Cat Blog Day Rolls Around Again

You were expecting to see cats in costumes, perchance? Fie!

Friday is cat blog day. The cats, Thisbe and Annie, have been adversarial lately, and when we came back from Long Island there were bits of fur all over the house, a sure sign of fighting. Of course the fights are always over in seconds.

Thisbe doesn't take kindly to bullying anymore, and gives as good as she gets. I notice that when they are having one of their confrontations (catfrontations in S.O.'s vocabulary) there is a lack of eye contact. One will look daggers and the other will be examining the ceiling, the chair, whatever there is to stare at without making eye contact with the enemy, so to speak.

Yesterday, for us, not the cats I made goulash soup, which is a cool weather fave, and always tasty. I had a pound of cheap thin steak. That and two onions, a green papper, garlic, canned tomatoes, carraway seeds, broth, and one teaspoon each hot, sweet and smoked paprika. Salt and pepper, natch. Most satisfying--not really spicy, but resonant. I added a potato and some chopped carrot, because we do like our veggies.

I made two loaves of bread, my food processor French bread, and it was not a walk in the park. Didn't add quite enough flour, and I had the stickiest, ickiest mess. Had to add more flour and knead it in. This is a no-knead bread, mind you. Sticky hands, sticky food processor, sticky counter--sticky everything. Yuck! Somehow I was able to form two loaves and they rose nicely, considering that I was afraid I also had the water too hot.

Bread is full of landmines. Into the oven it went, and it came out looking like, well, bread, with that wonderful smell. We attacked a loaf with the soup and ate most of the remainder this morning, leaving another loaf for the rest of today.

I really need (knead?) to branch out into other breads. Tonight we're grilling a pork tenderloin with a smoked paprika sauce. Yukon gold potatoes. Salad. Does that sound good or what?

Lately, I've been writing my novel, a speech, assignments for the food writing class, and soon, before Tuesday, an essay about why I am for Obama.

In the meantime, there are daffodils to plant as the weather should be good today. Frost on the pumpkin this morning.

Oh yes! Halloween. We have to carve the blasted expensive ($8.00) orange thing today. I bought candy at the Lindt outlet in Wrentham Mall yesterday. We had eaten the previous batch put aside for Halloween. Shameless, greedy, chocoholics that we are. Bad!

Boo!

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The "To Do" list

Home again, and a desk piled high with "stuff" that has to be dealt with. Soon. I update my weekly, sometimes daily "to do" list, and immediately add three more tasks after I have just printed the list. Grrrr. Of course, some of the things on the list have been there for months, such as reformating World of Mirrors for a specific publisher. Also getting rid of some stuff on EBAY. I heard that EBAY prices have tanked since the economy dived into the toilet, but one should not heed rumors. It's easy enough to see for yourself if items have a) sold and b) sold at or near former prices.

Important fact about the stock market. You haven't lost money until you sell. Of course if you sold right when things started to slide, then you have to pay capital gains taxes, or in the case of 401K, etc., ordinary income taxes, and then there's the sales charge, and when you buy it (or something) back, the buying charge, so my theory is that it's better to sit tight and go for what is looking awfully like a Nantucket Sleigh ride (a whaling boat attached to a mad whale) with your investments. I mean, hell, it's only money, right? What would you do with it? Eat? Fill the oil tank?

Hey, oil is down, which means our heating bills won't be quite as high as everyone feared. Everything to do with money is a Nantucket Sleigh Ride. Housing, price of gas, investments. The old Chinese curse, may you live in interesting times has struck again.

I have some really cheap-to-make recipes that taste great, so email me if you would like to have a few.

So after being gone I had to catch up on Obama, and writing, and Suck It Up, along with my to to list. An unblogged blog don't get no hits. Meanwhile, there's daffodils to plant, my Toastmaster's speech to write.

I have chosen the topic, "My culinary disasters." Every cook has a few. My first one was vichysoisse, then boiled potatoes ("an insult to the German tongue"), then soup with bugs, some really vile Jambalaya that even the possum snubbed, and finally, a leg of venison that you probably don't want to hear about. Maybe you do. My recipe for Venison Ragout is sublime, but there were rocky shoals en route to the harbor, so keep the sailing motif.

See prior post.

I'm gearing up to write my big "Why I Am For Obama" post, and that better be soon. Driving back up to New Hampshire this weekend to beat the bushes and knock on a few doors.

So onward, and remember I'll send those recipes if only you will ask.

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The Last Sail of the Summer

Photos: The classic Concordia yacht Sonnet, and Grapeshot on the launch with Sonnet in the background. I had donned many thick layers of wool, fleece and other warm fabrics.

We drove to Long Island on Friday to do a bit of sailing with some friends. Saturday it rained and blew a gale--not good for social sailing.

Sunday we went out and the weather was almost warm, with a cloudless sky, a 10 knot wind and great conditions. We sailed from Oyster Bay to Ziegler's Cove on the CT shore just east of Stamford. Had a great lunch with wine and returned at dusk. Everyone sated with fresh air and sporting a wee bit of windburn.

Last vitamin D of the season, too. We ate a great pot roast and a zillions fresh oysters on the half shell. It doesn't get much better than that.

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The Man Burns and Dances And Burns and Dances

A video of the Man at Burning Man strutting his stuff to "Bring Me To Life."

Holy freakin' crap!


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

Wardrobe Malfunction

The limericks just keep spinning in my head. Readers are invited to submit their own. Nothing porno or inflammatory please. Grapeshot runs a clean blog.

Caribou Barbie at Neiman’s and Saks
Shopping fiendishly off the racks.
The RNC put up the dough.
Caribou Barbie, way to go!

