Taster Spoon

Challah back!

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! 

Hi, guys!

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!

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

We've had a housekeeper come a couple of times.  (I could say cleaning lady,  but "housekeeper" makes me feel like the narrator in Rebecca, where I'm handing off luncheon menus and groundskeeping requests: "A fire in the library tonight, Mrs. Danvers, if you please.")

Everyone I know who has had a housekeeper has told me it's worth every penny and they'd never go without!  Last year we phoned up the cleaning lady who works for a few friends and is by all accounts impeccable (she dusts the door jambs), but she came by to give us an estimate and her initial once-over was going to cost $400.  So we put it off...indefinitely.

Then we visited friends who moved away from California to a ridiculously enormous and fabulous farm house on the East Coast.  I swear it is 10,000 square feet and done up like a high end B&B - just gorgeous.  And the lady of the house revealed that she does not have help cleaning, despite the fact that she has a very full time job outside the home and vacuuming alone takes her two hours.  Her husband intimated that hiring a housekeeper was, in a word, sinful.  (He's a self-reliance kind of guy.)  Part of me was aghast.  Part of me secretly agreed.

And since then I have been unable to justify - morally - hiring help when we have 1600 square feet and two able-bodied adults.  I wondered whether people who have cleaning ladies are really SO ENTHUSIASTIC because their lives are that much improved, or if it's perhaps because they're trying to convince themselves that it's something other than wanton laziness.

But here's the thing.  Ace and I have different concepts of cleanliness.  For him, it equals tidiness - everything in its place, no stuff lying around.  For me, it equals, well, clean.  Mopped floor, scrubbed toilet.  There's no question I am the messy one, and when I have to pick up after myself, I do it.  But I don't do it as much as I should and in those in-between times, when my crap is everywhere, Ace goes quietly crazy.  On the other hand, he doesn't notice the dirt or the scummy tub, so it doesn't occur to him to use a squeegee, say, and when we have guests I feel like it is my burden to spend a weekend mopping and scrubbing and vacuuming.  I know that I'm cleaning for me, but I still feel unduly burdened because it is joint dirt. 

So at our Halloween party, a friend glowed about her cleaning lady and said that she reluctantly took a break when she was between jobs, but as soon as she got her offer letter at a new job, the cleaning lady was the first person she called.

So I got her number.  Setting up our first meeting was confused and hectic because she doesn't speak English but she had an opening that very week.  No turning back!

She comes once a month, so she's been here twice.  The first time, our house had degraded into tornado territory, and I spent hours the night prior picking everything up.  But when we came home that night, the place smelled like roses and I felt the cares of the world slide from my shoulders.  It wasn't just tidy (Ace had been satisfied when we finished the picking up), it was clean.   (When I noticed she'd used almost an entire $8 bottle of Mrs. Meyers' geranium-scented cleaning solution the cheapskate in me had a conniption, but I tried to keep perspective.)

This last time it was less roses, more gas leak (an unlit burner had been left on) so it wasn't quite the arbor of delights, but I had been able to use the night before to spend a little less time picking up and a little more time organizing my desk.  I hope it continues this way, that each time I'll have kept the debris a little more in line than the last time and can make progress on organizational tasks that I've put off for - let's face it - years. 

Oh yeah, and she polishes the teakettle.  We've been making good use of it this fall, what with Sleepytime Tea and hot water bottles.  As mentioned in an earlier post, we didn't turn the heat on until after Thanksgiving.  Ace just got the bill and our gas usage for November was a third that of last year.  Now we just turn it on for a couple of hours when we get home and turn it off when we go to bed.  The house is usually around 56 degrees.

So speaking of my favorite things, I wanted to pass on a tip from my mother.  My mom gives me lots of advice.  I usually pretend to ignore it, just to be difficult, but I also usually take it to heart.  One good recommendation she gave me years ago was CuddlDuds long underwear.  They're now called CuddlSilks.  It's long underwear that is actually quite sheer, so you can wear it under everyday work clothes.  I wear them every day, now.  They're so convenient that I wanted to add a couple to my closet, so I went to the depressing Sears over at the Sad Mall (Sears is the only place I've ever seen them), and they were 50% off!  Now they have a bamboo variety.  They package it up like it's all eco-friendly to use the "replenishable resource" of bamboo!  Because cotton doesn't grow on trees, you know.

