Later today, when breakfast has been served, etc. I'll post some comments and thoughts about this week's New York Times Book Review, esp. the best seller lists. An interesting marketing ploy I just noticed. Was I the last person? Surely not, but maybe.
Anyway, stay tuned.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Celebrating the Solstice
We went to the Christmas Revels at Harvard today in beautiful Sanders Auditorium. This year's Revels celebrated the Balkan countries and the music, singing, dancing and stories were fanastic. The solstice predates Christianity, of course, and harkens back to early man, worried that the earth is dying and that a permanent time of cold and darkness will be upon us. The date and the wreath and so many of the symbols we think of as Christmas are really the old pagan symbols of the solstice.
There is something comforting in keeping a tradition going back to pre-history. We have a tree in the room and a wreath on the door and candles and a crackling hearth (no gas logs for us) and they are a kind of solace for the cold and the dark and the waiting for spring. I am not a winter girl, never was. Summer is my season. But we will have winter before spring, and that's the way of things, and keeping the traditions give no small satisfaction, a victory, as it were, over the long dark nights.
I am reading Promiscuous Mode and wondering if I need one more pass thru it. Just one more. This is so difficult, determining when a book is finally ready. When? Hard to say.
Happy New Year, everyone.
Grapeshot
There is something comforting in keeping a tradition going back to pre-history. We have a tree in the room and a wreath on the door and candles and a crackling hearth (no gas logs for us) and they are a kind of solace for the cold and the dark and the waiting for spring. I am not a winter girl, never was. Summer is my season. But we will have winter before spring, and that's the way of things, and keeping the traditions give no small satisfaction, a victory, as it were, over the long dark nights.
I am reading Promiscuous Mode and wondering if I need one more pass thru it. Just one more. This is so difficult, determining when a book is finally ready. When? Hard to say.
Happy New Year, everyone.
Grapeshot
Friday, December 28, 2007
ABNA jitters
I entered World of Mirrors in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest. Hope to get somewhere with it, but preparing to suck it up as usual. The Amazon contestants message boards are humming. Exceprts from a few novels have been sighted already, although one should by rights not be able to see anything until Jan. 12th.
In another life, I was part of a team that put up an Amazon store. and I know a little bit about the inner workings, actually more than I ever wanted to know. What was weird about Amazon was that they didn't have a test system, which means that once it's out on Amazon it's "live," and I'm wondering if this is what is happening with the novels. We went totally crazy jumping through hoops to create this store. It actually produced plenty of sales, so that was good, but there were always little glitches and returns were hell on wheels. We worked everything out in the end, or almost. I left the company in the nick of time before more hellacious hoops appeared.
These are things I've purged from my memory and my brain. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to collect all the garbage in your head and dump it to make room for stuff you really need to know like where are the car keys and did I send a Christmas card to so-and-so? Current stuff, rather than the name of your 3rd grade teacher (Miss Slack) that is useless information, or old humiliations and things better forgotten.
Of course, for a writer, things better forgotten are just what you want and need to remember, so it works both ways.
Today, Friday, is cat blog day and the cats have done nothing bloggable, so we can dispense with that. The cows are back in the pasture and finding nibblies by the fence. I have a big bag of fruit and veggie scraps for them tomorrow along with the bulk of a loaf of "stuffing" bread. 99 cents, such a deal.
No more robin sightings today, but we bought 25 pounds of thistle seed so bring on the finches and the chicadees!
Grapeshot
In another life, I was part of a team that put up an Amazon store. and I know a little bit about the inner workings, actually more than I ever wanted to know. What was weird about Amazon was that they didn't have a test system, which means that once it's out on Amazon it's "live," and I'm wondering if this is what is happening with the novels. We went totally crazy jumping through hoops to create this store. It actually produced plenty of sales, so that was good, but there were always little glitches and returns were hell on wheels. We worked everything out in the end, or almost. I left the company in the nick of time before more hellacious hoops appeared.
These are things I've purged from my memory and my brain. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to collect all the garbage in your head and dump it to make room for stuff you really need to know like where are the car keys and did I send a Christmas card to so-and-so? Current stuff, rather than the name of your 3rd grade teacher (Miss Slack) that is useless information, or old humiliations and things better forgotten.
Of course, for a writer, things better forgotten are just what you want and need to remember, so it works both ways.
Today, Friday, is cat blog day and the cats have done nothing bloggable, so we can dispense with that. The cows are back in the pasture and finding nibblies by the fence. I have a big bag of fruit and veggie scraps for them tomorrow along with the bulk of a loaf of "stuffing" bread. 99 cents, such a deal.
No more robin sightings today, but we bought 25 pounds of thistle seed so bring on the finches and the chicadees!
Grapeshot
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Feeding Flock Descends
We had a huge flock of robins come into the woods between the house and the slough this morning, a so-called feeding flock that hangs out and eats together in the north when any sensible bird would have flown south for the winter.
http://www.learner.org/jnorth/tm/robin/ExpertAnswer04.html
The first time I noticed this phenomenum (sp?) I called the Audubon society and the nice folks there explained about these "feeding flocks."
I wish we had beaucoup bushes with nice berries for the birds. Maybe there are some around here, but I'm not sure where. The birds look fat and healthy, but it is only late December. There's never enough time to hustle round the kitchen and dig out the frozen cranberries, blueberries, raspberries and chop up some dried apricot and dig out the raisins and find a suitable feeding implement. Never enough time.
So we wish the birds good luck and good hunting. I love our little wren, so perky and singing so nicely, too. We have some wren houses, but I've never seen anyone entering or exiting.
I had a big long post which BLOGGER ate, and now you only get this.
Put some seed or suet out for our friends the birds.
Grapeshot
http://www.learner.org/jnorth/tm/robin/ExpertAnswer04.html
The first time I noticed this phenomenum (sp?) I called the Audubon society and the nice folks there explained about these "feeding flocks."
I wish we had beaucoup bushes with nice berries for the birds. Maybe there are some around here, but I'm not sure where. The birds look fat and healthy, but it is only late December. There's never enough time to hustle round the kitchen and dig out the frozen cranberries, blueberries, raspberries and chop up some dried apricot and dig out the raisins and find a suitable feeding implement. Never enough time.
So we wish the birds good luck and good hunting. I love our little wren, so perky and singing so nicely, too. We have some wren houses, but I've never seen anyone entering or exiting.
I had a big long post which BLOGGER ate, and now you only get this.
Put some seed or suet out for our friends the birds.
Grapeshot
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Back Pedalling
http://www.myfirstbra.net/
O.K. Maybe some girls as young as eight do need a bra or camisole or something to cover themselves. I think I misspoke. Aren't we all glad we don't have to go through adolescence again? Yikes.
Thisbe is asleep in front of the screen again, but her tail is tucked around her feet and not lying across the keyboard.
Another more or less leisurely day. I am enjoying this. We ate tuna and noodles for dinner tonight. I don't use cream of mushroom soup (yech!) but make my own sauce, tonight from chicken broth and cream and season it with dried green and red pepper flakes, a pinch of cayenne, onion and whatever. Of course potato chips on top, although bread crumbs would be yummy, too. We had a fruit salad with freshly cooked cranberries, dried apricots, apple, clementine and pear. Delicous. Fruit salad is a neglected dessert, tasty and healthy. And one can always jazz it up with a cookie or two, right?
I signed up for an online writing class on beginnings. Instructive, I hope.
On the Gather site, I 've been reading some of the finalists who made it to the second chapter. Some are quite good--some talky, some full of action, most have a lot of suspense, no humor that I can see, workmanlike writing, no great literary distinction, but taken as a whole somewhat better than one would expect. Not what I would buy, but I like one or two of the entries quite a bit.
I think it takes something extraordinary to stand out from the crowd these days. I'm getting a little tired of women being killed in disgusting ways, tired of the hero or heroines significant other killed, tired of all the cliches trotted out, each with just a tiny twist. What if I'm getting tired of crime fiction?
Well, as they say, shit happens, and right now I'm reading about Sarah Winnemucca who was an influential woman in Western Nevada, a Paiute who lived not far from the Black Rock Desert. Hard to imagine tribes living out there, but they did. And I'm reading Proust, now into book 3, The Guermantes Way. Reading and not writing. Truth be told I'm not sure that I can write another book without some positive feedback coming my way. Maybe get to work on those short stories, none of which inspire. The blahs, the blahs! Another reason to suck it up.
New Year's Resolutions, anyone?
O.K. Maybe some girls as young as eight do need a bra or camisole or something to cover themselves. I think I misspoke. Aren't we all glad we don't have to go through adolescence again? Yikes.
Thisbe is asleep in front of the screen again, but her tail is tucked around her feet and not lying across the keyboard.
Another more or less leisurely day. I am enjoying this. We ate tuna and noodles for dinner tonight. I don't use cream of mushroom soup (yech!) but make my own sauce, tonight from chicken broth and cream and season it with dried green and red pepper flakes, a pinch of cayenne, onion and whatever. Of course potato chips on top, although bread crumbs would be yummy, too. We had a fruit salad with freshly cooked cranberries, dried apricots, apple, clementine and pear. Delicous. Fruit salad is a neglected dessert, tasty and healthy. And one can always jazz it up with a cookie or two, right?
I signed up for an online writing class on beginnings. Instructive, I hope.
On the Gather site, I 've been reading some of the finalists who made it to the second chapter. Some are quite good--some talky, some full of action, most have a lot of suspense, no humor that I can see, workmanlike writing, no great literary distinction, but taken as a whole somewhat better than one would expect. Not what I would buy, but I like one or two of the entries quite a bit.
I think it takes something extraordinary to stand out from the crowd these days. I'm getting a little tired of women being killed in disgusting ways, tired of the hero or heroines significant other killed, tired of all the cliches trotted out, each with just a tiny twist. What if I'm getting tired of crime fiction?
Well, as they say, shit happens, and right now I'm reading about Sarah Winnemucca who was an influential woman in Western Nevada, a Paiute who lived not far from the Black Rock Desert. Hard to imagine tribes living out there, but they did. And I'm reading Proust, now into book 3, The Guermantes Way. Reading and not writing. Truth be told I'm not sure that I can write another book without some positive feedback coming my way. Maybe get to work on those short stories, none of which inspire. The blahs, the blahs! Another reason to suck it up.
New Year's Resolutions, anyone?
Cat Tales
A degree of difficulty occurs when I have to key around Thisbe's tail on the keyboard. She is in one of her "moods" today. Let me rub her tummie and fondle her paws this morning, acts that on other days are greeted with claws and jaws. Complained that the food dish was empty but didn't eat when I filled it. Just likes the idea of the dish (with food) being available. But what am I thinking? Today is not cat blog day.
Today is the day I send Festival Madness in to an editor. I think I must have gone over the manuscript at least 10 times, changing, refining, critiqueing and honing my craft as they say.
Now to get going on the California novel. I want to write it in a year--no more of these 2.5 year lengthy projects with too much time spent not writing. We'll see, we'll see.
Onward to the after Christmas sales and the after Christmas cooking, and the cleanup and all the attendant tasks, part of the process. The tree is guzzling water like a man who just crawled across the Sonora--shedding needles, too. We have the cutest little wren that visits. Don't know if she's a house wren, a winter wren or a Carolina wren. Could get out the bird book, I suppose. Goldfinches in droves on the thistle feeder. Love the winter birds.
Grapeshot
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Kiddie Bras?
