each had our own station and ingredients. Everyone had an apron. They served beer. You can't really ask for more.

We spent the first part of the class making dough and the second part taking dough that had been proofed and making pizza.

The pizzas were delicious.

Everyone took their dough home to make pizzas with.

Mine did not turn out nearly as well as the ones in class:

To begin, I think I should have divided the dough last night. Maybe coat it with a little olive oil to keep from drying out. And let it warm up to room temp before even trying to handle it. Tip of the iceberg.

Clearly I need LOTS more practice. My track record with bread type things is not so hot. Lots more practice. LOTS!!!!

Still, it was a fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I'm definitely interested in taking another class there.

Easy things that are not

2011-01-17T09:35:00.007-05:00

Warning, this post is very long and boring. We file it under, how I spent a lot of my weekend.

A while back I bought some recording software from Guitar Center.
The guys behind the counter advised me to buy the software on CD rather than download it online. So I did.

To borrow a phrase from Lyle Lovett, that is when I should have known that I had made my first mistake.

I took the box home and placed it in my living room with the intention of getting around to it. I respond to the things that I buy in one of two ways. I either tear the box open and muck about or I set the box to the side and get accustomed to its smell and presence before doing a thing with it.

With the second response, there is danger that I will set it aside forever, either because I get distracted by other things or because I never get over the newness and strangeness.

I waited my way into the new year and this long weekend, I decided that it was time to install the program. I could play with it and hole up for the rest of the winter.

I generally anticipate that a thing will either be impossibly hard, too difficult to even try, or easy peasy - a quicky jiffy,

When it comes to technology I always and incorrectly assume that it will be the latter.

First there was the long overdue maintenance that was needed for the laptop, the upgrades and scans and shuffling about of things.

After getting all of that out of the way, I got to the part where I put in the disk. The drive whirled and the start up menu displayed. All good signs.

Except that I had misplaced the piece of plastic on which they had printed my registration serial number. Which they would need to confirm that I had a legitimate copy of the program. I didn't put it in the box where I had found it. I had put it somewhere else. Somewhere visible to remind me that this installation was one of the things that I wanted to do. Only, it was no longer visible.

I turned the house upside down looking for it. For many months it lived on the coffee table, amidst a mass of papers and folders and books sometimes under, sometimes on top of or beside. But then my desire to see a clear surface in the house overwhelmed my desire for a visual reminder and prompted me to put it somewhere very safe. So safe that it took me three hours to relocate the card with the registration number.

Note to Self, cleaning, clearing and organizing are three different but related processes. None of which I am apparently that skilled at.

Now I was set. Except that the disk wouldn't install the program. I kept getting an error message. First I thought that this was because I was trying to install without having an active internet connection.

I couldn't get on the internet to save my life for a day and a half from the laptop that I wanted to use for this purpose. And then somehow while clicking around, messing with this or that utility flipping settings on and off, I found a wireless connection. YAY!

But it still didn't work. With a bit of Googling, I found a forum at the company website with a thread directly dealing with this problem. But could not read it without becoming a forum user. I registered and found out that there was an error in the box installer. I was going to have to download the demo and upgrade it.

Now, I don't know about you but if I were this company, Image Line, I would have put in a recall on those CD's. If I were Guitar Center, I would have pulled them from my shelves. MINUS POINTS. So after all that talk about getting the thing in the box, I had to download it online.

And then I lost internet access so I couldn't do a thing.

Now on the last day of my long weekend, I am sitting at the foot of the stairs in my building where I appear to have some internet signal, trying to download and install the program. I saw a note in one of the forums that of the four mirror sites where I can download the demo, two or three of them don't work. I tried to download from one of them to no avail. The second mirror site seems to be working. At least the download has worked. Now the demo is installed. I am trying to figure out how to use the registration key to convince the demo that I should be allowed to use the full version. I am downloading the files that should come up automatically in the hopes that if I install them individually they will figure out how to shake hands with each other. Having never used this software before, I can only hope that I will be able to figure out at what point I have downloaded and installed the product that I paid for.

And then I maybe I will get to play around with it for the remaining part of winter, that is, if I don't get distracted again.

Perhaps I should have gotten an analog 4 track with knobs and sliders.

:\

What I should be tweeting right now

2011-01-04T20:41:00.001-05:00

I am wearing too much eyeliner today.

And I am still trapped at my desk at work.

These two facts are not related. Merely concurrently true.

Sigh

2011-01-03T23:38:00.001-05:00

Leaving denial is much trickier than one might think. It is so comfortable with all those fluffy pillows, all that cotton candy, and the wonderful way it takes the edge off of reality.

A last good bye to 2010

2011-01-03T16:13:00.002-05:00

I've been trying to recall what happened in 2010. It's all so fuzzy. It was fuzzy as it was happening and now, even more so. But for some reason I am compelled to recap. I'm going to blame the Christmas letters that I received. (Let me insert here that they are delightful.) I am not so organized as to be able to do one, but if I were, what would be on it?

In 2010

1. I saw the Canstruction competition
2. I watched someone make stone tools at a wine and cheese reception at the NYAS
3. I saw a few really stellar science talks at the Secret Science Club, one in particular: Iain Couzin
4. I turned 40
5. I threw a Cougar Cotillion
6. I had jury duty, was selected and served, they settled out of court.
7. I accosted Malcolm Gladwell. He was so kind about it.
8. I was a mermaid in the Mermaid Parade
9. I went to a roller derby bout
10. I helped one friend move three times
11. I played a cafe show at the 92nd Street Y
12. I bought a bike
13. I played D&D for the first time ever
14. I met someone I like. He wasn't into it. Hey, them's the breaks.
15. I went to NEXT HOPE 2010
16. I went to the Open Video Conference
17. I worked for a week in the UK
18. I got to experience the Momofuku Bo Saam Pork Butt meal (amazing)
19. I caulked, weatherstripped and weatherized all the winders in my apartment and spackled a giant gape in the bedroom wall
20. I rode the 35 mile version of the New York Century ride
21. I went to a Moth Story Slam
22. I played Tranny Bingo
23. I took a pole dancing class
24. I saw the Magna Carta and a Guttenberg bible
25. I walked in the Greenwich Village Halloween parade
26. I worked in Germany for a week
27. I went to the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear
28. I reconnected with some very dear old friends
29. I went to Niagara Falls, Ontario
30. I saw BBFK get married (YAY!)
31. I crashed and burned in Nanowrimo Only got to 15,000 words.
32. Tried laser hair removal (hated it)
33. Prepped and printed 1500 name badges for one event
34. I got a smartphone
35. I attended SantaCon, as a Santa
36. I witnessed Santa-on-Santa violence
37. I won money in the office raffle and promptly spent it all on booze and nonsense
38. I baked an apple pie from scratch
39. I have come to terms with the fact that I am a hoarder and must monitor this tendency vigilantly
40. I attended the Hackers 15th anniversary party
41. I found an alternate way to get into a headstand in yoga. Now I can do a headstand!

It would probably look better if I used full sentences, threw in some pictures, and cut this list down to 10 items or less.

Mostly, Life led me around by the nose and to nowhere in particular. Perhaps I spent too much of it tortured and longing for love.

It happens. I've had worse things happen in a year.

And now on to 2011.

Wishing you all a Wonderous 2011. Let's kick some ass.

Blizzard Gifts from the Sunset Strip

2010-12-30T02:49:00.006-05:00

Thanks to the blizzard in the Northeast, my flight back to New York was canceled. My visit with the folksters was extended by four days.

Thanks to the many bugs flying around and the chill of the season, I got sick. The kind of sick where your teeth hurt and all of you aches and the GD pills aren't ever going to kick in.

My mother teased me as I lay in bed encouraging me to call my friends and complain about being sick and stuck at home.

I couldn't even do that.

What I was able to do was watch TV on the internet. Sometimes the same episode over and over again. I would drop off the sleep, wake up having lost my place, unable to remember the ending and try again.

Thanks to Netflix for enabling this.

Thanks to KL, who told me that she has been watching, I watched the whole season of "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip."

I watched the show when it came out. I remember being totally entranced and heartbroken when it was canceled.

On viewing, years later, it's breath-taking.

The first time around I was struck by Amanda Peet's turn as Jordan McDeere. She's smart, brave, impossible and so so winning.

This time around, I am besotted with Matt Albie. It's love. Matthew Perry was so good. Wow. So So Good. How could I possibly have not noticed just how dreamy he was?

I might buy the DVD boxed set and keep my TV on the Studio 60 channel for a while.

Kinda rhymes with the word oven

2010-12-28T00:06:00.011-05:00

Rhyming is like matching your clothes.

