Ready, Fire, Aim, Apologize

That's all, folks.

2011-12-14T14:49:00.001-05:00

I've been running this blog for a good seven years now, and it's been fun. I've decided it's time to shut it down and start something new. Ta!

UPDATE: You can now find me at Quart of Soup and a Pudding Pop.

Christmas Is Interesting

2011-12-05T11:56:00.000-05:00

Lyrics by Jonathan Coulton.

You have put on your feety pajamas
It's time for a long winter's nap
There's a knock on the door and a stranger is there
He wants you to sit on his lap
He takes your watch and he gives you a hairbrush
Your wife gets a wig on a chain
He says he can't stay
'Cause he's got a long way to go
And it's starting to rain

Christmas is interesting
Like a knife in your heart
Christmas is interesting
How it tears you apart
Christmas is interesting
Like a stick in your eye
It's so freaking interesting
That it might make you cry

So you're an elf, but you'd rather be a dentist
Maybe you're a train with square wheels
Maybe you're a squirt gun that only shoots jam
Now you know how Jesus feels
He is riding a sleigh he calls Rosebud
His mansion is lonely and cold
He can't remember a pleasant December
When he wasn't tired and old

Christmas is interesting
Like a knife in your heart
Christmas is interesting
How it tears you apart
Christmas is interesting
Like a stick in your eye
It's so freaking interesting
That it might make you cry

So you're drunk and your name is Jimmy Stewart
You once had a wonderful life
Then you lost all your money, you cracked up your car
You yelled at your favorite wife
You go to bed and you wait for Jacob Marley
He comes to make you feel brave
But under his cloak he is nothing but smoke
And a finger that points at your grave

Christmas is interesting
Like a knife in your heart
Christmas is interesting
How it tears you apart
Christmas is interesting
Like a stick in your eye
It's so freaking interesting
That it might make you cry

Since when does "ephemera" mean "the machine that makes the paper"?

2011-12-01T10:12:00.003-05:00

While I don't personally own any large appliances (I have them and use them, but I didn't buy them and they're not in my name), I have been exposed to their premature failure. Therefore, this little story about "Krappetown" rings a little too true for comfort. My godmother is a great believer is extended warranties and service contracts, and it serves her well. For example, she bought a new washing machine (fairly) recently, and she's had to have it repaired probably four or five times already. Last visit, the repairman said her old dryer would probably outlast the new washer. Thing's a plastic piece of junk. She's had similar issues with her fridge refusing to chill properly. And a couple weeks ago, the furnace in my side (the apartment side) of the house conked out -- the pilot light/element/whatever wouldn't stay lit/glowing/whatever, and I had no heat. (No big deal, comfort-wise; this was before it got really cold, and the apartment is crazy insulated.) The furnace is only a few years old, but the circuit board was already bad. Would have cost some $450 without the service contract. So service contracts, I have learned, are pretty awesome; but I'm of the opinion that they shouldn't be needed in the first place. At least, not in at least the first five years of an appliance's life.

The column linked above also talks about computers. Now there, I've been lucky. I had a Gateway desktop when I started college, and when I upgraded to a laptop after three years I picked up a Toshiba. Worth mentioning is that my parents took the desktop to replace their old clunker of a PC, and as far as I know it kept ticking for another four years or so. Lappy 1 lasted about four years before bluescreening, and Lappy 2 has ticked along nicely for right about three years now. It shows no signs of slowing down except for the Internet cable jack, which was my fault. (Did you know a USB plug almost fits exactly in there? And that it's not too hard to force in if you're not paying attention? And that once that happens, a cat-5 cable will never sit snugly in there again, leading to jiggling and cursing and shouts of "Come on, stay connected already! I wanna see the funny cat!"? Yeah. Come to think of it, I should probably get that fixed.)

Anyway, all of that to say: I'm not one of those hardcore "Buy American, or buy nothing" types; I just want a good product at a reasonable price. Unfortunately, that's getting harder and harder to find, from U.S. or any manufacturers. The same repairman who commented about the old dryer outlasting the new washer also said that if the washer had been made with quality metal parts (like, say, 40 years ago), it would last, sure, but it would also cost twice as much in the store. A $400 appliance would run you $800 at least. I really don't know where to assign the blame for that. Fiat currency, the cost of fuel, greedy executives, consultants, planetary alignment -- it's all such a mish-mash of factors that I kinda gave up on making sense out of it. Maybe when I get my own place I'll go retro for appliances, outfitting my kitchen and laundry room in avacado or powder blue sheet metal that's older than I am instead of brand new brushed steel. (Which would be awesome for lots of reasons besides reliability. And for the record, my current stove is avocado, and it is indeed awesome.) I think it's part of why kids these days (heh) are so into manual typewriters and record players and big retro bicycles and things like that -- they're solid, and they don't feel like they'll crap out after three years so you have to get the latest model. On the other hand, they've all got iPhones. *sigh*

If you need me, I'll be on Craigslist, window shopping.

I get worked up just thinking about it.

2011-11-30T08:51:00.000-05:00

So all day yesterday, I sat in my window-view cube and watched the rain change over to snow. It was pretty and it wasn't sticky, so I wasn't too worried about my drive home. And I was right! The roads were wet but not that slick, there was precisely 0" accumulation and nothing was frozen. I thought to myself, "Sweet! Take it easy, go maybe 5 under, and watch my braking, and I should be home in no time. Easy peasy, livin' greasy."

And then I got stuck behind a little brown sedan with an Amway sticker, driven by Stan McNormalguy.

I came up behind him at a red light, and when it turned green, hand to God it took at least fifteen seconds for him to reach 25 mph. Which, it turned out, was his optimal (read: OHGODOHGODOHGODI'MGOINGTOSPINOUTANDDIE) cruising speed. This was on 86th Street. I have never in my life wanted so badly to ram someone off the road. I turned off first chance I got and didn't look back, not so much for my sake as for his. I was seriously flirting with full-on road rage (I'm not proud of that -- I'm normally a pretty mellow driver). In retrospect, I should have checked his license plate -- if it said "Alabama" or some such, that would have pretty well squared everything. But still: 25 in a 40, when the snow's not even sticking? Gimme a break. I hope the rest of the winter isn't like this.

Oh, criminy.

2011-11-28T15:11:00.001-05:00

There's snow in the rain outside. It's officially past Thanksgiving.

Some thoughts after Thanksgiving

2011-11-28T11:18:00.000-05:00

-- Want a delicious turkey with a brown and crackly-crispy turkey skin? Thaw (if applicable). Wash and pat dry, inside and out. Rub cavity generously with kosher salt. Butter the outside of that sucker to within an inch of its life, then butter it some more. I recommend using a brush, but if you can handle the melted butter without discomfort, use your hands. Preheat oven to 350F, then reduce to 325F as soon as the bird goes in. Time at 15 minutes per pound (12 pounds = 3 hours). Test with thermometer to avoid emergency room unpleasantness. Is delicious.

-- For leftovers, it's hard to beat the following: Soft white bread; sliced turkey breast; mayonnaise (really paint it on there, too); Clausen pickle halves, cut into quarter-inch half-moons. Combine into sandwich and consume. It's amazing.

-- For excellent pumpkin pie, use: 1 can filling + 1 can condensed milk + 3/4 c. brown sugar + 1/2 t. cinnamon, 1/4 t. ginger, 1/4 t. nutmeg, 1/8 t. cloves. Pour into pie shell and bake in preheated 400F oven for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 375F and bake for 35 minutes. It's the brown sugar (instead of white) that really makes the difference.

-- Home is where the heart is, and family is where you feel at home. It sounds really corny, but this year I discovered that it's really true.

-- They're showing commercials for the Tintin movie, and I am so darn excited it's not even funny. And it doesn't come out for like three more weeks! Argh! #firstworldproblems

-- One part Trader Joe's Wintry Blend coffee + two parts World Market-brand decaf = my stash may just last me 'til summer this year, and I won't get the jitters. (Yeah, I'm drinking coffee again. It's soothing. But I'm stricly half-caf.)

-- Now that my household is all organized and clean and running smoothly, I understand like never before the saying that cleanliness is next to godliness. An ordered environment is the sign of an ordered soul. (Messy desks and genius are in a different category.)

-- I have never been so thankful for my situation as I am right now. I'm almost reluctant to let myself feel it because I'm afraid, at a visceral level, that something will come out of left field and ruin everything. I take this as a moment to practice my reliance on God. And for that, I am doubly thankful.

-- Leftover dressing with giblet gravy is the bomb.

