Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back
I've needed to take my car in for an oil change for awhile now but it always seemed like there would be a better day sometime in the future. I finally made a point to get it in this morning and it got an A+ and then as I pulled out of Safeway an hour later, I noticed a strange dashlight I've never seen before was on and when I checked in the book it says it's my rearlight malfunction indicator. (Is it just me or does that sound vaguely pornographic?) I'm going to have to check it again when Bob is home and hope maybe the papertowels were putting too much pressure on something in the trunk causing the light to come on and really it's all fine. Cross your fingers for me.

I had a hectic week but not horrific. I had a couple of late nights and weird busy days at the office. It wasn't like I was so stressed with deadlines or something, it was like 10 things all happened at the same time. I'd come back to my desk from sending a fax and there would be a voice message and as I checked that my phone would ring and then while I was on the phone my cell would ring and then someone would come in my office and say that the fax didn't go through and someone was waiting for me in the lobby and another person needed me to find a file for them. So, for a few hours everything would be out of control. You can probably tell that I would be worthless at a real high pressure job.

Besides my car I had about 10 other errands to run and when I got home I made Keetha's Sweet Potato Bundt Cake for the writers meeting tomorrow. I'll take photos of it later but I think I did good. And the glaze (butter, brown sugar, whipping cream, rum) is so delicious I'm going to lick off the pan when I move the cake to a serving plate. I've also made a massive cassoulet and I bought a giant hunk of meat so I can make Amy the Mom's easy pot roast tomorrow. (Where did I get ideas for cooking before blogs?) And then I'll be done cooking for the weekend and on Sunday I'll lounge about on my throne screaming orders.

Tomorrow is also a busy day because we have writers meeting from 11-2 and then at 2 we have a birthday party. [Aside: all my blogging friends are welcome to join writers meeting any time you're in town. You know, I get enough remarks about this I should probably organize a virtual writers meeting. Hm. Will think about that.] On the birthday: Happy 20th birthday today to Roy Brothers. He's having cake tomorrow to celebrate. In 4 more years we can take him out drinking.

Amateur!
For all you camera smarties who read the previous post and snickered under your breath, "Amateur!" You are right.

According to the nice customer service guy on the phone, for the grownup camera it's back to the old fashioned way of taking pictures. I press my greasy face against the giant LCD display and look through the tiny viewfinder with one eye to frame my picture, just like in the olden days. Then the display screen shows me the photo I just took.

Do you think that's true or is the guy just pulling my leg so I won't try to send it back?

Geez, it's hard being a moron sometimes.



I just ran around the house and took photos of dinner and the walls and the world's most awesome garlic press, just like I promised.

I guess it goes without saying that I have more homework to do but at least I know it works. Now I need to rush my spouse through dinner so I can watch the end of Pride and Prejudice. Finally.

Tuesday Updates
My new camera arrived yesterday. I had it delivered to the office and of course I had to rip everything open so I could start playing with it but then I realized there were a bunch of parts and a battery to be charged and I thought I should wait until I got home so nothing would get lost or broken.

I didn't have time when I got home because we went to Aunt Betty's to have dinner with Priscilla, Aunt Margaret and Uncle Marvin. When we got home from dinner it was bedtime so I assembled the camera and put the battery on the charger so I could at least take a picture of the wall or something when I woke up this morning.

Argh. The menu will display but not the viewfinder. I cannot take a photo. Wah! Yes, the lens cover is off. I didn't have time for extensive troubleshooting but I'm pretty bummed about this development and foresee a series of long and frustrating customer service calls in my future. I hope I'm wrong.

Meanwhile: tiredd1 - I know who you are! Congratulations on your recent marriage. Hope to see you soon.

Clarification for angelawd - I cook the rice by itself and put the chicken in the skillet with the vegetables.

Today's My 16 Year Anniversary Working for the Uncle/Boss

I don't have anything to say about the Oscars except I enjoyed it more than I expected. I did drink a tad too much wine and did a lot of shouting at the TV so that might be part of it. The big Once number and win was my favorite part. The first Enchanted song made me want to stick forks in my ears. No extended interpretive dance piece this year. Yay.

I started to write about food preparation on Friday and got side-tracked by the manapua cobbler story. I can't figure out why some weekends there is no cooking project too complicated to tackle and other weekends I'm pawing through the cupboards trying to find something where I just add hot water and stir.