It creates order, structure and cohesion. Kinda brings everything together.

One must take care when rhyming to show restraint. An inflexible insistence on rhyming everything will turn something charming into something stilted or ridiculous.

I am not a big fan of matching but I am a sucker for rhyme in lyrics, even (and sometimes especially) when excessive or ridiculous. I am not a stickler for a formal and proper rhyme, a near rhyme will suit. Assonance may be "getting the rhyme wrong" but I like it all the same.

While not a matter of life and death, sometimes finding the right one can cause a headache of Guy Music proportions.

When you are ready to bang your head against a piano, spare your cranium and get thee to a rhyming dictionary. A simple Google search will no doubt lead you to one or many very nice ones.

The rhyming site that I was first introduced to by DF is RhymeZone.

There is also rhymer.com

The following kinda rhymes are brought to you by RhymeZone, Rhymer, and the filter of my brain.

Oven kinda rhymes with: lovin', coven, shovin', shruggin', huggin', tuggin', muggin', wom-un, pluggin', sullen, sudden, sloven, roughen, dudgeon, clubbin', runnin', stunnin', run in.

I am trying to convince myself that apron, arson, tungsten, and blowgun are also kinda rhymes for oven. There is such potential in each of these words. Alas, wanting a thing to be true, does not automatically make it so.

He toils before the oven
and polishes his blowgun
feeling sad and sullen
contemplating arson

?
Hmmmm. It doesn't quite gel.

Excuse me, while I find a piano to bang my head on.

Links for funny

2010-12-24T17:34:00.005-05:00

I understand that posting these links is a waste of time when you are spending entire work days at the office on CollegeHumor.com and Hyperbole and a Half.

But it's Christmas Eve. My family and I have just had snack time which means that we don't have to interact again for a few hours until dinnertime.

So I will share with you:

If Old People Ran the Internet

And two from Hyperbole and a Half

The one about Kenny Loggins and Xmas.

And the one about Moving with Dogs.

Via someecards.com: this bit on santa which is probably only funny to mean people like me.

And this one from Savage Chickens for the New Year.

Be Who You Are

2010-12-18T17:43:00.000-05:00

Tonight's drinks will be had in the honor of Republican Senators: Scott Brown [MA], Richard Burr [NC], Susan Collins [ME], John Ensign [NV], Mark Kirk [IL], Lisa Murkowski [AK], Olympia Snowe [ME] and George Voinovich [OH] for voting to repeal Don't Ask Don't Tell.

One Fish, Two Fish, Eat Fish, Go Fish

2010-12-15T22:21:00.006-05:00

I have been reading Paul Greenberg's book "Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food."

It's an easy and interesting read even if you have read Mark Kurlansky's very excellent book "Cod," which is also an easy and interesting read.

Mark Kurlansky focuses on the impact of one fish, the Cod, on human history and then on our impact on its viability as a species. The publishing industry apparently refers to this kind of book as a microhistory.

"Four Fish" takes a look at Salmon, Sea Bass, Cod, and Tuna. These fish that we know and love are presented as case studies to suggest that there is something wrong with the health of our oceans, something wrong with how we relate to the ocean.

These fish that we love to eat are not doing so well. The news is not good for delicious fish.

I fear that we as a species do not scale well. The more of us there are - doing the things that we humans like to do - the tougher it gets for everything else that lives to do the things that they like to do. It's hard to say whether any species actually scales well. In any given situation perhaps a living thing takes advantage of its opportunities up to the point where there is push back to keep it in check. And for now, fish are not pushing back, they are disappearing. We are eating them out of the ocean.

How do we know that we are the cause? Because when we stop catching and eating them for long periods of time, at least some types of fish increase their numbers again.

What can we do. We are hungry. Even when we are stomachs are full and we are not physically hungry, our appetites are insatiable. We crave in our heads, our hearts, our souls. We not only demonstrate this in our personal actions and decisions but also collectively in our social groups, social structures, jobs, markets, companies, kingdoms, social, political and legal entities, the technologies that we invent to help us feed that appetite faster and more efficiently for more of us.

We are so hungry.

When I finished reading "Cod," I wanted nothing so desperately as a Filet 'o Fish sandwich from McDonalds. I waited two whole week after finishing the book before I broke down and got one. I am craving one now as I type this.

Reading "Four Fish" I want nothing more than to try bluefin tuna carapaccio. Maybe get sushi.

Just this once. I am one person. How bad could it be? Just this once.

I went to dinner with AM and some friends to this delightful sushi place, one of whom was a gorgeous, tall, very dour girl who asked the waitress if they served sustainable fish. The waitress was doubtful. GTVD Girl had a card with her that she handed to the waitress listing endangered fish. Unsure of the eco-quotient of the fish at the establishment, she ordered a piece of land animal while the rest of us heartily tucked into platters of sushi delights.

I mock her but I also admire her fortitude.

We were just three people, that one time. How bad could it be? Just this once.

And I love a fish taco. I had a delicious one today at Cabrito. Amazing.

Dan Barber (who is amazing) has given this questions some thought as well. His conclusion has been that is it bad, that the answer is to accept no less than sustainable sources for fish as food. Unlike the GTVD girl, he does so with passion and love for flavor and food and joy. He is the Epicurean to her Puritan but the end point is shared.

I wish he had named the fish he fell in love with.

Near as I can tell, Paul Greenberg seems to think that Tilapia, Barramundi, and the Pangasius fishes are the way to go - from a farmed fish point of view.

I suspect that Dan Barber is talking about another fish altogether. Perhaps I will have to save my pennies and visit his restaurant and find out for myself.

In the meantime, back to the book about four fish.

Perhaps I will get lessons on being very dour about the fate of our oceans. Practice my culinary Puritanism. Or find a sustainable fish and fall in love.

Sound off, one, two

2010-12-01T19:14:00.007-05:00

I was discussing the question of gays in the military with my father. I thought that it was odd that there were people who had been discharged from the military who would re-enlist if they eliminated the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy. The whole, how could you forgive a club that wouldn't have you as a member.

My father didn't think it was so strange.

As the discussion went on, my father said, "Well, the most famous gay in the military was Julius Caesar."

!!!

I do not know if this is true but if it is certainly worthy of a t-shirt:

Can I be sued by someone who died in 44 BC?

Complaints

2010-12-01T12:03:00.005-05:00

I meet so many people in New York who are passionately pursuing their dreams and love what they do. They kind of have to. They are here living with five roommates in the outskirts of the boroughs and making peanuts or working for free while holding down crazy odd jobs or painful day jobs.

I always feel strange in comparison. Because I am here but I am merely making a living. It is a gaping chasm between these people and me. We are different species.

There is nothing wrong with making a living. Pretty much everything that is alive is in the business of making a living. When you talk to microbiologists that takes up and lot of their attention, how these tiny critters are making a living. Ecologically, metabolically, microenvironmentally, in combination with a host.

That being said, when you spend enough time doing what you do not like and do not want, it can loom very large in your field of vision and make it difficult to remember what it is that you do like and want. If you have a very short term memory, as I do.

Which is merely to say that the first day back at the office after a week off is unfun.

But sometimes someone will provide you with a nice distraction and introduce you to a new song or two.

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/s/New+In+Town/2rKNBN

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/s/Logos/1IYQ0F

notes from home

2010-11-26T22:57:00.004-05:00

1.
After a visit to the Mall it would appear that sequins and animal print are big for this season. I am beside myself.

2.
We made a sweet potato casserole with pineapple this year. It was yum. It's a variant of recipe called Yankee Sweet Potato Casserole found on www.cooks.com

Cook a mess of sweet potatoes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degs.
Peel and mash them.
Add honey, pineapple juice, brown sugar, butter, salt, amaretto, pecans.
Grease a baking dish.
Layer canned pineapple rings on the bottom 5 rings for an 8x8 dish.
Pour in the sweet potato mixture.
Layer canned pineapple rings on the top (5 rings on top as well).
Bake for 20-30 minutes.

The tart of the pineapple and the sweet of the sweet potato make surprising and lovely pair.

3.
Last week I finally came to the conclusion that my pants are too baggy. Probably because I've been listening to Katy Perry sing about her skin tight jeans in the track "Teenage Dream." That lyric has seeped into my subconscious as: girls in skin tight jeans find true love. Rationally, I understand that this is bull. But I have always irrationally believed that clothes hold the answers to many of life's problems.

At the Limited, I tried on a size 8, 6 and 4. The size 6 and 4 felt exactly the same except that I think the size 4 makes my muffin top look more pronounced. Naturally, I bought a size 4. I have not worn a size 4 in years. The prospect was irresistible, even if caused by size exaggeration and stretchy fabric.