Jingle LOLs

2011-11-25T23:23:00.002-05:00

Look at me, bein' all literary an' stuff.

2011-11-23T09:14:00.000-05:00

After discussing the matter with a coworker, I have come to the conclusion that Stephen Moffat is the anti-George R.R. Martin. The former sets up a beloved character's death and spends the whole season building up to his escaping said demise. Cue cheers and happy tears from the viewer. The latter does exactly the opposite. Cue anger and book-shaped dents in the drywall. Valar morghulis, indeed.

(A note for any commenters: I'm only just finishing A Storm of Swords, so keep your spoilery spoilers to yourself. XOXO kthxbai.)

Fa la la la la. La la. La. La.

2011-11-21T15:19:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling very festive.

A few days ago I rearranged my pantry cabinets, getting rid of expired stuff and reorganizing everything into better order. It freed up some space and gave me a concrete idea of what I do and don't have on hand, what I need to stock up on and what I really don't need more of, and some things that I don't need at all.

Saturday and Sunday, I did the same thing to the rest of my apartment. I'm actually rather proud of the accomplishment. I worked through half my bathroom storage before I even ate breakfast on Saturday, for Pete's sake. (And I promised myself I would take it easy over the weekend. Right.) My kitchen is now much more tidy; I cleared out a bunch of stuff in storage (goodbye, shoes I don't wear anymore and will never wear again!); I even unpacked my books and knickknacks and set up the shelves in the living room/bedroom/office/vestibule. (It's a very small apartment.) I'm finishing up the last little bit tonight while I cook green bean casserole for the pitch-in at work tomorrow, and at some point I'll load up the car and head to Goodwill and Half Price Books. Probably tomorrow. Heck, I cleaned out so much stuff I'm even donating a chest of drawers I don't need any more. Cleaning: It's good for the soul!

Anyway: I said I was feeling festive, and I am. Decorations go up tomorrow and Wednesday, to be finalized and lit Thursday night, and I've got two pitch-ins at work and Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday, and the day off work on Friday to laze around and ~~eat myself stupid on leftovers~~ bask in the joyous glow of the season. Plus, I feel like I'm finally taking control of my life this season, instead of just reacting to everything and passively waiting for things to get better. I'm happy with myself and where I am, and I'm confident in where I seem to be going. That, more than anything, is why I'm feeling festive.

Squeeeeeee! dies

2011-11-21T13:23:00.001-05:00

And is promptly strapped to a board, jolted by captured lightning and revived by a mad, yet handsome and oddly intriguing, scientist. Why, you ask? Three words:

Lego.

Steampunk.

Typewriter.

SqueeeeeEEEeeEEEEeeeeEEEEEEEE! *dies again*

It's funny 'cause it's true.

2011-11-21T08:47:00.000-05:00

Got this in my e-mail over the weekend. (If you know who wrote it, let me know in the comments.)

Adam said, "Lord, when I was in the garden, you walked with me every day. Now I do not see you anymore. I am lonesome here and it is difficult for me to remember how much you love me." And God said, "No problem! I will create a companion for you that will be with you forever and who will be a reflection of my love for you, so that you will love me even when you cannot see me. Regardless of how selfish or childish or unlovable you may be, this new companion will accept you as you are and will love you as I do, in spite of yourself."

And God created a new animal to be a companion for Adam. And it was a good animal. And God was pleased. And the new animal was pleased to be with Adam and he wagged his tail. And Adam said, "Lord, I have already named all the animals in the Kingdom and I cannot think of a name for this new animal." And God said, "No problem! Because I have created this new animal to be a reflection of my love for you, his name will be a reflection of my own name, and you will call him DOG." And Dog lived with Adam and was a companion to him and loved him. And Adam was comforted. And God was pleased. And Dog was content and wagged his tail.

After a while, it came to pass that Adam's guardian angel came to the Lord and said, "Lord, Adam has become filled with pride. He struts and preens like a peacock and he believes he is worthy of adoration. Dog has indeed taught him that he is loved, but perhaps too well."

And the Lord said, "No problem! I will create for him a companion who will be with him forever and who will see him as he is. The companion will remind him of his limitations, so he will know that he is not always worthy of adoration."

And God created CAT to be a companion to Adam. And Cat would not obey Adam. And when Adam gazed into Cat's eyes, he was reminded that he was not the supreme being. And Adam learned humility.

And God was pleased.
And Adam was greatly improved.
And Dog was happy.
And the cat didn't give a damn one way or the other.

Taking stock

2011-11-17T12:23:00.001-05:00

Got on a tear last night and cleaned out my "pantry" (really just some cabinets), checking expiration dates and rearranging everything. I think it started because I was looking for rosemary? Or maybe cinnamon. Either way I decided to rearrange my herbs and spices, and it spiraled from there. Lesson learned: I have too much dry pasta and nowhere near enough canned vegetables, and enough instant miso soup to keep me in slurpy tofu-studded heaven for a year. (Don't judge me; I got the packets from someone who didn't want them and unloaded on me when I asked where she got them.) I also found a couple cans close enough to expiration that they're dictating my dinner for the next couple nights, but that's okay. I like tomato soup.

I am also almost completely out of white sugar, which I never would have allowed to happen if my cabinets were organized better. But now they are! And now I have room for more supply redundancy, namely of flour and the aforementioned sugar. The downside is that there's currently no place for potatoes, but my godmother keeps hers in a fridge in the garage so I guess that'll work for me too. Onions are currently stored in their net bag on top of the canister of yellow split peas.

I wasn't kidding about the vegetables, though. I had two cans of peas and one of green beans and that was it, which means I would die of scurvy long before starvation got me. This will be rectified over the coming weeks. I like vegetables; I just forget to eat them. Raw carrots and celery would be easy, but they still provoke a visceral reaction because that and bean soup was all I ate for lunch for like six months while I straightened out my finances a couple years ago.

I do not want to go back to that, ever.

Next up is the rest of my kitchen, where I go through and organize all the little-used cubbies and corners. Then the bathroom closet and cabinet; then the living rooms shelves and credenza; then the storage space in the spare room. A few more evenings should do it, and some this weekend. It'll be fun. I enjoy that kind of work. It helps that my godmother is an organizing goddess; she's taught me a lot over the past two years, and she pushes me to achieve instead of just whining about the state of things and watching more TV. (Not that I always do, but generally speaking it's effective.)

And on a more serious note, the current organizing drive is partly driven the nagging sense that I should get squared away now because Winter Is Coming*. And I don't really mean the seasonal change, either. Organization: Helping to batten down hatches since before hatches were a thing.

* To paraphrase someone I saw on TV Tropes, George R.R. Martin is one of the best authors I've ever read, and I hate his guts. If you've read the books, you'll know exactly what I mean.

Ephemera

2011-11-15T16:58:00.001-05:00

I'm sure the readers in my audience will understand the following scenario: You read a book series when you're young (I was 7, maybe 8), forgettable at the time, that makes a great impression on you. It's your first real exposure to a particular genre (in this case, real science fiction, not just kids-build-a-rocket-in-the-backyard stuff). However, you don't understand that impression until you're much older, at which point you've forgotten most of the books, save for a few half-formed impressions. You didn't really understand it at the time. Even worse, you didn't finish the series because your source of the books (a Sunday school class) ceased to be a part of your life, and you can't find the books anywhere. (They weren't exactly mass-market best-sellers.) And then one day you idly Google the series, expecting nothing, same as always happens.

And you find them.

All four books are on Amazon crazy cheap (see above comment about mass-marketability). The only reason I didn't buy them on the spot is that I'm afraid of spoiling a pleasant childhood memory. (That and the shipping.) *le sigh* If I group them in with some Christmas shopping, I could get free shipping, so there's that.

What would you do?

I chortled in my joy, even.

2011-11-15T09:00:00.000-05:00

In an update to the "find a pair of boots that fit my feet and my legs" saga, I am happy to report ... success! I walked into a Marshall's on a hunch, and there -- there, as under an angelic spotlight, with lo the heavenly choir singing, was a pair of over-the-ankle boots with a sturdy tread, a side-zip closure and functional laces. Frabjous day, they were in my size. Calloo callay, they were half off the MSRP. I bought them immediately, and I am wearing them now to break them in -- I don't even really need my braces, although they will fit inside if I rejigger the laces first. I am really, really pleased by this. I love my Converse tennies, but they're not exactly suited for foul-weather walking. These, however, will be fabulous. Glee!

The song's in your head now. You're welcome.

