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Did you know the Hamburger Bed is my friendster? Or Facebook stalkee, whatever.
It totally almost made a headline.
http://www.oddee.com/item_96623.aspx
I'm actually a big fan of the molecular bed now. I wonder if it is accepting Friendsters.
This weekend went by way too fast. Nevertheless, good times were had.
Friday I got home from work to find Ace standing at the sink, filling a big pot of water.
"What are you doing?"
"I bought eggs."
"You're boiling eggs?"
Whereupon I launched into my recent scholarship on hard-boiling eggs to perfection. (Start eggs in cold water, bring to boil, boil for 10 minutes, remove and shock immediately.) Ace allowed me to push him aside, which in retrospect I regret, because how delightful is it to come home to someone boiling eggs for Easter?? - and then I had to go and take over his project. (But the eggs were perfect.)
Our CSA started up again, have I mentioned? And it's already strawberry time. So we washed off a quart of berries and walked around the neighborhood like the old people do. There was a guy with his garage door open with sheets of aluminum leaning up against the walls.
"That looks like a wing," commented Ace.
So I shouted: "Are you building an airplane?"
And so we met the neighbor who is building a two seater airplane from a kit.
The rest of the evening was a bust as Ace and I dithered about what fun thing we'd do that evening. Would we crash the Tribe happy hour (soooo farrr awayyy)? Would we go to the drive in (nothing good showing)? What friends we'd go hang out with... I went through the paper and announced that we would lace up our dancing shoes and go learn the Hustle...only to find he'd fallen asleep on the couch. At least I got caught up on my 90210. Silver is totally insane! Then he woke up and we ate salad and watched Risky Business. (He remembered all the plot points except for the prostitution ring; that's the only plot point I remembered. I don't know why Tom Cruise ever got a nose job.)
Saturday started out cloudy with a chill breeze, so I skipped the pool and closed my ears to my bicycle and went to the gym and did a little pre-Easter laying in of foodstuffs. Ace was thinking lamb for Easter, he who doesn't like mint, but they were out of legs so instead I got lamb leg "steaks." I didn't really know what to do with lamb "steaks" but we recently went deluxey mid-week and had real steaks seared up in a skillet that were great - I figured we'd try the same thing. Trader Joe's was giving out their little samples, like they do, and this time it was mashed potatoes and ham. I don't even like ham, usually, because it's so salty, but this was so moist and mild I had to get one.
Upon getting home Ace suggested we invite some people to join us for Easter dinner. It's such a family occasion, plus it was so last minute - I was doubtful anyone wouldn't already be booked. So I e-mailed probably 30 people we both really enjoy, figuring we'd be lucky if we got two takers.
Then we went to sit by the pool. I'm reading Sally Quinn's The Party, a how-to guide for a life I'll never lead, all about how to throw fabulous society functions among the famous and/or influential. The implicit understanding throughout is that you have a ready supply of hired help. She makes the point that you don't want to get a reputation as someone who just invites EVERYONE all the time, because then guests don't feel special for being invited. Point well taken, and I felt bad about the long e-mail To: list I'd just sent.
We jumped in the hot tub and met another neighbor who told a vivid tale of fortunes gained (Multiple homes! World was my oyster! Cheering throngs!) and lost (uncontested divorce). (Message Ace took away from the encounter: I am defensive that I now live in this dump here with people like you. My takeaway was more positive, possibly on account of the casual reference to Lionel Richie. Oh! What a feeling!)
We went to the Empire Tap Room for cocktails, oysters and onion rings, and then went to the Stanford Theater to see King Kong. 'Twas Beauty killed the Beast! I persuaded Ace to stay on for the double feature, Tarzan the Ape Man, whereupon I fell asleep. So instead of gritting it out till the end, we sneaked away for a slice.
Sunday Ace woke up with a "Happy Easter," a glass of pink pomegranate limeade and some early morning seasonal reflection, gazing out the window and eventually turning to me to ask, "Wait. Do bunnies lay eggs?"