Caribou Barbie’s suits are pricey
Undivine Sarah’s politics are dicey.
Caribou Barbie, working class mom,
The 150,000 dollar wardrobe is going to bomb

Caribou Barbie, why not Kohl’s or Sears?
Caribou Barbie, better change gears.
Caribou Barbie, hockey mom and huntress
VP Candidate, how you do affront us!

Confidence

Image is from: edutechgeek.files.wordpress.com

Lately, I've spread my writing wings a bit beyond genre fiction and blogging. I've got one and one-half short stories written, a food memoir, a report on an event and even a deposition for a court case. I'm also looking forward to writing and delivering a humorous Toastmaster's speech.

What is remarkable is this: these days when I sit down to write anything, I have the confidence that I can do the writing, both first and subsequent drafts and that it will be at least acceptable. How did it get from my cybercrime sleuth to Jill of all trades?

Plant butt in chair is the big advice for writers. In other words, sit down and write. And yanno, if you do it often enough (5+ novels,umpteen blog entries, this 'n that) eventually you get the hang of it, and you know you can do it. You can produce whatever is needed without blood and tears. Sweat may still be involved, but one out of three isn't bad.

I'm feeling pretty good about this, because it's been a long time coming. When I first started writing, "they" said you had to write half a million words (500,000 for the math dumbos) before you were any good. I did that and more in 5 novels. Probably wrote close to 750,000 with rewrites and so on. In the beginning, that many words sounded impossible, when I had written maybe 75,000. Yikes! And another beginning writing teacher hushed me when I tried to bring this up in class. I believe he thought that it would discourage the "beginners." Dammit ! Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.

Maybe I should thank my blog readers, whoever they are, for reading the blog and keeping me blogging, because "Suck It Up" counts for a words written, too, over the years. And writing with brevity helps the cause.

So thanks. Comments, as always are welcome.

Grapesbot

The End of the Road

It ain't easy livin' at the end of the road, if you will excuse my Palinism. The folks in Empire and Gerlach, Nevada are finding this out because the little store in Empire that serves both tiny communities has closed due to a dispute.

Now folks have to drive to Reno or Fernley. Reno is 117 miles from Gerlach, over two-lane road, thru Indian reservations where the speed limit dips to 20. There are frequently cows on the road, because the land is open range. The shoulders are soft. Speed at your own risk.

Open range means no fences. Don't Fence Me In. How many of you have driven across Open Range.

If you got a really early start you could get to Reno by 9:30 a.m., spend an hour or more (better have a good, long list) at the supermarket, lug everything into the car and be back in Northern Nevada--Gerlach or Empire or one of the little ranches in the big Area Beyond Reno by 1:00 p.m. if you didn't stop for lunch or coffee or do some other shopping.

Of course if you made it all the way to Reno you might want to go to the drug store, the hardware store, buy a pair of socks and have a bite to eat--there's only one restaurant, Bruno's, in Gerlach (none in Empire) and while Bruno's rocks, a Mexican or Italian meal--a little variety might be good. Of course you would also want to get your teeth cleaned, buy a CD, take Fido to the vet--there are lots of things that aren't available in Gerlach. Did I mention haircut?

Holy freakin' crap! Can all this be done in one day? The end of the road engenders strong people and animals, too.

Is this Palin country? I don't know of any 4th of July parades. There is a kind of live and let live attitude, but people do look out for each other. No more than they would do in a city. Where did this city vs. small town rivalry come from? Guess Caribou Barbie doesn't read the NYTimes Talk of the Town. Of course, she doesn't read much of anything from what we know. Talks like it, too. But onward.

I don't know of Boosterism, at the end of the road, although the high school has a car wash for vehicles leaving Burning Man. This year there was a community garden. Stuff grows in the desert if you water it. You can pick Empire and Reno out ten miles off because there are trees, which bear fruit if you water them. Trees in the desert. A little oasis, and then Gerlach has the restored water tower, compliments of (mostly) city folk who actually do care.

It costs about $45.00 in gas for a round trip unless you drive a vehicle that gets 10 mpg and then it costs $90.00.

Maybe the folks should start a dairy herd and a bakery. And a big greenhouse. I feel sorry for the seniors, and those on disability checks which make up a big part of Gerlach. Empire is a US Gypsun town, but the isolation is still complete. It's a beautiful drive up from Reno. The hills and mountains and weird rock formations and the dry lake beds and little roads to nowhere or mines or ranches--it's a land of mystery and hardscrabble living.

Of course it's hard to eat mountains and beauty and mirages and jack rabbits and someone elses cows.

Life is hard at the end of the road. Read about it in the Reno Gazette.
http://www.rgj.com/article/20081012/NEWS/810120360

Paula's Chicken Empanadas

Paula’s Chicken Empanadas:

Years ago I was horrified when Warburton's Cafe (now long vanished) stopped selling their Cornish pasties in the Harvard Square shop. Shortly after that, Warburton's followed the pasties into the cold oven of history, and the site became an Au Bon Pain, with O.K. food, but it wasn’t Warburton's.I remember sitting outside on a bench in the early spring sun with the beggar sparrows cheeping around my feet as the flaky crumbs of the pasty fell from my fingers. Together the sparrows and I devoured that wonderful, savory pasty.Of course, with the buttery crust and the red meat within, the pasties were "nutritionally incorrect" and that's probably why the Harvard Square Warburton's stopped producing them. Little demand. Except mine.Flash forward to Friday, when the Food Network’s Paula Deen (she of the butter and mayonnaise recipes) made chicken empanadas on her show. Lordy, I was salivating to beat the band and on Saturday I bought a jalapeno pepper and some pepper jack cheese.I changed the recipe to use my own crust (see previous post) and made other changes to spice things up. Yowza! Couldn't stop eating them. Here is Paula's recipe:http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/paula-deen/chicken-empanadas-recipe/index.html
My changes: cut filling in half, except for the jalapeno, add 1/2 sautéed onion and substituted pepper jack cheese. I used adobo seasoning instead of cumin and added the last dabs from the garden of cilantro before it froze.
The crust, which I make in the Cuisinart, is 1 1/2 cups flour, one egg yolk, salt, 1/2 t. medium chili powder, 1 stick unsalted butter and enough ice water until it forms a ball.