2011-11-10T13:23:00.001-05:00

"On the seventh day of Christmas, mee-mee-mee-mee-mee-meeee ... " Good grief, but I do love the Muppets. The John Denver/Rolf the Dog cover of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" is lovely, and more poignant than most versions. And yes, I'm listening to Christmas music. Have been for months, actually -- Jars of Clay's "Christmas Songs" is has a permanent place on my mp3 player. I find it soothing. But I do reserve the Muppets and the Charlie Brown soundtrack for November. The tree goes up next weekend, but I don't turn on the lights until Thanksgiving night. That's right -- I'm actually going to decorate this year! My cat's going to have a ball with all the sparkly things. Woot!

"You make $700,000 a year! What did you spend it on?" "Shoes."

2011-11-03T16:40:00.001-04:00

Bought some adorable boots with my birthday money (thanks Grandma & Grandpa!), but when I went to break them in they didn't fit right. I have small feet and round calves, so if they fit my leg they don't fit my foot, and vice versa. One "I'd like to return these" later, I'm debating whether to buy boots online, from a company that I know fits my feet, or to drive all over hoping to find something similar that I won't have to pay shipping (and that I can try on in the store).

Although now that I spell it out that way, I think I'm going to bite the bullet and go the online route. It's Converse, and I know they'll fit. (And the shipping's free if you spend more than $75, which I will.)

ugh blargh i wish my feet would just be normal.

Cats are scale-independent.

2011-11-02T16:25:00.001-04:00

Yep, looks about right.

Something to tide you over 'til the weekend

2011-11-02T14:49:00.000-04:00

For your reading pleasure, I present the funniest thing I've seen all week. Be sure to read all the way to the end. You won't miss too much if you skim through the juvenile text speak, but it does lessen the impact at the end.

Maybe a portmanteau of "sack lunch" and "regret", although I don't see how that could possibly be pronounced

2011-11-01T12:01:00.000-04:00

There should be a word for when you pack a lunch, and it's a perfectly serviceable lunch, but then about half an hour before you eat it you catch a whiff of someone else's lunch and it gets all your juices flowing for whatever it was they brought, and you don't have an appetite for your own lunch anymore. English: It's totally inadequate!

Le sigh.

2011-10-31T10:04:00.002-04:00

This weekend (Friday night through this morning) I learned several things:

-- Sometimes, no matter how badly you want something, and no matter how hard you try, the stars just aren't aligned right for that thing to happen. Unfortunately, that thing was NaNoWriMo. Funny part is, I had a hunch it wouldn't work out allllll they way back in September, during the car breaking/I-did-not-receive-my-paycheck debacle, but I ignored said hunch and proceeded apace. I didn't officially quit until late last night. At least this frees up my schedule for the next month.

-- The quickest way to gin up interest in an event is to announce that it's canceled due to lack of interest. You'll get "aw, I was gonna go to that! I didn't know we had to RSVP!" messages on the RSVP thread. You know, the one with "[Event name] RSVP Thread!" in big letters at the top. The one that didn't receive a single reply until you updated it to announce the event was canceled. Yeah. I'm not bitter. /blatant lies

-- On the upside, the doc says my ankle is doing great, I don't need physical therapy, and I can get on a bike again as soon as I want. So now all I have to do is buy a bike. Mmmmmm, bike shopping. Can't wait.

My "Twilight" review.

2011-10-31T10:02:00.001-04:00

"Twilight" is the creepiest dang movie I have ever seen. (It was on TV on Friday, and I was curious. And now I need a chemical shower.) The weird part is, the potential was there for a halfway decent story; vampire romance is has a pretty solid pedigree, and the action scenes and secondary characters weren't half bad. They weren't half good, either; it could have been one of those movies that you come across while channel surfing on a weekend and decide to watch because it's like popcorn for your brain, and it's goofy and fun, and it's either that or a documentary about paper mills.

It could have been one of those movies. But it isn't, and that's because the relationship between the two main characters is so incredibly creepy and dysfunctional and stalkeriffic that it gives me the willies just thinking about it. The Oatmeal already did an pretty thorough breakdown of the relationship's fundamental flaws, but seeing it for myself? GAH. We're talking "girl with no self-esteem" + "obsessed, mood-swingy, ooh-he's-a-dangerous-bad-boy, sneaks into her room and watches her sleep, his-approval-is-all-I-need" + serious predator-style grooming = ewwwwwwwwww yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck (with that frantic "ew I touched it!" hand-shaking motion). (There's even a scene where she figures out he's a vampire and he goes on and on about how he's "a perfect predator". Seriously.) I kept expecting Chris Hansen to step out from behind a tree and ask Edward to "take a seat over there." It was that bad. It honestly worries me that so many girls (and grown-ass women) are so enthralled by the series. Edward isn't romantic. He's a creeper.

Anyway. Final verdict: Had the main characters been more emotionally healthy and mature, and had their relationship been less friggin' insane, Twilight would have gone down in film history as just another vampire movie with attractive teenagers, doomed to afternoon reruns on basic cable for all eternity. Unfortunately, Stephanie Meyer is either insane or an evil genius or both, so we get this horrible schlock instead.

Yuck.

I Am Not A Fast Cook: Thin'n'Crispy Pizza!

2011-10-24T12:13:00.000-04:00

I usually make pan pizza with my cast-iron skillets, but lately I adapted Alton Brown's thin'n'crispy pizza recipe, and it is delicious. You can find Brown's recipe with a quick Google search; my take on it is below. It's a LOT of time and work, but I think it's worth it.

Begin by dissolving 1/2 T. active dry yeast and 1 T. sugar in 3/4 c. warm water. Stir until it smells yeasty and delicious, then add, in this order, 1 T. olive oil, 1 cup bread machine (high protein) flour (scooped and scraped level), 1/2 t. kosher salt, and another cup of flour. Stir vigorously to combine. Now, here's where it gets fun: If you have a stand mixer, lube up the hook attachment with olive oil and run on medium for about 15 minutes. If you don't have a stand mixer and you're kneading by hand, expect to spend at least 30 minutes. If you're using all-purpose flour, you may need as much as an hour's work to achieve the right consistency -- when pulled, the dough should stretch over your fingers before it breaks. Form the dough into a ball with a smooth outer surface, place in a bowl, cover lightly but completely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 18 to 24 hours.

You heard me.

When ready to assemble your pizza, begin by taking the risen dough from the fridge, kneading a few times to work out the big bubbles and dividing into appropriate portions (2 c. flour = 2 12" pizzas). Reshape portions into smooth balls and let rest for 30 minutes. During this time, set oven to 500F. After 30 minutes, stretch the dough into the size you want (be gentle, but firm) and arrange on a sheet pan sprinkled with cornmeal or farina cereal. Top pizza to taste; I like Trader Joe's pizza sauce, equal parts mozzarella and Italian cheese blend, and Hormel turkey pepperoni. Once assembled, bake in preheated oven for seven minutes or until outer crust starts to brown. Rest three minutes before cutting and chow down. Enjoy!

Kittehs!

2011-10-21T12:30:00.000-04:00

Can't live with 'em; ~~can't~~ it's frowned upon to hunt 'em for sport. Bobbi is owned by two cats, Rannie and Huck, and today she posted Huck's rules for existing: "Everything is here to be bitten; if it fights back, bite it more; Those things moving in the yard are fascinating; I must do more biting! Immediately!" And, of course, "It should be dinner time." My kitty seems to follow the same rulebook, although she doesn't go after me when I'm sorting laundry, but rather when I'm changing the sheets on the bed. She has her own rules, as well, namely "#14: 'In the morning while Mommy's getting ready and has to be out the door in 20 minutes' is the best time to demand petting and affection. 'In the evening when Mommy sits down and has nothing else to do' is the worst." That, in turn, led to Mr. Brindle posting this.

I should really put up some cat pictures at some point. Objectively speaking, Cecily is quite a pretty cat, and sweet. Bitey, but sweet.

I Am Not A Fast Cook: Quick Tuna Salad on Toast

2011-10-13T13:27:00.002-04:00

Lo, the recipes! They return! Although they probably won't return for long because NaNoWriMo starts up in a few weeks and then pretty much everything but instant oatmeal and Starbucks goes out the window.

To begin: Take two thick-cut pieces of bread (your choice) and stick them in the toaster, cachunk. While they turn golden brown and delicious, combine in a bowl: 1 can tuna in water (drained); one spoonful mayonnaise; one spoonful capers (with juice); one tablespoon chopped onion (if available; do not use onion flakes without rehydrating them first); three or four shakes of garlic powder; and Tabasco sauce to taste. Stir with a fork until combined, breaking up any large chunks. Set aside. Next, use a vegetable peeler to make cheddar cheese shavings, enough to cover the toast one layer deep. When the toast pops, immediately cover one side of each piece with the cheese and allow it to soften, then top with the tuna. Eat immediately. Enjoy!