(Although, it's my understanding that cotton is a crop that requires lots of resources, pesticides, what have you, that do harm the environment so that 's why you should insist on organic cotton.)   

Let's close this post with the warm woolen mittens.  I got that periodic notice from Skype that I hadn't logged in in a while (IT at work removed it from my computer despite my whining and then my parents moved back from Singapore anyway), and I had to make at least one call or they'd keep my remaining eight Euros.  So I called a long lost friend in England only to discover she'd just gotten some terrible news.  That's neither here nor there, but I've been teaching myself to knit, per Sharon's skill-building imperative, so I used her as the inspiration for my first project: I decided to make my friend (shall we call her Pom?  PomWonderful?) mittens.

I totally made a mitten!  I used a pattern out of the original Stitch n Bitch book, which I got from the library.  (Recommend.)  I should have taken a picture, it was absurd.   It was about a foot long and eight inches wide.  I put my foot in it and considered keeping it for cozy toesies.  But then I tore it apart and started over. 

I know, they don't look remotely professional, but PomWonderful is pretty forgiving.  If I made her wait until I had real skill, she'd be waiting a long time.  Next I'm going to try a matching hat with a cable in it.

Update: I tried starting the hat, but my 9" needle is way too short.  I'll have to buy another pair of needles this weekend so I can work on it over the Christmas holiday.  This so-called frugal hobby is wiping me out on equipment.

I'll be sad to be done with this project.  The fuzzy wuzzy yarn is just too soft.  It's called Sensations Angel Hair, and it's 22% wool so I'm hoping it'll be a little warm. 

Thanksgiving Round-Up

Over the past couple of weeks, it's been starting to feel increasingly holidayish, what with the summer weather that held on so long going away and the dark, rainy days arriving for their annual five-month visit. 

A little bit has been going on since last we checked in:

Rad's birthday happened while he was away competing at Clearwater, so for the first Run Club after his return, Ace made a cake!  Angel food!  I was surprised that we had an angel food cake pan.  I was also surprised when he asked whether we had any sprinkles.  We did, but usually he avoids sprinkles (on his Cold Stone hot fudge sundae, for instance) because they are just "empty calories." 

Cafe Sophia, that Afghan place on Middlefield, is fantastic.  The food is unbelievably flavorful and there is a fine vegetarian selection.  The "Chef's Choice" mixed plates are good.

We've hosted and attended a couple of Game Nights, or nights where games were played.  I'm still learning how to match games with crowds.  You can't just play anything with anyone.  For instance, Celebrity is no good with more than about a dozen people, and it works best with a crowd of at least overlapping interests.  The Werewolves of Miller's Hollow requires attentiveness by all, but is enjoyable, if quiet.  It's reminiscent of that "7 up" game we used to play when we had a substitute teacher. 

Apples to Apples tends to be popular, but I find it mostly random and therefore not satisfying.  It's a good ice-breaker, however, because it takes zero skill, and helps to knock the competitiveness out of the evening.  I still haven't formed a complete opinion of Cranium, though my initial impression is that it's too easy to be all that fun.  At least, it's better with more than two teams.  And the Zombies! game, we haven't even played it because the instruction booklet is about thirty pages.  Puerto Rico gets rave Customer Reviews, but it's not a game you can play casually or while drinking.  Why Did the Chicken must especially be played while drinking.  Taboo remains a classic.

Hey!  Did you even see my Halloween costume? 

 

I've kind of bailed on my holiday crafting.  This will doubtless come as a surprise to Ace, given all the supplies in the closet.  Stuff just wasn't turning out very nice.  But I'm learning a couple of new crafty skills, which I'll show you in a little while, i.e. as soon as I make something not ugly.

My brother returned from Iraq!  Say it with me: "Phew."