They are not skin tight. But they are much narrower than all of my other pants. Bring on the love!

4.
I only read the New Yorker when I come home to visit my parents in C-ville. Excellent quote:

When Mary Jo talks about the experience[of rebuilding her restaurant], she says she tried to keep in mind something Provino Mosca used to say:"Without trouble, there is no life."

-Calvin Trillin

The article made me want to eat my way through New Orleans, or at least make a pilgrimage to Mosca's for Oysters Mosca, Chicken a la Grande, Mosca's Sausage, Shrimp Mosca, Spaghetti Bordelaise, Crab Salad and the Chicken Cacciatore. Because that's what Calvin gets when he goes there. Despite or perhaps because of the Thanksgiving holiday, I have a new dream vacation to plan.

5.
My mother put an electric blanket on my bed. We turned it on and noticed that there are two controllers - one for each half of the blanket. Couples can share an electric blanket and a bed while independently regulating the heat. Ingenious.

life littlest victories

2010-11-26T11:20:00.005-05:00

I have been obsessively playing Minesweeper for almost a week now. It is a fixation that I fall in and out of. I played at the beginner and intermediate levels and recently been banging my head against the expert level. It's a 16x30 grid with 99 bombs.

This is not a pastime I would necessarily recommend. I have been spending a lot of time getting blown up which is discouraging.

When I play, sometimes I tell myself that it is an analogy for life or at the very least, my job. I hope that none of you has a situation in your life, the experience of which could be modeled or mirrored by Minesweeper.

The pace of the game allows a mind too much time to fret about things that are not game related which is distracting and makes one more likely to make a mistake.

Mistakes often made:

I click without thinking.

I don't pay attention to the whole board and I overlook available information.

I don't think out possible scenarios or become enamored of one possible solution and neglect to sketch out all the others.

I make false assumptions.

I make decisions based on previous games instead of focusing on the game in play.

I accidentally click on a spot that I intend to flag.

Sometimes I lack motor control. My fingers revolt and disregard the instructions sent by my brain.

Sometimes there are two configurations that will work, based on the information available and I pick wrong.

I generally tell myself that if I get down to 30 or fewer bombs on the grid, I am doing well. A few times I have gotten down to 4-10 of them.

But today, I won.

Yup. It was a pretty straightforward board. Not so ambiguous. Maybe I got lucky. Maybe I have finally learned something.

I am tempted to quit playing forever. But if I do where is the reinforcement for possible lessons learned? I might just take a break and play again later.

declining marginal utility, more is not necessarily better

2010-11-21T20:32:00.010-05:00

Just finished reading, "Stumbling on Happiness," by Daniel Gilbert. This is not a book that will help you be happier. But it is a book that will explain how the brain deludes us thinking that we are both happier and unhappier than we really are.

The section that hit me between the eyes was towards the end, on money.

"False beliefs that happen to promote stable societies tend to propagate because people who hold these beliefs tend to live in stable societies, which provide the means by which false beliefs propagate."
-Daniel Gilbert, "Stumbling on Happiness"

"Economists and psychologists have spent decades studying the relation between wealth and happiness, and they have generally concluded that wealth increases human happiness when it lifts people out of abject poverty and into the middle class but that it does little to increase happiness thereafter. Americans who earn 50,000 per year are much happier than those who earn $10,000 per year, but Americans who earn $5 million per year are not much happier than those who earn $100,000 per year. People who live in poor nations are much less happy than people who live in moderately wealthy nations. Economists explain that wealth has "declining marginal utility," which is a fancy way of saying that it hurts to be hungry, cold, sick, tired and scared, but once you've bought your way out of these burdens, the rest of your money is an increasingly useless pile of paper."
-Daniel Gilbert, Ibid.

"People in wealthy countries generally work long and hard to earn more money than they can ever derive pleasure from."
-Daniel Gilbert, Ibid.

"Adam Smith, the father of modern economics, wrote in 1776:
"The desire for food is limited in every man by the narrow capacity of the human stomach; but the desire of the conveniences and ornaments of building, dress, equipage, and household furniture, seems to have no limit or certain boundary."
"
-Daniel Gilbert, Ibid.

"If no one wants to be rich, then we haver a significant economic problem, because flourishing economies require that people continually procure and consume one another's goods and services. Market economies require that we all have an insatiable hunger for stuff and if everyone were content with the stuff they had, then the economy would grind to a halt. But if this is a significant economic problem, it is not a significant personal problem."
-Daniel Gilbert, Ibid.

"...the fundamental needs of a vibrant economy and the fundamental needs of a happy individual are not necessarily the same. So what motivates people to work hard every day to do things that will satisfy the economy's needs but not their own? Like so many thinkers, Smith believed that people want just one thing - happiness - hence economies can blossom and grow only if people are deluded into believing that the production of wealth will make them happy. If and only if people hold this false belief will they do enough producing, procuring, and consuming to sustain their economies."
-Daniel Gilbert, Ibid.

"In short, the production of wealth does not necessarily make individuals happy, but it does serve the needs of an economy, which serves as a network for the propagation of delusional beliefs about happiness and wealth. Economies thrive when individuals strive, but because individuals will only strive for their own happiness, it is essential that they mistakenly believe that producing and consuming are routes to personal well-being ... this particular false belief is a super-replicator because holding it causes us to engage in the very activities that perpetuate it."
-Daniel Gilbert, Ibid.

Can you imagine if everyone just stopped? What would happen if governments decided that the happiness of people before the state of the economy? What would happen if corporations, institutions and organizations did as well?

I am so tied up in the idea that a little more money would = a little more happiness I can't imagine it myself. If the relationship between money and happiness is not linear, or infinitely exponential upwards, it is silly of me to pursue more of the same for less of my aim.

Perhaps my Dad's right, I have been looking at this all wrong. I should check if I am "hungry, cold, sick, tired and scared." When I am none of these things, I need to remind myself to stop chasing the cash and just bask in the sunshine munching on grapes. I really should. It's just so hard to imagine.

To the question of happiness, I should first ask: "Am I bleeding? no. Am I dying? no. Am I starving? no. Am I terrified? usually, but mostly it's all in my head. Am I tired? often, but it's because I love on the internet until late at night."

Okay, then it's not about the money and what I don't have that can be bought. It must be about something else. Like the internet.

telephone game

2010-11-19T01:03:00.002-05:00

I left my phone at home today.

It felt like leaving home with no pants on, breezy and exposed.

As I walked, I thought to myself, "It's fine. I can go one day without it. I lived for years and years without knowing that I needed it. I have a watch on. I will know the time."

Except of course, that today I would go up to my US Senator's office only to discover that I needed to call the office, only to discover that I needed a phone and the guy at the security desk was not going to let me use any of the five on his desk, the payphone "around the corner" was non-existent, and I didn't have any change for the call anyway.

There was an answer to this problem. I borrowed the landline of a restaurant using the old,"Hi, I need to call my US senator's office and I forgot my cell, can I borrow your phone for one local call, I swear it won't last more than 5 minutes."

If you are ever in a pinch this might work for you too. And then you got back to standing in the lobby of the building haranging the security guy to call the office for you a few more times until someone friendly and well dressed comes down to shake your hand, give you a card, take your documents and smiles politely, listening to your rant.

And then I would make spontaneous plans with CK and have to try to figure out how to coordinate the old fashioned way but setting a specific time and a specific place and sticking to it no matter what.

It wasn't soooo bad. I kept reaching for the pocket of my purse where the cell phone lives.

But it was all fine, I got to tell Sen Gillibrand's aide that I and 11 of my neighbors are NOT in favor or extending the Bush tax cuts.

I met up with CK and we had burgers and wine.

And when I got home, I didn't have any calls or texts anyway. I saved myself at least 40 minutes of the day that I would have wasted checking my phone for calls or messages. The only thing I didn't get to do was further torment my parents with a call.

Maybe I don't need a smartphone. Maybe I don't need any phone at all.

I guess the change in my pocket wasn't enough

2010-11-18T23:51:00.004-05:00

Top 40, Sweet Cheeks.

Yes, I love the show Glee. It is rare that I am so transparently emotionally manipulated by a TV show. And what's worse, I love it and cry out for more.

But it does lead me to the uncomfortable decision to no longer diss on Pat Boone. I do love Glee and I love this cover by Gwyneth Paltrow, but I can't help but feel that it's the contemporary equivalent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1_B9FCZJMA

vs:

Cee Lo Green (cussing intact - not work/radio friendly)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pc0mxOXbWIU

In place of what I started to want to say

2010-11-16T02:47:00.004-05:00

I want to complain.