(And I know the recipe says "quick", but if you want really awesome results, mix up the tuna ahead of time and let sit for at least several hours. Overnight is best. Makes a great sack lunch if you've got access to a toaster when the time comes.)

Heh.

2011-10-13T11:34:00.001-04:00

I changed my profile picture and now I can't find my comments on other people's blogs. Funny, that.

Tonight at eleven ... DOOOOOM!

2011-10-10T14:01:00.002-04:00

I haven't been blogging much because things have been really up-and-down for me lately. For instance, I'm 99% sure I have full-blown fibromyalgia. It would make sense; I have all the symptoms. I'm also 99% sure that I have overt schizoid personality disorder. It would make sense; I have all the symptoms. (Note: It has nothing to do with schizophrenia; the similar names stem from similar symptoms, not similar causes. So I've got that going for me.)

I prefer to think of the mental and emotional issues in non-clinical terms; 100 years ago, I would have been labeled eccentric and a recluse, and I'm okay with that. Just putting a finger on something that's been niggling at me for most of my life is enough to help me get a handle on it. Anyway, between dealing with that and the other thing (chronic pain and stiffness is just so much damn fun), not to mention all the fun a few weeks ago, blogging has been light. I would normally apologize, except I'm not sure anymore why I do this so I won't.

Also I'm working with someone whose company I realized I really don't enjoy, but that's not really grounds to quit what I'm doing, so I'll just put up with it. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it.

I did change my hours at work (same eight hours, just arranged differently) so that'll be a nice change. Turns out I have to do that at least once a year or I get too far into a rut. It's a living.

Like banging my head on a brick wall.

2011-09-30T16:18:00.001-04:00

I'm a big fan of the show "Fringe". I've seen every episode but one (and that by choice; it was too scary, and that's saying a lot) at least once. After every episode, I get online to find out what the glyph code said and where the Observer was, and what the hints for the next episodes might mean. I also enjoy the complicated nature of the plot -- there are two universes, which means two versions of nearly every character and all kinds of back-and-forth. They also added a time-travel element at the end of last season, and literally erased a main character from the story. (He's pretty obviously coming back, though.) In other words, to really enjoy the show, you have to be quick on the uptake and you have to really pay attention while you watch.

And yet I've seen multiple cases of people complaining that they didn't know what was going on. In itself, that's not so bad -- if you came in halfway through last season, for instance, it would be incredibly confusing. But this isn't the same thing. One woman didn't realize the difference between "Lincoln Lee wears glasses now?" and "Oh, that's Lincoln Lee from this universe". Another seemed to have turned off the last season's finale after about 30 minutes, and wanted to know why Peter wasn't there -- he/she seemed to think Joshua Jackson had left the show, and he/she demanded the showrunners get him back pronto.

I bring this up because these people claim to be faithful watchers with viewing habits that match mine, and yet it's painfully obvious that they're completely at sea. I don't get it. Either they're lying (in which case, why not just say you came in late?) or they're actually, you know, dumb as a bag of hammers when it comes to following the show (in which case, why are they watching "Fringe"?). (And I don't mean they're necessarily objectively stupid, I mean they're just out of their element for whatever reason. It happens.) It's a puzzler, all right.

(Don't even get me started on the "I know I only half-watched the show while I did something else, but [plot hole] really bugged the heck out of me!" There was no plot hole. You just suck at watching TV. Argh argh argh argh argh.

Note to self:

2011-09-30T13:07:00.000-04:00

If lunch will be at least an hour late due to a doctor's appointment, and all you have to tide you over are some (admittedly very tasty) crackers and a cup of tea, then FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, don't make said tea in the breakroom when everyone else is on break and heating up their lunches! It smells like lasagna and ham-n-bean soup in there, and it will make you hungry and sad.

On the upside, the doctor's appointment is to pick up a brace that I can wear inside my shoe, so I won't have to clunk around in the boot cast after this afternoon. And I get an excuse to visit Chick-fil-A, which I haven't done in a while. I'm going to get their chicken soup and a side salad. Good and good for you, and it leaves room in my day for dessert tonight. Yum!

Some miscellany to hold you 'til Friday.

2011-09-29T17:38:00.002-04:00

-- It was cold all week but today was warm and then it rained and now it's cold again. Sometimes Indiana is an aggravating place to live.

-- I seem to have accidentally broken my addiction to coffee. I rushed off one morning without it, and I haven't really needed it since. Yay, I guess? It is one less thing to pick up at the grocery store ...

-- I got the notification: I am officially a NaNoWriMo Municipal Liason. Go me!

-- I used to get angry when people said stupid or ill-informed things, and then refused to listen to correction. Now I just get tired. So very, very tired.

-- Savage Chickens is awesome. I highly recommend you follow my example and read it every day.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled Thursday.

Rosh Hashanah

2011-09-29T12:21:00.000-04:00

The arrival of the new year is a time for reflection, for repentence, for renewal and for refreshment of the spirit. May you have all of these things and more in the coming days.

Hallelujah, finally.

2011-09-28T17:33:00.001-04:00

After countless rounds of phone tag, many nervous nights, daily trips to the empty mailbox, bank runs to deposit my spare change, unexpected help from people I've never met, and one epically productive conference call with me, a very nice lady at the insurance company and the receptionist at my doctor's office ...

... my insurance paperwork has FINALLY been completed, and I will receive my missing paycheck at the end of the next pay cycle.

Good grief, I hope I never have to go through that again. Thank you, Jesus. Really. Thank you.

Who's with me?!

2011-09-24T13:16:00.000-04:00

Real political change is not achieved with slogans.

You have to get the actual decision makers in a room

and then drop on them from above,

naked and screaming.

(Text from this comic. I laugh every time I see it, so I thought I'd share.)

That's it. That's the last straw.

2011-09-22T14:43:00.000-04:00

As soon as I can swing it, I

am moving

to Mars.

When did it become fashionable to be a full-on, not-even-paid-for-your-efforts whore?

This is why I make it a point to eat at Chik-fil-A

2011-09-22T09:50:00.001-04:00

A disturbing trend in modern society has been the equation of "tolerance" with "support". As in, it's not enough to live and let live, or to agree to disagree. The "intolerant" party has to actively come around to the "tolerated" party's position, even if doing so would betray his or her own personal beliefs. Sanctity of thought, it seems, is only for the protected class. To do otherwise is to be accused of "hate" (another highly misused word) and to risk attack from those being "hated". The gay rights movement is particularly bald-faced about this. For example, see the case of Stacy Trasancos.
Stacy wrote a blog post complaining about homosexual PDA in public areas, especially areas with lots of small children -- parks and public pools. (She has seven kids.) Now, had she complained about public displays of affection in general, or about girls wearing low-cut tops, or something like that, she would have been written off as a prude and likely forgotten. Instead, as noted in Stacy McCain's post (linked above), she was swamped with a tsunami of vitriol, threats and promises to rape her children.
And she's the one with the hate problem?
Note that she's not some frothing "ARGH teh GAYZ" crusader; she's not on a street corner with a sign that says "God hates British cigarettes." The second half of the offending post is an admitted rant where she laments the degredation of society in general. I don't agree with her on exactly every point (for example, I'm okay with the idea of IVF), but I will stand with her because of what she's experienced for expressing them.
When Christians were a new thing, still a novelty, those offended by them tried to wipe them out. They did so with prison, torture and execution. Unfortunately (for them) this had the opposite effect intended. Now -- now they've switched tactics. The modern-day Pharisees don't drag Christians off to jail; they condemn them for being intolerant and narrow-minded, and chastise them for wrongthink. It's a far, far more insidious and effective tactic. "Recant your beliefs, or be killed" is in today's world far less effecitve than "Recant your beliefs, or be branded and shunned." It's much easier to muster physical courage than mental.
So I stand with Stacy Trasanco. Not just because we're both Christians; not just because we share the same core beliefs. But because it's the right thing to do. I would bet money (if I had any) that although Stacy is opposed to the gay lifestyle, she is not opposed to gay people. The commenters seen on her blog, however, are quite obviously opposed not to her ideas, but to her. It's the difference between "I don't like tomatoes, so I won't buy them" and "I don't like tomatoes, so I'll firebomb the farmer's market." Jesus called on us to love our neighbors as ourselves, but love doesn't equal approval. The opposite is also true -- disapproval doesn't equal hate. Stacy, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
If you've read this far and you don't have a vein popping, here's a final word of encouragement:

So these men were brought before the king, nd Nebuchadnezzar said to them, “Is it true, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, that you do not serve my gods or worship the image of gold I have set up? Now when you hear the sound of the horn, flute, zither, lyre, harp, pipe and all kinds of music, if you are ready to fall down and worship the image I made, very good. But if you do not worship it, you will be thrown immediately into a blazing furnace. Then what god will be able to rescue you from my hand?”