Once upon a time, I was a shopper with a capital "S." I cruised through the malls and shopping centers, looked at stuff rather aimlessly, knew what was in and what looked cool and what was what.
After I had a "career," shopping became something I did mostly on vacation when there was time, and eventually shopping segued into an unwelcome task I did when we needed to buy something. Over the years I lost touch, more or less, with fashion, and with new stuff in the stores, even the supermarket. With my list and an eye scanning for the next item, I ignored all the new products, never knew until we downsized and no longer needed housekeeping help that "wipes" and "swifters" had taken over. Never knew that you could actually buy "rubs" instead of making them yourself. Dimly realized that faux sheepskin had taken over. Fleece was uber alles, tailored jackets were old fashioned and dated you--ah the things I came to realize slowly. One had to "exfoliate" before slathering on the fake tan glop.
I should really take a month off and visit the stores to see what is actually out there that (other) people are buying, but that would take time and I would probably buy stuff I didn't actually need.
Currently I am in the market for a storage bag for out of season clothing and not much else, but I was perusing the ads today, because Christmas is a day of leisure at our house, with the gifts opened on the eve, and a fairly simple meal planned and nowhere to go except out for a nice walk and of course there are new books to read. Anyhow, I was reading the flyers that arrived today like it was Sunday, because the next week is also a huge shopping week with everyone ripping thru their gift cards, and I was looking at the Kohl's ads, because I got some cool slacks there this fall, and I looked at the kids stuff, because a young guest coming soon might need a winter jacket and that's where I found kiddie bras, as in brassiers. I looked again, thinking I had segued into the juniors or teens, but nope, I was still in the kids ads, right next to boys 8-20.
These didn't look like "training bras," the 30 AAA faux-bra, they looked like real bras. For little girls? I confess mystification. Does puberty start at eight, nine or ten these days? Are we feeding our daughters weird hormones? This is scary stuff.
Or worse, even, do little girls want to wear bras?
I know this sounds like tut-tut-tut, what is the world coming to? Good question. What is the world coming to?
After I had a "career," shopping became something I did mostly on vacation when there was time, and eventually shopping segued into an unwelcome task I did when we needed to buy something. Over the years I lost touch, more or less, with fashion, and with new stuff in the stores, even the supermarket. With my list and an eye scanning for the next item, I ignored all the new products, never knew until we downsized and no longer needed housekeeping help that "wipes" and "swifters" had taken over. Never knew that you could actually buy "rubs" instead of making them yourself. Dimly realized that faux sheepskin had taken over. Fleece was uber alles, tailored jackets were old fashioned and dated you--ah the things I came to realize slowly. One had to "exfoliate" before slathering on the fake tan glop.
I should really take a month off and visit the stores to see what is actually out there that (other) people are buying, but that would take time and I would probably buy stuff I didn't actually need.
Currently I am in the market for a storage bag for out of season clothing and not much else, but I was perusing the ads today, because Christmas is a day of leisure at our house, with the gifts opened on the eve, and a fairly simple meal planned and nowhere to go except out for a nice walk and of course there are new books to read. Anyhow, I was reading the flyers that arrived today like it was Sunday, because the next week is also a huge shopping week with everyone ripping thru their gift cards, and I was looking at the Kohl's ads, because I got some cool slacks there this fall, and I looked at the kids stuff, because a young guest coming soon might need a winter jacket and that's where I found kiddie bras, as in brassiers. I looked again, thinking I had segued into the juniors or teens, but nope, I was still in the kids ads, right next to boys 8-20.
These didn't look like "training bras," the 30 AAA faux-bra, they looked like real bras. For little girls? I confess mystification. Does puberty start at eight, nine or ten these days? Are we feeding our daughters weird hormones? This is scary stuff.
Or worse, even, do little girls want to wear bras?
I know this sounds like tut-tut-tut, what is the world coming to? Good question. What is the world coming to?
Monday, December 24, 2007
A Central Kansas Christmas
For years we made the trip from Northeastern Colorado to Central Kansas to spend Christmas with my grandparents and my aunts, uncles and cousins.
I don't recall the food, except that it was always excellent and copious, for my grandma was a fantastic cook, never used a recipe and had a deft hand with pie crust. I think she made mincemeat pies, which were never my favorite, but all right with me. I'm sure my mom brought a along a big selection of her famous Christmas cookies, sugar cookies shaped like reindeer, santa, stars, wreaths, and half moons. She frosted them and they were a joy to behold and to eat.
My aunt and uncle always gave me a box of chocolate covered cherries, which they knew I liked. One year I got a windup gray elephant. Come to think of it I don't remember many of the presents, either.
What I remember is the Christmas eve service at the little evangelical church. Even if we arrived at the last minute, I was always plopped into the little (10-12 person) chorus to sing, and sometimes, of course, I didn't know the lyrics but I would open and close my mouth which amused the relatives. Our cousin was the pianist and she and her daughter played the marimba, beautifully.
My mom and her brother were Republicans and the two other brothers were Democrats and they would have some lively discussions which made my Grandma very nervous. The women always did dishes and cleaned up together after the big feasts, so no one got stuck with all the work. As soon as I was old enough, I dried dishes. My Grandma frequently sang hymns while she washed the dishes. It sounds corny but it was beautiful. Although theirs was a formerly Mennonite house (my grandpa) sometimes we played cards after dinner, but never for money.
When I was older I noticed that some of the girls were marrying in their teens and having babies, and I couldn't imagine staying in that tiny town all one's life. I thought they were crazy. Some left. My mother was one that left, and I don't think she was every sorry.
The big family and the friendly townsfolk are something I still cherish.They created s a warm feeling I could wrap around myself my whole life. Everyone is gone now, and the little white church is a daycare center, and the houses that looked big and grand to me as a child now seem small and a little shabby. I know more people in the cemeteries than in the town, and will probably will never return, but there is no need to., because a part of me is that town and the family and the warm welcoming house with the long dining room table groaning with food and the family and friends who shared the blessing.
I don't recall the food, except that it was always excellent and copious, for my grandma was a fantastic cook, never used a recipe and had a deft hand with pie crust. I think she made mincemeat pies, which were never my favorite, but all right with me. I'm sure my mom brought a along a big selection of her famous Christmas cookies, sugar cookies shaped like reindeer, santa, stars, wreaths, and half moons. She frosted them and they were a joy to behold and to eat.
My aunt and uncle always gave me a box of chocolate covered cherries, which they knew I liked. One year I got a windup gray elephant. Come to think of it I don't remember many of the presents, either.
What I remember is the Christmas eve service at the little evangelical church. Even if we arrived at the last minute, I was always plopped into the little (10-12 person) chorus to sing, and sometimes, of course, I didn't know the lyrics but I would open and close my mouth which amused the relatives. Our cousin was the pianist and she and her daughter played the marimba, beautifully.
My mom and her brother were Republicans and the two other brothers were Democrats and they would have some lively discussions which made my Grandma very nervous. The women always did dishes and cleaned up together after the big feasts, so no one got stuck with all the work. As soon as I was old enough, I dried dishes. My Grandma frequently sang hymns while she washed the dishes. It sounds corny but it was beautiful. Although theirs was a formerly Mennonite house (my grandpa) sometimes we played cards after dinner, but never for money.
When I was older I noticed that some of the girls were marrying in their teens and having babies, and I couldn't imagine staying in that tiny town all one's life. I thought they were crazy. Some left. My mother was one that left, and I don't think she was every sorry.
The big family and the friendly townsfolk are something I still cherish.They created s a warm feeling I could wrap around myself my whole life. Everyone is gone now, and the little white church is a daycare center, and the houses that looked big and grand to me as a child now seem small and a little shabby. I know more people in the cemeteries than in the town, and will probably will never return, but there is no need to., because a part of me is that town and the family and the warm welcoming house with the long dining room table groaning with food and the family and friends who shared the blessing.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Cookies Cookies Cookies
Here are three excellent cookie recipes, all very different. What would the holidays be without sweet offerings?
Brandy Ball Cookies
3 cups finely crushed vanilla wafers
1 1/2 cups chopped nuts (walnuts are on special this week)
1/2 cup brandy (doesn't need to be the finest Cognac, either)
3 tablespoons white corn syrup
Crush vanilla wafers and mix with powdered sugar.
Add corn syrup and brandy. Mix thoroughly then add chopped nuts.
Roll into small balls. Store in an airtight container for a week or longer.
Old Time Sugar Cookies
/2 cup Crisco (get the new one without trans fats)
1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. grated lemon rind
1/2 t. cinnamon or nutmeg
1 cup sugar
2 eggs, beaten
1 T orange juice
1 T. lemon juice
2 cups sifted four
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
Blend Crisco, salt, lemon rind and cinnamon. Add sugar gradually and cream well.
Add eggs and orange and lemon juice and mix.
Sift flour with baking powder and soda. Add to creamed mixture blending well.
Chill dough in refrigerator. Chill cookie sheets to keep cookies from spreading.
Roll thin and cut with cookie cutters.
Bake in a moderate oven from 350 to 375 degrees F. for ten minutes.
Watch carefully and don't get too brown.
Don't roll out too much dough at a time.
Makes about 8 dozen.
Chocolate Chunk cookies with Pecans,
Dried Apricots & Tart Cherries
2 1/2 cups floor
1 t. baking soda
1/2 t. baking powder
1 t. salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 c. granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs
9 oz. bittersweet or semi-sweet chocolate
3/4 cup quartered dried apricots
1 cup dried tart cherries
1 cup coarsely chopped pecans
Preheat oven to 375.
In a bowl whisk together flour, baking powder, soda, and salt. In another bowl with an electric mixer, beat together butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each, and beat in flour mixture until just combined.
Chop chocolate into 1/2 inch pieces and stir into batter w/ apricots, cherries and pecans. Working in batches, drop dough by heaping tablespoons about 2 inches apart onto ungreased baking sheets and bake in upper and lower thirds of oven, switching position of sheets halfway thru baking.
About 12 minutes total baking time, or until golden.
Cool cookies on baking sheets on racks for 5 minutes and transfer with a spatula to racks to cool.
Cookies keep in airtight containers at room temperature 5 days. Makes about 34 cookies.
Brandy Ball Cookies
3 cups finely crushed vanilla wafers
1 1/2 cups chopped nuts (walnuts are on special this week)
1/2 cup brandy (doesn't need to be the finest Cognac, either)
3 tablespoons white corn syrup
Crush vanilla wafers and mix with powdered sugar.
Add corn syrup and brandy. Mix thoroughly then add chopped nuts.
Roll into small balls. Store in an airtight container for a week or longer.
Old Time Sugar Cookies
/2 cup Crisco (get the new one without trans fats)
1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. grated lemon rind
1/2 t. cinnamon or nutmeg
1 cup sugar
2 eggs, beaten
1 T orange juice
1 T. lemon juice
2 cups sifted four
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
Blend Crisco, salt, lemon rind and cinnamon. Add sugar gradually and cream well.
Add eggs and orange and lemon juice and mix.
Sift flour with baking powder and soda. Add to creamed mixture blending well.
Chill dough in refrigerator. Chill cookie sheets to keep cookies from spreading.
Roll thin and cut with cookie cutters.
Bake in a moderate oven from 350 to 375 degrees F. for ten minutes.
Watch carefully and don't get too brown.
Don't roll out too much dough at a time.
Makes about 8 dozen.