Bloggers Blogging Bloggers

I have the faithful Google searching out interesting blogs for me, and here's one that came in on the radar today.

Mostly about the not-so-divine Sarah, but also the Republican right and the finger-pointing which has already begun.

Love it!

http://brothersjuddblog.com/archives/2008/10/the_ritual_as_revolution.html

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The Frost is On the Newly Purchased Pumpkin

Pumpkins are gold-plated this fall, having to do with the wet summer, I hear. Anyway, a nice big one set us back $10.00 at the supermarket. Walmart didn't even get them.

I made Paula's (food network) Mexican style chicken turnovers, and being cheap really paid off. Instead of using the store-bought pie crust ($3.49), I decided to make my own. Browsing thru recipes, in Elena's Mexican Cookery, she recommended putting chili powder in the crust. Yowsa! Did that even rock!

I made more or less Paula's filling except for adding half a chopped plum tomato, and substituting Adobo spice for cummin. I also used pepper jack cheese which gave it extra kick. Didn't remove ALL the seeds from the jalapeno. Yum, yum, yum. We baked, rather than deep-fried, and they were so good, served with salsa.

My pie crust recipe is from a food processor cookbook (Abby Mandel's) and the pie crust almost comes out to be amazingly good and it takes all of 5 minutes from measuring to fridge to chill. Rolls out like a dream. Man, I remember times I had to heave the whole mess in the garbage and start over, but this never fails.

Frost forecast tonight. I dug up my geraniums and put them in smaller pots (they spent the summer outside in a whiskey barrell) and brought inside. Big messy job, but won't I be happy come may when they can be moved back outside and I don't have to go out and buy 10 new geraniums. In this economy, one can take frugal measures.

Feeling smug because I saved $40.00 at the grocery this week and wrote some more of my book, did the estimated taxes and so on. Doing the estimate was not as hard as I had feared. There's something about those IRS forms that intimidates. Yup. I sucked it up and actually did it, and didn't take all day either.

So. . . off to watch the Red Sox game. Wore my shirt today for good luck. Being part of Red Sox Nation is not for the faint of heart. Onward.

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Am I dreaming?

It's been a busy week, no a busy month, and September was crazy, too. The long simmering days of summer are gone and life has come to a boil.

So last night after dinner I was pooped, and with a post-dinner piece of that coffee cake, so comforting, I draped myself on the couch to watch the Red Sox. Ye Gods! Things went to hell in the first inning, and only worsened, until it was 7 zip in favor of Tampa Bay. Significant Other toddled off to bed with the remark that, "when I don't stay up to watch, they always win."

Yeah, sure. I dozed a bit, and woke up with the score still 7-zip and Papelbon was pitching, which means the end is in sight. Ate the last of the Halloween candy, chocolate being so comforting and fell into an apparently deep sleep on the couch.

Awoke and thought I was dreaming, because the score was 7-6, Tampa Bay, and there were two outs, and a man on second and Coco Crisp was batting. Red Sox fans know that there has been bad blood between Crisp and the Rays, rightly so, and how sweet it was, HOW SWEET IT WAS,
when Coco got a hit and tied the game. Wow, was I ever awake!

Thought about waking S.O., and decided that might bring had luck. While the Rays were batting in the ninth, I got ready for bed, and crept back downstairs--by now it was so late the automatic timers had turned off the lights.

The Red Sox got a man on and J.D. Drew batted him in. EVEN SWEETER! Then, of course, I had to wake S.O. up. In Boston, we take our baseball seriously in Red Sox Nation.

So revved up by the excitement and my ill-timed nap, that I had to read some Proust to get my mind and body in the mood for sleep.

Holy freakin' crap, who would have thunk it?

Cat blog day? Forget it. Annie barfed and Thisbe had lovey time and complained about everything. Same old. Same old. The cats are waaayyyy to portly for a hawk or an owl to carry off.

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Death Comes from On High

Ye gods, we pulled into the driveway a little after five this aftenoon, and a big hawk took off. He had obviously been scoping out our front porch feeder where the cute little guys hang out. A few weeks ago I saw a falcon in the woods. Every creature wants to eat my little birdies, the chicadees, titmice, and today a red-headed house finch. This will never do!

Chipmunks, doves, cardinals and squirrels eat the spilled seed on the ground. Last year we saw something (a raptor, obviously) carry off a full-sized blue jay.

And the dry carcass of the dumb chipmunk got who himself locked in the garage this summer has been discovered.

We have lots of "nature" here, up close and personal.

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The Writing Workout

Early morning aerobics class and the instructor is really working us out, and the deep breaths must stir the neurons to cross the synapses-- something in my brain, because plotting ideas for In Flight are coming at me like kamikazees, and I have to tell myself to pay attention both to the workout and to the ideas--it would be a shame to get come and ask myself, "now what was that?"

The instructor worked us harder than usual, which is good except when you're doing it. I got heartburn from the piece of walnut-pear-sour cream coffee cake I had scarfed down before leaving the house. Good cake. Bad idea. See cake photo. Yum! I seldom bake coffee cakes.