I am not supposed. Apparently I am supposed to either suffer in silence, retrain my thoughts and perspectives to turn that frown upside down, or I am supposed to take action to improve my situation. Complaining is not allowed by friends, colleagues, family. I am allowed to complain silently to myself in my head but not on my blog. I am not even supposed to sigh. Sighing is apparently complaining. And there is no complaining.

Other people complain. But either they have good legitimate reasons to or no one likes them because of it. And because I want to be liked. I am not supposed to complain.

But I really want to.

So instead I have decided to do that thought redirection thing. I have decided to give myself a medal 4 breathing.

You can have it too. Let's share it.

I am awarding us this medal 4 breathing. According to today's wikipedia, the average human breathes 12-20 times a minute. 720-1200 times an hour. 17,280-28,800 and hour. That is a lot of air. Good job. High five to meritorious breathing. Keep up the good work.

Reality or Perception?

2010-11-09T10:24:00.001-05:00

"Experiments ... suggest that we do not outgrow realism so much as we learn to outfox it, and that even as adults our perceptions are characterized by an initial moment of realism."
- Daniel Gilbert, "Stumbling on Happiness"

no good deed

2010-11-02T00:01:00.002-04:00

A man in a wheelchair dropped his bag of groceries. He was right by the curb in the street kind of stretching back and forth reaching to pick up the bag. The woman standing next to me asked him if he needed some help.

He told her to go F herself and started cursing at her.

She said, "Oh," broke eye contact and started walking away.

I laughed and crossed the street.

note to self

2010-10-26T12:02:00.003-04:00

I can see the floor in one of my rooms. I am charging my cell phone and the dirt devil. I am going to have pasta with ratatouille and a chicken leg. And the sun is shining.

BBFK and Lever got married this weekend and I got to hang out with RL and meet the Wee Hoosier. And spent time with NL, the Family B and many many little girls.

Today I feel like shouting to the world, "Yay! My life is cool!"
I cannot recall feeling this way ever. Or at least for a very long time.
It will pass, no doubt.

But there it is, at this moment on this day at this point in my life.

I might get up the guts to go out on my bike today. (at which point I will start to hate pedestrians, cars and riders and this little moment of euphoria will pass)

But for now, Hooray.

Hug yourselves people. It is a great day to be alive.

'tis the Season

2010-10-20T02:02:00.003-04:00

Since the air has started to chill, I have wanted nothing more than to eat and eat and sleep. Over the course of this season, it is very likely that I will gain a megaton.

I shared this information with some co-workers in the elevator and the comment was that I sound like a bear preparing to hibernate.

Imagine how my out of office notification would read:

"Thank you for your email. I am hibernating in a cave, burning brown fat until Spring. I estimate that by late March or early April I will return and be ready to address your concern. Enjoy the Snow, Suckers. Respectfully, Ergo"

Water

2010-10-15T17:31:00.005-04:00

Today is Blog Action Day.

The topic is Water. I am ashamed to say that I do not know much about the water issue. Only that it is an issue and that people are dying from a lack of it or rather a lack of clean, safe water. I'll spend sometime this evening reading what other people are saying to see what I can learn.

Blog Action Day 2010: Water from Blog Action Day on Vimeo.

Raise a glass to the Poet cuz there better be a goddamn door

2010-09-29T22:03:00.010-04:00

"At the end of my suffering there was a door" - Louise Gluck

There are no words
There is no sound
No blood, no beat
no heat

only release
and passage

to where we do not follow

yet

The imprint of a life, felt in waves that echo endlessly
in ways that not one of us can grasp in whole.

A hole where once there was a soul.

Love and memory flows like a fountain
from the hearts of those who remain and those who came before.
And yes, also from the mind.

It is an end
It is a beginning

I don't know shit about life or love or death or loss. Only that sometimes it is unbearable in bad ways and sometimes in good. I'm breaking a rule today for the Poet.

Oh, and by the way ...

2010-09-25T23:13:00.002-04:00

One of the challenges of life is that you go through it with incomplete information. That's just how it goes.

In some cases, I can't figure out why that is tho. Like, there are ads on TV about Gardasil, how it lowers your risks of getting HPV which can cause cervical cancer. Yay! What they don't tell you is that HPV is an std.

Incomplete information.

I encountered some incomplete information today on the flight from London to NYC. I watched the movie "The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo." A title I have seen everywhere. I've heard some people rave about it and have friends who've read it. But I guess I just haven't been paying enough attention. This is a spoiler. I didn't know until I watched it that there would be violence against women. Had I known this, I might not have watched it.

*shudder*

35 miles of a Century Ride

2010-09-13T00:32:00.004-04:00

This is my bike:

I got her in July. BE called her my sweet ride. So I started out calling her MSR. But more recently in the tradition of PJS I call her "Baby Bike."

I started looking in May. It took a while. Finding a frame in my size in this area, was a challenge. She is a Terry Despatch. Georgiana Terry decided that she wanted to start a company that made bikes built for women. I got a chick bike - note the pink seat and handwraps.

She's old. She was made in the 80's. She's odd. Note that the front wheel is smaller than the rear. And there is no consistency to the sizing of her constituent parts. I guess it's fitting that we are together now.

As a kid my bike was my magical means of transport until it was supplanted by the car. Nothing was better than riding down a hill fast as possible, hair flying every which way in the wind.

This changed when I got older and was supposed to wear a helmet and the bikes suddenly had speeds and no pedal brake. Too confusing. No wind in the hair. Not as much fun.

But in recent times, the idea of bikes has come back to me. The whole commuter biker fantasy sounds thrilling, especially in the New York area. Weaving in and out of traffic. Dodging cab drivers and Jersey drivers. I got this notion in my second year here that the most terrifying things that I could consider doing are: ride a bike in New York or do stand up comedy. There are more terrifying things to do, but those are two that were almost within reach.

I figured if I am ever to be so numbed or jaded as to consider doing hard drugs, first, I should try bikes and stand up.

I am not considering doing hard drugs right now but was looking to do something ... else. Being more afraid of stand up, even though it will only kill you figuratively, I got a bike.

Plus bike people seem to be badasses. I would so love to be a badass too.

Plus I met someone I like and he rides a bike. In fact, in recent times I seem to have a particular type of person that I am drawn to and part of that type is a guy who rides a bike. To the point where when people say, "I met the perfect guy for you," I ask,"Oh. Does he ride a bike?"

After I got it, there was the buying of all the stuff that you get to go with your hobby. Helmet, lock (this is a whole story on its own), lights, bell, new yellow backpack, sunblock, new leggings, new shirts. Hobbies are a great form of economic stimulus. I think the next one should be targeted towards hobbies.

Now I've got it. I don't ride as much as I should, or I want to.

Baby Bike and I -
We've gone up to the park.
I rode with someone I like through Cobble Hill and Carroll Gardens. I had no idea how close or how small these neighborhoods are.
I rode down the street to the cemetery.
I rode down some bike paths to the Manhattan Bridge, across to Chinatown and then back.

I still have not ridden to work. Traffic. Terrifying.

Baby Bike talks to me. She rattles and rickets like a woman with creaky joints. But she's a sassy bitch.

She says, "This is fun, let's go faster."

She says, "Why are we stopping?"

She says, "Look at that bitch, we could totally take her."

She says, "THAT was a big pothole."

She says, "If we can't blow this light, can we stop with a skid?"

She gives a big wobble and says, "HEY! Are you listening to a word that I am saying?"

Yesterday, I did 35 miles of the NYC Century ride. Friends had advised me to train for it. I did not. By some miracle, I got up this morning and rode to the start site. And away I went. 8am - 12:35pm.

It seems that in New York, many many many bike riders take stoplights in what we used to call, the St. Louis rolling stop. You roll up to a stoplight and if the way is clear, you go. Everyone was doing it. They tell me, you'll never get anywhere if you don't. I am so not comfortable with this. But that is the culture. So Baby Bike and I would zoom up, than hang behind at busy intersections. Over and over.

The first part of the ride, from Prospect Park through to Williamsburg was beautiful and at times idyllic. The buildings, the people, the warehouses, the all of it. And then we got to Queens. That's when it got kind of industrial. We were riding by the water which was nice. My arms got chilly and I started to hear a squeak from my bike, like a squirrely thing as I pedaled and I started to feel my legs and my back. For some silly reason I had decided to pack my lock.

At the first stop, I felt pretty good. Until I found out that we had only gone 8 miles out of the 35. We continued over the RFK bridge, which was amazing. You have to carry you bike up and down stairs. And there are parts so narrow that some can ride it, and others will walk their bikes through. But at the stretch where you ride, you are elevated above the rest of the traffic with its sounds and smells and rush. You can see, everything. It feels as if you are riding in the clouds, as if slightest turn will launch you off the bridge into the air.