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to him, “King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”

And I want to know the truth about myself even above that.

2011-09-20T17:43:00.001-04:00

From my comment at one of North's posts: I'd rather be alone and live in truth, than be in relationships based on lies.

Not that I prefer being alone, per se. Just that I'm willing to endure it if it means living in the truth instead of clamping my eyes shut against it.

Things I've learned since my 27th birthday.

2011-09-20T14:51:00.001-04:00

I turn 28 on Saturday. I'm not terribly shy about my age; given my family history (and barring incident) I've got a good five or six decades to go. But it's been a big year for me, so I thought I'd share.

-- Mutual desperation is not the same thing as love.

-- If you have to pee, and you have to sneeze, for God's sake do it in that order.

-- If you decide it's not working out, and you tell him so, and his response is to ask how you can change ... it's not ever going to work out.

-- Avoid saying things like "ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOTOAD" at work if you don't want a lot of weird looks. (Of course, if that's your thing, go for it.) (And if you don't get weird looks, I want to work where you work.)

-- Once is an accident. Two times is coincidence. Three times, ask to speak to a supervisor as soon as the call connects.

-- If you stop doing something you love because someone else makes you feel bad about it, do I really need to finish this sentence?

(You may have noticed a bit of theme here.

-- "Practical" and "awesome" don't have to exclude each other. However, if forced to choose, "practical" is usually the better choice.

-- Don't ever forget that you have friends. If nothing else, at least Mr. Rogers likes you just the way you are. That's a starting point.

-- There's a great deal to be said for leading a quiet life. For one thing, it makes background checks a lot easier.

-- "Twenty years nothing, and then it all piles up in one day!" isn't just a line from Looney Tunes. It's prophecy. Beware.

-- Percoset is a mean sumbitch.

-- Trader Joe's makes a mean fruit pop.

Feel free to drop your own observations in the comments. L'Chaim!

Blog Meme, ho! Sharp cutty stab edition.

2011-09-19T11:07:00.000-04:00

Og demands, "Show us your everyday carry knife!"

I currently carry one of these. It's cheap, it's durable and it cuts through things. I used to carry a spring-assisted dealy (that cost me at least twice as much) but it had a tendency to pop open in my pocket, and I eventually lost it. I also have a back-up knife in my purse that PA State Cop gave me when I showed up to a blogmeet knifeless (the spring-assisted dealy was MIA at the moment -- I found it later).

I also have a tiny Swiss Army knife (the kind with the 1.5" blade and a nail file, and maybe a toothpick) and one of these on my keyring.

I did not realize I carried that many blades. Cool.

Head + Desk

2011-09-15T21:31:00.003-04:00

Now my car's stalling at intersections, and the "check engine" light is on. AutoZone's code reader doohickey said "system too lean". It goes back to the shop first thing Friday morning.
It's been one of those weeks.

UPDATE: Somebody didn't mail something to do with my insurance while I was out for recovery, and therefore today's paycheck didn't come in*. My godmother is giving me a ride to the bank on my lunch break so I can deposit $19 in small bills and loose change, so I won't be overdrawn on Monday when two necessary expenses come due. I am, shall we say, stressed. I'm not asking for sympathy, just venting. A good part of this is me being a idiot with money instead of saving up like a good little saver, but -- and this is the big BUT -- some of it is in fact beyond my control. Namely, the timing. I was not expecting my car to break twice in one week, to the tune of more than a grand. Again, just venting.

UPDATE II: Bank run postponed 'til Monday. Thanks, North.

* This is where I would embed a video of Milton from Office Space if I could get my hands on one.

Not sure if trolling, or ... No, pretty sure just stupid.

2011-09-14T19:37:00.001-04:00

AttackWatch.com.

I honestly didn't think this sort of thing happened outside of history books, or fiction. (I mean, technically I knew -- my brain knew -- but my gut didn't.)

Here's the most mind-boggling thing about this site: Someone, somewhere, thought this was a good idea, and other people agreed with them. And these same people are major players in the re-election efforts of our current chief executive. And dollars to doughnuts, they don't see a darn thing wrong in what they're doing. Here's a screenshot for posterity:

And here's some appropriate music for the occasion!

How many debunked studies does it take to change a movement?

2011-09-14T09:56:00.001-04:00

Since Michelle Bachman has turned out to be a loon, and therefore this stuff is in the news, I thought I would cross-post this from my comment at Say Uncle: What bugs me the most is the anti-Gardasil crowd who get all worked up because their little girl will never be anything but chaste until marriage, and then be perfectly monogamous after that. Suppose she succeeds at that — what if she marries a guy who had a wild youth before he settled down? What if, God forbid, she gets raped? A girl’s likelihood of having sex is dependent on many factors, and whether she’s had a shot is one of the least of them. Get the damn vaccine!

(Side note: In the 1800s, England had several deadly smallpox outbreaks. Ireland and Scotland had practically none. This is because the former had anti-vax agitators, and the latter two didn't. Some things never change.)

I'd be jumping for joy if I could jump.

2011-09-13T22:04:00.000-04:00

Only 48 days until NaNoWriMo! Woohoo! You know you wanna do it this year. Come on, you know you do.

(Bobbi, Tam, I'm looking at you ... )

Whaddya mean, 'It's only Tuesday'?

2011-09-13T22:02:00.000-04:00

Yesterday (Monday) was my first day back at work. I mounted the curb pulling into my parking space, and flattened my front passenger tire. I went down on my lunch break to put on the spare, and some nice businessmen helped me, except the dang thing (the wheel with the flat) was rusted on and wouldn't budge. Fix-a-flat was a no go, too -- this was a full blowout. So I called the roadside assistance* hotline provided by my insurance company, scheduled a tow, found out that the place I wanted to send my car would be closed, called my godmother, got the lowdown from her on where I should have sent my car, redialed RA, took two tries to get through, got things rejiggered on that end, got my car towed, got a ride home (again, from my godmother), and got the news that I wasn't getting one new tire, I was getting four, whether I liked it or not. (It was either that, or slide off the road and die the first time the roads ice up.) (And it wasn't an upsell based on gender, either -- my godmother is a regular at the tire place and knows the owner.) They also fixed the alignment and changed the oil. So today I have my car back, in better condition than it's been in a long time, and the payment arrangements, while expensive, are not impossible. The main lesson I took from the episode is that I'm not anything close to self-sufficient (in the no-man-is-an-island sense**), and also that I need to seriously start building a slush fund. The bright spot in all of Monday's madness (besides the obvious, my godmother's beyond-the-call-of-duty aid and comfort): There were two double-stuff Oreos in my Lunchable***. I was only expecting one.

The other fun thing that happened this week (it's only Tuesday and it feels like a full week already): We had a town hall meeting with our CEO, live and in-person, and for two hours he told us that the company is in deep, deep, deep financial doo-doo, but that our current business strategy is good, and we're going to stick with it! I was not impressed, mostly because "Do it again, harder!" and "Don't force it, let me get a hammer" have already been done to death by our current national leadership. At least there was fresh coffee and some really tasty pastries. Again, the bright spot of my day revolved around the surprise of an early dessert. I'm not scared for my job or anything like that; there's absolutely no talk of layoffs (yet, anyway), and the only folks getting fired are the boss' boss' boss-level people who screwed up. But it's still not fun to hear that one's place of employment has Stage III cancer, and that this new treatment should stop the spread, but there's probably another massive tumor in there and we'll know more when we get the MRI results back in Q3. At this point, I make the conscious choice not to worry, and to focus on my day-to-day living, which is quite enough stress for one person, thankyouverymuch.

Another, more subtle bright spot: My doc has cleared me to start bearing weight on my ankle, so over the next two weeks I will wean myself off the crutches. At the end of the month, I get to wear a brace inside my shoe, just like my right foot, so both sides will finally match and I'll be able to get around like a normal person again. I won't be running any marathons any time soon, but hopefully by this time next year I'll be bike-ready. I hope I don't get too fat and flabby before then. I am crazy out of shape right now.

Three more days, and then it's Saturday. Im'a go take a bubble bath and go to bed.