Chocolate Chunk cookies with Pecans,
Dried Apricots & Tart Cherries
2 1/2 cups floor
1 t. baking soda
1/2 t. baking powder
1 t. salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 c. granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs
9 oz. bittersweet or semi-sweet chocolate
3/4 cup quartered dried apricots
1 cup dried tart cherries
1 cup coarsely chopped pecans
Preheat oven to 375.
In a bowl whisk together flour, baking powder, soda, and salt. In another bowl with an electric mixer, beat together butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each, and beat in flour mixture until just combined.
Chop chocolate into 1/2 inch pieces and stir into batter w/ apricots, cherries and pecans. Working in batches, drop dough by heaping tablespoons about 2 inches apart onto ungreased baking sheets and bake in upper and lower thirds of oven, switching position of sheets halfway thru baking.
About 12 minutes total baking time, or until golden.
Cool cookies on baking sheets on racks for 5 minutes and transfer with a spatula to racks to cool.
Cookies keep in airtight containers at room temperature 5 days. Makes about 34 cookies.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
It's a Bah Humbug World Sometimes
The weekly shopping trip, and a big one this week with groceries for company and holiday meals. We drive to our favorite store with a big list.
The first downer is that the Salvation Army man is talking about "an expensive jacket" with another guy and doesn't even acknowledge my donation. I'm tempted to dig it back out of the bucket, but who would that harm?
A trek through the store and I even find the marachino cherries without a hassle, and they have Mrs. Fanning's Pickles, too, but still not German stollen. My last purchase is a bouquet of reddish freisias, which look very festive.
Not one but two young ladies are bagging the groceries today, and I stop to explain to them to distribute the groceries evenly, as in no packing 4 big bottles of cranberry juice together and the bottom falls out of the bag. Of course I don't say that. They nod and spend a lot of time making bagging decisions which pisses off the checker. He isn't happy that I race back to the potato chip aisle to exchange the "sea salt and vinegar" chips I bought for regular. I think the guest I bought the chips for wouldn't even like the vinegar business. Don't want to find out. I am quickly back at the check out stand in spite of an untied shoelace.
To make up for my trip to exchange potato chips,I try to help unload the cart and the checker totally stops checking. I stop. He starts. I start again. He stops. He tells me when I am finished he will start again. The woman in line behind me finds another line. The girls are still cautiously portioning the groceries into the bags.
I apologize to the checker who is the king of his little dominion and he barely acknowledges the apology. Starting to get mad. After all this fussing around, the bags are still lopsided with the groceries packed with the heavy stuff together, still. I thank the young ladies, who are obviously clueless and the checker wishes me a merry Christmas which he would undoubtedly say if Ghengis Khan and his hordes were standing in line. I wish him the same, because the niceties have to be observed, but I am fuming.
It is only noon. Did he have a bad morning? Does he not like me from some faux pas that I committed weeks ago? Do his feet hurt? Is it my fault if the vinegar and the regular chips look alike? I seldom buy potato chips.
On the way home I realize I have forgotten to bring the cracked corn for the white geese and the ducks who inhabit the pond we pass by. They always seem so hungry in the winter. I promise them I'll come back with two big cans on Christmas.
The cat makes a hat trick by throwing up on the third dining room chair in a week.
Then a friend drops by with cookies and we have a good chinwag together and everything is forgiven. We admire the almost to the ceiling tree and the new dollhouse and drink wine and eat cookies. Cookies and wine are not a bad combo. Probably better than beer and cookies.
The neighbor brought chocolate covered potato chips which are sinfully decadent. She gave us some last year and I have to confess that I hid them and ate them all. Maybe today was my comuppance.
Tomorrow I use upholstery cleaner on the dining room chairs and finish the wrapping. Thisbe just leapt (all 18 pounds of cat) from the chair onto my desk. We obviously haven't had enough Mommy-kitty time today. Ooops! Friday is cat blog day. What the hell? It's Christmas.
Grapeshot, unbowed
The first downer is that the Salvation Army man is talking about "an expensive jacket" with another guy and doesn't even acknowledge my donation. I'm tempted to dig it back out of the bucket, but who would that harm?
A trek through the store and I even find the marachino cherries without a hassle, and they have Mrs. Fanning's Pickles, too, but still not German stollen. My last purchase is a bouquet of reddish freisias, which look very festive.
Not one but two young ladies are bagging the groceries today, and I stop to explain to them to distribute the groceries evenly, as in no packing 4 big bottles of cranberry juice together and the bottom falls out of the bag. Of course I don't say that. They nod and spend a lot of time making bagging decisions which pisses off the checker. He isn't happy that I race back to the potato chip aisle to exchange the "sea salt and vinegar" chips I bought for regular. I think the guest I bought the chips for wouldn't even like the vinegar business. Don't want to find out. I am quickly back at the check out stand in spite of an untied shoelace.
To make up for my trip to exchange potato chips,I try to help unload the cart and the checker totally stops checking. I stop. He starts. I start again. He stops. He tells me when I am finished he will start again. The woman in line behind me finds another line. The girls are still cautiously portioning the groceries into the bags.
I apologize to the checker who is the king of his little dominion and he barely acknowledges the apology. Starting to get mad. After all this fussing around, the bags are still lopsided with the groceries packed with the heavy stuff together, still. I thank the young ladies, who are obviously clueless and the checker wishes me a merry Christmas which he would undoubtedly say if Ghengis Khan and his hordes were standing in line. I wish him the same, because the niceties have to be observed, but I am fuming.
It is only noon. Did he have a bad morning? Does he not like me from some faux pas that I committed weeks ago? Do his feet hurt? Is it my fault if the vinegar and the regular chips look alike? I seldom buy potato chips.
On the way home I realize I have forgotten to bring the cracked corn for the white geese and the ducks who inhabit the pond we pass by. They always seem so hungry in the winter. I promise them I'll come back with two big cans on Christmas.
The cat makes a hat trick by throwing up on the third dining room chair in a week.
Then a friend drops by with cookies and we have a good chinwag together and everything is forgiven. We admire the almost to the ceiling tree and the new dollhouse and drink wine and eat cookies. Cookies and wine are not a bad combo. Probably better than beer and cookies.
The neighbor brought chocolate covered potato chips which are sinfully decadent. She gave us some last year and I have to confess that I hid them and ate them all. Maybe today was my comuppance.
Tomorrow I use upholstery cleaner on the dining room chairs and finish the wrapping. Thisbe just leapt (all 18 pounds of cat) from the chair onto my desk. We obviously haven't had enough Mommy-kitty time today. Ooops! Friday is cat blog day. What the hell? It's Christmas.
Grapeshot, unbowed
Friday, December 21, 2007
Dollhouse Divine
We drove to the Cape this morning to pick up a lovely dollhouse that someone was selling, completely furnished yet, with delightful little treasures. A young lady will be so happy to get this house and add her own creative touches. I must confess I want to set it up and start to play. The fireplace even has andirons.
Everything for Christmas is pretty much in readiness, which is always astounding when one thinks beforehand of all the work required to bring all the preparations to completion.
We lunched at the Daniel Webster Inn in Sandwich, after a nice drive back West along Route 6A. The wreathe business must be good, because every house had at least one, and some houses sported a wreathe on every window. The Cape looked so festive. In case you live somewhere besides New England, I am referring to Cape Cod, which is always referred to as "the Cape " in these parts. Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard are called "the Islands", and there are even signs indicating, "the Islands," and do those from far afield even know what that means? Reading New England road signs is definitely not a walk in the park.
The new snow is coating all the limbs and roofs and looks so lovely. We drove by the cows and they had some hay (hooray!) and the baby was getting breakfast. Interesting to note that experienced cow moms are kind of like experienced human moms. They don't obsess over every little detail and they seem relaxed, even a bit casual. These are moms with several kids (calves) and nothing much fazes them.
I'm actually sending the first 100 pages of Festival Madness off tomorrow. Took forever to write a cover letter and tweak the synopsis. Synopses are the bane of writers. So it goes.
Grapeshot
Thursday, December 20, 2007
A Bag of Carrots
One of the groups I belong to had its holiday party today, a so-called Yankee Swap where no grab bag gift is safe until the person who draws #1 has his/her say. We had a lot of fun and there were the usual oddly wrapped presents, lottery tickets, coffee mugs and the like. The gift that caused the most comments and funny remarks was a bag of carrots which someone "gifted."
It was a healthy, useful, gift, although the carrots were not organic and must have cost far less than the $5.00 limit. But it was also a comic gift and the good-natured joshing and barbs produced good laughs. We all need good laughs.
Our guest left today, with a suitcase loaded with loot, I mean presents. We roasted the lean pork which so far produced nine servings and there's still two more in the fridge, although the green beans, fruit, gravy and sides are all gone. Ah, the gravy. How savory it was!
I've baked five batches of cookies so far, and the pecan ones are so good I'll have to repeat them. Maybe put the recipe on the blog. I think it's from Bon Appetit. I also have some killer chocolate cookies (decadence incarnte) that are so dark and chocolately they seem a sin.
The snow that fell today and covered up the yucko frozen snow that looked like "topping" is beautiful. Snow before Christmas is cool, and it didn't jam up the roads and traffic too much, although driving past Providence in rush hour was no walk in the park. Hardly anything is a walk in the park, and sometimes even a walk in the park in not a walk in the park. The last park I was in was Central, and the president's motorcade came through, and that was not a walk in the park.
O.K. Cows are cool. Still in the enclosure by the barn. Baby seems to be fine. Old mama is no doubt a solicitious mom, although she's calved so many times she doesn't get too excited about it. She was trying to make the calf stand up. Obviously, it finally did.
Our tree is up and decorated with stuff from Victorian times to the moose I bought this summer in Alaska. Over one hundred years of decorations including Great Grandma's. I love it. It's so nice hearing from old friends. One of the best things about the season.
Be joyous, be generous, and sing some old timey carols. Nothing beats the really old ones.
Grapeshot, who is kind of a new old-fashioned girl
It was a healthy, useful, gift, although the carrots were not organic and must have cost far less than the $5.00 limit. But it was also a comic gift and the good-natured joshing and barbs produced good laughs. We all need good laughs.
Our guest left today, with a suitcase loaded with loot, I mean presents. We roasted the lean pork which so far produced nine servings and there's still two more in the fridge, although the green beans, fruit, gravy and sides are all gone. Ah, the gravy. How savory it was!
I've baked five batches of cookies so far, and the pecan ones are so good I'll have to repeat them. Maybe put the recipe on the blog. I think it's from Bon Appetit. I also have some killer chocolate cookies (decadence incarnte) that are so dark and chocolately they seem a sin.
The snow that fell today and covered up the yucko frozen snow that looked like "topping" is beautiful. Snow before Christmas is cool, and it didn't jam up the roads and traffic too much, although driving past Providence in rush hour was no walk in the park. Hardly anything is a walk in the park, and sometimes even a walk in the park in not a walk in the park. The last park I was in was Central, and the president's motorcade came through, and that was not a walk in the park.
O.K. Cows are cool. Still in the enclosure by the barn. Baby seems to be fine. Old mama is no doubt a solicitious mom, although she's calved so many times she doesn't get too excited about it. She was trying to make the calf stand up. Obviously, it finally did.
Our tree is up and decorated with stuff from Victorian times to the moose I bought this summer in Alaska. Over one hundred years of decorations including Great Grandma's. I love it. It's so nice hearing from old friends. One of the best things about the season.