We landed on Randall's Island, rode around and into Manhattan to the Northern end of Central Park. This was the midpoint of the ride. I lost my bearings here and most of the people who I had been following along the route. The cue sheet for the ride had a million little directions typed out. If you didn't know the roads or have your bearings it was really helpful to follow a packleader or a marshall. At the very least it was really helpful to be wearing clothing with pockets so that you could keep the cue sheet on your person.

Some people rode through Central Park. Others were following the cue sheet. So I and EL (who I met at the start who became my ride buddy) went out with two other people and worked our thing out.

This part of the ride was terrifying. It started to rain. There was traffic. There were leisurely and clueless pedestrians. There were anxious owner with eager dogs. There were cabs, SUV's, luxury cars, New Jersey drivers, delivery guys riding in the opposite direction on your bike lane.

EL almost got hit by an SUV from NJ. They apparently didn't see her when making a right turn.

I started feeling my hip.

I almost caused an accident on Broadway. All sorts of honking. I can't tell what honking was angry and what honking was merely informative. It was pretty harrowing. And it all happened so fast. No matter how scary a moment was, you have to leave it behind and keep riding. There was no time for panic.

We got on the Brooklyn Bridge and were back. I started to feel my knees. I was still feeling my hip, my back, my ass, my hands, and then - my toes. My feet were getting wet and the right big toe crammed in a shoe crammed against a toe clip, started to feel raw.

At this point happy to be in more open traffic, I kept missing turns on the route and at one point a mother/daughter team saved me from ending up in Brownesville shouting to me that I had gone the wrong way.

I got a burger with EL and went home.

So tired I fell dead asleep and woke up feeling like I was still sitting on a bike. I am sore and my skin feels hot, like I have a fever. And I discover new and unusual discomforts by the minute.

I briefly thought to myself at the end, "Wow. I did it. I can do anything." Before collapsing intp a whimper.

After all, it was only 35 miles. Someone I like does 35 miles routinely for fun. EL and I discussed whether we wanted to try to do another ride before winter. The Tour de Bronx is coming up. Someone I like says it's not as fun and more than a little scary. Bronx has much more of a car culture as a borough, apparently.

Alternatively, there is an MS ride.

My accomplishments in this arena are not significant to anyone besides me. So I sit in sollopsistic triumph.

I say this from observation not personal experience

2010-09-07T11:49:00.003-04:00

Sometimes your success overtakes your capacity to perform. And you are overwhelmed, unable to meet the demand. I am not sure that this is what is meant by the expression, "A victim of your own success."

It sounds like a good problem to have. But having never been there, I do sometimes wonder.

Ink or Blood?

2010-09-02T18:49:00.002-04:00

"Over the life of your printer, you'll probably pay more than 500% of the total price of the printer itself on ink refill cartridges. At $30, a 42ml cartridge of black printer ink comes out to 71 cents per ml. On the other hand, the Red Cross charges $200 for 500 ml of blood, which comes out to about 40 cents per ml." - Amy Bell, "6 Outrageously Overpriced Products", Investopedia

When you get that mood indigo

2010-09-01T00:04:00.004-04:00

And you feel so lonesome you could die.
And you're just a soul who's bluer than blue can be.

The Universe via the internet can offer ample evidence that you are not alone.

Big Poppa E expresses for you the loneliness, longing for love and companionship. Squishing your heart while he does.

"I have fallen in love with 106 girls who are absolutely perfect for me except for one fatal flaw, they didn't love me back." - Big Poppa E

Tanya Davis offers insight and wisdom on How to Be Alone. Ways to relish and savor it as a pleasure, not a punishment. (Hat tip to Ze Frank)

Nina Simone points out what she ain't go and what she do. And you can follow along and tick off in your mind what you ain't got and what you do. In the case of she and I, we both have boobies.

There is comfort in knowing that this is shared, to know that you are, as the Police might say, "not alone in being alone". It is not the same as the comfort that comes from holding the one you love or being held. Or the comfort of breathing the same air in the same room.

Still, it is a comfort to know that it won't kill you. On some days, that is more than just enough. It's everything.

Looking it up

2010-08-30T21:34:00.006-04:00

I am reading DFW's collection, "Another Supposedly Fun Thing That I Will Never Do Again." It's been tough going. I phase in and out of love with it. Some days I pick it up and swear that is it written in the hieroglyphics of alien species with vastly higher intelligence. And then after a long break, I pick it up and am knocked flat by how funny and brilliant and deep it is. (and he is)

As a kid I never used the dictionary. If I couldn't figure out what a word meant through context, I figured it was not important to the task at hand and glossed over it. They usually weren't nouns or verbs. I was a very basic and plot driven reader as a child. All those window dressing words were just that. I just wanted to follow the action and inhabit that space.

To this day, sometimes I will mirror the facial expressions or make the gestures of characters in a book that I am reading, while I am reading it, reacting to the action on the page.

As a result, the following words have always tripped me up: Balmy, Nonplussed, and Intrepid. I tend to think that they mean the opposite of what they actually do. Trying to remember what they mean in this way tends to make me double back one time too many and come up with the wrong definition.

DFW's writing is chock full of words that I don't know. But I can't figure them out from context. Not even to the degree where I am at an either/or juncture. In the context, they could mean anything. But knowing their meaning directs a sentence in a very particular direction.

Among the words I have been stumbling over of late are: lapidary, assuasive, apposite, zygomatic, sybaritic, sedulous, preterite, piacular, recompense, diaphanous, epicanthically, accretive, anoretic, appurtenance, vestibule.

Looking them up, I see that a couple of them, I should have been able to reason out (recompense, anoretic, epicanthically), the rest - totally not. The best is sedulous which is in many instances defined as being the same as assiduous. Which I also had to look up the definition of, hoping that the entry does not say - "Sedulous." Or my other favorite kind of definition: "Of, pertaining to, or characteristic of a sybarite." Uh ... not remotely helpful, here.

If you search under Google images for Vestibule, most of the pictures are of buildings interiors but additionally you will see pictures of lady plumbing. (Gracious!) It is apparently a building and anatomical term. Interestingly, vestibules are also found in the mouth, the heart and the ear, those pictures must show up a few pages further into the search.

Reading through this vamped up vocab is like spending time with people who are much smarter, more virtuous and or more talented than you are. You could learn so much, you want to learn more just to keep up, in their company you know that you are improving. But you also end up feeling like a doofus and wondering if there's a more relaxing and enjoyable way that you could pass the hours.

To riff off a phrase from the Jack Nicholson movie, "As Good As It Gets," DFW makes me want to be a better reader. He makes me want to catch all the passing remarks and small asides, to get a firm grasp in the main stuff of exactly what's going on. And not just the gist of the big picture. I want more. And so to the dictionary I must go. Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho *whistles*

It's not always about fresh

2010-08-30T20:15:00.005-04:00

Some dishes are not good right after they are cooked. They are not bad, just merely okay. They need time to settle into themselves. The spices come to consensus. A sauce needs to absorb. The ingredients intermingle in a slow growing crescendo, coming into harmony and balance until they sing out in a glorious chorus.

The pulled pork sandwich from South Houston was nothing to remark on when served but a day later transformed into sweet, succulent, flavorful, gorgeous porkness. You feel a loneliness having cleared your plate and a longing for more. More pork. (The shoestring onion rings on the other hand, do not hold up well overnight. They are light, delicious and charming skating on the tempura side of battered vegetable, a flirt of fried onions.)

So, too, was a recent meal at Szechuan Delight. The Twice Cooked Pork and the Eggplant in Peking Sauce were fine. But the next day and the day after that, each dish really came into its own. The Twice Cooked Pork having arranged the hierarchy of its flavors and the Eggplant surrendering itself to everything that Peking sauce could offer. So good. So good.

It's not always about fresh. Sometimes it's about the magic of time and the process of becoming.

Displacement

2010-08-28T10:35:00.000-04:00

What I want is love. What I bought is underwear.

City Exchanges

2010-08-28T10:25:00.001-04:00

The guy behind the counter handed him the bagel sandwich and said, "Don't go hungry, My Friend."

"fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way"

2010-08-18T00:18:00.006-04:00

Despite being on the verge of 40, having two degrees of higher learning, and a job with dental insurance (I am finally a bonafide taxpayer) - I continue to try to figure out what to do with my life.

I am wondering what I should do with the next 40 years of my life.

It's a question I devoted a lot of cycles to in my first 40 years and probably my longest running hobby. It's not the pressing and central pastime that it once was. These days I devote more cycles to my love life, beauty tips (that I don't follow), observing the aging process first hand, and lunch. It's become more of a background process.