For Thanksgiving Ace and I both went to Chicago, where half of his family lives and where my parents just moved after calling it quits on seventeen years in Singapore.  We both went to both of our families' Thanksgivings and it worked out actually a lot more smoothly than I expected. 

It was a chemically-fueled weekend, tea and coffee in the morning and always, always cocktails, wine and port in the evenings.  Instead of my usual attempts to keep the system clean, I gave in and went with what was on offer, and have learned that there is some wisdom in these habits.  They go a long way towards keeping everyone's attitude (including my own) manageable. 

On Sunday I rolled my stimulants and sedatives into one by having two Irish Coffees at Butch McGuire's, after which Ace and I avoided the sleet by hiding out at the Art Institute. 

I think Ace wishes he had spotted the architectural drawings sooner, and I wished I had discovered the "touch museum" sooner. 

 

I also got to see one of my dearest friends and her kid who is a laugh riot.  (And I am not one to fawn over people's kids.)  She probably won me over when, speaking to her mother, she called me "that girl."   Sure beats "that old lady." 

Another lesson from the weekend: direct flights are totally worth it.

Ace and I have been frugalizing by refusing to turn on the heat, so our house has been at a steady 61 degrees for the last month.  I thought he was merely humoring my cheapness, but he revealed that he was kind of making a personal character exercise out of not turning on the heat until at least Thanksgiving.  We got up at 2:30 a.m. California time to fly back yesterday and go straight in to work, so in the evening when he finally made it home, I made sure there was hot vegetable soup (to counteract nearly a week of midwestern meat, cheese and white flour) and a roaring fire.  And when he climbed in to bed, a hot water bottle.  That went over big. 

Our savings on heat will probably be balanced by our electricity bill: SOMEONE left the freezer door ajar for the five days we were away.  

How to take the train to downtown SF

As promised, here are my "don't ask me how I know" instructions for getting to the office from the Peninsula via Caltrain!

The Muni is located right next to the CalTrain station (i.e. East of the train station, on that 280 off-ramp that turns into the Embarcadero). The $1.50 (flat rate, exact change) Muni looks like a train, but then goes underground somewhere around the Ferry Building. You want the first stop after it goes underground, Embarcadero. It's a ten minute ride at most. Then it's about a two block walk (away from the water) to get to the office. You will encounter two Starbucks en route.

In the morning, there's a CalTrain that arrives around 8:15. At that time (i.e. rush hour), every Muni that leaves from 4th and King goes to Embarcadero Station, so you can just take the first one that comes.

When you're going back in the evening, you have to be a little more careful about a few things, and leave yourself more time, accordingly. First, you have to be sure to buy a Muni ticket rather than a Bart ticket - same station, different machines. You need exact change, and the Muni machine - a turnstile - doesn't take dollar bills. So you have to go to a machine to convert your dollar bill to a dollar coin, and a different machine to convert your other dollar bill to quarters (the change machine doesn't take dollar coins). And then you have to get on the right Muni line - T and K, I think, but you'd better look at the sign. If you are returning home much after rush hour, the correct Munis are few and far between and you can wait in the station for half an hour until you get anxious about missing your train and end up taking a cab anyway, which is $8. After rush hour, the trains depart every hour, so you don't want to miss yours.

This was all very confusing to me the first few times, but I think I've gotten the hang of it and now you can learn from all of my mistakes. Here are some other things I learned:

Depending on the day of the week, your local CalTrain station may not have enough parking, and you will have to try to find street parking that doesn't have a two hour limit. Also there may be varying ways to buy your parking spot, from remembering your slot number and typing it into a machine near the train, to buying a receipt from the machine and running back to your car to stick it on your dashboard. So far all the parking machines and CalTrain ticket machines I've seen take credit cards.

Also if you're in doubt about where to wait, remember that the trains run on the right-side track, and once the train is in the station, you may not be able to run to the other side.

How is an airship different from a blimp?

No, seriously - I don't know.  But apparently it's causing lots of excitement among the nerd herd.