This weekend was hot water and stir. Saturday we went out for hamburgers and last night I made salad and Bob brought home pizza. Friday night I made a variation of the Pam Special which goes like this:

1 package of chicken breasts
1 onion. If it's huge, I use half.
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
Variety of chopped vegetables. I used carrots, celery and turnip.
Mr. Brown's Barbecue Sauce

I chop the onion and put the garlic through the press and toss in a skillet with a little bit of olive oil on medium heat. I'm going to take a picture of my garlic press if my camera ever gets here. That's what I get for "free shipping." The camera is probably taped to the back of a turtle somewhere in Montana about now.

Our garlic press is our oldest and most-used kitchen item. In the first year of our marriage I killed at least 3 garlic presses because they were flimsy and broke under the strain of my enthusiastic pressing, except for one that broke when I tried to press ginger. It's probably obvious to everyone except for me, but just in case: don't try to press ginger. It won't work.

This garlic press came from Germany (it actually says on it, "W. Germany" so maybe it's also a collector's item) and it's the toughest gadget ever. It's been through the dishwasher a zillion times, dropped in the garbage disposal, bumped around in the bottom of the random kitchen stuff drawer with nutcrackers and measuring cups. No one has ever tried to press ginger in it. It works like a dream every time.

While the vegetables cook I dice the chicken breast. I don't really enjoy looking at a giant slab of chicken breast on my plate. I like it in bite size pieces and incorporated into the dish.

Oh, before you start all this, fire up your rice cooker. The NYT did an article on basic kitchen appliances and said you don't need a rice cooker. Sure you can live happily without one, and yes, it's not that hard to make rice on the stovetop. So what? We love our rice cooker.

Add the chicken to the vegetables and cook until the chicken no longer looks raw. At this point normally I add a Trader Joe's simmer sauce but we had opened this jar of Mr. Brown's barbecue sauce so I poured in a blob of that instead. Tom Brown was one of Bob's students and we always run into him at the grocery store. He sometimes has barbecue parties which are super fun and feature large quantities of incredible meat.

Then I turn the heat down and let it burble until we're ready to eat. If it's going to be awhile and the pan starts to look dried out, I add a splash of water and put the lid on. If I'm in the mood I make a salad and sometimes throw some sort of bread product on the table just in case the rice isn't going to be enough.

Put cooked rice on plate. Ladle chicken stuff over rice. Serve.

Action cat moves in for the kill.

Last night Bob and I did something we hardly ever do, we went on a date. We didn't plan it on purpose. He said he was going to see There Will Be Blood and I haven't seen anything at the theater except for Juno which was way back at my birthday so I said I'd go with him.

We went to the 4:30pm matinee which was almost full and we remembered immediately why we never go to the movies on Saturdays. It's full and everybody talks. The movie is intense and everyone settled pretty quickly and/or I was so involved that I stopped noticing but there were a few moments when we first sat down when I thought we'd made a mistake.

I think this is a movie more for people who admire film making and less for people who like entertainment if you can get my distinction. I think it belongs in what I call the "brilliant failure" category.

The performances are amazing. Daniel Day-Lewis is completely genius and the actor who plays his kid and Paul Dano, the Little Miss Sunshine guy, all really good. The first half hour or so, has stunning visuals but there's this moment where the movie turns a corner. Bob and talked about it afterward and agreed on this same moment and at that point you're invested in people that you cannot like or root for in any capacity. The story and the way people behave are grounded in reality, there's quite a journey going on, but as a viewer, sometimes you want to see a glimmer of goodness before the credits roll.

Afterward we went to Burgerville so I could use my coupon for a free chocolate-hazelnut milkshake and eat my third fast-food hamburger since October. What's happening to me? Maybe I'm learning to enjoy delicious food. The shake was great.

After dinner we went to the mall to use Bob's Macy's giftcards and coupons. I helped Bob for awhile and then wandered off. One current style that I don't get are the bags or purses or whatever the kids are calling them these days. The bag department took up about 20% of the real estate on the ground floor and I looked through the displays fascinated by the bright ugly colors, unappealing shapes and big shiny buckles and fasteners. I pretended that the store wanted to give me one and which one would I choose? None. Not even for free. And these aren't even the thousand dollar bags that you see in the ads.

Bob is looking forward to the Oscars tonight. I used to like awards shows, especially the Oscars, but now it feels like my life draining out of me. I can spend 5 minutes the next day reading the results in the paper and have to sit through all the b.s. Then I found something in the paper that, at least partially, changed my mind. One of my favorite movies last year was Once and I especially loved the soundtrack. The NYT has an article, Life Imitating Film about the stars Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova playing their song at the show tonight. I will tune in for that moment alone. And I hope they win because they are not b.s.