Now I can write more when I get back from Toastmasters. Planning a cool Toastmaster's speech on my greatest cooking blunders. Should be fun. My aim is to become an entertaining speaker.

The cake serves twelve and the company we were expecting bailed, so 3/4 of the cake is in the freezer. It's always a pleasure to have something in the freezer that doesn't have to be thawed and cooked. This is a link to a very similiar recipes: http://recipes.recipeland.com/recipes/recipe/show/Pear_Walnut_Coffee_Cake_13739

More anon,

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Fifteen pages!

During a busy week, I have written fifteen pages, which is a huge amount for pokey 'ol me. Maybe it's the impetus of the food writing class. Maybe I'm actually a non-fiction writer. Who knows? I even sent in two queries, and tried to figure out where to send the pimp short story.

I'm not sure that it's even crime fiction, although one guy pulls a knife on another. Nobody gets hurt, at least not physically. The fish story is not really concerned with crime, although drug running plays heavily into it. I'm voting for the loosening of the marijuana laws in Massachusetts. Did you know that MJ is the#one cash crop in the U.S.

Of as we used to say back in the dark ages of high school. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. Ha ha. Just kidding.

There was a confrontation north of Winnemucca (Northern Nevada) between pot growers and some biologists working for the BLM (Bureau of Land Management). When the smoke (another ha ha) had cleaned the growers bailed on five million dollars worth of plants and some already harvested crop. They were growing it along the river in the middle of nowhere, but as my young friend likes to say, everywhere is somewhere. Not quite far enough into the middle of nowhere. Nowhere close to where I was visiting.

In my novel and even my fish short story, I'm writing about the submarines that the drug runners are now using to ferry "product" between Columbia and ports of call in the U.S. These submarines can't be detected by radar and each can carry a huge stash of coke. When they are discovered, the crew scuttles the boat and has to be rescued. There's no evidence, so they can't be prosecuted. Clever, eh?

Just think if all the effort that went into breaking the law were harnessed for some kind of good. Zowie!

Caribou Barbie is speaking in New Hampshire tomorrow, and I would think seriously about going up there to heckle her, except that I have a meeting to attend. No, not that kind of meeting. The Republicans have stooped lower than a snake's belly with their rumors and innuendo. Will a campaign ever be fought (and won) on the issues? Not in my lifetime.

Something that no one mentions: if investments continue to tank, and jobs continue to be lost, and no one has any money, where will the tax revenues comes from to bail the country out? Seems like one impact of what's going on will be less tax money. People seem to hate economics, but how about Paul Krugman? Yay! Love his columns in the NYT. He was even on Bill Maher. Or was it Jon Stewart? Can't remember anything.

Tonight is the last night of the delicious bean soup. I ran out of salad fixins', so we're having a cute little antipasto. Call it creativity in the kitchen.

Bon Appetit!


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Memories of Kansas

I completed the first assignment for the Food Writing class at Brown, writing about my Kansas grandparents chicken yard, garden and kitchen. It's a memoir piece, and I have to tell you I shed a few tears writing it, and now, of course, the rationalist, the cynic, wonders if it's too sentimental. Only the ending is sentimental, which I try to tie back to the beginning. It's hard to write heartfelt without getting soppy. It is for me. But I think it will be O.K. At least from my other writing, I've learned to appeal to the senses, which food writing should absolutely do, and to create some drama and have a beginning, middle and end.

I wrote another chapter of In Flight, and adding that to my five pages of short story for the Guppy Anthology, this has been a productive week. And in the garden, too, as we brought everything into the house but the geraniums. Winter is a comen in.

We went for a walk today and discovered a path to the swimming pool that we didn't know about. Good walk through the woods. Glorious maples. You just can't beat fall in New England.

And now the Red Sox (sob) are trailing eight-zip, and will have to get their act and their pitching together. I do still miss Manny, and wish Big Pappi would slam a few out of the park. Ah, it's a frustrating sport.

I actually survived not going to Bouchercon. Everyone has posted photos and it looked like loads of fun, but gosh I'm glad I kept that thousand dollar bill in the bank. Everyone around here is having garage sales to raise a bit of cash.

We really did eat beans tonight, navy bean soup and it was so tasty! The recipe called for fresh thyme and rosemary, and the usual bean soup fixins. The bacon was fried, drained and sprinkled on the finished soup. Yum! I halved the recipe which was for twelve, but we won't get three meals out of it, oh my no!

You have yourself a very fine Sunday evening!

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The Best Laid Plans Of Mice and Men

Photo: Where we didn't go!

Personally, I never believed that mice actually made plans. Nonetheless, today was the day to drive to the Ipswich River Wildlife Sanctuary (North of Boston) and do some walking, eat a picnic lunch, view the wildlife and birds, and enjoy a beautiful fall day.

We were tooling up I-95 and there was a BIG BACKUP at the Route 1 exit. Eeek! The Topsfield Fair Traffic. One of the worst traffic jams I was ever in was at the Topsfield Fair. We shot on by, plans trashed, and decided to visit Newburyport and Plum Island. Newburyport had its share of traffic. Some kind of festival going on, but we found a quiet bench by the river/estuary and shared a fab roast beef sandwich, chips, dill pickle spear, banana and some crumbs of biscotti. A delightful lunch, all and all, and not so filling as to make us soporific.

On to Plum Island. On the first pass thru town, we did not find the bird sanctuary, but saw lots of beach houses for sale and about 1,000 no parking signs. Not a welcoming community. Then we found the wildlife preserve but didn't want to pay $5 per car to enter. In cheap mode, obviously. Went to the Audubon Society at Joppa Flats, expecting hiking trails and what have you, but there weren't none, and we ended up walking on the bike path of a busy highway, not exactly relaxing.