We're estimating "the first zeppelin in U.S. skies for more than 70 years" to land at Moffet this evening.  I guess enthusiasts have been tracking it.  I'm sure we'll go over and look at it.  They're offering balloon rides, oops, I mean airship tours, for $500 an hour.  Worth it?

My window looks south, but I don't see anything yet.  We've had summer-hot weather all week, and it's hazy.

Also this weekend, I hope to hit the haunted Toys R Us.

And the house of that guy in Redwood City. 

Ace got himself a costume yesterday.  It's so him.  But he tells me mine is so me, so that's cool.  WB had the great idea to recycle the chicken once again and go as Yes on Prop 2, but I felt it was time to change it up. 

Really, I was just walking through Wal-Mart (I literally went in to buy just a spool of white thread!) when it totally jumped out at me.  It's the first time either of us has outright bought a costume in at least four years, but boy what a load off.  Remember when I was sewing a stingray on that flight to Hawaii?  Talk about a vacation killer. 

I'm falling way behind in my crafting.  I tried making the most of a car trip to Yoshi's on Monday by getting my embroidery on in the back seat, but all I got was carsick.   I'm going to have to reel my gifting plans way back in.  Sorry!

Last night I made those savory leaf pastries everyone is talking about, only my bucket of 100 cookie cutters didn't include any leaves (!) so I made them pumpkin and moon shaped.  They could have been anything.  (Seriously - no leaves, but you do include a football helmet?  What kind of shape is that?  Are football players really into decorated cookies?)  The pastries, though, were kind of awesome, mainly just in that they worked out as filled pastries.  They weren't bricks, and they didn't leak too badly.

I used this recipe for pastry, switching out some of the white flour for whole wheat, and switching out the water for vodka.  (I keep hearing about the Cook's Illustrated obsession with vodka pie dough, and I don't really know their recipe, so I guessed.) 

What I think really worked well was cutting the butter into quarter inch squares before freezing it.  Making pastry after that, even by hand, took no more than three minutes.  Genius!

They had good flavor and were flakey, but they were sturdy enough that the health conscious among us could roll them quite thin.

I made up a batch of sweet pastry too, but I'm reluctant to turn one of the many pumpkins scattered throughout our living room (I think we're up to about 24) into a pie yet.  Need something to throw at the sixteen year old punks in sweatshirts pretending to be trick or treaters.

Do you have plans for the holiday?  What are you going as?

Mad about Dinner Parties

I didn't see Mad Men last night because I'm trying to be an early bird, but this weekend, as I was thinking how many people we owe dinner, last week's episode was on my mind. 

I don't think it's giving anything away to say that there's a scene where the Drapers are having a dinner party.  After the adults move from cocktails in the living room to the dinner table, but before they can sit down, Betty commands everyone's attention and lists the upcoming menu.

What do you think of that?

My immediate reaction, as I was watching the show, was irritation.  For Pete's sake, don't interrupt people's conversation to talk about the food!  It seemed like a rather flat-footed attempt to inject festivity into an occasion where people were already merry enough.  (It also seemed like something I might do.)

But on further reflection, I thought that maybe describing the menu - it was a theme menu - actually did heighten the interest in the food and turn a home-cooked meal into a real occasion - and thereby paid a compliment to the guests.   (And I thought, maybe that's something I might do!)

Everybody knows I love a theme party, whether it's a murder mystery dinner or a holiday costume party or a Fourth of July picnic.  And I also feel pretty strongly that full participation by the guests as well as the host is really important.  It's a hassle for everyone, true, but I think the anticipation of figuring out your outfit or preparing a color-coordinated dessert makes just going to someone's house into a significant event.  

I think I'll start preparing some menus.

Moldy Oldie

We were standing around thinking of where to eat after run club, and because it's my birthday coming up this weekend, I proposed Sushi 85, the all-you-can-eat sushi place. It's not the cheapest, but birthday boys and girls eat free, so I figured we could spread that deduction around. Ace informed me that not only is it more expensive than it used to be, but to claim the birthday freebie, you have to go on the day.