From the morning walk.

Last night I started Sense and Sensibility way too late but I thought I'd just watch the first hour and then go to bed. Once I got into it I couldn't possibly go to bed without seeing my heroines find true love so I ended up staggering off to bed hours past my bedtime.

It's still really good. I think it's tragic that a whole generation of kids are growing up to think of Alan Rickman as Snape and will never truly appreciate him in this romantic role as the wounded Colonel Brandon who looks out for Miss Marianne. Rickman was in another movie that I haven't seen in years but liked a great deal, Truly Madly Deeply (1990). Rickman plays a recently-departed ghost hanging out with his grief stricken girlfriend played by Juliet Stevenson who was the Mom in Bend it Like Beckham and said one of the funniest lines in that movie: "Get your lesbian feet out of my shoes." And if that's not enough, there's a photo of her on imbd with Colin Firth who plays Mr. Darcy.

I know. I'm a little dizzy myself.

Back to Alan Rickman, he has played some fine baddies (Die Hard) in his day, but I like to think of him as Miss Marianne's champion.



I can't wait to get my new camera next week and hopefully when I take photos of moving targets, they won't come out looking like this.

On our walk last week the very friendly and high energy cat pictured above flew out of his yard and ran over to meet us. I was squatting down to say hello when the string for the hood on my sweatshirt caught his beady cat eyes and he climbed me in one giant leap and began playing with it with his sharp kitty claws catching me in the face. We stopped that game.

We saw his owner and said, "Hey, you got a cat," and he leaned against the car and looked skyward and let out a mighty sigh and said, "Yeah. Somehow we got two cats."

This morning the cat ran out to see us again and since I wasn't wearing that sweatshirt, I thought I was safe. I squatted down to take a photo and he launched onto me, purring like crazy, and tried to play with the strap on the camera. Crazy cat.

One more item. Last night Bob brought a DVD upstairs at dinner and said he had something he wanted me to watch. He said it was from him for Valentine's Day. It's called The Danish Poet and it's a short animated film that won an Academy Award a couple of years ago. It is so sweet and heart-twisting. As far as I know you can't find it online so you'll have to ask at the library or something. Worth trying to find.

Repeats
So is it really bad form to re-post something from your own blog? Every once in awhile I go back and read ancient posts to see what was on my mind, say in May of 2001. I usually do this when I'm working on advanced procrastination techniques. None of that amateur time-wasting for me. I go for the big guns.

I read this yesterday when I should have been tediously transferring information from one endless spreadsheet to another. It was the great manapua experiment that went so very wrong.

I've never tried the recipe again even though I've always intended to. I had no idea it was so long ago. The funniest part is that almost every month my stats have a search string from someone looking for a manapua or hum bao recipe. I wonder if they even bother to read this.

Yesterday I tried to make manapua and I'm no expert on the correct names and origins of this food but generally I think you could also call this hum bao or bao buns or steamed buns. I have never made this before or seen anyone make it, but my cousin Lisa told me she made them once and it was easy.

So I made the filling and that went fine. I didn't like the recipe's filling so I invented my own which was chicken and pressed tofu baked in homemade bbq sauce and then minced carrot, turnip, onion and mushroom sauteed in a bit of bbq sauce and mixed with the tofu/chicken.

Then I made the dough and that actually turned out okay too except it seemed to need an awful lot of flour and I had a tough time getting it all mixed in and the recipe said to be careful not to knead too much because you didn't want gluten to form.

I did all the steps, did the dough rise, rolled out my dough, filled em up and here's where the problem came in. The recipe guy said he steamed them in a bamboo steamer in his wok. Since I don't have a bamboo steamer or a wok, I decided to use the steamer insert in my soup pot. He said he did 12 at a time, two layers of six, but as I made mine I thought, "Hey, I can fit 12 at a time, in two layers," and I packed them all in elbow to elbow.

So when I did the rise, the buns all fused together into a giant lump of dough and then when I did the steam/cook part, the only part that cooked was the bottoms and along the sides. Then when I took them out, the individual buns were all stuck together and when I tried to separate them, the filling flew out. So basically I ended up with a manapua dough cobbler. We threw them on a cookie sheet and baked them in the oven and salvaged them somewhat.

Sadly, no one has ever found this website by searching for "manapua dough cobbler."

The Complete Jane Austen
Masterpiece Theatre is doing some sort of Complete Jane Austen (hereinafter "CJA") broadcast. I'm not sure what the scope is and my research journey to the PBS website turned into the usual commerce flog with lots of information on purchasing CJA but no helpful little blurb that tells me what the plan is for the broadcast CJA.