Drove home in Sunday traffic. Still being in cheap mode, we stopped at Rojo's on Route 1 in Norwood for a fill up. Huge gas line, because he was selling it was $2.79, such a deal and half of the pumps were not operative because their gas was sold out. Twenty minute wait and then home where we grilled some steak, and I fixed acorn squash and asparagus from Peru with a whopper of a carbon footprint. Salad, too. Got into the Halloween candy around 10:30. My bad!

Still waiting to go to Ipswich. Maybe next spring or on some balmy winter Sunday.

We did go to the Topsfield Fair years ago. Early on a Saturday morning was the key. Pygmy goats and sheep shearing and fried bread. I couldn't have liked it more.

Links to places mentioned in this post:
Ipswich River Wildlife Sanctuary:
http://www.massaudubon.org/Nature_Connection/Sanctuaries/Ipswich_River/index.php

Topsfield fair: http://www.topsfieldfair.org/

Find the cheapest gas in your area:
http://autos.msn.com/everyday/gasstations.aspx?zip=&src=Netx

Joppa Flats Wildlife Center: http://www.massaudubon.org/Nature_Connection/Sanctuaries/Joppa_Flats/index.php

There is so much to do in the Greater Boston area. We have an "embarass de riches" if you will excuse my fractured French.

The Supermarket Dance: Shuffle and Back Step

Note: this post is a whine.

Our supermarket is remodelling, which means no one can find anything anywhere. They had to go "out back" to get us a bag of charcoal today, and brought a big mother of a bag that would last half the summer and now it's October. Any season when you don't have to shovel a path along the deck and brush the snow off the Weber Kettle is Barbecue Season.

Small sirloins were on sale and that sounded good to me, with asparagus from Peru where spring has sprung and acorn squash grown more locally. With a Boston lettuce salad and a big fat mushroom to top each steak. Is that yum or what?

Of course we spent twice a much time in the store as usual, backtracking and trying to find stuff. Last week a woman said, "just think of it as a scavenger hunt and have fun." Some people always have a good attitude.

I remember when Roche Brothers in Wellesley remodelled years ago. I had to change my computerized shopping list, then I changed it again when we moved. Guess what? Another change will be required. In the new new Wellesley Roche Brothers I can't find anything either, except the produce and the cheese counter. And the take home department. Man, for $12-$1400 for dinner, you would never have to cook again. For two, that is. Four or more would be a pricey business, but they do have good looking prepared food to take home.

Of course if the economy continues to go to hell in a handbasket, everyone will be soaking their own pinto beans and making soup and rice and beans and growing herbs on the window sill and pouring the bacon fat into a coffee can in the fridge to reuse.

Oh? You do that already? Me too.

It seems like the prices have risen since the store began to remodel. And I still can't find green salsa made with tomatillos. Maybe I'll make another attempt to grow tomatillos next spring. The prior effort was a disaster, but then I recall it took three tries to grow bleeding heart. The third one flourished and I even moved it and it still flourished. A reliable plant is something you can love.

So we're bringing in the houseplants that summered outside, and the geraniums I carry over from year to year and the little gew-gaws on the deck that make the outdoors kind of homey.

Annie the cat escaped today, but too late for blogging. Thisbe went out and was horrified to find a) the UPS man and b) and neighbor's dog and c) the neighbor. Clawed at the door to get in with her tail as big around as a baseball bat.

I'm deep into my robot fish story and it's humming along swimmingly. :) I just need one more long adventure for the fish to have, then a clever escape and the end. The fish has hard exciting escapes from Somali pirates, sea snakes and a curious shark. Fish can have the most exciting adventures.

Onward and upward. How about those Red Sox?

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Bouchercon and I'm Not There

This year I've skipped Thrillerfest, Edgar's Week and now Bouchercon, taking place today and this weekend in Baltimore. O Poe! O Nevermore!

Bouchercon is the biggest mystery and crime writing conference, with many of the big names in mystery writing, and endless panels, some good, some dull, and high times in the bar. Always high times in the bar.

I went to Bouchercon in Chicago a few years ago. At that time, The Shadow Warriors was newly out and the bookstore actually sold copies. Now the rules have changed and it wouldn't be considered legitimately published and so the bookstore wouldn't have it and I wouldn't be listed as an author. How galling is that?

E-publishers are not now and never were "real" publishers, and POD is not a legitimate printing method in the eyes of most writing organizations, with more jumping on the "let's keep ourselves exclusive" bandwagon all the time. Sisters in Crime, formerly the most democratic of organizations has become "exclusive" too. It is hard to have one's nose pressed against the glass of the candy store, or book store or . . .

But that's not why I'm staying home. Instead, I went to The Muse and the Marketplace here locally, and I'm taking a writing course at Brown, and actually trying to improve my writing rather than rub elbows with other writers. I've been rubbing elbows until my sweaters need leather patches, and you know, there are people who really suck at networking and promoting themselves and I am one.

Of course I'll be at the New England Crime Bake which is only 20 miles down the road, and I trekked to Sleuthfest, and heard positive comments from the agent and editor and it came to naught. There's a lot to be said for Florida in late February-early March. Sun. Warmth. Beaches. Crab meals. Relaxation. Friends.

So it's back to writing and writing and writing and trying to write the best book possible, and then make it better, because that's the only thing that's going to count. Not schmoozing and smiling and propping my frayed elbows on the bar no matter how much more fun socializing is that sitting here staring at the screen.