So we went to that burrito place on Rengstorff that used to be a Jack in the Box, and I was schooled in what is apparently a whole world of birthday freebies.  I've made stabs at investigating this in the past, and have been disappointed.  By the time you think of it, you sign up for the program and have to wait a whole nother year for it to kick in.

But a couple of the runners inquired whether I was signed up for this and that birthday discount, and I kept saying "no."  Which made me think, what DO I get?

Currently I get a real birthday card in the mail from Cost Plus offering 10% off.  It's nice to get friendly mail like that, and I like Cost Plus anyway.

I get a card from my mom.

I get an e-mail from Buca di Beppo.

It takes considerable orchestration to get enough people to go to Buca to make the huge family style dishes worth while (otherwise you can order only one thing between the four of you, and that's boring)...but if you can do it, one birthday dessert is enough for the table.

I don't know whatever happened to my free scoop from Baskin Robbins - I suspect they may have an old e-mail address of mine that eventually vaporized.  Guess I'll go over and re-register for the Birthday Club.  Do they take people over 35?

Okay, I'm back, and they let me print out my coupon right there.  Yay!  (In fact, when you complete registering, the "Next" button is replaced by a "Yay!" button.) 

And I got an e-mail from Hanes that was titled, "Happy Birthday!  Our gift to you."  OMG!  OMG!  I spend a fortune on hosiery.  What would they send me?!  A pair of fishnets?  Something lacy?  A "Thank Goodness it Fits" bra?

OMG!  OMG!  OMG!

Wait.  What?

$1.99 shipping?  That's their "gift" to me?  Not even a pair of Slightly Irregular thigh-highs?

I tell you, OneHanesPlace gets on my nerves.  I've bought hosiery from their website every other year or so, because it's easy and it's not something you have to try on, and it's not something I ever think about when I'm shopping for anything else.  BUT, then they insist on sending me their catalogue in the mail every month.  It's a thick catalogue and I have e-mailed them repeatedly to say that I don't want the junk mail, I don't read it, I certainly don't buy from it, and I will stop buying even from the web site if I get another one.  But then I move to a different house, run out of taupe, they capture my new address, and it starts all over again.  Why do they think an online customer wants a paper catalogue anyway?

In sum: they kind of suck, and their birthday stinginess may have sealed their fate. 

I'm all about leg warmers these days, anyway.

So!  I welcome any further suggestions of birthday clubs that it might profit me to belong to!  Does Sephora have a club?  How about a local hair cuttery that gives a discount or a glass of orange juice?  Or a massage place, that would be nice.  Or Whole Foods?  A Wheatgrass Shot from Jamba Juice?  Shoot me a comment so we can share the wealth.

Thumble

Hi, remember me?  I got an inquiry (An inquiry!  One! Yes!  Isn't that sweet? I have a fan!  One!  Fan!) as to my location and well-being and rattled back a bunch of excuses about not having time to write about that (great) trip to Montana but feeling obligated to post chronologically so have been trapped behind that brick wall but also busy busy and figuring out my life and will I ever have children because apparently certain friends of mine think I'm over the hill and thinking maybe of possibly someday shopping for a house and this sailing thing, I don't know about it, and I lost my wallet, and then I found my wallet but lost my I.D. and credit cards, and apparently certain people think I'm not responsible enough to have kids anyway, and how will I fly to Erie without ID, and maybe I'll audition for a reality show if ANYBODY would trust me with their video camera - I mean, nothing anybody wants to read about, trust me.  But really the short answer would have to be - I lost my camera.

Which is to say, my camera drowned during a very exciting, tear- and swear-word stained river crossing in Montana, and, see, I bought that camera at the same time I started this blog, and so maybe I'm just ignoring the one to avoid dealing with the loss of the other.  Or maybe I'm just too lazy to create meaningful content and don't have the alternative of posting jokey pictures. 

But it's been an eventful week, and I've been away long enough that probably nobody remembers that I went camping anyway...so ...here's one for you, kid.

I chopped off my thumb Wednesday night.  It was a particularly tough Gruyere rind that I had been attacking, and you know how they say, "Never cut towards yourself"?  Yeah.  That's a good tip.  A good rule of thumb, if you will.