I decided to set my DVR for the 1995 Pride and Prejudice mini-series which I don't think I've ever seen in its entirety. Or maybe not ever. I'm not sure. When I mentioned Jane Austen to my husband he rolled his eyes and said, "Is that the one where they all sit around in nightgowns writing letters?" And he has a point, their outfits do kind-of look like nighties and there is a lot of letter writing and also hair brushing while getting ready for dances, visitors and sleep. To the untrained eye, the stories may seem to blend together.

What I do know is that this is the Pride and Prejudice that features the dreamiest Mr. Darcy ever: Colin Firth. I didn't hate the Kiera Knightly version but wished for a Mr. Darcy that I really wanted to wrap my arms around. Once I saw the first part of this series sitting there on my DVR I had second thoughts. Did I really want to spend close to 6 hours watching Pride and Prejudice? I'm still catching up on the first season of Jericho and the new episodes have started. And I've got some Doctor Whos to get through.

What was I thinking? Of course I want to watch 6 hours of PandP. I'd watch it all in one sitting if that choice was available. It's in three installments and I have to wait for the third this Sunday. I am biting my nails with concern. Will the adorable Elizabeth Bennet and handsome Mr. Darcy discover true love?

Meanwhile, I dug out my Emma Thompson Sense & Sensibility DVD from the closet. That will have to tide me over until Sunday.

Like Rabbit's Ears
Our firm doesn't take the January or February holidays. Yesterday I took the bus but I left a half hour later than usual because I knew there would be no traffic. I don't think the bus driver hit the brake pedal until we got to downtown Portland.

Of course we paid for it on the way home because there was a giant traffic jam from everybody coming home from their surprisingly sunny three-day weekend.

On Sunday I did something that's been on my list forever and I put a bunch of stuff on my iPod that I never seem to listen to at home but would be perfect to listen to on the bus. A friend sent me some comedy shows and I have a spoken word CD that I got from Liz Woody and I have some fairy tales in German and a writing class.

Yesterday during the traffic jam I listened to the comedy shows and Liz and enjoyed the scenic route the bus took to avoid the freeway until the last minute. Listening is underrated.

Another thing I did yesterday was re-read A Good Man Is Hard to Find by Flannery O'Connor which is one of my top three short stories of all time. Another one is De Daumier-Smith's Blue Period by J.D. Salinger and if pressed to choose the third right now, I'd have to pick The Lottery by Shirley Jackson. If nothing else these are all stories that I read over and over and love just as much every time. Maybe love isn't the right word. They're all pretty twisted stories.

A long time ago I wrote a story where some side characters had a band called Flannery and they took their names from characters in this story: Bailey, June Star, John Wesley and Pitty Sing. It seemed awfully clever at the time.

Last night after we turned out the light, I told Bob I'd read the story and he said, "That's the one with the rabbit ears."

"What?" I said, thinking he couldn't possibly remember that from the story.

"The woman wore a bandana tied with rabbit ears on the top."

This is a man who after living in the same home for 10 years still can't remember where half the kitchen stuff goes, yet he remembers a tiny detail from a story he probably read over 20 years ago.

From the first page of the story:

Bailey didn't look up from his reading so she wheeled around then and faced the children's mother, a young woman in slacks, whose face was as broad and innocent as a cabbage and was tied around with a green head-kerchief that had two points on the top like rabbit's ears.

Salami Rolls
I like to make Bob a nice dinner for Valentine's Day, or at least a chocolately dessert.

Since V Day was Thursday, and Thursday night is usually my most tired night of the week, I made him his nice dinner last night.

At some point this week I was following some link rabbit hole and found Marcella Hazan's bolognese recipe. Cook's Illustrated also had an Italian Meat sauce recipe this month so I already had it on the brain and a hearty meaty dinner sounded good.

When I make something with ground meat I use turkey, but it was Marcella and it was for Bob, so I went for the ground beef. I'm sure the last time I purchased ground beef was the 80's. I had the time so it cooked on the stove all afternoon and smelled fabulous and Bob was thrilled when he came through the door.

When he got home I was wrangling the pepperoni rolls and struggling a little because the dough was sticky (explanation below) and he saw what was going on and said, "You're making those pepperoni things! I'll leave you alone."