Writing is hard work.

I hope this doesn't come across as a whine. As a kid you expect a level playing field and things to be fair and of course they are not and maybe you rail against unfairness and then you suck it up and become more realistic about life. I'm sure McCain rails at the unfairness of the economy diving into the toilet at this time. Not fair! So he and Caribou Barbie talk dirty about Obama. She is edging toward demagogue. I try to stay above all that.

Rolling in the gutter is for losers.

At Boucheron I would love to corner Dan Fesperman and talk about his Afghan book. So good. Wow, was it good! Should have made the best seller list, but then nothing about publishing is necessarily about quality, or even a good story, it's about what the public finds comfortable to read, those who do read, which are fewer and fewer; the public reads romances, little cozies, fantasies, thrillers with cardboard characters, and sometimes the excellent books that everyone can love. Just because many of the books that are published don't appeal to me doesn't mean they're not eminently readable.

I don't pretend to understand what resonates with the reading public. It ain't fictionalized computer crime, that's for sure. I hope when I use the vernacular, so to speak, that I don't start sounding like Sarah Palin. That's for darn sure.

O.K. off to the drugstore and a walk through town. Walking always puts me in a better frame of mind.

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Cat Blog Day

Would you believe I posted to the wrong blog? Here is the link. The blog is Reading Proust In Foxborough which has much to do with Proust and nothing to do with cats. The cats did do something of note this morning. Read on to see what.

http://proustwhore.blogspot.com/

The Literary Life

After all the food blogs and the politics blogs, the cat blogs, cow blogs and what have you blogs, you may be wondering if I'm still writing, as in novels.

I am, and now almost 100 pages into the new novel, In Flight, which is coming along all right, and just needs to be written down. I think it's going to be good. Whether it will sell or not is another question. Anyway, it's fun to be in the head of a Columbian drug lord, at least some of the time.

Finally, finally, an agent asked to see some pages of Festival Madness. In the meantime, I have discovered one or two novels about Burning Man are in the works or looking for editors, or what have you. None like mine, of course. What I have to say in defense of my novels is that they are a "fun read," with all sorts of cool stuff. Obviously fun does not make it publishable.

I'm taking a Food Writing course at Brown University. After all the food blogging it seemed a sage thing to do. And there's this short story about a robot fish. Can't tell you anymore, because the fish worked for the CIA. I am not making this up.

Totally 100% afraid to look at the end of the quarter financial statements wending their way to the mailbox. Looked at two, eeeek, and that was two too many. In the meantime, of course, the market has really sh__the bed, and one begins to think of how to scale down expenses rather drastically.

Get thru the winter on the same old clothes. Don't we all have way too many clothes. Maybe it's time to wear some of them out. Yup. Do I dare buy some new pajama bottoms from the Job Lot?

Eat lots of rice and beans and chili. Hey, that doesn't sound so bad. Oatmeal cookies? Yay! Netflix instead of concerts, plays and movies. Yup. Nip out to the 99 instead of the la-di-dah places. I can do that for a while, esp. after a memorable meal at Al Forno.

Shop the sales, yada, yada. I think our TV which is NOT cable ready but we do have cable--anyway the TV appears headed for the great tube tomb. Appliances never crap out at a good time, do they? Usually it's at 5:00 p.m. on the Friday of a three day weekend.

I would not want to give up cable, since that's where the good shows are. Otherwise, one might as well not replace the TV.

Enough gloom and doom. Tomorrow is cat blog day. Will the kitties do something memorable? Bloggable? Or is it the same-old, same-old? Stay tuned.

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Al Forno

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary, and we splurged for a late dinner at Al Forno in Providence. We've been eating at Al Forno since it was a tiny nondescript place with a sister restaurant called Lucky's. They moved to Main Street and Lucky's was enfolded into Al Forno, the place became famous, produced two cookbooks and there is frequently a wait for a table.

Al Forno makes the world's best pizza. I always have this hideous existential dilemma about whether to order the pizza or the Clams Al Forno, and usually the pizza wins out. It's grilled, of course, with spare toppings and thin, thin, thin. The taste is incredible. We brought a bit home for lunch, and I see a fight ensuing.

I had squab, which one never sees, and S.O. had a big pork chop. Smashed potatoes and grilled broccoli filled out the plate. For dessert, we shared the (oink) chocolate bread pudding. This was first rate food and the wine was also excellent. Of course the price tag is not for the faint-hearted. I slept until 9:00 this morning, drugged by so much fantastic grub.

With Brown and RISD down the street, the clientele is also interesting.

Tonight we have beaucoup leftovers from Monday's dinner: chicken Marbella, stuffed baked apples, risotto with fines herbes and green beans with walnuts and garlic. I'll be thinking about it all day. Yummy! Sometimes stuff in the fridge starts calling your name, never a good thing.

Like Al Forno's Pizza Margherita.

A little vignette about Lucky's. Years ago, when we visited my in-laws in Germany, we took along some excellent steaks, and for the dinner I made Lucky's potatoes, which involved a sh__load of garlic, oil and butter. The steaks were received politely, but it was the potatoes that were the biggest hit. I had to make them again. I promise I'll dig up the recipe.

You're in for a treat. Of course, you'll have to prepare them, no big deal, actually.

Grapeshot, in food mode today.

Links to Outstanding Recipes + Politics But Not As Usual

Below are links to the recipes in yesterday's photos with some notes about Chicken Marbella.