I honestly debated whether to go to the emergency room.  I didn't know whether there was anything anybody could do, and I avoid doctors.  (I don't know why, I'm not scared of them.  I guess it seems like a waste of time when I feel pretty healthy anyway.  But I've heard someone give that as their reason for why they don't exercise, and I argued with it, so I should take my own advice.)  So I thought about wrapping it up in a kitchen towel and going to bed (it had been a long day, it was about 1:30 in the morning, I had had half a glass of red wine and didn't want to seem irresponsible). 

But about 1/4 inch of loose thumb was looking back at me and turning pale, and I decided that a stitch in time might save my thumb.  So I went upstairs and brushed the wine out of my teeth with my non-bleeding hand, then fumbled all over the house looking for any kind of ID (I think I lost my passport in Montana) or my insurance cards.  But then I remembered how everybody in California is always getting mad about illegal immigrants taking advantage of emergency rooms' "help everybody" policy and realized I could wing it.  I grabbed a checkbook and my emergency credit card just in case.  And my library card.  And my 24 Hour Fitness card.

I went to El Camino Hospital, a hospital I'd never been to before.  I've only been to Stanford's ER (for myself and others) and it is always a mob scene.  So this was about equidistant from my house and I figured the wait surely couldn't be worse than Stanford's. 

They were very nice at reception and there was only one other person in the waiting room.  I read Sunset Magazine and decided I want to spend a night here some time, and they called me in.

Through this process, perhaps five different people checked in on my pain level, and to each I honestly reported that I hardly felt a thing.  It was like a 1 on that 1-10 scale they use.  Every single person then said, "Must have been a sharp knife!"

So I'd like to take a moment to recognize.  Something I have made note of many, many times over the past year and a half, but have probably never mentioned out loud, is that one of Ace's contributions to our household was a fabulous set of knives.  Every one of them is useful for something, and they're easy to keep sharp, even though we just throw them in the dishwasher.  So thanks, Ace!  They make my life easier!  Well, usually.

To make a long story less long, I asked the doctor to save my whole thumb.  I considered telling a sob story about being a pianist or a professional Thai masseuse, but figured it wouldn't change anything.  So after a technician (named Ben, I think) cleaned up as much of the gore as he could (great new tip: KY jelly dissolves blood easily without rubbing), the doc and I were looking at my thumb, turning it this way and that, when suddenly I got really light headed and nauseated and kept asking for something to throw up in, and the doctor said I was white as a sheet and the next thing I knew they were shoving an IV in me, trying to inject me with something, and making me lie down. 

So now I have to speak for all those people who faint at the sight of blood and guts.  I always assumed it was just squeamishness and was mildly critical...but now, having nearly passed out myself, I can only say that there was no emotion accompanying the experience.  I wasn't scared or grossed out or anything - it just came over me. 

The doctor stated that he would have to take my entire nail off, something about it growing in weird if he didn't.  We agreed that if he were a manicurist, he would be receiving a very small tip.  (Discussion topic: which is more of a slap in the face to a service provider, no tip, or a very small tip?)

He took off the nail, and apparently (I was dying to see, but didn't want to pass out) the top of my thumb came with it.  He said he couldn't save it...and predicted that I would heal up with a short thumb.  Then he left me alone for about an hour, and it was only at that point that I started getting weepy.  I don't know if it was the thought of having a stumpy thumb, or maybe the pain was catching up to me, or maybe I was feeling forgotten, or maybe I was just so tired - it was now about 4:00 on Thursday morning. 

I finally called for someone to help me and after more delay Ben came back to swaddle me up.  That hurt like hell, and I was annoyed that they'd waited so long that the anesthetic was wearing off.

I got home and went to bed around 6 am on Thursday, but not before emailing my new workout partner that I would not be making it.

He called me throughout the morning to tell me about the pixie dust.

Here's the video:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7376191.stm

That afternoon (yesterday), I called the doctor in Pittsburgh. 