Then there was a little swimming, a little tennis.
A little egg dyeing.
I'll never buy an egg dyeing kit again. A tablespoon of vinegar, a few squirts of food coloring, and boiling water to half-fill your little dye baths (those cheapie tea light holders from Ikea - I have a million - were the perfect size), done. And the colors were so vivid!
Do you see these colors??
The only thing the kit is good for is the little wire dipper and the clear crayon. Maybe you could sub with a white candle and a coat hanger. Oh, and the drying rack. I guess that was worth $0.99.
Ace made a variety of bunnies...
...one of which was anatomically correct.
This is my favorite one that he made:
Ace and Chad and I went to Mass at Mem Church and because it was so crowded we sat way up in the rafters. It was fascinating to see all those mosaics up close, some of which, I was surprised to see, were in disrepair. I also decided there were several generations' stained glass iterations. There were a couple that were more in line with the color scheme of the tiles around them, and I thought they were more beautiful. (What do you think? They're the two forward-most windows on the left of the nave). I thought I was being irreverent by joking about how many guys were wearing their Easter uniform (blue shirts and khaki pants), but I guess I was outdone by the gals in front of us who were texting throughout the entire service.
Chad came over bearing challah and marzipan treats, and on account of their having grown up among the Chosen People, he and Ace actually knew the first line of how to bless it.
I really thought it would be just me and Ace and Chad. A couple of people had regretted that they were committed to the Big Wheel race, or, predictably, that they had prior plans.
But then Derek showed up with a good little boy (who was totally just enduring us for the evening) and an embarrassment of fresh strawberries and Christina brought exciting stories of her upcoming trip to Texarkana and MichMad came just in time for dessert with a very welcome dessert wine.
We had curried pumpkin soup (success!), lamb (wasn't great), hamb (eh, not as good as the sample), quinoa-based pasta in pesto (don't recommend: quinoa pasta was mushy and pesto wasn't so hot either), plain steamed broccoli (yay!), fennel/green garlic/leeks in a cream sauce (all kinds of awesome) and a shiraz-based rose wine. Finally, strawberries, apple pie and ice cream!
We never got around to devilling the eggs, despite a specific trip to the store by Ace for Miracle Whip. I kind of enjoyed looking at them too much.
Speaking purely for myself, I really really enjoyed the evening. We sure do know some great people.
Happy Easter!
I've been mighty busy and out of town over the last several weeks, and work has been pretty consuming. Both in actuality (real work that requires real time) and in my head (guilt that all spare time should be directed to working).
But today I was shamed into showing my face for a moment. I was reminded that I do actually have 'material' that I'm looking forward to sharing (such as my recent travels) and there's no reason I can't shoot off a hello every now and then.
I could protest that my life story has unfolded on Facebook instead of here, but that's not even true. I update seldom, and when I do, it's not usually pertinent to...anything real. Example: A couple of days ago I Facebooked that I had consumed one of those Digestive Yogurts. Commence the snickering comments concerning the well-being of my gastrointestinal tract.
But the backstory is simply that I went to the dentist last week, and when I go to the dentist I have to take a bunch of antibiotics so I don't die. And my mom always used to say that when you take antibiotics you kill all the good bugs as well as the bad, and therefore you should replace them by eating yogurt.
So I thought I'd buy yogurt with extra bugs and lo, Activia and its Yoplait competitor were both half off so I basically walked out of Safeway with a one month supply.
If you must know, GI-wise, I'm actually shooting for twice a day! So there.
In related news, our CSA started up again last week! Our pickup day switched to Friday, and I spent a pleasant Friday evening chopping off stems and blanching greens and whatnot so it all fits in the fridge. Having to do that every Friday evening has potential to be a drag, but it's still fresh and new for now.