I didn't take the recipe with me to the store and on my list I wrote "frozen dough" so when faced with a freezer full of frozen dough product, I had no idea what to buy. I knew orange rolls wasn't right. I also bought salami because I went to Trader Joes first and they had about 9 kinds of salami and the only pepperoni was the thin sliced kind you put on pizza and I didn't want that. Also, couldn't find provolone in a lump, only thinly sliced so I bought mozzarella. I'm not sure whether I'm a brilliant problem solver or really lame at following directions.

When I got home I made the Cook's Illustrated master recipe for pizza dough and after the rise I punched it down, cut it in half and put half in a ziplock bag and threw in the freezer. I cut the other half into 8 pieces and flattened them out. I panicked a little because it was so sticky but at this point, I was in the determined phase of my baking project so I kept at it. I put my hunks of salami and grated cheese on my flattened dough, made a pouch and doused the lump with melted butter and garlic. They took forever to get golden brown so I didn't take them out of the oven until 2 minutes before we were going to eat. I stuck them outside in the shop to help them cool off a bit.

Meanwhile, we hoovered our bolognese with Trader Joe's pasta because I wasn't in the mood to tackle homemade pasta. I also made salad even though I didn't feel like it. We were having so much meat product, I felt some green was essential.

I brought the rolls back in and I don't think I can accurately convey how mindbendingly yummy these are. Warm squishy bread, meat and cheese with a buttery-garlic flavor. I was sad I'd already eaten so much of the other stuff because I wanted to eat all of them. Bob reheated some for breakfast and said they were even better today. I know what I'm having for lunch.

I'd also made the flourless chocolate cake on Amy's site but I had to bail on the raspberry sauce because when I got home I learned I was mistaken and we didn't have 6 giant bags of raspberries in the freezer, we had 6 giant bags of strawberries. Strawberry sauce didn't sound right. I'd also forgotten to put whipped cream on the grocery list so we didn't have that to fall back on. It was really delicious by itself so no worries there.

Spectacular dinner. My husband was a happy man. And for me, I ordered a big girl camera yesterday.

Updated to add: This is what Bob did after dinner last night. The gift is, he went without me. He knew I would hate it. He said, "There were a lot of bored girlfriends sitting around me." What a prince.

Evening
Nice sunset, too. It was not this lovely all day. The lady on TV said it was going to be up to 60 later this weekend and I hope she's right.

BTW -- I tried the pepperoni rolls tonight and I don't think our lives will ever be the same. I'll write more about it tomorrow.

View Out Front This Morning
It's supposed to get in the 50s today. I have a million errands and chores to do including some quality time in the backyard cleaning up hedge debris. I actually woke up in the middle of the night last week and realized that hedge debris is heaped on top of a bunch of new bulbs. I need to give them room to grow.

We're Celebrating Valentine's Day with Hummus

Here's a photo of the baked treats. Looking at that makes me want to make them again, but spring is coming and we have to fit into our pants. Also, this week I discovered the existence of something called a pepperoni roll and I'm going to have to make a pan of that instead. We can always get bigger pants.



We're not big on Valentine's Day in our house but I do a little something at the office.

The first year I brought Star Wars valentines (the kind that cost $2 for a box of 36 at Target) and left one on everyone's desk.

Last year I got Pirates of the Caribbean valentines with tattoos and got heart pencils at Target and put Devil Duckies on them. (Example of last year's in photo)

This year I got Scoobie Doo valentines and gave Marie Antoinette head pops. (also in photo) It was between that and Unicorn Power Gum but I hate grape flavor. Bob had a great idea that I could bake cupcakes and stick the Marie pops in them. And that would have been funny but a logistical nightmare since I would have had to make them on Wednesday night and then carry them all to work on the bus.

As it was I had to keep telling people, "It's Marie Antoinette's head."

Land of the Lost
I'm big on putting things away in their proper place. It's not a system or belief, it's how I maintain my sanity. I can't stand not knowing where things are.

Last night the soy sauce was sitting next to the stove and since I didn't know how it figured into the dinner plan, I stuck it back in the cupboard.

Then we sat down to eat and apparently it fit into Bob's dinner plan.

B: Where's the soy sauce? I wanted to use it.

Me: It was by the stove so I put it away. If you wanted to use it you should have put it on the table.

I know. I was feeling a bit testy. Bob got up from the table and opened the cupboard. After one second:

B: I can't find it.

Me: Don't make me go over there.

Then he made a production of turning on the big overhead light, like it was too dark to see properly. I looked over my shoulder and could see the soy sauce in the cupboard from where I was sitting.

Me: It's next to the olive oil. Looking for something means looking in places other than where you expect it to be.