Start at Home

I've been on a home beautification kick recently.  Our rental - though it has great square footage, the amenities of a condo complex and some great features (upstairs washer/dryer, fireplace, gas stove) - has some appearance issues. 

It is, to use the correct "design industry" term, fugly.

A big, cracked, putty-colored garage door is the first thing to greet visitors; the entrance way is concrete slabs, dirty stucco walls and a mishmash of stringy attempts to grow vegetables, since it's the sunniest outdoor spot we have.

When you open the door, you see a small foyer area paved with mustard-colored tiles with dark brown grouting.  The downstairs shoebox bathroom shares the same tile, as does the fireplace.  The vinyl-floored kitchen is tiled in grimy "stone" colored tile and the same brown grouting that is powdery white with leftover Comet.  The teensy back "yard" is a horrible sloping patchwork of cracked concrete, crumbling bricks, bark chips and empty, shady spots where nothing wants to grow.

We had dinner at the neighbors, whose house (which they own) is the mirror image of ours, and we were amazed at what a difference a little updating can do.  Theirs is a chic modern home.  Ours is a...well, we do the best we can. 

Part of our problem is our furniture.  Combining two single people's places into a unified home can be a fraught process where the individuals have distinct style preferences.  (Find Your Style is my current favorite show...  Her quiz says I am "ethnic eclectic" - what are you?)  Me: teak/mahogany, Southeast Asian feel (hopefully) without being 'themey', rich colors, drama; Him: oak, Mission style, East Asian accents, neutrals, minimalism. Without knowing what the future holds, each is reluctant to surrender their favorite decor.  Furthermore, we're renting, so that even if we did know what the future held, it seems like a bad idea to purchase anything particularly for this place. 

Another, perhaps more fundamental, problem is the rental aspect.  If I owned this place, I would fix the garage door and the entrance way and the back yard.  I'm actually not necessarily agitating to "update" the entryway or the kitchen or the fireplace - I think this trend of bringing places up to the minute every decade has overtones of needless consumerism - but there are still avenues of celebrating what already exists that are closed to us.

The mustard tile is nothing short of hideous...yet it's hideous and 'dated' looking primarily because it looks slapped onto an otherwise white Renter's Delight.  The management company made us swear we would not touch the newly-installed, brushed-nickel light fixtures.  Those are attractive on their own, but look way worse in the environment than did the more old-fashioned brass that was there before.  If we could paint the walls brown or gold, we could make the tile look intentional...but we can't.  It's hard to know how long we're staying, so the investment of painting the place twice (color, then back to white) in what could be a short period never seems worth it.

Here's the other thing getting under my skin: our rent spikes this month by $150.  Thanks, real estate bubble!  I don't know whether this is the idea of our landlady or her management agency, but I wonder if they're under the misimpression that our place is as well-maintained and updated as our neighbors' place.  I'm going to send a note itemizing the problems (worn carpet, peeling bathtub sealant, etc.), but wonder a little what it's legitimate to negotiate at this point where

1. we're already in the house

2. we always pay rent on time

3. we keep things up as well as they will allow (I've planted loads of landscapery, for instance)

4. the announced new rent may be a little high given the evident age of the unit.

Has any of you negotiated along these lines?  Do we have any leverage?  If I offered to paint the living room, for instance, a color other than white, if I'm confident it will improve the look of the place, could I ask for that to be taken out of our rent?  What about the plants or the patio?  I'd love to make the backyard beautiful, if we could get a rent credit.  All of these things are, otherwise, money down the drain as far as I'm concerned.

In the mean time, I'm limited to moving furniture around and swapping out carpets.  This past weekend I covered our maroon-upholstered dining room chairs (hand-me-downs) in a color more sympathetic to the...mustard. 

Before:

After:

It's crazy easy.  Here's how.