They sent us a great recipe for parsnip soup that I made, and for all it is shockingly easy, it tastes unusual (parsnippy) and luxurious:
Grate a mess of ginger (1-2 T) and saute it in a saucepan till fragrant. Dump in a mess (4 cups) of peeled and chopped parsnips. Add a quart of chicken stock. Heat until the parsnips are very soft. Whip it all up with an immersion blender (my favorite kitchen toy) and add about 1/4 cup of cream. Salt and sugar to taste.
I have read that parsnips are of questionable healthiness because they contain arsenic or cyanide or something. But I guess apples do, too.
To your health!
I know, this isn't the post you were waiting for as I hereby break my month-long silence. Lotta stuff going on, that's all. But then - and we've talked about this before - you take a little break for one reason or another and it's so hard to get back in the groove, because why post at all if it's not going to be about something significant, and as time wears on the bar inches higher. So I'm instead going to abide by one of my life rules that has served me reasonably well: Keep Expectations Low. (See how I put the "reasonably" in there? The rule in action!)
So what's new?
1. We are having a plethora of rainbows today!
2. Because of the holiday yesterday, today is Donut Day! There is someone who always gets to the donuts before me, who has been cutting the best donut (raised glazed) in half and leaving half. The Dieting Donut Dissector! I have been loving the DDD, because I feel like by taking the remaining half I am doing a public service by preventing staleness but also feel like I am getting a whole serving, but it is only half the usual guilt!
In the beginning of January, though, DDD started cutting only about a third of the donut out...leaving two thirds. This was awkward, but manageable. I couldn't very well continue to take my usual half, leaving 1/6 of a donut on the tray - that's like leaving a couple of bites. Not cool. So I have to either cut the remainder into halves and take a donut third, leaving a third to turn stale even quicker, or simply take all 2/3 of the donut. You can imagine what I chose. What with work and all, I've stopped exercising in any regular way, and, let's just say, you can tell.
Recently, DDD showed even further restraint, and began taking just a quarter donut. Having increased my own consumption from a half to two thirds, it was natural that I seized upon the 3/4 donut as Mine! But there's no virtue in taking 3/4 of a donut, so my pleasure is substantially reduced. It's really a net loss.
Can you see where this is heading? Today the DDD literally cut out and removed just a bite of the best donut. A tray full of variety sprinkles, coconuts, cinnamon sugars, chocolate dipped...and 7/8 of a raised glazed with drying edges.
Which makes me want to say, Come on, man, we had a deal. You take half, I take half. You take a little less than half, I do my best for the cause. Now you take a bite and I have to be the jerk who leaves 3/8 of a donut on the tray? What would you do in this situation?
3. Have you heard about my haircut? There's a topic we can sink our teeth into!
I cut my hair somewhat less frequently than I go to the dentist, but more frequently than I go to the doctor. I think it's been about two years. After Ace begged me to get a Real Haircut from a Real Salon for my birthday in September, I hied me over to Yelp - and spent hours weeding out all the reviews from Asians (different hair needs) and was left with very few data points. I asked friends with good hair. I cut pictures out of InStyle. I signed up to be a Hair Model at Edge and waited by the phone. I pored over the archives at Hair Thursday.
At Christmas I finally got around to following up on a recommendation from a co-worker whose hair has been looking pretty great over the last year or so. Mine was dragging me down. Long. Droopy. Ragged rather than wavy. Anyway, I went to this salon where the lady freelanced, and she was...fine. The haircut wasn't bad - she cut long layers into it so the wiggles in my hair look like curls that are meant to be there rather than just a failure to blow-dry out the messiness. Picture Rachel Geller's before she got The Rachel. Ace agreed that maybe it didn't look particularly glamorous, but said that at least it looked like a Haircut.