Bob: Did you learn that since you married me?

Me: No, I work for [names of attorneys redacted].

I'm not even sure that was the right response because the attorneys don't look for things at all. They ask me to find something and I spend a half hour looking high and low and pulling my hair out and then in despair, going into their office and moving a few papers around and finding it on their desk.

Some time ago a friend of mine sent me some information on a baking contest. The grand prize was an insane amount of money, I can't remember how much. Maybe $5,000. It was one of those where you had to use the sponsor's product in your recipe.

I had an idea for recipe that would be a variation on cinnamon rolls and involve almond paste.



Like many of my brilliant cooking project ideas, I never got around to making it and this stupid box of almond paste has been staring at me ever since.

This is one of my current on-going missions: I'm trying to clear out my cupboards of the random stuff that gets shoved to the back that you never end up using. Like when you buy a weird vinegar for a particular recipe or you know how you sometimes get a gift basket and it has a jar of kiwi-cumin spread? And every time you open your cupboard you see this jar of kiwi-cumin spread and you feel personally responsible to Aunt Phyllis who so thoughtfully sent you that basket that you can't get rid of it?

I'm trying to figure out how to use all those things.



I thought I'd throw together some cinnamon rolls this weekend. The dough (which I think of as d'oh!) didn't look too impressive on the first rise and I was sort-of concerned this was going to be another disaster. Also, I'm not so good at volume estimates. They always say "until roughly doubled in volume." Whatever genes or brain matter you need to figure that out, I am woefully lacking.

See those droplets on photo #2? I'm just a hair this side of sane when it comes to kitchen cleanliness and I wash my hands a lot, like if run in the laundry room to transfer clothes to the dryer when I get back to the kitchen I wash again. That's my dripping hands over the d'oh! reaching for a paper towel.



Look how nicely the second rise went except you can see where they want to unroll. There was this I Love Lucy cakes on a conveyor belt moment when I couldn't get the dang thing to roll up right and I was rolling and unrolling and trying to tighten up the roll like a sleeping bag.

After I started making them I realized that almond paste is among the bottom 10 flavors Bob likes to enjoy and he would be really sad if came home to a wonderful tray of cinnamon rolls and then had blucky almond paste flavor.

So I left it out and now that stupid box is back in the cupboard.

I didn't remember to take a photo of the final baked product until after we'd eaten half of them. The photo is still in the camera. They were really delicious as they should be since they had over a half stick of butter and a cup of half-n-half in them. I have the last one left for after lunch.

More Artistic Content Than Ever
At the end of last year, Bob subscribed to Lynda.Com because he needed to brush up on an application he was using more.

He gave me CS3 products for my birthday and I'm trying desperately to be worthy. I've taken 2 Photoshop classes and one Illustrator class over the past 3 years and I'm not a quick learner. But then, I wasn't born with a computer in my hands.

I've been working my way through the Lynda tutorials. I'm going to learn InDesign, too, eventually, and I'm trying to get a handle on the Bridge and organize my image files which are a disaster especially by my standards.

At first I was being all methodical about starting at the beginning of each class and working through each item. But then I started skipping around to the stuff that looks fun. I never thought I'd be into online learning but I like this a lot.

Above is my latest creation. I call it: Acorn relaxing on an Autumn Day.



On Friday I made my weekend No Knead loaf and I decided to get crazy and throw some olives in there. In my head I remember working them in there better but as you can see here, they've all gathered at the edges and as soon as you slice into it, olives fall out everywhere.

I thought maybe I should turn this into a stunt baking blog and bake everything in my Bread Baker's Apprentice book and document it all. We could laugh at my lumpy loaves and unrisen messes. But then I made these cinnamon rolls that peeled our faces off. And I don't want to do a stunt because I would try too hard and it would make my life miserble.

Sunshine and 55 degrees of rain-free goodness. We went for a walk.

Crying Gets the Sad Out of You

I'm a crier.

I cry when I'm sad, mad, frustrated, over-tired, sick, angry, my feelings are hurt, any remotely heart-wrenching moment of a book, TV or movie and probably some times I can't think of right now.

When I was younger I would sometimes curse myself for being "too sensitive" because people sometimes told me that: I was too sensitive.

Who even says that? Compared to what? Maybe they weren't sensitive enough. Why isn't that considered a negative quality? All those people should be rounded up and publicly flogged. Then we'll see who cries.

You can sense that not only am I over it, I now feel it is my lifelong mission to help individuals who are uncomfortable around crying people experience a moment of personal growth by having me cry in front of them.