Requirements:

• Wood chairs with fabric (or no) upholstery.
• Staple gun! Get one that says high-powered or similar. The easier to shoot the better. Even my heavy-duty, "30% easier to squeeze!" one hurt my little hand.
• Staples - get a size that says it's for upholstery. If they're too long they look bad, fall out, and only hold your fabric on by the points rather than by the cross bar, so it can overstress and damage your fabric. 5/16" worked for me; 1/2" were too long.
• Fabric you'd love to see on your chairs! Do look in the "home decor" section for some gorgeous thick fabrics; on sale they can be quite respectable. My fabric was from the special occasion dress department. It was on sale.
• Optional: foam padding - 1/2 inch thick is adequate, but I wanted more cush for my tush, so I got 1 inch. It was the most expensive part of this operation - $6/yard for 1/2", $12/yard for 1". If you want dramatic tufting, go even thicker.  Because this is so expensive, you can definitely skip adding padding, particularly if there's already some there, or if you have a nice, thick fabric.  I got it both because I wanted a little softness in the derrierre region, and because I thought our satin fabric would lie smoother with some give underneath.
• Optional: "make to match" buttons, if you want the tufted look. They s/b in the home decor section. See "The button question," below.

   

Step 1.  Measure your seats, adding several inches of overage, and noting whether the fabric weave or pattern you've picked requires a certain orientation (may increase your measurements). 

Step 2.  Buy the right amount of fabric and any foam and button frames.  Our fabric was on sale for $4 a yard at JoAnn's!   The foam was more like $11 a yard.  :o(  The button frames worked out to more than $1 apiece. 

Step 3.  Take apart your chairs.  Hopefully your chairs will be designed for this.  (But you could probably do your stapling in situ if necessary.)  I discovered that my six chairs were assembled in four different ways.  I suspect my hand-me-down set is itself a motley collection off of Craigslist.  But they were all capable of having their seats unscrewed.  (I discovered also that I am not the first to reupholster them.  There was at least one layer below the maroon one: a bright orange-and-yellow weave!)

(Note those other holes for later!)

Step 4.  Trace an outline 3-4 inches larger than your seats on your fabric and cut them out (larger if you use particularly thick foam).  Optional: trace and cut your foam - give it an extra centimeter to bend over and soften the chair edges.

Step 5.  The fun part!  Lay your fabric face down,

the foam (if any) on top,

and the inverted chair seat on top.  Make sure you've got the right orientation! 

Stretch the fabric tight over the foam and staple away. 

 

Use plenty of staples - they're cheap.   

(A totally amateur job, but who will see?  Besides the world via the internet, I mean.)

Step 6.  Reassemble your chairs.  Admire! 

The entire set cost me $20 in fabric, maybe $45 in foam, $20 for the staple gun (reusable) and staples.  The button covers were a lot, $3.50 for each set of three...but I may return them (see "The button question," below).  I think the $70 was worth it, both to the extent it looks nice, and as an educational exercise.  I've also gained a chair, and now have an attractive, uniform dining set for six.  (One of the chairs had its cover completely torn off - it's been living in the garage since I got it - and I was going to give it to Goodwill and seat my sixth guest on a folding chair, until I learned how to do this from HGTV...Design on a Dime made a tufted headboard this way, out of pegboard, foam, fabric and buttons.)   

The button question.  You can create a tufted look with matching fabric covered buttons.  Check out the bottom of your chairs before your start recovering.  They may have big holes drilled through the wood for this very purpose.  If there are not already holes there, you will have to drill your own, so consider this in advance of your covering job.  One, three or four button patterns would all be classic.  Assemble your buttons with fabric scraps and the "make to match" frames.  They're like using a needlepoint hoop.  After the seats are covered, with very strong thread and a thick needle (depends on your fabric and the squishiness of your foam), poke through the back of the chair all the way through to the top and through the button and pull it down tight and secure.

 

I love this tufted look, and it was my original plan to do this.  I was going to do one central button per chair.  But I turned the seats over and discovered that, just as the seats assembled via various combinations of screws, the pre-drilled holes were a mish-mash of two, three and four buttonholes.  Also, the buttons themselves work out to about $1.15 a pop, which comes to as much as $4.50 per chair, if I use the suggested patterns.  What do you think, for an extra $27 for the set, should I bother?  

Gorge.