Be joyous, be generous, and sing some old timey carols. Nothing beats the really old ones.
Grapeshot, who is kind of a new old-fashioned girl
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
A License to Print Money
A colleague of mine once remarked that a Dunkin' Donuts franchise was like a "license to print money." Indeed when we see the cars lined up in Norton waiting for a sugar/caffein fix, that looks to be the case.
Today we visited the new L. L. Bean store in Mansfield. Yikes! The people. Must have been 30-40 standing in the checkout lines, and more, more, more perusing the merchandise. It was always a truism in the retail business that bad weather brought the customers out in droves to stock up on jackets, boots, scarves and the like. It must be true. We've had five days of yucko weather and folks were buying flannel like it was going out of style which it really isn't in, not if you read the inside pages of the NYTimes.
Anyway, business was brisk and the cash registers were ringing. We were in the new Bass Pro Shop store a few weeks ago, agog at the wildlife, the fish, the fishing tackle, the comfy chairs and sofas strewn about that people could actually sit in. So cozy, so restful. Just made you want to sit a spell until you could toss some more stuff into your cart. No! Can't remember carts.
The store was like a big amusement park. More cold weather. More crowds. New Englanders are a hearty bunch, inscrutably fond of winter. Grapeshot is a warm weather girl herself, less interested in long undies than sandals and sarongs. Oh well.
The Scottish Highland calf continues to flourish. Hope he stays warm and cozy. Such a sweet little critter. First time for a Christmas calf. Moooo. Maybe the calf needs a flannel shirt and a scarf and a little cap for his brown head.
Oh do be serious!
Grapeshot
Today we visited the new L. L. Bean store in Mansfield. Yikes! The people. Must have been 30-40 standing in the checkout lines, and more, more, more perusing the merchandise. It was always a truism in the retail business that bad weather brought the customers out in droves to stock up on jackets, boots, scarves and the like. It must be true. We've had five days of yucko weather and folks were buying flannel like it was going out of style which it really isn't in, not if you read the inside pages of the NYTimes.
Anyway, business was brisk and the cash registers were ringing. We were in the new Bass Pro Shop store a few weeks ago, agog at the wildlife, the fish, the fishing tackle, the comfy chairs and sofas strewn about that people could actually sit in. So cozy, so restful. Just made you want to sit a spell until you could toss some more stuff into your cart. No! Can't remember carts.
The store was like a big amusement park. More cold weather. More crowds. New Englanders are a hearty bunch, inscrutably fond of winter. Grapeshot is a warm weather girl herself, less interested in long undies than sandals and sarongs. Oh well.
The Scottish Highland calf continues to flourish. Hope he stays warm and cozy. Such a sweet little critter. First time for a Christmas calf. Moooo. Maybe the calf needs a flannel shirt and a scarf and a little cap for his brown head.
Oh do be serious!
Grapeshot
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Dancing In the Data Center
It's video's like this that make me long for the days in IT.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bymmMarHclU&eurl=http://itknowledgeexchange.techtarget.com/overheard/overheard-twas-the-day-before-christmas-and-all-through-the-datacenter/
The word of the year is "w00t", apparently spelled with zeroes instead of o's and I used it several times in Festival Madness.
Cool.
Latest Scottish Highland calf update: late yesterday we drove by the farm and Maggie was standing outside the barn nursing her new calf. I came by way after dark and couldn't see anything. Was too timid to turn the car sideways in the road to illuminate the barnyard. Hope everyone was warm and snuggly inside. The calves are very hardy but it has been colder than a welldigger's a__ around here the past two days.
Lots of stuff to do: baking more cookies, prep for tonight's big feed of pork roast and all the trimmings, errands, wrapping, the tree, finally the tree, and all that stuff. Thisbe spends endless hours in the icy garage waiting for the chipmunk to appear, announcing "I am your Christmas cat toy."
The snow outside has taken on an ugly frozen sheen, like whipped topping. I hate whipped topping and have given up ordering anything that might possibly have it at cheap restaurants. When quizzed, the "waitstaff" has been heard to announce that it came from a "bag in the kitchen." Now, I ask you, a "bag"? When you pin them down, it is almost never real cream.
Whipped topping undoubtedly has transfats up the yingyang and is a totally artificial food and I can't believe that the Food Network sometimes contains recipes calling for it. What's the matter with the light whipped cream in a can which at least is sort of real food? Don't screw up your desserts with topping. YucK.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bymmMarHclU&eurl=http://itknowledgeexchange.techtarget.com/overheard/overheard-twas-the-day-before-christmas-and-all-through-the-datacenter/
The word of the year is "w00t", apparently spelled with zeroes instead of o's and I used it several times in Festival Madness.
Cool.
Latest Scottish Highland calf update: late yesterday we drove by the farm and Maggie was standing outside the barn nursing her new calf. I came by way after dark and couldn't see anything. Was too timid to turn the car sideways in the road to illuminate the barnyard. Hope everyone was warm and snuggly inside. The calves are very hardy but it has been colder than a welldigger's a__ around here the past two days.
Lots of stuff to do: baking more cookies, prep for tonight's big feed of pork roast and all the trimmings, errands, wrapping, the tree, finally the tree, and all that stuff. Thisbe spends endless hours in the icy garage waiting for the chipmunk to appear, announcing "I am your Christmas cat toy."
The snow outside has taken on an ugly frozen sheen, like whipped topping. I hate whipped topping and have given up ordering anything that might possibly have it at cheap restaurants. When quizzed, the "waitstaff" has been heard to announce that it came from a "bag in the kitchen." Now, I ask you, a "bag"? When you pin them down, it is almost never real cream.
Whipped topping undoubtedly has transfats up the yingyang and is a totally artificial food and I can't believe that the Food Network sometimes contains recipes calling for it. What's the matter with the light whipped cream in a can which at least is sort of real food? Don't screw up your desserts with topping. YucK.
Monday, December 17, 2007
The Christmas Calf
My worst fears were not realized when we got plowed out and drove over to the pasture yesterday to see what had befallen the new calf. There was no sad frozen lump in the field, and the two visible cows (the new bull and Crooked Horn) were behind the barn, which must have meant that Maggie and her calf are in the barn. There was freezing rain and the road back to the field wasn't even plowed.
Significant Other is a saint for humoring me. Except for ice everywhere and wind from the arctic circle, the weather isn't too bad. Sun is out. How soon we adjust to winter. I gave the farmer's wife the calf pictures we had taken off and on. I do hope this little critter makes it. The calves are beyond sweet and so independent once they grow a bit.
Thisbe is asleep in front of my screen and Annie is on the rocking chair a few feet away. Every morning Thisbe goes into the (now) cold garage and sits on a mat in front of where the chipmunks broke into the bird seed this fall. Once she started chasing chipmunks, she seemed to realize that she was a cat, and now she obviously expects to find a chipmunk hiding out in the garage, a real live cat toy. There may be one for all I know, except the bird seed is secured in metal pails with tight lids, so no one is noshing on that except the birds.
The new suet feeder was raided a few nights ago, along with the old. Raccoons are not hibernating yet. A clever set of paws opened the latch and removed the suet. It's cold and icy and the birds will have to make do with yet the third feeder which no critter has figured out how to raid (yet).
I'm sending some pages of Festival Madness to an editor today, and the entire MS to another editor tomorrow. I've essentially given up on agents, sad to say. The Gather Contest was an unmitigated disaster, and I don't know what to do with Promiscuous Mode, my noir cosy.
Ah well, no work gets done in the next two weeks. More baking today, another new recipe, with meatloaf and baked potatoes tonight, comfort food for the arriving traveler. We agreed that the pot roast was wonderful comfort food. The winter solstice time brings with it a need for hearty warm fare, beefy fare truth be told, althought a piping hot chicken pie wouldn't be bad at all.
Warm thoughts to all the creatures who must survive in the cold this season.
Grapeshot
Significant Other is a saint for humoring me. Except for ice everywhere and wind from the arctic circle, the weather isn't too bad. Sun is out. How soon we adjust to winter. I gave the farmer's wife the calf pictures we had taken off and on. I do hope this little critter makes it. The calves are beyond sweet and so independent once they grow a bit.
Thisbe is asleep in front of my screen and Annie is on the rocking chair a few feet away. Every morning Thisbe goes into the (now) cold garage and sits on a mat in front of where the chipmunks broke into the bird seed this fall. Once she started chasing chipmunks, she seemed to realize that she was a cat, and now she obviously expects to find a chipmunk hiding out in the garage, a real live cat toy. There may be one for all I know, except the bird seed is secured in metal pails with tight lids, so no one is noshing on that except the birds.
The new suet feeder was raided a few nights ago, along with the old. Raccoons are not hibernating yet. A clever set of paws opened the latch and removed the suet. It's cold and icy and the birds will have to make do with yet the third feeder which no critter has figured out how to raid (yet).
I'm sending some pages of Festival Madness to an editor today, and the entire MS to another editor tomorrow. I've essentially given up on agents, sad to say. The Gather Contest was an unmitigated disaster, and I don't know what to do with Promiscuous Mode, my noir cosy.
Ah well, no work gets done in the next two weeks. More baking today, another new recipe, with meatloaf and baked potatoes tonight, comfort food for the arriving traveler. We agreed that the pot roast was wonderful comfort food. The winter solstice time brings with it a need for hearty warm fare, beefy fare truth be told, althought a piping hot chicken pie wouldn't be bad at all.
Warm thoughts to all the creatures who must survive in the cold this season.
Grapeshot
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Random And Otherwise Holiday Thoughts
Small wonder people get depressed thinking of Christmases past and future. The expectations that everything be perfect, the family dysfunctions, the financial strain, travel in bad weather; it's a wonder anyone likes the holidays, but most of us do.
We saw the Boston Pops with the Barenaked Ladies last night and what a treat that concert was, with some rousing Hannukah songs in the mix. I liked it ever so much.
I baked two NEW cookies today, which look like winners. Later in the week I'll make some of the tried and true. It's always fun to try something new. The first of the holiday visitors arrives tomorrow, so we are hoping the crap weather goes away, far, far away. I mean, rain?
I wrapped some presents, and found some Marcel Schumann paper from Marshall's (bought last year?) and I remembered how fussy I used to be about cards, and long individual letters to everyone and wrapping paper. I would obsess over gifts. Only the finest of everything would do. Now I buy UNICEF cards and grab paper anywhere and we do a nice but generic Christmas letter. The Schumann paper is beautiful and their cards were always a cut above. We always bought something from the Neiman-Marcus catalog, just for fun, obviously not the his'n hers gifts but something cool.
Tonight we're having stir-fried shrimp and I made a nice tart out on the BOGO on blackberries at Shaw's. This is a long way of saying that life changes and we change, and looking back, you realize you don't care about things that used to be VERY important, and now other things are important, and are you even the same person?
Looking back at a lifetime of Christmases of course one is the same person, only, well, different. And that is a good thing, as Martha would say. Who would want to be a case of arrested development at 15, 0r 30 or even (gulp) 45? The absolutely right Christmas card is not worth obsessing over for hours and it's better to cruise the UNICEF site on the web and find something you like and order it, taking 10 minutes instead of 3 days. And why write the same thing 25 times if you can say in once in a single letter?
In fact, I don't have to be perfect at all. I can schlump around the house all day in baggy socks and a bath robe and a discouraging word will not be said. Hell, I could probably do it and slurp a bit of gin (yuck) and that too, would not cause undue comment.