So I have no complaints about the stylist - hairwise. Here's the thing - she is a recently-immigrated middle aged woman with mediocre English, challenging pronunciation and few shared cultural reference points who went freelance only recently but maybe didn't have the book of business she thought she did and is now clearly trying to rally a loyal following, and she oohed and enthused over my hair! my long, wavy, light brown hair! to a degree that was a little overwhelming. Don't get me wrong, I like the idea of being fussed over but her fussing just had an air of desperation, making me feel less like she uniquely could see my inner beauty and was determined to bring it out and more like she was just buttering me up. It was a stressful hour.
This doesn't make me excited to go back. And maybe the reason I get a haircut so seldom is because I have yet to have a fulfilling relationship with a hairdresser. It's always strictly a business transaction. You know, gesture at some pictures, read a magazine, look up, cry, pay, tip sheepishly while apologizing for the crying, go home.
You know what I want? I want a hairdresser who says, "OMG! Look at this MOP on your head! Sweetheart, your hair needs some CPR. Look at your eyes! We need to draw some attention to these eyes!! Why are you hiding these cheekbones, honey? You know what would look so good with your cheekbones? You just sit back and let me bring out the gorgeous. You know what you have, you have Jennifer Aniston hair! Can you believe Jon Mayer? Srsly, good riddance to Brad if you ask me. OMG, are you seriously wearing White Musk right now?" Someone who will flutter around and make me feel like a million bucks for $80.
Okay, fine, I want a homosexual. Is that homophobic? Or homophilic? Maybe I should clarify that I don't precisely want a hairstylist because he likes dudes, but rather that I am seeking a certain set of personality characteristics. And of course for him to have hair talent. There was just such a hairstylist at the salon shared by Madame X. He was cooing over and gossiping up a storm with his client and I looked at them longingly. But I can't just go to the salon one day and hope that she is busy and he is not. The salon is like a freelance workspace where the stylists rent their stations but have all their own clients. You make appointments via their personal cell phones.
What to do, what to do. Perhaps I was taking the wrong route by focusing my research on the hair angle. I thought about asking my neighbors whether they "knew any hair stylists." But I have a hunch they'd take it the wrong way, besides which, they don't seem like they would know any hair stylists. I considered asking another friend who, while also not the type in question, seems like he'd be a little more up on the Scene and in the past has been a straight (ha ha) shooter about, you know, at which clubs in the Castro girls are welcomed/tolerated/discouraged, that sort of thing, and would probably not get his nose out of joint from my wishful stereotyping. But he's moved away.
So I am adrift. On a sea of wavy hair.
4. I'm about to start traveling for almost three solid weeks. I'm pretty excited that I am so deeply involved with work at the mo, what with the economy and all, but I'm also looking forward to checking in on some of my favorite ladies, one of whom I haven't seen in, gosh, three years? She's a trapeze artist/salsa dancer/world traveler who keeps her independence as a freelance software developer. She cannot be contained. When you ask her where she is from, she says "Manhattan." Actually, she says, "Manha-N." She is the New Yorkiest person I know, and she is going to go country and hike around the Appalachian Trail with me this weekend! I wonder if she owns boots. We have one of those relationships where, as long as I've known her (college, freshman year), I've done all the pursuing, and I don't mind a bit.
Number One is a secret because it's a present that has yet to be gifted, although if you looked at it you would be forgiven for calling it Number Two. (It's the thought, right? They'll appreciate being My First, right?)
Number Two, then, is the mittens and hat and scarf to which I alluded back in December - my belated Christmas/early New Year's present to PomWonderful! I cannot adequately describe how pleased I was with myself for actually completing a craft project for once. Or how burned out they left me (don't tell Ace; he already knows I spent an unseemly amount on the yarn that's multiplying above the washer and dryer).
I made the moebius scarf on the planes to and from Chicago over Thanksgiving, I made the hat over Christmas in Idaho, and I made (and remade) the mittens in between. I assume she's got them by now. Oh! Another excuse to call!
She looks better in green than I do.