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/BAKED-APPLES-STUFFED-WITH-HONEY-ALMONDS-AND-GINGER-232891

http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/001175chicken_marbella.php
Notes for Chicken Marbella: I used legs, thighs and breasts. Meat with bones always tastes better, likewise skin, even if you remove it later. Used French olives with Herbes de Provence instead of the called-for olives, which the store did not have. Everything else pretty much the same. Parsley and oregano from the garden. For the wine I used white vermouth, my standard white cooking wine.

If anyone has the Silver Palate Cookbook (the original), apparently the recipe is from there.

My friend Joan brought the most fabulous cookies, cookies supremely tasty and not too sweet. We have old-time taste buds that like sugar, but not overpowering sweetness. I'm finding that some of the current dessert recipes are too damn sweet. But not these. Don't know where they are available. Effie's Cookies. Don't they even sound old fashioned. They look totally plain, but zowie, what a nice flavor. One could even say comforting.

http://www.effieshomemade.com/

We were six at dinner Monday, and the table was quite jolly with good conversation. Writers always carry on in a spirited manner. Annie the cat schmoozed shamelessly. Thisbe, of course, was under the bed.

Last, but hardly least is a link to the New Yorker recommendation for Barak Obama. It's so thoughtful and reasoned, so unlike the Republican campaign of vituperation and slander.

http://www.newyorker.com/talk/comment/2008/10/13/081013taco_talk_editors?yrail


Onward,

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The Slough in Autumn, Chicken Marbella and Baked Apples

Afternoon sunlight streams through the trees in the slough.

Chicken Marbella is actually a Mexican dish. Who knew?

The baked apples have almonds, honey, ginger, brown sugar, lemon rind and a big slug of whipping cream. Delicious? You betcha!

In Flight

The working title of my new book is "In Flight," with nothing to do with planes and everything to do with running from scary people who want to kill you. I'm 23,000 words into the book, assuming it will run about 100,000 words, quite normal for a suspense book.

Right now, I'm getting the romance that will be critical to the story off the ground, and introducing the characters. The ex-wife is the last character, and she'll appear about mid-book. I have my first restaurant scene. Not many of those--this will be the only one set in a nice restaurant. Everything else will be road food or eating on the run. Literally.

Did you notice in Da Vinci Code that no one ever stopped to eat or go to the bathroom even though they were travelling all over Europe? Maybe somehow had a supply of granola bars, but I doubt it. When is Dan Brown's latest book coming out? People have almost stopped asking.

I'm learning about the golf tour and teaching swimming and for a short story I'm writing, about a robot fish. No time to query agents lately. Seems futile. They don't answer emails, at least half of them don't. The author never knows where the missive landed, if it did.

An editor has had my book for 10 months now, and in the meantime, I've rewritten part of it. So it goes. I noticed the tiny store in Empire had lots of Burning Man books, calendars, etc., and I figure if the book is ever published, I can sell it at Bruno's in Gerlach and at the Empire store and the Reno Airport and if Reno has a bookstore, there, too. So that would bring in some steady sales.

Still waiting for a signing at the bookstore on Hiddensee off Ruegen. It would have been such an honor and so much fun. Sigh. Pipe dreams.

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Thisbe Remembers That She is A Cat and Other Tales

Thisbe loves to see the sparrows on the feeder take off when she steps onto the front porch. The doves fly away with outrage and noisy wings, and the chipmunks and squirrels dive for cover. Such power. Such respect.

If some small creature comes back, Thisbe is ready to pounce, so long as the neighborhood is free of people, other animals and cars, along with any unrecognizable noise. Discretion is always the better part of valor in Thisbe's feline life.

She endured an entire week without catnip while I was gone, and yorked up a hairball in retribution. I like to think. In the meantime, we've had lots of Mommy/Kitty time.


Yesterday, on the march thru Salem neighborhoods for Obama, I saw some weird sights. Curtains so shabby they hung in shreds. People sitting at the kitchen table and refusing to answer the doorbell. A woman who would never vote for a Democrat again because of "how they treated Hilary." A haunted house, (almost).

For sure a lot of houses had no doorbells, and it was obvious to the casual observer that no one ever used the front door. Lots of cars in the driveway but no one home.

Is it true that if someone gives two excuses, that person is lying? Such as "I'm eating lunch and I have company." Dunno. Human nature is infinitely various.

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Doggerel for an October Day

I went to New Hampshire to work for Obama and the Democrats today, a beautiful fall day when most people were out or did not answer the door (so few doorbells, so many inaccessible front doors) or whatever. To the brave souls who dared confront a slightly pudgey not-very-young campaigner with a big smile and an Obama button, you rock!

Last night, I composed a bit of doggerel inspired by the debate and the web and all the hoop-la.
It's not great poetry and I could do better if I spent more than 20 minutes but hey, doesn't spontaneity count?

Caribou Barbie, Vice-President Wannabe

Caribou Barbie flying in low
She hails from the state of ice and snow.

Caribou Barbie making beaucoup waves.
Mooseburger and Caribou are menu faves.

Caribou Barbie on climate change:
Polar Bears must find a new home on the range.

Caribou Barbie so colloquial and homey
On a clear day from Wassilla you can see a few commie.

Caribou Barbie standing on a ridge
Scouting out a site for the infamous bridge.

Caribou Barbie hockey mom and mayor.
For Rape Kits in Wasilla, the victim is the payer.

Caribou Barbie cooks with polar bear helper
While she shoots at wolves from a helicopter.

Caribou Barbie reads no papers or books
She scorns all those elitist hooks.

Caribou Barbie, McCain’s weird pick
Caribou Barbie, our Northwoods hick.


Here is a link to a couple of interesting photos that claim not to be photo-shopped.
http://loc.rousefamily.com/leftofcentrist/?p=1198

Make up your own mind.