* They used the theme from "Requiem For A Dream" for their hold music. Can you imagine some little old lady, stuck at the side of the road at night with a smoking engine, carefully dialing her Jitterbug with one arthritic index finger, trying to stay calm ... and having this play in her ear while she's waiting for the next available representative? Get the nitroglycerin!

** At least I can tie my own shoes.

*** Yes, I eat Lunchables. Lunchables are cool.

It's been 10 years. What have we been doing?

2011-09-11T19:23:00.000-04:00

What Tam said.

One thing I will say: The class of 2002 was the first wave of the Millennials, the first generation where the idea that something like this could happen was a part of our adult life from day one. We had to rethink what we thought we knew, but it was a rethinking of rote lessons, not actual life experience. The rethinking was the experience. So far, I haven't been impressed with how we've handled it. [Like the powers that be have done a better job? -- ed.] People have made comparisons to Pearl Harbor from the beginning, but I realized in the last couple days that it doesn't hold up. Pearl was an attack on a military, by another military, in the middle of an ongoing war. The problem was clear-cut, and so was the solution. We took our military and beat up their military until they cried uncle. But this? This was an attack on civilians, by civilians, in the middle of a war of ideas. They're not the same thing at all.

So mostly I'm going to say a prayer that those in authority understand why the actions of those men 10 years ago were evil, and what needs to be done to counter that evil. You can't just say "You're wrong"; you have to show, through your words and actions, why your position is the right one. Unfortunately, believing that puts me at odds with most of my peer group. Keep that in mind over the next 10 (or 20) years. It'll explain a lot.

Conservationists love nature. Environmentalists hate people.

2011-09-08T23:01:00.001-04:00

The title isn't mine, but I forget where I read it. Anyhoo, here's a handy graphic that lays out, in 10 simple items, why PETA is a horrible, horrible organization. As in, "Why aren't these people beaten with fruit socks* on a regular basis, just on general principle?" horrible. Seriously. The only people I'd rather pummel in an alley are the DDT people I read about a couple days ago.

*fruit sock: an improvised weapon consisting of a man's gym sock and a firm, fist-sized piece of fruit, such as an apple or orange. Horned melons are recommended for particularly personal incidents. Pineapple is similarly satisfying, but not recommended (unless you have access to an NBA player's laundry basket). See also: butter sock, sock full of nickels.

So is there a sign-up sheet, or do you need my e-mail?

2011-09-08T14:43:00.000-04:00

Smitty at The Other McCain wants out of Social Security, and so do I. I would rather keep that part of my paycheck, money that I earned, that I will NEVER SEE AGAIN, and invest or spend it as I see fit.

Lord willing and the creek don't rise, I've got another, what, four decades until I'm "retirement age". I like to think I'm a pretty smart cookie. I like to think I can learn from history, and I like to think I can guess at least some of what's going down in those four decades. Therefore, I don't think of being "ready for retirement" in terms of "I need to save up this much money". Oh, no. No no no. I'm beginning to think in terms of "Let's get my life squared away now, so I don't have to worry about big adjustments at arbitrary societal milestones." First thing, I have to focus on paying off my outstanding debt. And that would happen faster if I didn't have $80 a month taken from my wages for someone else to live on, with the promise that "No, don't worry, you'll get it back, we're totally good for it." I have better things I could do with that money. Grrrrrrrr.

The moral high ground and a minigun

2011-09-07T18:11:00.000-04:00

The next time somebody calls you a racist for having right-of-center views, point them to this Jim Lacey column at National Review.

Why should I sit quietly and let myself be branded a racist? In fact, will someone please explain how the Left is always assumed to have the moral high ground in these kinds of debates? I am particularly curious about this, as leftist policies continue to destroy the lives of tens of millions in this country and billions worldwide.

Let’s go through just a small part of the evidence.

Read the whole thing. You won't be sorry you did.

Probably not what they had in mind.

2011-09-06T20:51:00.002-04:00

I watched the Freddie Mercury Google doodle, but all I could think about was three Brits in a pub, pummeling a zombie with pool cues. Kinda ruined whatever effect they were going for, that.

"David! Kill the Queen!"

Monday Afternoon Awesome

2011-09-05T17:25:00.000-04:00

I love these guys. Great music to write to.

One more week

2011-09-05T09:31:00.000-04:00

until I'm back in my routine, such as it is -- this time seven days from now, I'll be sorting out my e-mail inbox and rearranging my desk because the cleaning people moved things when they wiped it down after hours. It'll be good to be back at work. Also, I should be allowed to put some weight on my foot by then, which means getting around will be much, much easier. I'll still be on the crutches, but setting down my foot is a lot easier than carrying it at the end of my leg. Fingers crossed. I have my next follow-up appointment on Friday.

My circadian rhythms are completely shot, to the point where I would toss and turn until four or five ayem, then sleep 'til noon or one o'clock. I don't like doing that; it gives me headaches and makes the aforementioned return to work more hassle than it needs to be. Last night (this morning?) was the breaking point; it was six thirty in the morning and I was nowhere near asleep, so I listened to music for another hour or so, then got up and got dressed. When it gets this bad, the only thing is to power through until my body resets to the factory defaults. It's kind of like yanking the battery on my brain to force a reboot. I was planning a short trip to the store today, but obviously that's off for now. I'm not driving anywhere until I'm fully alert -- bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as they say at the ol' homestead.

Heh. The "time to get up!" alarm just went off on my phone. Duly noted.

I haven't had breakfast yet, nor have I had coffee. I may be up to the store after I ingest some liquid stimulants. (Prolly not.) Ah well. One more week!

Hopefully the prize money will go toward her therapy in a few years.

2011-09-01T17:33:00.004-04:00

Pageant moms? Nothing new. Pageant moms dressing their daughters in age-inappropriate clothes and make-up? Again, sadly, nothing new. A pageant mom strapping fake boobs on her four-year-old for a Dolly Parton impersonation act?

Like cold water on a hot day.

2011-08-31T20:31:00.001-04:00

Via Instapundit, I thought this column was particularly good. Specifically, this part:

One of the chief objections to Christianity is that it meddles in people’s personal lives. This is a curious objection, in some ways. Christianity has fairly little to say about food or drink, except to advocate moderation. And very little to say about clothing, except that modesty is appropriate. It’s silent on computers and automobiles. And it generally advocates discipline couched in love where children are concerned.
What its detractors mean often comes down to this: ‘Christianity has something to say about sex, and we don’t like it one bit.’ Typically, one hears that Christians are prudes and spoiled-sports, ranging across the earth, shutting down sexual pleasure wherever we locate it. Of course, higher birth rates among evangelical Protestants and Catholics seem to suggest either a staggering number of virgin births, or a tendency to, well, you know.

The whole thing is definitely worth reading. Every now and then, it's nice to hear from someone else that I'm not a prude, or mentally unbalanced, or some other negative, because I refrain from sex outside of the marriage bed. It's doubly nice to hear it spoken with love, instead of the more usual "this is the right way, and everyone else is wrong, wrong, wrong" screeching that tends to pop up when someone (anyone) takes a stand about something (anything). It's very refreshing.

It's that time of year again ...

2011-08-31T17:17:00.000-04:00

Put in my application to be an official NaNoWriMo Municipal Liaison! I won't hear if I'm accepted until after Sept. 26 (the application deadline), but I have every reason to hope I will be. Hooray for write-ins, and parties, and word wars, and the return of the Box of Awesome! Ima start outlining my novel tonight, yo. I can't wait!

BOOYAH

2011-08-27T13:42:00.001-04:00

And with that, that's yet another novel finished! Woo! I am on with the rocking, and ready to begin the rolling on the next one!

(And before you ask, yes, it will be a sequel. More of a part 2, actually; story-wise, it's all just one very long novel. Can November come any faster?!?!?

Short answer: No. Mwa ha ha.) Enjoy!

FINALLY.

2011-08-26T16:32:00.000-04:00

So after two weeks of an INCREDIBLY ITCHY bandage, I finally got it taken off and had the stitches removed from my incisions. The main slice is about an inch longer than last year's, but it's considerably neater and closed up with a lot less scarring. There are also two small incisions (one or two stitches each) from the scope. I have a small bandage now that I can take off on Monday, but the rest of my skin can finally start to heal.

Of course, I'm still stuck at home for another two weeks, but hey. Progress is progress. (Unfortunately, the blogmeet has gone from "hopefully, maybe" to "definitely not, unless a miracle occurs". :-( Next time!)

Just like last year, pic below the fold!