For knitters only:
As a person new to this field of endeavor, I find myself super interested in the details of projects on other people's knitting blogs. Therefore, if it helps you:
For all three things, I used Sensations Angel Hair in the color that's not bright lime green, but a little softer. It feels delicious. Apparently you can only get it at JoAnn's, that boutique of exclusivity. It's 22% wool and 88% fake. I haven't heard whether it's warm but will try to get a RealFeel review.
The scarf is wicked easy, the pattern was on the wrapper of a Wool-Ease skein. I can't believe they're selling the pattern when it was free on a wrapper!! (As I was looking for the link, well, tell me if this one makes you laugh.) Anyway, it's all garter stitch. You just knit back and forth as wide as you want and as long as you want, and then sew the ends together - giving one end a twist before you do so. I reckon it took me somewhere between 3 and 5 hours over the course of a week, and maybe two thirds of the skein. It's pretty floppy.
The mittens, as mentioned previously, were from the Stitch n Bitch book. It's unfortunate the title includes a word I hate saying out loud, it's otherwise a very friendly book. As also mentioned previously, the first one I made according to the pattern turned out huge. I thought my gauge was correct, but who knows. It turned out it was really easy to just approximate the pattern, fitting it to my hand as I went. The pair (not including the misfit one) took me two or three weeks' worth of odd moments (six hours? more?) and nearly a whole skein.
The hat used this Vogue pattern. It took a while, but the satisfaction of figuring out three different types of cables made it well worth it. It took maybe six to eight hours of knitting, and 3/4 to close to a whole skein of yarn. It turned out too small at first- that is, it wasn't long enough to pull down securely over my ears. I don't think I have a huge head. You knit from the bottom up, so I had to unravel nearly half the hat to add more length (I added about an inch) to the wide part before re-doing the part that slopes in. Our plane back from Idaho was delayed for a couple of hours, though, so this didn't bother me too much. Especially in combination with the $3 shot of Disaronno.
What do you do when all your girlfriends are on the verge of delightful motherhood?
You console yourself by doing all the things pregnant girls can't do! Go wild!
Like, buy raw milk at the farmer's market.
Hippie?
Even lowest-common-denominator RealAge published an article suggesting that if you are going to drink milk at all, at least some of its nutritional benefits are destroyed through pasteurization. It may help with allergies. On the flip side, the New York Times depicts devotees as death wishing crazies. But I'm young, I'm single, I have life insurance!
A quart of skim and a quart of whole were both $4.25. A pint of cream was $10. Naturally I got the whole. I figured I could separate my own cream, thanks anyway, nice try.
I was kind of excited by the prospect of un-homogenized milk, ever since I went to the San Mateo country fair last summer. I prefer skim anyway, but was completely converted when I looked at a homemade sign made by a little girl for a 4-H project, explaining how milk is obtained and prepared. She described the milking process and the pasteurization process, and then, just as straightforwardly, explained the homogenization process, which distributes the cream and remaining white blood cells throughout the fluid. White blood cells? You mean pus?
If that doesn't turn you off milk, nothing will. My solution was to stick to skim, in the hopes that nothing was distributed throughout the milk, no pus mixed in with the cream.
It was fun - so olde tymey! - to see the layer of yellowish cream on top of the whiter skim in my glass bottle of milk...only I had no idea how I was supposed to "skim" it off. I don't have a cream skimmer. I can't even do the butter churn on the dance floor. And I've had enough experience pouring things to know that you don't always get the top layer, or the bottom layer, or whatever layer you're trying for. And then I remembered - my gravy separator!
I poured about half the bottle into the separator, only couldn't see the clearly delineated cream layer anymore. So I put it in the fridge, and lo, what was left in the bottle sure looked like skim milk. I had a small glass. Would it taste strange and funky like that time I got 16 ounces of goat milk yogurt? Would it taste "ethereal" like the milk in that New York Times article?
I have to be honest with you. It just tasted like milk. Skim milk.
Pregnant ladies can relax. You're not missing anything over here.