The current methods by which I wonder are primarily daydreaming and seeing what the front page of Yahoo has to say.

Among the options recently under consideration are:

Rockstar
Folk musician
Captain of industry
Yoga instructor
MBA
Journalist
Accountant
Public intellectual
Opinionater
Account manager
Recycling and waste management specialist
Project manager
Rollerderby queen
Marketing manager
Bag lady
Art student
Cartoonist
Comedian
Bike mechanic
FBI agent
Middle management
Butcher
Behavioral economist
Computational ecologist
Malcolm Gladwell
Urban farmer
Charlie Rose
Avon lady
Sound engineer
Multimedia sensation
Founder of an empire
Genetic counselor
Politician
Grassroots organizer
Activist
Business development executive
Fact checker
Lab rat
Grant writer
Statistician
Leech on the ass of society
Essayist
Ghost writer
Venture capitalist
Small business owner
Academic administrator
Outdoors woman
Curriculum writer
Medicinal Chemist
Playwright
Bureaucrat
Internet start up founder
Jingle writer
Bassist for a punk band
Pet rescuer
Go-Go Dancer
Socialite
Luddite
Pamphleteer

I am qualified to do none (well maybe one) of the above. The rest would require a good amount of effort on my part and perhaps further education. Is it too late? It might be too late. It's probably too late. Dang it.

I have been hiding this list from my parents because every time I bring up the possibility of making a career change, their extreme enthusiasm at the thought that I might find a job that makes me really happy freaks me out.

They get concerned every time they hear me breathe a negative word about the job. Periodically they ask me what I am going to do with the rest of my life. On this visit, I mentioned the genetic counselor option, roughly describing what I thought it would be like. After my Dad had a day to ponder it he came back and said, "I think you should get started on that immediately." He spent the rest of my visit home asking me logistical questions that one would need to work out if one was going to get started immediately. How big of a student loan I would need to take, what program I should apply to, how long the degree program would take, what the average income for that job was, how many years of education and experience would it take to reach that income level, and on and on and on.

I should have gone with Avon lady.

Hijacked by Hyperbole

2010-08-17T18:10:00.008-04:00

I am completely obsessed with the illustrated blog: Hyperbole and a Half.

It started with this post JY sent me. "Internet Forever!"

I read a few posts, almost died laughing. I, then, sent this post about a brick to a few co-workers.

After this I kinda wandered off to chew on my hands.

But recently KvS posted a link about cats on the facebook. It broke my brain.

I emailed it to a bunch of people and just sat by my computer refreshing my inbox waiting for laughter and praise to be sent back to me in reply. I am still sitting by my computer and waiting like a jittery, excitable dog. It's been two days and I've only received two very curt email replies. This can only mean one thing. Everyone else died of laughter.

The other two must have recently had extensive and very painful dental work.

If I was forced to write an essay called "What I did on my summer vacation," four days into mine, the key elements would be:

1. visited the parents
2. set up Dad's new e-reader
3. went to Walmart
4. had dinner
5. played pinball with L
6. ate a lot of cheese
7. obsessively read Hyperbole and a Half until my eyeballs fell out and got the worst internet hangover of my life.

I am still reading. I have four months of 2009 left to devour in the archive. I am beyond the point of laughing. It's starting to irreparably damage my brain. I will never try to be funny again. My efforts are futile. This blog is dead serious. It always has been. I am not kidding.

Hyperbole is my favorite thing in the world (to the consternation and disapproval of most of the men I have dated and the boss of my current boss). It is a primary mode of interaction in my family. Allie Brosh may not have won the internet yet, but she is definitely the boss of Hyperbole.

My parents are prying my fingers off the laptop right now to come interact with them. I forgive them only because they gave me life.

Should we stay on Target?

2010-08-13T11:57:00.010-04:00

There is some broohaha going down with regard to Target Corp.

According the link above, Target has donated $150,000 to a group that supports a Republican gubernatorial candidate in Minnesota. This candidate is against gay marriage. He has it listed at a part of his campaign platform.

It's been commonly said that Walmart is evil. I know people who shop at Target because they have the notion that Target is not as evil as Walmart is.

Hmmmm.....

Target is not the only company that was caught here, apparently Best Buy has also donated a large sum of money in support of the same candidate.

At last, corporations are free to make large campaign donations that let us all know what their political positions are. Apparently, Target and Best Buy are against Gay Marriage. They don't want Gay couples to register for wedding gifts at their stores. They don't want to carry congratulatory cards that depict happy same sex couples declaring their love and commitment to the world.

Good to know.

Now we can find out the political positions of all the corporations that we do business with. We can see whether their political contributions match up with their advertising and PR campaigns.

I can't help but wonder who at Target is specifically against Gay Marriage. Was there a vote at a board meeting? Was this decision made by the CEO? Was there a poll taken amongst all employees and or stakeholders/stockholders at Target to see what candidates they want to support, to see what political positions they wish to espouse publicly and substantively?

Is there a budget line item marked "Political Campaign Contributions" in the ledger? What category does that fall under? How much money will be allocated each year towards furthering Target's political interests and social values?

It is NOT enough for them to apologize and promise not to do it again. The anti-gay marriage candidate now has that money to spend on his anti-gay marriage campaign and to buy anti-gay marriage television and radio ads to promote his anti-gay marriage platform and mobilize anti-gay marriage voters to elect him. I can only hope that television air time in Minnesota is expensive.

An apology is insufficient. I want them do more and do it in the most public way possible.

Personally, if I owned stock in Target Corp. - given the choice between seeing that money go towards any political candidate and getting a discount on underwear or seeing that money go into ethical, sustainable and greener business practices - I'd like to see a discount in the price of underwear or that other hippy stuff.

As a liberal, myself, I am wondering whether in response to their $150,000 donation, I need to stop using my Target credit card and pledge to spend $150,000 at other stores before going back to Target. If that is the case, I might be 55 before I next step into a Target or use their credit card.

Does anyone know if Amazon.com is against Gay Marriage?

The stink in some ways adds to the publicity received by the Emmer campaign. Less press has been directed towards the other candidates in the race: Mark Dayton and Tom Horner.

If you know of any others, let me know.

I love mashed taters

2010-08-13T00:38:00.002-04:00

It's clear the fridge day.

I made mashed potatoes with yukon gold taters, heavy cream, butter, a dash of salt and a dollop of creme fraiche.

It's one of those days where I feel like I could eat mashed potatoes nonstop for the rest of my life.

Like I want to settle down with a big, big bowl of them so that we can start our beautiful life together.

Things that make me sigh

2010-07-31T17:53:00.003-04:00

1. The tiny new stove that was put in my apt has a tiny oven that is too small for most of my bakeware.

2. If you are going to try to compensate for a tiny oven, reusing foil takeout containers does not work so well.

3. Pizza pans are worse. If you are going to use one, bake for less time and pay close attention to what oven rack position you use.

4. That trick where you put your hardened brown sugar and a separate bowl of water into a microwave together. Only kinda works. But well enough.

5. Creaming butter and hardened brown sugar together by hand in a bowl with a fork will take time.

6. If UPS is delivering the bike that you won on Ebay, for which you paid a pretty penny, despite the fact that you are home and have a working doorbell, UPS is likely to leave your new bike next to the garbage cans outside your apartment building without ever ringing your functioning doorbell. The same functioning doorbell that the Jehovah's Witnesses, the Census taker and the Postal worker have all managed to find and use.

7. When you remove the ball bearings from the hub of your wheel, you should count the number and make sure to put them where they will not roll away from you. A paper towel on the floor is not a good option.

8. Best to throw away condiments when they pass their sell by/best by/use by date. They will scare your guests.

9. Old bikes are not standard. They need, love, patience, degreaser, a regreasing, and the right tools.

These will elicit "good grief" sighs.

10. Sitting by the lake at night holding hands with someone you like, looking out at the water, the ducks, the trees, the skyline lit up by the light pollution while not talking, with your bikes beside you.

This will elicit a happy sigh.

Oh, this old thing?

2010-07-26T10:47:00.002-04:00

Twice in recent weeks, I've given someone a compliment about one thing and had them assume that the compliment made was for something else.

They go on at length about the thing that they wanted to be complimented on. The thing that they are especially proud of that surely must be noticed by all the world.

In these cases, far be it from me to correct them and go on at length about what to them is merely an element of the backdrop.

The internet was invented to transmit pictures of cats

2010-07-21T22:55:00.004-04:00

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

In my role as Last Adopter - a couple of months ago I was at a BBQ at which a cat came up from the basement of the apt building through a tiny tiny hole. Everyone at the party referred to the kitty as "Basement Cat." I, naively, thought it was just generic name given to this particular cat. I did not realize that it was an entire lolcats tag and subgenre. There was no one to correct me until I watched a video from Next HOPE. What can I say, Last Adopter. I like this particular one very much.