It helps that I live with a man who doesn't blink twice when I cry. If my feelings are hurt he gives me a hug and says nice things about me and if it's because of a hurt puppy or that scene in The Whale Rider where Paikea does her speech for her Grandfather about how it's nobody's fault that she's a girl that makes me cry even thinking about it, he gives me a hug and says nice things about me.


Sprout from the Fall Bulb-Tacular

I also come from a family of criers. My cousins are the best. We sit around when we're all together and try to outdo each other on the most humiliating public crying experience:

"I cried at the DMV."

"Oh yeah? I cried at my parent-teacher conference."

Then we all laugh and argue about who had to be carried out on a stretcher after Steel Magnolias.

With books and movies I usually sniffle a bit but don't really fall apart. About once a year I am majorly undone by a show or movie and most recently this was with Dr. Who at the end of season two when (spoiler alert for a show that originally aired in 2006) we lost Rose Tyler. Wah, Rose Tyler. What's the Doctor going to do without Rose Tyler? He's already started his 2nd season without her so I'm guessing just fine. But still.

Other books and movies that particularly undid me that I can think of right now: A Prayer for Owen Meany, Pan's Labyrinth and that episode of Angel where Angel turned human and spent the day with Buffy all happy and doing human things but then had to be turned back into a vampire and Buffy wouldn't remember their day together.

I talked to one of my weepy cousins the other day, the one that cried at the DMV, and she told me she was getting ready to watch a movie with her daughter, Finding Neverland. Even though I was really pissed that no one warned me how sad that movie is, I didn't let on. I just said, "Oh, it's really good."

The Secret Emissions Test

Yesterday the Jezebels had an item about women and crying. I've been working on a post about crying but I accidentally deleted my notes and I've reconstructed them but haven't gotten around to writing the thing out. I'm not in the mood today so maybe later this weekend.

I had to get my car smogged this morning. I wanted to take a photo but it's not allowed so instead, a photo of rusty saw blades in Grandma's shed. I'm almost chuffed enough to write a letter to the state and accuse the contractors who do the emissions inspections of having something to hide. Seriously, what harm could possible come of a person taking a few photos of her car at the stupid emissions station? It wasn't like I wanted a tour.

I always leave that place with a bad attitude. There was no line and I drove right up and within 30 seconds, seriously, I didn't even have the window rolled down all the way or even say hello, the lady grabs the ticket out of my hand, (you take a ticket when you drive in for no discernible reason) and bombards me with a series of questions and instructions without waiting for a response: I need your registration or emissions test notice, and $15, what year is the car? what make? how many cylinders? I need to open the car door. It's locked. Ma'am, can you unlock this please? Ma'am?

Maybe I'm talking myself up, but I don't think I'm a complete idiot and I was totally discombobulated. What happens when an elder person comes in?

I passed my test and don't have to go back for 2 years. Yay.



Here's our back hedge where tree pruner guy whacked it back. You can see at the top how out of control it is. He only pruned as far as he could reach on the ladder. I contacted the home owner that owns the house next door. He doesn't live up here. I didn't want him to think I was complaining, just letting him know that this might be something he wanted to take care of and we had a person who could do it. He said it sounded great and he'd get back to me and I haven't heard. I'm afraid if I mention it again he'll think I'm a pain in the ass.

You can see on the ground all the clippings. We need to rake that all up and I need to have the yard debris service started back up. Except it's been 40 degrees and raining since August. (Slight exaggeration.) When am I ever going get out there to clean up?

Here's the great hook project of 2008. I had a bunch of hooks so I got out my drill and put them on the side of the entertainment center and turned it into an organizational area for spare keys and cellphone charging cords. And Bob's school ID. We used to have a single hook right by the door and it kept falling off because there were too many things hanging on it.

Guess who was back last week? Window washer guy. This time he had a partner and they used a whole rig to go up and down. Not just a sling and a rope. It seemed a lot faster with this method. I knew he was coming and had my camera out and as I snapped photos I was yelling at him and telling what a popular feature he was on my blog. He kept saying, "What?"

I can hear the guy with the rainbow suspenders who plays the Star Wars theme on the trumpet at the bank building 4 blocks away, but window washing guy can't hear me on the other side of the glass? I don't get it.

Emergency Outfit
We moved to the new office three years ago. If interested, you can read about it: Part 1, Part 2 and the final wrap up. I had completely blocked out how horrible that was.