I think I'll go pour myself a cocktail, light a cigarette, have some sushi and dye my hair.
Ace's alarm popped off at 7:00 today, which was 10:00 in Washington, D.C. To my surprise, it was tuned to NPR. Usually it's about half a channel off of some loud rock-ish station that makes me want to beat him.
This morning, he rolled over to hit snooze and I shouted, "No! Don't you want to hear the inauguration?!?"
He pointed out that we still had two hours to wait, but I wanted to hear what the temperature was, who would be on stage, the debate over whether Rick Warren would use the "J" word, what the concert was like the day before, where spectators had come from, how many people had camped out since two in the morning and how many people had been taken to hospitals for hypothermia...
I've been doing a little jig all day. Everybody seems to be in a good mood. Even the commute traffic seemed more polite.
At work we had been warned not to stream any coverage over our computers so as not to overload the network, and as consolation they had a blueberry pancake breakfast (and helium balloons!) in our biggest conference room, where they showed coverage on our big projector screen. Except, they weren't showing TV, they too were streaming from the Internet and right in the middle of President Obama's inaugural address the connection got completely chopped up (because everybody ELSE in the world was streaming) so everybody took their pancakes into the small break room and watched the little wall TV there instead.
We filtered merrily out to our desks to work, but then after a continuing legal education video at lunch back in the big conference room, somebody switched back to CNN.com and we all stood around for another fifteen minutes, pretending we were still picking at our lunches while we watched the parade.
Maybe it's because people who work in the law are programmed to look for things that can go wrong, but it seems like all day everyone has been biting our nails.
This morning, Ace said to me, "How many snipers do you think there are?"
I looked at him in horror and said, "DON'T SAY THAT."
He quickly corrected, "No, no, I mean, how many secret service and security snipers do you think there are?" He gestured towards the humongous throng carpeting the Mall, and my swelling happiness was dampened a little.
After lunch, as I was being impressed by the First Lady's willingness to walk a mile in pumps and pondering whether the Second Lady might have considered a below-the-knee skirt, one of my colleagues murmured, "I can't believe they're just walking along the street like that, out in the open."
Another guy walked in to grab a brownie, glanced at the screen and said, "Look at all those buildings and windows! How could they possibly secure all that??"
Our IT person investigated the chicken salad wraps and said, "I hear that limousine is like a tank."
Well, never mind. If I may quote one of the great orators of my generation, "On this day we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord."
Ooh, just trying to find that quotation, I read his speech and got all teary-eyed.
I'm glad everyone else in the office seems equally distracted and joyous. It seems important to take a minute to absorb this - as rare as they are, we don't often get the benefit of time to fully experience moments where ideals and hopes are made real and tangible.
But only a minute. There is work to do.
Coeur d'Alene, Idaho.
The road to the lodge.
Outside my room.
Driving to the resort downtown.
Snuggling up in front of the CdA Resort fireplace.
Stacking wood at the Cougar Crest Lodge.
The dining room deck at the lodge.
The gang on Christmas: Dad, Mom, Mr. and Mrs. Manning, my brother Beaker, me, and Ace
I hope everyone is having great holidays - see you all next year!
We went to Symphony Hall again this year. Last year it was to see a pipe organ; this year it was to see the Canadian Brass. They put on a great show - lots of crowd-pleasing selections. Plus Ace got tickets on the day for half price so I enjoyed it even more.
Just as exciting was the annual christmas tree display they have there. Each tree is sponsored by some benefactor, and decorated by some charity or school. There were a few cool ornament treatments.
This one was figures made out of old CDs
Ha ha, remember when people used to listen to music on CDs?
For this next one, the kids made snowglobes and dioramas out of glass jars and plastic water bottles.
Then I took a picture of this next one just because I knew Kelli would like it.
My favorite every year, though, is the SPCA's, because their ornaments are photos of all the dogs and cats up for adoption. It makes you want to give the whole tree a hug.
Merry Christmas, everybody!
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