2010-07-19T18:48:00.001-04:00

Bike Envy

2010-07-13T16:52:00.001-04:00

The bike manufacturing world hates short people.

For that I curse them like a loud drunk sailor.

The Gel for Everything

2010-07-10T22:33:00.002-04:00

I bought a tube of aloe vera gel today. I figured it might be good for those situations in which the skin needs something cooling, soothing and calming.

On reading the tube, it advises use for Sunburn, dryness, irritated skin, minor burns, itching, chafing, insect bites, on blemishes, as a shaving gel (shaving?) and a hair styling gel.

Hair styling.

Hair styling.

Hmmm, maybe I can use it to fix the squeak in my door hinge, to polish my boots, as an air freshener and as a nutritional supplement to cakes and puddings.

It's a universe of possibility.

Ewwwww

2010-07-10T11:44:00.001-04:00

Watching "Machine Girl." Oh man, soooooo gross.

As high as an elephant's eye

2010-06-27T12:52:00.005-04:00

Today I decided to finally put together the sweater that I started knitting two years ago. And while knitting it, I listened to the audio from the documentary "King Corn."

"We subsidize Happy Meals. We don't subsidize healthy meals."
- King of Corn

"If you take that meal, if you take that McDonald's meal. You don't realize it when you eat it, but you're eating corn. Beef has been corn-fed. Soda is corn. It's all high fructose corn syrup. It's the main ingredient even the french fries, which are, you know, half the calories in french fries come from the fat that they're fried in and that fat is liable to be corn or soy oil.

And so when you're at that McDonald's, you're eating Iowa food. Everything on your plate is corn." - King of Corn

It's a pretty powerful demonstration of how the enactment of a government policy shapes our lives. Government incentives and disincentives set the rules of the game. After that we all do our best to win by those rules. Guidelines point us in irresistible directions, and lead to intended and unintended outcomes.

But theoretically in our case, the government is us, so we have a say in what those guidelines are and our government is accountable to us, when assessing the outcomes. That is, if we care enough to pay attention and hold them accountable. Which is more than can be said, in general, for a corporation or a non-profit.

Bureaucratic Fiction

2010-06-09T19:54:00.004-04:00

I am reading this book called "Devices and Desires" by K.J. Parker. It's kinda hard to describe. I found it in the SF/Fantasy part of the library but it's not really SF and while it has a Fantasy type setting there are no unicorns or wizards or magical spells.

It's full of tales of bureaucracy, war, engineering, politics, administration, and diplomacy. And while lengthy descriptions of the dynamics of bureaucratic systems would have put me straight to sleep as a teenager, at this age, in my current job, I find it strangely compelling. Much in the same way that I find time management games like "Diner Dash" and "Cake Mania" compelling.

They are not exactly fun. But resemble my daily closely enough while still being simpler and perhaps more manageable. I don't know if I identify with the book, or I just recognize so many aspects of real life in it with and feel a sympathy on some level.

2010-06-09T10:46:00.002-04:00

She only wants to see perfection. She lives a tortured life.

Really Big Words

2010-05-09T23:19:00.005-04:00

I liberated three shirts and three books today. I put them out on the stoop and was gratified to find that they were all snapped up in about an hour. If you knew what a packrat I am, you'd know what a big deal this is. One of the books I had picked up off the stoop of another person. Yay, it goes around and goes around again.

On the way back from an very excellent hat-based Brunch, I stopped at a box on a stoop and found a box labeled: "magnetic poetry REALLY BIG WORDS."

I could not resist picking it up. I could always use a vocabulary builder.

I pick up the case and open it. To see that the words are short but the magnets with the words on them are VERY LARGE. The longest word in the box is "different."

Naturally, I could not just leave them on the street there. I had to take them home, box and all.

a world of stupider out there

2010-04-28T00:50:00.005-04:00

Mock duck curry, 5 shots of Jameson shared and Casiotone for the Painfully Alone in the company of BE. Not bad for a Tuesday night. Inexplicably, when I consider myself to have no money to spend, I spend more of it on ridiculous things. I bought a concert t-shirt. I bought several food items that each cost a dollar and a ring in the shape of an owl that will probably turn my finger green.

As we walked from the Continental to the Mercury Lounge for the show, I started to say that taking those shots was the last stupid thing that I was going to do. But I had to stop myself in mid-sentence. BE and I were pretty sure that there was a world of stupider out there that I am likely to embrace.

Casiotone was pretty darn delightful and I am, again, a fan of the rock show. I might just consider going to another one.

Is it all inside my head?

2010-04-28T00:08:00.008-04:00

Songs sound different in my memory from the recording. Sometimes when I think of a song and I go to Youtube to listen to it ... the effect is not the same as I remember it.

I was trying to write a post and it started to be about too many different things at once. It became this tangle of so many things in a big ramble-y snarl. It's inspired by a recent episode from the TV show Glee about the power of Madonna. I fish out of that mess, this part:

If I had to pick a favorite passage in a pop song. It might be in the song "True Blue." The song is trite, conventional and predictable. But then, in the midst of it, there is an interlude:

"No more sadness, I kiss it good-bye
The sun is bursting right out of the sky
I searched the whole world for someone like you"

At this part, the song soars up and out past the stratosphere for mere seconds and then falls back into predictability and familiarity. But for that moment alone, the whole song is redeemed. It is a transcendent pop music moment, one that can't be taken out of its damn context. Perhaps it soars, in part, because of its surroundings.

That is how it plays in my memory.

I just watched the video for "True Blue" on Youtube. I can feel where the interlude goes but it's muddled. It does not take flight in the way that it does in my mind's ear.

Perhaps my memory has built it up too much. Overhyped and analyzed it. That or, my brain's sound system is the MF bomb.

My hipster Mom

2010-04-19T14:19:00.006-04:00

I look over at my mother and notice that she is wearing my Pearl Jam concert t-shirt from 2003. She has discovered the baby doll t-shirt. "I look skinny when I wear this," she says.

Since I was going to be here and their two shows at Mercury Lounge are sold out. I got a ticket to see Ok Go while home. (I have a whole crush post devoted to Ok Go which I have not yet finished and will post very soon.)

My parents response to this was typical. My father asked several times if I knew how to get there, made sure that I had ear plugs, washed the pollen and dirt off the car saying, "You have to drive up in a nice looking car when you go to the rock show," and pressed more food on me than usual - solemnly saying, "you will need energy for the rock show." My mother instructed me to drive carefully, asked several times when the show started, out of concern that I was running late and that I would miss it, and most importantly, asked me repeatedly not to drink.

They stayed up until I got home and we gathered around the kitchen table and had a snack. All of this was expected.

What was not was this question from my mother, "Who did you see at the show? Was it the Dead Milkmen?"

The Dead Milkmen.

THE DEAD MILKMEN!

When I was a sophomore in high school, "Bitchin' Camero" was my favorite song on the entire planet. I somehow sweet talked my mother into buying me the "Big Lizard in My Backyard" album and even more miraculously, I talked her into letting me see The Dead Milkmen in concert at Mississippi Nights. I went with StK, who was probably the most musically advanced and alternative person in our entire high school. I think I wore an enormous kelly green checked flannel shirt, purple socks and lace-up black ankle boots. I was too chicken to go down into the pit. In those days, one did not mosh. It was slam dancing in the slam pit. And if you fell in the pit there was a very real danger that someone would stomp on your head with a steel-toed boot and give you a concussion. I just kinda sat at a table in the under 21 section and marveled that the coolest of bands consisted of three regular looking dudes who seemed so down to earth. They were punk without having to wear dog collars or eyeliner or mohawks. The punk ethos was more than a hairstyle and some song lyrics. I was to learn this way later in life but it was all there staring me in the face. StK, bless his anarchist heart, got down there and grabbed some kid by the shoulders, boosted himself with a combat boot on the kid's rear, and flung himself into the pit.

The part of this story that I forgot was - the show ran later than I had told my mother that it would. (These were the days before cell phones.) She talked her way into the venue. She walked up to the door guy and said, "My daughter is in there, let me in to find her." The door guy resisted saying that the show was almost over and I would be out soon. But my mother insisted. And the door guy relented. She describes walked into an ungodly and horrible loudness, almost like hell looking for me.

Despite walking into deafening Punk Rock Hell, to fetch her silly nerdy, teenage daughter, my mother drove me to other rock shows. And on occasion let me buy a record or two. I never thought that she paid much attention to what I was doing or thinking or listening to back then.

She remembers the Dead Milkmen. She thought they were horrible. But she does remember them.