I eschew all perfection, but it would be really cool to write a sublime sonnet.
With this I saw au revoir.
Grapeshot
We saw the Boston Pops with the Barenaked Ladies last night and what a treat that concert was, with some rousing Hannukah songs in the mix. I liked it ever so much.
I baked two NEW cookies today, which look like winners. Later in the week I'll make some of the tried and true. It's always fun to try something new. The first of the holiday visitors arrives tomorrow, so we are hoping the crap weather goes away, far, far away. I mean, rain?
I wrapped some presents, and found some Marcel Schumann paper from Marshall's (bought last year?) and I remembered how fussy I used to be about cards, and long individual letters to everyone and wrapping paper. I would obsess over gifts. Only the finest of everything would do. Now I buy UNICEF cards and grab paper anywhere and we do a nice but generic Christmas letter. The Schumann paper is beautiful and their cards were always a cut above. We always bought something from the Neiman-Marcus catalog, just for fun, obviously not the his'n hers gifts but something cool.
Tonight we're having stir-fried shrimp and I made a nice tart out on the BOGO on blackberries at Shaw's. This is a long way of saying that life changes and we change, and looking back, you realize you don't care about things that used to be VERY important, and now other things are important, and are you even the same person?
Looking back at a lifetime of Christmases of course one is the same person, only, well, different. And that is a good thing, as Martha would say. Who would want to be a case of arrested development at 15, 0r 30 or even (gulp) 45? The absolutely right Christmas card is not worth obsessing over for hours and it's better to cruise the UNICEF site on the web and find something you like and order it, taking 10 minutes instead of 3 days. And why write the same thing 25 times if you can say in once in a single letter?
In fact, I don't have to be perfect at all. I can schlump around the house all day in baggy socks and a bath robe and a discouraging word will not be said. Hell, I could probably do it and slurp a bit of gin (yuck) and that too, would not cause undue comment.
I eschew all perfection, but it would be really cool to write a sublime sonnet.
With this I saw au revoir.
Grapeshot
Saturday, December 15, 2007
A Christmas Calf
Maggie, the oldest and biggest (and fattest) of the Highland Scottish Cattle delivered herself of a tiny brown calf just minutes (apparently) before we arrived with a bag of fruit and vegetable scraps for the little herd.
We had beaucoup snow yesterday and the poor little thing was lying in the snow. She kept trying to push it to it's feet and it didn't stand up, so I am worried about the calf's health. This is not a good time to produce a calf, but Maggie is huge and the farmer says that the cows get fat around their ovaries which causes them to give birth and inopportune times, like December 15th.
We drove in to tell the farmer who was out buying a Christmas tree, according to his wife, but he arrived just as we were leaving with his son and half-blind dog in the cab of the pickup with a tree in the back. 50 minutes later the calf was still in the snow and so I don't know what's going on. We fed the cows a loaf of stuffing bread, having feed the ducks and geese some cracked corn. Maggie kept bellowing, but she wouldn't leave the calf, constantly licking it. It was alive but didn't seem very perky.
So now I have something new to worry about. Years ago a calf was born in March in a big snowstorm and all the cows crowded around to keep it warm, but that wasn't happening today.
These calves are so sweet with their big eyes and long lashes and friskiness and essence of cow. Let's wish the tiny creature well.
Grapeshot
We had beaucoup snow yesterday and the poor little thing was lying in the snow. She kept trying to push it to it's feet and it didn't stand up, so I am worried about the calf's health. This is not a good time to produce a calf, but Maggie is huge and the farmer says that the cows get fat around their ovaries which causes them to give birth and inopportune times, like December 15th.
We drove in to tell the farmer who was out buying a Christmas tree, according to his wife, but he arrived just as we were leaving with his son and half-blind dog in the cab of the pickup with a tree in the back. 50 minutes later the calf was still in the snow and so I don't know what's going on. We fed the cows a loaf of stuffing bread, having feed the ducks and geese some cracked corn. Maggie kept bellowing, but she wouldn't leave the calf, constantly licking it. It was alive but didn't seem very perky.
So now I have something new to worry about. Years ago a calf was born in March in a big snowstorm and all the cows crowded around to keep it warm, but that wasn't happening today.
These calves are so sweet with their big eyes and long lashes and friskiness and essence of cow. Let's wish the tiny creature well.
Grapeshot
Christmas Baking Begins Today
I'm starting off with maple-pecan cookies from Penzey's Spice Catalog: www.penzeys.com.
Penzeys is my favorite source for spices. Why do I like them? Great prices, fantastic selection, ability to purchase in very small to very large quantities, good service, good recipes. You save the cost of the postage in the reasonable prices. Team up with a friend and split the order. They have some great rubs, too. Barbeque of the Americas, Northwoods Seasoning, the list goes on and on. And the dried peppers! No, they are not paying me to shill for them. Great vanilla, by the way. And several curry powders with different "heats." Love it. love it love it.
I ran across a Proust blog titled, "Everything In the Medicine Cabinet Has Expired." When I cleaned out my mom's place before she moved into senior housing, I couldn't believe what I found. My parents had moved frequently over the course of their married life, and they always packed themselves. Did they toss anything? Never.
I found perscription eardrops from 1942! I am not making this up. Some of the cosmetics dated to the 1950's when my Mom sold something call Luziers. I must have carried a couple big trash bags out of the house. And speaking of spices, some were so old that the inside of the jar was full of little worms, including the Cayenne powder. How could that be?
It's cold today, and I don't see much sun. We have leftover pot roast for tonight, and I'm wrapping gifts, too.
Grapeshot
Penzeys is my favorite source for spices. Why do I like them? Great prices, fantastic selection, ability to purchase in very small to very large quantities, good service, good recipes. You save the cost of the postage in the reasonable prices. Team up with a friend and split the order. They have some great rubs, too. Barbeque of the Americas, Northwoods Seasoning, the list goes on and on. And the dried peppers! No, they are not paying me to shill for them. Great vanilla, by the way. And several curry powders with different "heats." Love it. love it love it.
I ran across a Proust blog titled, "Everything In the Medicine Cabinet Has Expired." When I cleaned out my mom's place before she moved into senior housing, I couldn't believe what I found. My parents had moved frequently over the course of their married life, and they always packed themselves. Did they toss anything? Never.
I found perscription eardrops from 1942! I am not making this up. Some of the cosmetics dated to the 1950's when my Mom sold something call Luziers. I must have carried a couple big trash bags out of the house. And speaking of spices, some were so old that the inside of the jar was full of little worms, including the Cayenne powder. How could that be?
It's cold today, and I don't see much sun. We have leftover pot roast for tonight, and I'm wrapping gifts, too.
Grapeshot
Friday, December 14, 2007
Shopping and movies
"Atonement" was excellent. I had heard the criticism that the schism between the English country house and Dunkirk seemed like two different movies, but only if one is on a very literal plane.
We strolled through the new part of what was formerly the Natick Mall and has been re-christened the "Natick Collection." Lots of glitzy stores. We spent a bit of time in Nordstroms and I found good stuff on the sale rack. There are some new polyester bathrobes out that redefine soft and cozy. Zowie! One could curl up by the fire and wish that winter would never go away.
The kind of bathrobe I have been wearing for donkey's years--terry on the inside, colorful flowers in cotton on the outside seems to be passe. Mine is about to bite the dust. Why am I telling the world about my bathrobe? My ancient bathrobe? A bathrobe is like an old friend. What can I say?
We don't shop very much and I read lots of magazines but not fashion magazines and so when I actually get into a "fashionable" store I am amazed--like a kid in the toy store. Seems like there is always something new that I had no clue about. Bathrobes, sweaters, resortwear, cool jeans, kids stuff. Where did it all come from?
Wondering,
Grapeshot
We strolled through the new part of what was formerly the Natick Mall and has been re-christened the "Natick Collection." Lots of glitzy stores. We spent a bit of time in Nordstroms and I found good stuff on the sale rack. There are some new polyester bathrobes out that redefine soft and cozy. Zowie! One could curl up by the fire and wish that winter would never go away.
The kind of bathrobe I have been wearing for donkey's years--terry on the inside, colorful flowers in cotton on the outside seems to be passe. Mine is about to bite the dust. Why am I telling the world about my bathrobe? My ancient bathrobe? A bathrobe is like an old friend. What can I say?
We don't shop very much and I read lots of magazines but not fashion magazines and so when I actually get into a "fashionable" store I am amazed--like a kid in the toy store. Seems like there is always something new that I had no clue about. Bathrobes, sweaters, resortwear, cool jeans, kids stuff. Where did it all come from?
Wondering,
Grapeshot
Pretty Good Pizza
The plan yesterday was to trot off to an auction house for a leisurely day of looking at "stuff."
The forecast indicated snow would start around 4:00, and we thought we would get into a rush hour mess unless we left early, and besides, it looked like snow already at 9:00 a.m., so we bagged the auction.
At 11:00 the snow started and didn't stop until 9:00 p.m. The commute began after lunch, and I don't even want to think of the mess and the aggravation we would have encountered.
This morning, all is plowed and cleared--even the walk and the front porch. The cat gazed out the kitchen window from her kitty perch, amazed at the first white world of the season. Cats may remember trips to the vet in the carrier but they appear to have no memory for snow.
So today we're going to see "Atonement" and take a gander at the Natick Collection formerly known at the Natick Mall. It has become upscale and we'll see what God and commerce hath wrought.
Yesterday I thawed out my store bought pizza dough and fitted it into the round pan. Turned on the oven nice and high. I made some garlic oil with evoo and fresh garlic and brushed the crust with that, added a skidload of pre-grated mozzarella from the supermarket, placed the pepperoni nicely and then put 3 thinly sliced tomatoes on all and covered that with a bit more pepperoni and the rest of the oil and the garlic (cooked in the microwave), too. Bake for 18 minutes. Yum! Nothing beats fresh tomatoes on pizza, none of this sauce business.
We have half for lunch today. Tonight, a bitter chill night we'll have pot roast. It's hard to beat a long-simmered pot roast with carrots, onions, potato and a bit of garlic. Yum! A soupcon of red wine, perhaps?
Last night nothing on TV, but we found Little Miss Sunshine and what a good movie that was. I liked it even better the 2nd time around.
So, upstairs for my breakfast of no-salt-no-sugar-high-fiber cereal with blackberries and banana and vanilla yogurt. This is a first class healthy breakfast to counter-act any pizza or pot roast we may injest.
I'm sending my novels off to the editors. Wish me luck.
Grapeshot
The forecast indicated snow would start around 4:00, and we thought we would get into a rush hour mess unless we left early, and besides, it looked like snow already at 9:00 a.m., so we bagged the auction.
At 11:00 the snow started and didn't stop until 9:00 p.m. The commute began after lunch, and I don't even want to think of the mess and the aggravation we would have encountered.
This morning, all is plowed and cleared--even the walk and the front porch. The cat gazed out the kitchen window from her kitty perch, amazed at the first white world of the season. Cats may remember trips to the vet in the carrier but they appear to have no memory for snow.
So today we're going to see "Atonement" and take a gander at the Natick Collection formerly known at the Natick Mall. It has become upscale and we'll see what God and commerce hath wrought.