The book meme (because why not, hey)

2011-08-24T00:09:00.000-04:00

Bold means I finished it. Italics means in progress, or started and one day intend to finish, or, for longer series, some read/some not. ~~Strikethrough~~ means I started and have no intention of finishing.

1. The Lord Of The Rings Trilogy, by J.R.R. Tolkien
2. The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, by Douglas Adams
3. Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card
4. The Dune Chronicles, by Frank Herbert
5. A Song Of Ice And Fire Series, by George R. R. Martin
6. 1984, by George Orwell
7. Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury
8. The Foundation Trilogy, by Isaac Asimov
9. Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley
10. American Gods, by Neil Gaiman
11. The Princess Bride, by William Goldman
12. The Wheel Of Time Series, by Robert Jordan
13. Animal Farm, by George Orwell
14. Neuromancer, by William Gibson
15.Watchmen, by Alan Moore
16. I, Robot, by Isaac Asimov
17. Stranger In A Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein
18. The Kingkiller Chronicles, by Patrick Rothfuss
19. Slaughterhouse Five, by Kurt Vonnegut
20. Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley
21. Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?, by Philip K. Dick
22. The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood
23. The Dark Tower Series, by Stephen King
24. 2001: A Space Odyssey, by Arthur C. Clarke
25. The Stand, by Stephen King
26. Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson
27. The Martian Chronicles, by Ray Bradbury
28. Cat’s Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut
~~29. The Sandman Series, by Neil Gaiman~~
~~30. A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess~~
31. Starship Troopers, by Robert Heinlein
32. Watership Down, by Richard Adams
33. Dragonflight, by Anne McCaffrey
34. The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress, by Robert Heinlein
35. A Canticle For Leibowitz, by Walter M. Miller
36. The Time Machine, by H.G. Wells
37. 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, by Jules Verne
38. Flowers For Algernon, by Daniel Keys
39. The War Of The Worlds, by H.G. Wells
40. The Chronicles Of Amber, by Roger Zelazny
41. The Belgariad, by David Eddings
42. The Mists Of Avalon, by Marion Zimmer Bradley
43. The Mistborn Series, by Brandon Sanderson
44. Ringworld, by Larry Niven
45. The Left Hand Of Darkness, by Ursula K. LeGuin
46. The Silmarillion, by J.R.R. Tolkien
47. The Once And Future King, by T.H. White
48. Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman
49. Childhood’s End, by Arthur C. Clarke
50. Contact, by Carl Sagan
51. The Hyperion Cantos, by Dan Simmons
52. Stardust, by Neil Gaiman
53. Cryptonomicon, by Neal Stephenson
54. World War Z, by Max Brooks
55. The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle
56. The Forever War, by Joe Haldeman
57. Small Gods, by Terry Pratchett
58. The Chronicles Of Thomas Covenant, The Unbeliever, by Stephen R. Donaldson
59. The Vorkosigan Saga, by Lois McMaster Bujold
60. Going Postal, by Terry Pratchett
61. The Mote In God’s Eye, by Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle
62. The Sword Of Truth, by Terry Goodkind
63. The Road, by Cormac McCarthy
64. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, by Susanna Clarke
65. I Am Legend, by Richard Matheson
66. The Riftwar Saga, by Raymond E. Feist
67. The Shannara Trilogy, by Terry Brooks
68. The Conan The Barbarian Series, by R.E. Howard
69. The Farseer Trilogy, by Robin Hobb
70. The Time Traveler’s Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger
71. The Way Of Kings, by Brandon Sanderson
72. A Journey To The Center Of The Earth, by Jules Verne
73. The Legend Of Drizzt Series, by R.A. Salvatore
74. Old Man’s War, by John Scalzi
75. The Diamond Age, by Neil Stephenson
76. Rendezvous With Rama, by Arthur C. Clarke
77. The Kushiel’s Legacy Series, by Jacqueline Carey
78. The Dispossessed, by Ursula K. LeGuin
79. Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury
80. Wicked, by Gregory Maguire
81. The Malazan Book Of The Fallen Series, by Steven Erikson
82. The Eyre Affair, by Jasper Fforde
83. The Culture Series, by Iain M. Banks
84. The Crystal Cave, by Mary Stewart
85. Anathem, by Neal Stephenson
86. The Codex Alera Series, by Jim Butcher
87. The Book Of The New Sun, by Gene Wolfe
88. The Thrawn Trilogy, by Timothy Zahn
89. The Outlander Series, by Diana Gabaldan
90. The Elric Saga, by Michael Moorcock
91. The Illustrated Man, by Ray Bradbury
92. Sunshine, by Robin McKinley
93. A Fire Upon The Deep, by Vernor Vinge
94. The Caves Of Steel, by Isaac Asimov
95. The Mars Trilogy, by Kim Stanley Robinson
96. Lucifer’s Hammer, by Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle
97. Doomsday Book, by Connie Willis
98. Perdido Street Station, by China Mieville
99. The Xanth Series, by Piers Anthony
100. The Space Trilogy, by C.S. Lewis

There are entirely too many sections of unformatted text on that list. I shall have to correct that forthwith. Glee!

Because my loyal readers have asked ...

2011-08-23T12:21:00.000-04:00

My current status: I'm fairly mobile around the apartment, but nowhere near driving or going out anywhere for another couple weeks. Painkillers, not so much (only OTC on occasion). Incredibly itchy bandage from the toes to the knee, causing night sweats and nasty skin irritation, oh so much. It comes off at midday Friday. I am literally counting the days (sometimes even the hours) until that moment. But Doctor Who starts back up on Saturday, so I'm generally peachy.

Thanks for asking!

A comic you should be reading, and why.

2011-08-20T23:07:00.000-04:00

For some reason -- and I honestly can't quite put my finger on why -- the Aug. 16 strip for Spacetrawler is probably the most touching moment I've seen yet in the series. Martina's character has shown incredible growth (they all have to some degree, although Dimitri's kinda always pegged the awesome meter*), but it's been done in such a subtle, skillful way that it almost feels like you're watching your friends in the next room, instead of characters on a computer screen. That's a rare thing in any media. Anyway, you should be reading Spacetrawler. Start at the beginning. Your socks will rock right off.

*Yes, that's a drink in his hand. Yes, he almost always carries it. Yes, even in battle. Yes, he's Russian.

Fwoo.

2011-08-10T13:44:00.000-04:00

-- Radio silence is like to continue for the next few weeks, as in two days I will be drugged into oblivion so a man with a knife can carve up my foot like a Christmas goose. I've spent the last week prepping my apartment for convalescence and packing my freezer with precooked meals, and stocking up on reading material (the next two books each in "A Song of Ice and Fire" and The Baroque Cycle). Whether I will have the cognitive function for anything more complex than "Pat the Bunny" remains to be seen, but I'm hopeful.

-- I lost my good pocketknife and had to replace it. So far the new knife is doing well, as long as I remember to take the danged thing with me when I leave the house.

-- The Phineas & Ferb movie was excellent. Also, "Alphas" on SyFy is shaping up to be a pretty good series.

-- I miss my bike, but that's nothing new. This time next year, I hope to try riding again.

-- Picked up an Adler Royal for three bucks and change at Goodwill -- one quick pass with a damp rag and it was ready to go. Score!

-- I make a truly awesome cheese souffle.

-- Still don't wanna.

Your lesson for the day

2011-07-29T11:51:00.002-04:00

Brigid breaks it down with bacon. I don't eat a lot of real bacon, so I'm pretending it's turkey bacon.

Mmmmmm bacon.

A gut punch, but gentle.

2011-07-29T11:47:00.000-04:00

What xkcd said.

I'm almost to the end of year four without incident, myself. Different body part; same emotions. There were no signs of metastatis at the time of treatment, so the chances are really good I'll stay in that far left lane for the rest of my life, just like 7 out of 8 people on this planet.

Most days it takes something like this to make me think about it. I've gotten used to seeing the scars on my stomach, the way you get used to a tattoo or a mole. After a while they stop meaning "something happened" and start being something that just is.

The positives: Each day is a gift, and all that blabbity blab. We're having pizza for lunch at work. Right now, that's good enough for me.

Storytime: Old Acquaintances

2011-07-28T11:50:00.000-04:00

The Hard Day’s Luck slipped into the dock without a ripple, stealthy, practiced and without fuss. The wake of a passing barge caught the stern at the last second, and the prow bumped up against the wooden pier. “Dangit,” Harvey muttered, and cut the engine. “Kid, get up here and tie us off, wouldja?”