For some reason, it seemed plogical to keep a spare change of clothes at the office in case I got stuck in a downpour and didn't want to sit around in wet clothes. I guess my thought was that I had just started the public transportation thing and had to walk and wait in places with minimal shelter so it wouldn't hurt to be prepared.

Three years later, I have never used it. It wasn't my finest outfit in the first place and it looks especially dingy now. But I'm afraid that the minute I take it home (and immediately burn it) a plate of lasagna will fall on me or I'll sit in dog poop or some other catastrophe and I'll have no spare clothes to save me.

There's A Party in My Precinct
I'm in the middle of an epic week. This is the third of a series of extra long days. I'm starting to get a wee bit raggedy around the edges.

I don't like to talk about politics here, but I will mention that this Saturday both parties are having their precinct caucuses. I participated for the first time 4 years ago and was completely enraptured with the political process: all these people who got up early on a Saturday morning and went to the meeting spot – we had such a big turnout they had to move us to a larger room and it was still really crowded. Some people brought their kids and we stood around with our neighbors talking about candidates. Wow, here we are, regular people and we're gathering in a safe and sane environment to choose our leader. Isn't America great?

Shortly after this amazing opportunity to participate in the process, I realized that it was like putting our name and phone number on a billboard. During election season we get endless phone calls. And we have different last names so times it by two.

And these aren't just the recorded calls that you can hang up on and not feel bad. Actual people call us and then want us to donate money, put a sign in our yard, pass around fliers and join them in calling people at home who were stupid enough to put their name and phone number on a piece of paper at a precinct caucus.

It made me mad so now I don't want to do it again. I don't even know what the point is because we have a ballot primary as well. Nice to know at least our state has money to burn.

Bob says he's going and every half hour I remind him: Don't give them our phone number.

King of Self Importance

Many years ago William Shatner was on Saturday Night Live and there was a skit that was set at a Star Trek convention and all these slathering fans were out geeking each other with arcane Shatner trivia while he was trying to give a speech.

Finally, Shatner says, "What's the matter with you people?" Then he gestures to one pointy eared fan and says, "You. Yes, you. Have you ever touched a girl?"

That line is what was going through my head as I watched a documentary called King of Kong with Bob yesterday.

In case you haven't heard of it, it's a documentary about the world of competitive arcade gaming. No, I'm not making this up. There is a World of Competitive Arcade Gaming. They have world records and competitions and some men, who were socially arrested somewhere around age 7, now as grown men, are still pushing each other on the playground and vying for the title of best video arcade game player, ever.

The movie played like a SNL skit. It was hard to believe and also a little sad, to see these grown people with their entire identity tied up in this "major accomplishment" of having the highest score at an arcade game.

It's worth watching purely as an anthropological exercise.

Art Show
Bob and I both got home late on Thursday night.

I did my second Target run (success!) and the food shopping and he went to Cocopelli's and hung the photos and took care of a bunch of last minute details for the show.

We were both tired and catching each other up on our day when we heard a loud THUNK from the garage.

"Now what?" we both said.

The garage door spring gave out. Not a big deal but just one more thing to deal with after a long week.

Bob got them on the phone first thing Friday morning and they said they could be there between 10-Noon and they did and they fixed us right up and it wasn't too much money so whew, and we can get in and out of our garage with ease again.

We went over the the coffee shop at 4pm and set up all our stuff. Priscilla had organized an extensive collection of snacks and we had beer and wine and lemonade. Bob had the brilliant idea to hire a student to help us out with the food and drinks so we had an extra set of hands for setting up and cleaning up and making sure there were cups and napkins and ice. She was fabulous.

Our event was nicely attended. Not overwhelming. A nice mix of family and friends and people we haven't seen in a long time. Some entity in town organizes groups for the Art Walk and I guess they make a circle of a several galleries downtown that do a show on first Friday. But only about three groups made it to where we were because it was a little off the main path and the weather was cold and miserable. But still, nice turnout and very positive response.

After we got home we were cleaning out the cooler and I decided to put the leftover beer out in the shop since the fridge was sort of full. What I didn't realize was that the convenient cardboard carrying case had been sitting in the wet cooler all evening and pop pop pop — three bottles hit the concrete as I repeated a bad word variation over and over. Now it smells like a fraternity house right outside the door between the kitchen and the garage.

Sorry I don't have more photos tiredd1. I didn't participate in the Art Walk part, only the show we did and I didn't take many pictures because I have a cheap crappy camera with a flash that withers plants and makes small children whimper with fear.

Plogic
If we get a rebate we're going to use it to pay our taxes.