Yesterday I thawed out my store bought pizza dough and fitted it into the round pan. Turned on the oven nice and high. I made some garlic oil with evoo and fresh garlic and brushed the crust with that, added a skidload of pre-grated mozzarella from the supermarket, placed the pepperoni nicely and then put 3 thinly sliced tomatoes on all and covered that with a bit more pepperoni and the rest of the oil and the garlic (cooked in the microwave), too. Bake for 18 minutes. Yum! Nothing beats fresh tomatoes on pizza, none of this sauce business.
We have half for lunch today. Tonight, a bitter chill night we'll have pot roast. It's hard to beat a long-simmered pot roast with carrots, onions, potato and a bit of garlic. Yum! A soupcon of red wine, perhaps?
Last night nothing on TV, but we found Little Miss Sunshine and what a good movie that was. I liked it even better the 2nd time around.
So, upstairs for my breakfast of no-salt-no-sugar-high-fiber cereal with blackberries and banana and vanilla yogurt. This is a first class healthy breakfast to counter-act any pizza or pot roast we may injest.
I'm sending my novels off to the editors. Wish me luck.
Grapeshot
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Tanked and Cratered
I just adore colorful slang, which I populate all my books with. Speaking of books, Promiscuous Mode pretty much tanked (or was it cratered) in the Gather Crime Novel Contest. Good comments, but not enough, and for some reason, it was rated VERY LOW the first few days, and never made it back up to nine plus. The gossip bird sings that the judges who pick the less popular but perhaps overlooked entries also overlooked or didn't like PM.
Reading the beginning again, I realize that although there is a murder and intimations of sexual misconduct and plenty of sleaze, along with internal conflict, it is still a rather quiet beginning, without a lot of hoo-hah. This obviously doesn't work these days, and I changed the beginning of Festival Madness, but I think it's going to have the same problem. The implication of violence to come. Well, duh, it's a crime novel, isn't it? And there are no LOL moments, either, just a bit of wry humor.
So I am left sucking it up again, and wondering if the Amazon contest will be the same old do-si-do. One would hope for less a popularity contest than Gather, where having lots of "friends" obviously helped. You could tell from the "awesome" and "excellent" comments without any backup, so to speak, that friends were voting. Other comments were insightful, and there were obviously many decent thoughtful writers on board, so perhaps the grapes are just sour. Fruit salad, anyone?
I have to admit that seldom is heard an encouraging word, except from denizens of this household and my writing group, and does that really count? I mean, the writing group loved the novel that cratered on Gather. And I haven't noticed any agents lapping it up, either.
Whatchagonnado?
Grapeshot
Reading the beginning again, I realize that although there is a murder and intimations of sexual misconduct and plenty of sleaze, along with internal conflict, it is still a rather quiet beginning, without a lot of hoo-hah. This obviously doesn't work these days, and I changed the beginning of Festival Madness, but I think it's going to have the same problem. The implication of violence to come. Well, duh, it's a crime novel, isn't it? And there are no LOL moments, either, just a bit of wry humor.
So I am left sucking it up again, and wondering if the Amazon contest will be the same old do-si-do. One would hope for less a popularity contest than Gather, where having lots of "friends" obviously helped. You could tell from the "awesome" and "excellent" comments without any backup, so to speak, that friends were voting. Other comments were insightful, and there were obviously many decent thoughtful writers on board, so perhaps the grapes are just sour. Fruit salad, anyone?
I have to admit that seldom is heard an encouraging word, except from denizens of this household and my writing group, and does that really count? I mean, the writing group loved the novel that cratered on Gather. And I haven't noticed any agents lapping it up, either.
Whatchagonnado?
Grapeshot
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
10 Rules of Computer Security
It's the holiday season, when a fool and his data are even more vulnerable to phishing and other threats. Below are a few things a PC user needs to take to heart.
Grapeshot's Ten Rules of Computer Security
Never provide your password or financial information to an e-mail query.
Use extreme caution with e-mail attachments.
Remember thy backups.
An internet connection (cable or DSL) needs a firewall.
Subscribe to and keep current on anti-virus software.
Apply latest patches to your operating system and your browser.
Change your password often. Use both letters and numbers.
Stay informed about the latest electronic threats.
Find a techno-mentor. They’re everywhere.
Install an adware -spyware detection program and run it often.
###
Wasn't that easy? Painless, almost. Good. Now, go do it. Gulp some energy drink and get busy.
Grapeshot's Ten Rules of Computer Security
Never provide your password or financial information to an e-mail query.
Use extreme caution with e-mail attachments.
Remember thy backups.
An internet connection (cable or DSL) needs a firewall.
Subscribe to and keep current on anti-virus software.
Apply latest patches to your operating system and your browser.
Change your password often. Use both letters and numbers.
Stay informed about the latest electronic threats.
Find a techno-mentor. They’re everywhere.
Install an adware -spyware detection program and run it often.
###
Wasn't that easy? Painless, almost. Good. Now, go do it. Gulp some energy drink and get busy.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jig
It's always nice to come home. We miss our bed, our pillows, our cats, our toothbrush glass for cryin' out loud.
I'm coming to the exciting end of "The Killing Moon" by Chuck Hogan. It's so tense-making that I can't read it before I go to sleep. At our hosts, I picked up a book, a memoir of being a refugee fleeing the Russians in the last days of World War II, and that became full of suspense, as well. Maybe one should always travel with Proust, or Henry James, or a writer that may induce sleep, someone who writes marvelously, but is decidedly NOT a page-turner.
Now I have no more excuses for not putting Festival Madness in the mail to the publisher. One more pass, just one more pass. There must be words that could be more precise, emotions more finely rendered, scenery described "just so."
The friends we see never ask about my writing. Might as well be digging ditches or rolling bandages. I am used to this. Maybe only writers talk shop about the current work in process.
This week, the biggest decision is whether to attend the auction and which cookies to put on the Christmas baking list. And of course, which book to do next. It's looking like the German one, but I can't tell for sure. It's nice to have choices, but if I didn't, I'd be well into the next one. Not to decide is to decide. Grrr.
There will be delicous Christmas cookies on the web site, soon, so don't be shy about visiting. And watch for Grapeshot's ten tips for computer security. Seems to be a lot of phishing lately. I'm always amazed that anyone falls for it. You don't, do you? Never ever give anyone banking, credit card of personal information as a result of an email. Don't click onto web sites from emails. Go there the traditional way. wwwdot whatever.
Onward, without too much sucking it up,
Grapeshot
I'm coming to the exciting end of "The Killing Moon" by Chuck Hogan. It's so tense-making that I can't read it before I go to sleep. At our hosts, I picked up a book, a memoir of being a refugee fleeing the Russians in the last days of World War II, and that became full of suspense, as well. Maybe one should always travel with Proust, or Henry James, or a writer that may induce sleep, someone who writes marvelously, but is decidedly NOT a page-turner.
Now I have no more excuses for not putting Festival Madness in the mail to the publisher. One more pass, just one more pass. There must be words that could be more precise, emotions more finely rendered, scenery described "just so."
The friends we see never ask about my writing. Might as well be digging ditches or rolling bandages. I am used to this. Maybe only writers talk shop about the current work in process.
This week, the biggest decision is whether to attend the auction and which cookies to put on the Christmas baking list. And of course, which book to do next. It's looking like the German one, but I can't tell for sure. It's nice to have choices, but if I didn't, I'd be well into the next one. Not to decide is to decide. Grrr.
There will be delicous Christmas cookies on the web site, soon, so don't be shy about visiting. And watch for Grapeshot's ten tips for computer security. Seems to be a lot of phishing lately. I'm always amazed that anyone falls for it. You don't, do you? Never ever give anyone banking, credit card of personal information as a result of an email. Don't click onto web sites from emails. Go there the traditional way. wwwdot whatever.
Onward, without too much sucking it up,
Grapeshot
Saturday, December 08, 2007
In good company
Off to the Berkshires--not for skiing or leaf peeping but just to visit with good friends. I'm taking along the latest books of Chuck Hogan and Hank Phillipi Ryan, both good writers who will thrill and amuse.
The smoked trout is history and I have to whip up another batch to schlep along with the apricot bars, the cheese and the wine and even the granola that someone left behind at today's party.
Thisbe is in front of the computer, reminding me that Friday was cat blog day and beaucoup Fridays have passed without one mention of her sterling qualities. She sits on the front porch for a few minutes every morning in the frigid air with her fur fluffed up, then retreats to the friendly confines of the house, an inspired decision this morning when the gutter cleaners came along with a big black dog. I'm sure the dog was friendly, but you know, dogs and cats and all that. The foot of the bed at night with a cozy mohair blanket warmed by the electric blanket is all that a cat could want. So--this should make up for a bunch of cat blog days.
Christmas is well underway at our house, with shopping begun, cards almost done, house decorated, tree in garage, and thoughts of which cookies to bake in my head, pleasant thoughts, all. The birds have plenty of seed and suet, and the Christmas cacti have finally come to life. Each one has a story, of sentiment or neglect, and I like that. I like plants with history. Sid, from the dump 24 years ago, others, each with a tale. Remember when talking to your plants was the latest thing? Well, I still do. They are living things, after all.
Until Tuesday, then, and if you haven't visited my new spanking web site, done by moi with nothing but HTML and a little imagination, please visit www.judycopek.com.
Wait! Shouldn't it be www.grapeshot.com? Nope, that's the blog name, not the pen name. How many names can one have? As many as one's cat? Ask T.S. Eliot. Ask Thisbe.
Enough of this nattering.
Grapeshot
The smoked trout is history and I have to whip up another batch to schlep along with the apricot bars, the cheese and the wine and even the granola that someone left behind at today's party.
Thisbe is in front of the computer, reminding me that Friday was cat blog day and beaucoup Fridays have passed without one mention of her sterling qualities. She sits on the front porch for a few minutes every morning in the frigid air with her fur fluffed up, then retreats to the friendly confines of the house, an inspired decision this morning when the gutter cleaners came along with a big black dog. I'm sure the dog was friendly, but you know, dogs and cats and all that. The foot of the bed at night with a cozy mohair blanket warmed by the electric blanket is all that a cat could want. So--this should make up for a bunch of cat blog days.
Christmas is well underway at our house, with shopping begun, cards almost done, house decorated, tree in garage, and thoughts of which cookies to bake in my head, pleasant thoughts, all. The birds have plenty of seed and suet, and the Christmas cacti have finally come to life. Each one has a story, of sentiment or neglect, and I like that. I like plants with history. Sid, from the dump 24 years ago, others, each with a tale. Remember when talking to your plants was the latest thing? Well, I still do. They are living things, after all.
Until Tuesday, then, and if you haven't visited my new spanking web site, done by moi with nothing but HTML and a little imagination, please visit www.judycopek.com.
Wait! Shouldn't it be www.grapeshot.com? Nope, that's the blog name, not the pen name. How many names can one have? As many as one's cat? Ask T.S. Eliot. Ask Thisbe.
Enough of this nattering.
Grapeshot
Friday, December 07, 2007
Endive with smoked trout and herbed cream cheese
This is from Bon Appetit (I think), otherwise from Gourmet. 2004. It looks pretty, tastes wonderful and is a little different. Easy to make. Smoked trout can be a bitch to find in Boston. In the summer, smoke your own.
Endive with Smoked Trout and Herbed Cream Cheese
1 8-oz. pkg. cream cheese, room temperature
½ cup minced fresh dill
2 green onions, finely chopped
1 t. (Packed) grated lemon peel
4 heads Belgian endive (green and red if available)
8 ounces smoked trout fillets, broken into 1-inch
Pieces
Fresh dill sprigs
Mix first 4 ingredients in small bowl. Season with freshly
Ground black pepper. (Can be made up to 2 days ahead)
Cover and chill. Bring to room temp. before using.