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Barbie Doll

So, Caribou Barbie didn't flub anything big last night, spouting the party line and sounding, yanno, like a "real" person, using the vernacular to the max and smiling all the while like a Stepford wife. No, that's Mrs. McCain. Got to keep the roles, straight, ladies.

When she didn't have an answer or want to answer, she talked about something else, usually the Democrats raising taxes. Hammering it home. Hammering it home.

Yada. Yada. Well, that's what a Barbie doll does, is repeat things, right? Remember when Barbie said, "math is hard," and there was a big flap?

Of course the greedy bad men on Wall Street are all Republicans, so I don't know how that goes over. Maybe it plays in Peoria. Granted the financial crisis is hard to understand, but the New York Times had a good understandable article on it this morning. Too bad Mrs. Palin doesn't read newspapers.

I guess she just sits around and waits for someone to tell her what's happening. What it the "someone" lied? Jeez, this is kind of scary.

I'm having my writing group for dinner Monday. This is the menu. Someone is bringing an appetizer, but I don't know what.

Chicken Marbella
Green Beans with Walnuts
Rice

Joan’s Salad

Stuffed Baked Apples
Joan’s Cookies

Come on over if it sounds good. I cut most of the bad fats so nobody will freak out.

Tonight we're having tuna and noodles. I don't use cream of mushroom soup but make a white sauce from scratch and season with onion, green and red peppers and hot pepper flakes. Seasoning is all. We put crushed potato chips on top and bake for a spell. Sounds like a down home recipe hockey moms would go for. I was a hockey mom once, but we didn't call them that, just a mom. We raised kids and didn't "parent." Different world.

Tuesday, I begin a class on Food Writing at Brown University in Providence. And so it goes.

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Wild Atlantic Salmon

O.K., I'm a salmon snob, which is to say I like the wild salmon, not the farm raised mushy, strong/strange tasting fish.

Today at Roche Brothers in Wellesley, there was a fantastic looking piece of wild salmon. Kids, they don't give it away, and after I told the guy behind the fish counter to wrap it up, I damn near fainted when I looked at the price tag. Yikes!

The first thought had been to smoke it, but then it would taste like smoked salmon, good, to be sure, but it seemed too fine a fish to just smoke.

In mid-afternoon, I went thru my recipes, and nothing appealed. It was also raining buckets. I googled around and found Epicurious recipe for lime-grilled salmon with lime butter sauce. Shoot, we had limes and butter and salmon. I even had my few fancy plane grater like they use on the food channel.

Got busy again. Pretty soon it seemed like a good idea to start dinner. Ooops! Why is it so dark? Because the sun had set. I hustled about fixing the rice and broocoli and grating the lime rind with my new grater, careful not to mix in any bits of knuckle. No need for extra protein tonight.

The lime butter sauce went together quickly. Pitch dark now, raining dripping from the leaves, Significant Other's back out most mysteriously, and the fire just about ready. Put lantern out by grill. Puny insufficient light.

Take flashlight, timer, and fish to deck. S.O. puts fish on the grill. Timing to the minute. Turn fish. More timing. Fire kind of wimpy, fish not done. Or is it? Take flashlight to grill and inspect. Yes! Perfect. Carry fish gingerly into house, careful not to fall up stairs, or do anything really stupid like drop fish.

Cover with foil, bring food to the table. Sprinkle lime zest and lime butter sauce on fish. Looking truly succulent.

We eat!

Yowza, this is one for the books, but in a good way. Enough left for tomorrow. Sauce is dynamite. Salmon is moist and tastes like it should.

Bring in lantern, timer, tongs, spatlula, and whatever else was left in the dark. Remind self to get an earlier start now that the days grow short.

Feel virtuous for having a good well-balanced meal. No dessert tonight.

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/GRILLED-SALMON-WITH-LIME-BUTTER-SAUCE-1222181

Grapeshot

The View at the End of the Road

The cat, the minivan, the plum tart, the compote, the view of Gerlach from the dump. It is said when the storms come, the coyotes sneak into town. Brrrrr!

The Poetry of Sarah Palin

O.K. folks, pour a glass of wine and dig in. Don't let not being a literati type stop you for one minute. These poems are in the true vernacular.

http://www.slate.com/id/2201342

From The End of the Road to the Boston Post Road

When I left Gerlach yesterday morning, I drove for 20 minutes before passing a single vehicle. Kind of scary. No coyotes or antelope either, but driving by Pyramid Lake, I saw the most amazing flock of pelicans swirling in the sky. The way the sun glinted off their wings, they looked like silver.

What I ate yesterday: 2 pcs. banana chocolate chip cake.
1 granola bar
3 chicken fingers with barbecue sauce
1 small bag peanuts
1 package cheese crackers
2 glasses orange juice
1 glass cranberry juice
4 glasses water

Hey, is this a diet or what? Yech.

En route I made a tactical mistake and carried a not-too-large duffle bag without wheels. Way too heavy. Decided to check it on the way home, but since I had ditched 4 books and 2 chocolate bars and other assorted stuff, it seemed lighter. Well, it seemed lighter until the flight from Reno was at the far end of the terminal. I knew I had a hell of a hike in Last Vegas from one terminal to another. Bad decision.

And yet, there was some meatball shuttle from terminal B to C which did not drive as the crow flies and I guess we never "technicallY' left the secured area, so that worked out all right and then the plane landed in Providence at the fartherest gate, but I sucked it up and thought, "let's burn a few calories," not that I had actually ingested that many.

So, I was awfully glad not to have to wait for luggage. Sat next to a nice old couple who liked McCain but not Caribou Barbie. I said a few good words for Obama, but they weren't buying it. Oh well.

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