Living ungraciously

2010-04-11T10:38:00.003-04:00

Of late, Facebook is like my mom. It keeps pointing out friends that I have not been in touch with in a long time. "Maybe you should send so and so a message. I'll bet he/she would be happy to hear from you," said in the same tone of voice that she used when she would press me to write thank you notes. (I may or may not have mentioned to you that BBFK is a beautiful thank you note writer. A card from her will make you feel like a Million Bucks.)

As an awkward person of no social graces, I ignore Facebook's suggestions and my mother's and almost never send thank you note. Bad dog! No cookie! I count myself as lucky to have friends all things considered. And such fine friends at that.

When we tell the story of our lives

2010-03-30T10:40:00.004-04:00

CK and I have been talking a lot about how wildly different two people's accounts of a situation can be. And how hard it is to reconcile yourself to the fact that the other person might never see things your way. Might never come to understand where you were coming from. Which reminded me of this Sacred Advertisement from Rob Brezny.

"SACRED ADVERTISEMENT
There was an indignant uproar after revelations in 2006 that James Frey's best-selling "memoir" A Million Little Pieces contains fabrications. He hadn't actually lived all of the experiences he depicted therein.

Hearing about it prompted me to ruminate on whether there's any such thing as a completely accurate account of any person's life. My conclusion: no.

In every autobiography and biography ever written, the author imaginatively strings together selectively chosen details to conjure up artificially coherent narratives rather than depicting the crazy-quilt ambiguity that actually characterizes everyone's journey.

If you and nine writers set out to tell your life story, you'd produce 10 wildly different tales, each rife with subjective interpretation, misplaced emphasis, unintentional distortions, and exorbitant extrapolations from insufficient data.

Celebrate the malleability of reality. Regale listeners with stories about the time you worked as a pirate in the Indian Ocean, or rode the rails through Kansas as a hobo, or gave a down-on-his-luck CIA agent sage advice in an elevator. When you call to get pizza delivered and the clerk who takes your order asks your name, say you're Brad Pitt or Paris Hilton. When someone you're meeting is annoyed because you're late, say you couldn't help it because you were smoking crack in the bus station bathroom with your mom's guru and lost track of time. If asked how much education you have, say you have three PhDs, one each in astrobiology, Russian literature, and whale songs. "
Rob Brezny

Give the cat a name

2010-03-30T00:22:00.004-04:00

While chatting with L this evening, it came out that in my apt there are three places to sleep: the love seat, the twin bed, and a rolled up futon in the living room. He was mildly appalled by this and suggested that perhaps to sustain an adult relationship I might need to have a bed that could comfortably fit two people. And as a "grown ass woman" there were no acceptable excuses.

He does have a point. It's hard to feel comfortable in a room where there doesn't appear to be space for you. From my viewpoint, I always had the sense that this was a transient stop in my life. A visit. And a sense that, if I met someone who inspired in me the desire to buy a bed, I would buy a bed. That would be the sign.

Sort of the Holly Golightly thing: "If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!"

But perhaps L has a point. Maybe Holly and I have it all backwards. Maybe you have to buy the furniture, name the cat, and put down roots. Maybe that process creates a place where you feel safe and calm and protected. Maybe I have to create "a place where me and things go together." through my own efforts. I make a place my home.

You bring in a bed and then there is space for another person to sleep in it beside you. And then you meet them.

I wonder which way it works - do you build a bed and they will come or do you wait to find the right place and then give the cat a name?

I am not sure that I have done enough traveling to say whether I've found the place. And I haven't built the bed.

It probably doesn't matter. There must be as many paths home as there are people who have homes. But I suppose it can't hurt to try.

Perhaps after three years of being here, it's time to buy a bed and give the cat a name.

Time to call it a life whether there's someone to share it with or not.

because it chose me

2010-03-29T11:57:00.002-04:00

"If I had to choose a favourite [sentence], it would be because it chose me: for reasons I can't be sure of, although I am sure they go deep ..."

- Clive James, Cultural Amnesia

even the flowers

2010-03-29T11:50:00.006-04:00

"[Benedetto] Croce was saying that all living things have a history: having a history and living are the same process. Even the flowers, he said, have a history, although only they know it."

- Clive James, Cultural Amnesia

The robe abides

2010-03-22T01:32:00.002-04:00

I bought this very, very, cheap fleece bathrobe to wear to a "Big Lebowski" party. It's a horrible, fuzzy white thing with pale blue hearts all over it.

That party was in January, I am still wearing the dang thing while I putter around the house - usually with a ratty t-shirt and flip-flops. I have not worn it to the grocery store yet. But I fear that this and a lot of bowling might be in my near future.

Price and worth

2010-02-16T00:26:00.008-05:00

On a few occasions in conversation recently I've had one friend or another tell me that they don't want drama in their lives and so are avoiding a person or a situation or falling into a pattern or dynamic.

I have frequently been of this mindset. I bailed on an outing for this very reason, very recently.

But depending on the circumstances, it's worth it. Where you are, what it is, what you need, what it offers.

Some things are worth the drama associated with them. Some people are worth the drama that they cause, the drama that they bring. As JY's friend Ax once said in another context, "It's the price of admission." In some case, a part of the value of the thing itself.

In these cases, it is for you to decide what a thing is worth to you. And how long you inhabit, how long you hold. It is not for others to assess from the outside.

Global Darkening!!!

2010-02-15T15:15:00.003-05:00

If I could clip videos, I would show you - 5:16-9:22 of this Daily Show episode from last week.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/127456/the-daily-show-with-jon-stewart-wed-feb-10-2010

"The sun just - went away. And this - not as bright sun came up in its place."
- Jason Jones

Freakin' hilarous.

Manners in context

2010-02-08T19:47:00.001-05:00

It's a chivalrous gesture for a gentleman to hold the door open for a lady. But somehow, when the door being held open is that of the Ladies' Room. It's a little strange.

B-Sprout conversions

2010-01-31T00:13:00.002-05:00

I have very recently been converted from hating to loving brussel sprouts. By BE. I was super skeptical but then I had one and it was a revelation.

What he does is:
"Cut brussel sprouts in half. drizzle on olive oil and get all liberal with some salt and pepper and garlic powder. bake @ 375 for 35 minutes. amaaaazzzzing."

They pop and sizzle in the oven. And when they get brownish/blackish, when they are super tender, they lose that horrible brussel sprout aftertaste that everyone is always trying to drown out with lemon or vinegar. With enough cooking they mellow out and are tender and a little bit sweet.

And now I am obsessed with them. They have replaced broccoli as my go-to vegetable.

This also works in a stir fry context. You slice them each into 3 or 4 rounds, throw them in a pan with a good amount of olive oil, throw plenty of salt, pepper and garlic powder on them and then cook them until there's a browning / slight blackening.

Today I baked some until they were mushy soft, put them on a nice piece of wheat bread and chowed down. Delightful.

Who you are / What you do

2010-01-19T11:59:00.004-05:00

The things that you do every day shape the person that you are. And I find of late that I am on my way to becoming "nervous double/triple check that" girl. Lovable, no?

An echo in the chambers of the heart

2010-01-18T01:14:00.008-05:00

I knocked over an empty wine bottle at the trailing tail end of brunch. Crashed to the ground, pieces everywhere. Three of us in the kitchen. None of us in shoes. All of us trying to pick up the pieces.

And I had a memory of knocking over a glass in the kitchen. Crashed to the ground, pieces everywhere. Me in the kitchen. Not in my shoes. Trying to pick up the pieces.

You wouldn't let me. You reached your arms around my waist and lifted me out of the kitchen. Went back in a cleaned it up.

Our relationship had pretty much gone south by this time. I was not happy. It didn't seem like you were either. I wondered why you stayed. Whether you cared at all. In the midst of this, you lifted me out of harms way.

It said something. More than I heard. But it didn't say everything. Or perhaps not enough. We went back to our mutual misery shortly thereafter.

I am not sure why it came to mind. Or why today, years later, I hear it so much more clearly.

The latest love of my life

2010-01-12T02:26:00.003-05:00

" ... art proves its value by still mattering to people who have been deprived of every other freedom: indeed instead of mattering less, it matters more." - Clive James

On the recommendation of my journalism professor I picked up "Cultural Amnesia" by Clive James. The damn thing is, like 800+ pages. And I am looking forward to reading them.

I hope that he and his publisher will forgive the liberal quoting that I am likely to be doing while he and I keep company. I was bowled over by this line in the introduction:

"Several times, in my early days, I had to sell my best books to buy food, so I never underlined anything."

and I have no doubt that I will continue to be knocked out by what I find between these covers.

*happy dance*