Separate endive into leaves. Spread a small amount of cream
Cheese mixture on base of each leaf. Top with trout piece, and
Garnish with small dill spring. Arrange filled leaves on a platter.
Can be made 6 hours ahead. Cover; chill.
Cheers!
Grapeshot
Endive with Smoked Trout and Herbed Cream Cheese
1 8-oz. pkg. cream cheese, room temperature
½ cup minced fresh dill
2 green onions, finely chopped
1 t. (Packed) grated lemon peel
4 heads Belgian endive (green and red if available)
8 ounces smoked trout fillets, broken into 1-inch
Pieces
Fresh dill sprigs
Mix first 4 ingredients in small bowl. Season with freshly
Ground black pepper. (Can be made up to 2 days ahead)
Cover and chill. Bring to room temp. before using.
Separate endive into leaves. Spread a small amount of cream
Cheese mixture on base of each leaf. Top with trout piece, and
Garnish with small dill spring. Arrange filled leaves on a platter.
Can be made 6 hours ahead. Cover; chill.
Cheers!
Grapeshot
Sucking It Up is a Universal Experience
Proust, Joyce, and others have had to suck it up, too. Even F. Scott Fitzgerald.
http://www.columbusalive.com/?sec=upfront&story=alive/2007/1206/u-mental.html
I don't compare myself to them, novelist of computer crime as I am, but it's nice to be in good company.
Grapeshot
Recipe en route, as well as photos of last night's broccoli-mushroom quiche. So stop by again soon.
Tonight it the party at the local mystery book store (Kate's) and I'm taking a lovely appetizer.
Grapeshot
http://www.columbusalive.com/?sec=upfront&story=alive/2007/1206/u-mental.html
I don't compare myself to them, novelist of computer crime as I am, but it's nice to be in good company.
Grapeshot
Recipe en route, as well as photos of last night's broccoli-mushroom quiche. So stop by again soon.
Tonight it the party at the local mystery book store (Kate's) and I'm taking a lovely appetizer.
Grapeshot
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Experiencing Technical Difficulties
S.O. has an Apple, but I am still a PC person. When he switched to his Apple, we couldn't get the wireless to work in the home office. Bought Airport and then Airport Extreme, but nothing would get a wireless connection here in the basement home office.
So we bought a wireless router and he got hooked up with the router people's tech support and all was well. Until he upgraded to Leopard.
Wireless Router didn't work. Talked endless hours to Apple on the phone and they finally threw up their collective hands.
Last night we called the router people. They tried to install some software on the router. Guess what? It wouldn't install. After about an hour and a half the call was dropped, and no one ever called back, and I finally got things going far enough to get the "Unable to install" message and we tried it on S.O.'s computer and we tried it with the router company on my computer and we tried it 7 ways from Sunday and it still wouldn't install.
So we are still wired, with a cable running across the floor that someone will eventually trip on and make a big electronic mess.
One would think that this problem would not require the finest minds of this generation. One would think a solution might be available. One would be wrong.
Doing a lot of sucking it up in the bowels of the home office. Grrrr.
Grrrrapeshot.
So we bought a wireless router and he got hooked up with the router people's tech support and all was well. Until he upgraded to Leopard.
Wireless Router didn't work. Talked endless hours to Apple on the phone and they finally threw up their collective hands.
Last night we called the router people. They tried to install some software on the router. Guess what? It wouldn't install. After about an hour and a half the call was dropped, and no one ever called back, and I finally got things going far enough to get the "Unable to install" message and we tried it on S.O.'s computer and we tried it with the router company on my computer and we tried it 7 ways from Sunday and it still wouldn't install.
So we are still wired, with a cable running across the floor that someone will eventually trip on and make a big electronic mess.
One would think that this problem would not require the finest minds of this generation. One would think a solution might be available. One would be wrong.
Doing a lot of sucking it up in the bowels of the home office. Grrrr.
Grrrrapeshot.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
In the Shower
There's a lot going on this month with holiday preps, meetings, parties, weather, and just lots of stuff. As my co-worker used to say, "everyone is overwhelmed." I am not one of the overwhelmed, but sometimes I am Oliver OutofIt. Like today.
The plan was to drive to Wellesley for various appointments, one of them being my holiday haircut. Time to get out of the jammies and the slippers and ready to go. Into the shower. The next thing I realize is that I am washing my hair, with a big mountain of shampoo on my head. This wouldn't be so stupid except that someone is going to shampoo me again in two hours. I thought seriously about just letting the hair dry any old which way, but what would the hairdresser think? The nice color I got a few weeks ago wouldn't look very cool with wrath-of-god hair.
This was kind of like cleaning the house before the housekeeper arrives. I waltzed into the salon looking pretty good, even getting into makeup and perfume.
Afterward, looking even better, why not do a little Christmas shopping? And why not buy oneself a little present, after all, who could be more deserving. I do this every year. I still remember the first time ever I did it, at Marshall Fields in Chicago, and I bought a red mohair sweater.
Today's purchase was a tan tee-shirt with glitter around the collar--perfect with my brown jeans and boots. Adds a little sparkle to the holidays. Then of course we had to go to dinner when there was perfectly good leftover goulash soup to eat. But you knew that.
At the cheese shop, they said the bakery in Hyannis burnt down, and there was no bread. No bread to eat with the cheese. When the bakery burns, does it smell like burnt toast only more so? This was very bad news indeed, not only for us but for everyone. It's hard to find decent bread in the burbs. Sometime it's good, and sometimes it's too, shall we say, American?
These are the kinds of thoughts I have in the shower, and that's why I washed my hair to go to the hairdresser. I knew a guy who did his best computer program debugging in the shower. Mine used to be in the car, or in my dreams. When I wasn't off to Iraq.
Festival Madness seems like it is finished. I rewrote the ending about as often as the beginning. Maybe that's why I feel a little nutso today. But nutso with clean, very clean, hair.
Aloha,
Grapeshot
The plan was to drive to Wellesley for various appointments, one of them being my holiday haircut. Time to get out of the jammies and the slippers and ready to go. Into the shower. The next thing I realize is that I am washing my hair, with a big mountain of shampoo on my head. This wouldn't be so stupid except that someone is going to shampoo me again in two hours. I thought seriously about just letting the hair dry any old which way, but what would the hairdresser think? The nice color I got a few weeks ago wouldn't look very cool with wrath-of-god hair.
This was kind of like cleaning the house before the housekeeper arrives. I waltzed into the salon looking pretty good, even getting into makeup and perfume.
Afterward, looking even better, why not do a little Christmas shopping? And why not buy oneself a little present, after all, who could be more deserving. I do this every year. I still remember the first time ever I did it, at Marshall Fields in Chicago, and I bought a red mohair sweater.
Today's purchase was a tan tee-shirt with glitter around the collar--perfect with my brown jeans and boots. Adds a little sparkle to the holidays. Then of course we had to go to dinner when there was perfectly good leftover goulash soup to eat. But you knew that.
At the cheese shop, they said the bakery in Hyannis burnt down, and there was no bread. No bread to eat with the cheese. When the bakery burns, does it smell like burnt toast only more so? This was very bad news indeed, not only for us but for everyone. It's hard to find decent bread in the burbs. Sometime it's good, and sometimes it's too, shall we say, American?
These are the kinds of thoughts I have in the shower, and that's why I washed my hair to go to the hairdresser. I knew a guy who did his best computer program debugging in the shower. Mine used to be in the car, or in my dreams. When I wasn't off to Iraq.
Festival Madness seems like it is finished. I rewrote the ending about as often as the beginning. Maybe that's why I feel a little nutso today. But nutso with clean, very clean, hair.
Aloha,
Grapeshot
I Dreamt I Went To Iraq
Two nights ago, I dreamed that I was giving S.O. long instructions about cancelling Thanksgiving Dinner and uninviting friends, because I was shipping off to Iraq with a stop (in Texas?) for training first.
This only emotion in the dream was my concern that he not forgot to tell anyone, not that a middle-aged woman was off to fight in the war.
"They fought tooth and nail." I don't know where this quote is from; it's an old one, and after 2001 I thought about it a lot, because if one boarded a plane with bad guys, teeth and nails would be the only weapons. Not bad, as weapons so. We haven't yet had to pare our nails and remove our teeth to go thru security. My nails are always short, so they would be pretty worthless, although a jab in the eye is always effective.
I was appalled that I had to think of things like this and be ready to fight. It seemed preposterous and it was preposterous, but I pumped myself up to do violence if I had to. This was extremely stressful, as was flying immediately after 9/11, and a few months later I broke out in shingles, but that's another story.
So in my dreams, I'm still ready to fight, broken ankle and all. What kind of world is this? The people in Africa screaming for that school teacher's execution should be down on their knees in thanks that anyone wants to come to their wretched country and teach their children. I'll bet those kids don't feel so happy this week.
Peace on earth.
Grapeshot
This only emotion in the dream was my concern that he not forgot to tell anyone, not that a middle-aged woman was off to fight in the war.
"They fought tooth and nail." I don't know where this quote is from; it's an old one, and after 2001 I thought about it a lot, because if one boarded a plane with bad guys, teeth and nails would be the only weapons. Not bad, as weapons so. We haven't yet had to pare our nails and remove our teeth to go thru security. My nails are always short, so they would be pretty worthless, although a jab in the eye is always effective.
I was appalled that I had to think of things like this and be ready to fight. It seemed preposterous and it was preposterous, but I pumped myself up to do violence if I had to. This was extremely stressful, as was flying immediately after 9/11, and a few months later I broke out in shingles, but that's another story.
So in my dreams, I'm still ready to fight, broken ankle and all. What kind of world is this? The people in Africa screaming for that school teacher's execution should be down on their knees in thanks that anyone wants to come to their wretched country and teach their children. I'll bet those kids don't feel so happy this week.
Peace on earth.
Grapeshot
Monday, December 03, 2007
Goulash Soup Revisited
Note the meat is lean and not copious, and the selection of healthy veggies and seasonings. This soup won't bust anyone's diet. Use low-fat sour cream if you like.
This is the goulash soup template I use.
¾ lb. boneless sirloin or shell steak
2 T. oil (lard is traditional for “real” goulash)
2 cups (or more) chopped onion (small cubes)
2 cloves minced garlic
1 green or red pepper, chopped small
1 t. sweet paprika, 1 t. hot paprika and 1 t. smoked paprika
1 t. caraway seeds
1-2 carrots, finely chopped
1 can (14.5 oz) chopped tomatoes with their juice
Salt and pepper
Beef broth and water (2/3 to 1/3) go easy on the salt if the broth is salty
1 large boiling potato, peeled and cut into ½ inch cubes. .
Trim any fat from the meat and cut into smallish ¼ to ½ inch cubes. Heat the oil in a large flameproof casserole. Brown the meat, stirring often until brown. Add the onions, garlic, carrot and pepper. Cook and stir for five minutes. Add the paprika (all sweet will do just fine) caraway seeds, and seasonings. Sprinkle in a bit of dried thyme if you like. Add the tomatoes in their juice and enough broth to make a soup. The potato will thicken it some, and it will cook down some, so be judicious.
Cook for an hour, add the potato, and cook until the potato is done.
Serve with sour cream if desired. The mixture of various paprikas will add resonance and complexity to the flavor.
4 to 6 generous servings. It gets better with age.
This is the goulash soup template I use.
¾ lb. boneless sirloin or shell steak
2 T. oil (lard is traditional for “real” goulash)
2 cups (or more) chopped onion (small cubes)
2 cloves minced garlic
1 green or red pepper, chopped small
1 t. sweet paprika, 1 t. hot paprika and 1 t. smoked paprika
1 t. caraway seeds
1-2 carrots, finely chopped
1 can (14.5 oz) chopped tomatoes with their juice
Salt and pepper
Beef broth and water (2/3 to 1/3) go easy on the salt if the broth is salty
1 large boiling potato, peeled and cut into ½ inch cubes. .
Trim any fat from the meat and cut into smallish ¼ to ½ inch cubes. Heat the oil in a large flameproof casserole. Brown the meat, stirring often until brown. Add the onions, garlic, carrot and pepper. Cook and stir for five minutes. Add the paprika (all sweet will do just fine) caraway seeds, and seasonings. Sprinkle in a bit of dried thyme if you like. Add the tomatoes in their juice and enough broth to make a soup. The potato will thicken it some, and it will cook down some, so be judicious.
Cook for an hour, add the potato, and cook until the potato is done.
Serve with sour cream if desired. The mixture of various paprikas will add resonance and complexity to the flavor.
4 to 6 generous servings. It gets better with age.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Goulash Soup
On the fly, this is the best recipe I could find. Chop up a carrot and a red, green or yellow pepper and add. A dollop of sour cream when serving makes it extra yummy.
I mix up hot paprika, sweet paprika, and smoked paprika for a more complex, resonant flavor, but them I'm obsessive.
HUNGARIAN GOULASH SOUP
Printed from COOKS.COM
3 med. onions, chopped2 tbsp. butter1 1/2 lbs. beef stew, cut small2 tbsp. paprika1/2 tsp. caraway seed4 c. beef bouillon2 med. potatoes, peeled and cut in cubes
Cook onions in butter until golden. Add beef and paprika and cook, stirring constantly until slightly brown. Add caraway seed and bouillon. Simmer covered for 1 1/2 hours. Add potatoes and cook 30 minutes longer. Yield 4-6 servings.
I mix up hot paprika, sweet paprika, and smoked paprika for a more complex, resonant flavor, but them I'm obsessive.
HUNGARIAN GOULASH SOUP
Printed from COOKS.COM
3 med. onions, chopped2 tbsp. butter1 1/2 lbs. beef stew, cut small2 tbsp. paprika1/2 tsp. caraway seed4 c. beef bouillon2 med. potatoes, peeled and cut in cubes
Cook onions in butter until golden. Add beef and paprika and cook, stirring constantly until slightly brown. Add caraway seed and bouillon. Simmer covered for 1 1/2 hours. Add potatoes and cook 30 minutes longer. Yield 4-6 servings.
Goals for 2008
I found this on J.A. Konrath's blog. Good stuff.
http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/
I need to plant my butt on this chair and write some of the short stories that I have lined up.
Tomorrow I make goulash soup. It's the perfect winter fare. Hearty, spicy (depending on how much and which paprika you use), with plenty of vegetables (tomato, pepper, carrot, potato) and nice lean beef. In Europe, esp. in Germany, it's on the menu in every cafe, and it's always different and always good. I see that I have no recipes in the computer for this wonderful soup. Never fear. I'll find a good link for you.
Now it's back to Festival Madness. Revisions on the ending. I find when I print out the manuscript I can more easily assess what needs changing. This, after a gazillion years reading on the computer terminal. Paper is better. Sigh.
We have what must be the first measurable snow. Bought the tree today and a nice wreath. Started decorating the house. Trauma that little Swedish mobile that dates to our first Christmas is kind of kaput. I'm determined to fix it. Today I decided that I would relax and try to enjoy the holiday instead of obsessing on the work and the time. Already I feel better.
Busy week. Busy is good. Busy is fun. Busy is productive. Repeat after me.
Grapeshot
http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/
I need to plant my butt on this chair and write some of the short stories that I have lined up.
Tomorrow I make goulash soup. It's the perfect winter fare. Hearty, spicy (depending on how much and which paprika you use), with plenty of vegetables (tomato, pepper, carrot, potato) and nice lean beef. In Europe, esp. in Germany, it's on the menu in every cafe, and it's always different and always good. I see that I have no recipes in the computer for this wonderful soup. Never fear. I'll find a good link for you.
Now it's back to Festival Madness. Revisions on the ending. I find when I print out the manuscript I can more easily assess what needs changing. This, after a gazillion years reading on the computer terminal. Paper is better. Sigh.
We have what must be the first measurable snow. Bought the tree today and a nice wreath. Started decorating the house. Trauma that little Swedish mobile that dates to our first Christmas is kind of kaput. I'm determined to fix it. Today I decided that I would relax and try to enjoy the holiday instead of obsessing on the work and the time. Already I feel better.
Busy week. Busy is good. Busy is fun. Busy is productive. Repeat after me.
Grapeshot
Saturday in Town
Up and about early for a trip to Boston. First a stop in Cambridge at the Micro Center where needed a sex change for a computer connection. No luck, which was real luck because today when we actually inspected the back of the computer where everything plugs in, we found that a flash/thumb drive could be plugged in directly.
Next door, at Trader Joe's the red shopping carts were zooming in and out. What a fantastic store! Reasonable priced cheeses! Just think about that. And two flavors of (cheap) Christmas Stollen, fresh from Germany. And desert honey! Again, cheap. Bargain wines, and best of all smoked trout.
Like canned white asparagus, smoked trout has become rare as hen's teeth, but Trade Joe had plenty, and now I can make my Endive with Smoked Trout and herbed cream cheese appetizer for all the parties next weekend. Look here later in the week for the recipe. All you need is smoked trout--the other ingredients are common.
Of course, we could have bought trout at the fish counter and smoked it ourselves, but kids, the temperature outside is 24 degrees and who wants to tend the smoker in that?
We saw the Napoleon exhibit--mostly stuff from the various periods of the Napoleonic age. What was instructive was that decorative objects began as rather simple designs and over the years took on a lots of gilt and furbelows, if you get my drift.
The empire dresses were so cool, esp. a white one with white embroidery. There was also a black with metallic embroidery that was to die for. Josephine's slippers look like a size 4 AAAA. I don't know anyone with such small feet.
In his early years, Napoleon was very fond of the bee as a symbol, which apparently harked back to early French comquerors. Our friend the bee. Maker of honey in a world that didn't yet know sugar, although the sugar beet came along soon thereafter (250 years ago--you do the math). I thought of the rare desert honey in the trunk of the car.
Desert honey is delicous because the dryness of the climate distills the flavors of the flowers to a wonderful essence. So our recent honey trail has been from Gumbo Lindo honey in Boca, to Sour Gum honey in Georgia to desert honey from (we assume) the Sonora.
We had lunch in the cafe at the MFA. The menu tempted with squash soup and various salads and sandwiches. Yours truly had the spinach and crimini quiche with a lovely salad. S.O. had ham and brie on a croissant with watercress and lentils with dried cranberries on the side. Lentils sounded weird but really tasted good. And the proper beverages, of course. Good people watching in the cafe, but Bostonians do dress rather unimaginatively. And drably. No matter what the Globe style sections say. Or maybe the stylish people go where I don't
We trekked back to the burbs for an open house at the artist studios in Stoughton, and I bought a Christmas present. After wine and nuts and conversations, finally back home where the house felt nice and toasty after our being out all day in the frigid wind.
We broke with tradition and ate in front of the TV while watching the Rockettes. Not their best performance, but some of the numbers were all right where they were actually, you know, dancing. They rode around in a city bus too long, and in the baggy Santa costumes their nice legs were out of sight. The best thing was watching when the camera panned to the faces of kids in the audience.
I tended to my Gather emails and worked on Festival Madness a bit. This Gather contest is a pain in the butt. I hate to troll for votes. Some of the entries are quite good--many of them need some editing and most of them aren't really my taste but I can see some good story lines developing.
On Amazon's contest, the chat groups were still causing lots of noise, and you can always see the cliques developing and everyone agreeing with everyone else, or not, and these contests that seemed like a terrific idea 4 weeks ago are now tedious to the max.
Grump. Grump. Bah, humbug.
Hanging in there,
Grapeshot
Next door, at Trader Joe's the red shopping carts were zooming in and out. What a fantastic store! Reasonable priced cheeses! Just think about that. And two flavors of (cheap) Christmas Stollen, fresh from Germany. And desert honey! Again, cheap. Bargain wines, and best of all smoked trout.
Like canned white asparagus, smoked trout has become rare as hen's teeth, but Trade Joe had plenty, and now I can make my Endive with Smoked Trout and herbed cream cheese appetizer for all the parties next weekend. Look here later in the week for the recipe. All you need is smoked trout--the other ingredients are common.
Of course, we could have bought trout at the fish counter and smoked it ourselves, but kids, the temperature outside is 24 degrees and who wants to tend the smoker in that?
We saw the Napoleon exhibit--mostly stuff from the various periods of the Napoleonic age. What was instructive was that decorative objects began as rather simple designs and over the years took on a lots of gilt and furbelows, if you get my drift.
The empire dresses were so cool, esp. a white one with white embroidery. There was also a black with metallic embroidery that was to die for. Josephine's slippers look like a size 4 AAAA. I don't know anyone with such small feet.
In his early years, Napoleon was very fond of the bee as a symbol, which apparently harked back to early French comquerors. Our friend the bee. Maker of honey in a world that didn't yet know sugar, although the sugar beet came along soon thereafter (250 years ago--you do the math). I thought of the rare desert honey in the trunk of the car.
Desert honey is delicous because the dryness of the climate distills the flavors of the flowers to a wonderful essence. So our recent honey trail has been from Gumbo Lindo honey in Boca, to Sour Gum honey in Georgia to desert honey from (we assume) the Sonora.
We had lunch in the cafe at the MFA. The menu tempted with squash soup and various salads and sandwiches. Yours truly had the spinach and crimini quiche with a lovely salad. S.O. had ham and brie on a croissant with watercress and lentils with dried cranberries on the side. Lentils sounded weird but really tasted good. And the proper beverages, of course. Good people watching in the cafe, but Bostonians do dress rather unimaginatively. And drably. No matter what the Globe style sections say. Or maybe the stylish people go where I don't
We trekked back to the burbs for an open house at the artist studios in Stoughton, and I bought a Christmas present. After wine and nuts and conversations, finally back home where the house felt nice and toasty after our being out all day in the frigid wind.
We broke with tradition and ate in front of the TV while watching the Rockettes. Not their best performance, but some of the numbers were all right where they were actually, you know, dancing. They rode around in a city bus too long, and in the baggy Santa costumes their nice legs were out of sight. The best thing was watching when the camera panned to the faces of kids in the audience.
I tended to my Gather emails and worked on Festival Madness a bit. This Gather contest is a pain in the butt. I hate to troll for votes. Some of the entries are quite good--many of them need some editing and most of them aren't really my taste but I can see some good story lines developing.
On Amazon's contest, the chat groups were still causing lots of noise, and you can always see the cliques developing and everyone agreeing with everyone else, or not, and these contests that seemed like a terrific idea 4 weeks ago are now tedious to the max.
Grump. Grump. Bah, humbug.
Hanging in there,
Grapeshot
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