Tucker was aft, stripping paint. He placed the scraper carefully on the sun-heated deck and got to his feet, passed Harvey without a word and climbed out, rope in hand. Harvey leaned on the wheel and watched him tie the knot, then stand back and smile a little when it held. “Toldja you’d get the hang of it,” Harvey called. Tucker averted his eyes and hurried back to his scraping.

“Harvey Fischer, what’re you doin’ up here?” The question, loud and teasing, brought him up short. It came from the pier, from a young woman with red hair, broad hips and a broader smile. She jumped down into the boat. “Last I heard, you were in NOLA.”

Harvey grinned. “June Sandborne, if I hadn’t heard your voice, I wouldn’t’a guessed it was you,” he said as she caught him in a rib-crunching hug. “You’re supposed to be a little girl with one braid longer than the other. What the hell happened?”

“You stayed away too long,” June said when he let go. “Daddy said you were headed north. How are you?”

“Can’t complain.” Harvey ran his hand across the top of the wheel. “The Luck’s still in good shape, and so’m I. ‘Bout all I can ask.”

The boat was twenty-four feet long, with a small cabin and half a new coat of paint. June took out her knife and probed a splintered pock mark on the rail. “These are new,” she said, and dug out a bullet. “I thought you were done with that kind of work.”

Harvey grimaced. “Yeah, well, there’s folks made a pretty persuasive argument to try and change my mind,” he said.

“Did they?”

“Hell no.”

“Ha!” June threw back her head and laughed. She wore a white shirt and jeans and a brass badge on her belt, same as her father. The holster on her hip was new. The pistol nestled inside it was not. “And that reminds me,” she said, and lowered her voice. “I need to ask: You ever work for a guy down in the gulf named Abel Lawson?”

Harvey maintained his normal volume. “Nope.”

“You sure?”

“June, in 30 years, I only had one dealing with Lawson, and that was a few months ago, and that was enough,” Harvey said. He felt offended that she had to ask. “He heard I was retiring and made me an offer on the boat.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I still got the boat, don’t I? The Luck’s too much of a lady for that kinda business.” Harvey realized he hadn’t heard scraping in a several minutes, and checked over his shoulder. Tucker knelt on the deck, head down, the scraper in hand and pressed against the boards, not moving, just listening. “Why’re you askin’, anyway?”

June blew out a long breath and raked her hair back from her face. “Between what my dad’s been tellin’ me -- really, what the delta patrols’ve been tellin’ him -- I dunno. ‘S probably nothing.”

“But ... ”

“But,” she sighed. Her fingers caught in the tight curls, and she shook them free. “Last night I had a man come in, askin’ if I knew how to find you. Said his employer had a vested interest in the information. His contact card had Lawson’s imprint.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“You still got the boat, don’t you?” June grinned, then stuffed her hands in her back pockets. “Although I wouldn’t’ve told him how to find his own backside, let alone you. Guy gave me the creeps.”

Harvey scowled. “Ruby.”

“He didn’t give his name.”

“He’s Lawson’s whaddyacallit, his right-hand. Betcha anything it’s him. Didn’t think he’d follow me this far north, though.”

"Is he -- "

"The one who did the aforementioned arguin', yep."

June was surprised. “The boat’s worth that much to ‘em?”

It was Harvey’s turn for a long breath out. “Maybe.” On impulse, he checked over his shoulder again. Tucker hadn’t moved, but the veins stood out on in his arms and his knuckles were white, and the scraper was gouged into the wood like a spade into frozen ground. Harvey couldn’t see his face. “Maybe not.” He turned back to June. “Either way, I ain’t stayin’ long. Just makin’ a delivery for Phodey, and then I’m off. He’s doin’ fine, by the way. Still tickin’.”

“Of course he is.” June stood on tiptoe and looked over Harvey’s shoulder. “You gonna introduce me to the new kid, or what?”

Tucker was suddenly very focused on scraping paint. “Nah, he’s shy,” Harvey said quietly. “Better just leave him be for now.” He took off his cap and smacked it against his leg. “How about I make this delivery, and then I buy you a beer before I leave. Sound good?”

“It does, but I can’t. I gotta go on patrol in an hour.” June climbed out of the boat and squatted on her heels on the rickety pier. “You be careful, Uncle Harv. I don’t wanna see any more bullet holes in this old boat." She looked pointedly at his left shoulder. "Or in you.”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “You won’t. Tell your dad I said ‘hi’.”

“Will do.”

Harvey waved as she walked away. “Tucker, you all right by yourself?”

Tucker paused, nodded and kept scraping. The scars on his hands and wrists stood out white against his sunburn, and the tendons in his neck were tight as guy wires.

Harvey shrugged, one-sided. “Keep it up, then. I ain’t gonna be long,” he said, and went below to get the delivery. The cabin was dark and cool, and he shivered. “Not any longer than I have to be, that’s for sure.”

Chapter Fifteen is up!

2011-07-27T23:35:00.002-04:00

Just what the title says. Have at it!

Hmmm, yes ... surgery.

2011-07-23T14:27:00.000-04:00

(Video features Doctor Barber from "The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack".)

So, this past Wednesday, I went and saw my doctor and we discussed what he plans to do based on the MRI taken a week ago. So far, he wants to use a scope to investigate the inside of the ankle; clean out any torn tissue or bone chips; and repair the talo-fibular tendon (same as they did on the right ankle). He might also repair the tendon that wraps around the ankle bone and runs up into the leg, although he might have to take part of that tendon to repair the talo-fibular tendon, and I don't remember much of the rest of the discussion because I kind of tuned out and went to my happy place after he said that. (My happy place is awesome. It has robots and ponies, and also cake.)

I do remember that he wants me off the ankle for four weeks instead of two, like last time, which means I will probably be off work for a solid month. (It's not just avoiding weight and pressure, it's also keeping it elevated to prevent swelling.) I'll be having the procedure at a different hospital than the last one, but it'll be closer to home so that's a plus. Right now I'm waiting for them to call so we can set up the actual surgery date. Yay for limbo! All that's left now is to gradually stock up on comfort foods, get a copy of TV Guide and some light reading, and make my apartment crutch-accessible. Whooooo-hoo-hoo-hoo. Ah heh. Heh. Heh.

Still don't wanna. :-P

Don't wanna.

2011-07-13T17:16:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow after work, I go in for an MRI on my left ankle. I will then discuss said MRI results with my physician, who will decide just how much slicing and dicing I need. In step-one-step-two terms, it's pretty much the same thing I did last year. In how-does-that-make-you-feel terms, it's completely different. For one thing, I already know just how badly this experience is going to suck, and what a pain in my increasingly toned ass (I've been walking!) it's going to be. I also know that there's a good chance this will be a more invasive surgery, requiring longer to heal and to recover from. (It also might not, but that thought never seems to help much.) I also know that it's a choice between a few weeks/months of suckage now, and constant pain and inconvenience later in life, but again, that thought doesn't help much. The plain fact is that I don't want to do this. I will, because it's the correct course of action and if I put it off, well, I'm just putting it off. But it's not fun and I'm not looking forward to it. PLUS they goofed scheduling the MRI, so I've already had to reschedule a couple things for later than I was hoping for. The one good spot is that another thing shifted, schedule-wise, freeing up the actual date I hoped to use for the surgery. We'll see if I get it. Meantime, I'm grouchy and caught in a full-blown case of the pouts, and it probably won't improve until after, when I get the "hooray I'm back on my feet" rush.

If this goes well and I treat my feet right, I may never again (barring incident) have to use crutches.

Still don't wanna.

Better stock up on peanut butter, too ...

2011-06-30T16:34:00.001-04:00

Via Tam, a warning to stock up now on incandescent bulbs.

I'm not going to run around yelling about the Iron Curtain falling across America; that would be hyperbolic, plus I've been at work all day and I'm tired. But it used to be that said curtain divided "freedom" from "suck", and now it's more like a line between "suck" and "more suck".

Unfortunately, as long as 65% of the population can go about their lives with a minimum of interruption, this isn't likely to change. I've pointed out before that the average person is more worried about paying for the kid's braces and getting to work on time than he is about political matters. Until he has to choose between paying the orthodontist and putting gas in the car, he's not likely to spend his precious little energy and free time worrying about what seem to be abstract concepts. Doubly unfortunately, when that choice comes, there will likely be a handy government subsidy just waiting for him, to help put gas in his car. And if he's like 2/3rds of humanity, he'll take it, because a) it's easy and b) free money. Sad, but true; pride of purpose and independence are on their way out, especially in the younger generations. [Get off my lawn! - ed.] That, coupled with the ascendancy of ignorance (spend a couple hours on Failbook if you don't believe me -- hell, five minutes should do it) make for a combination that will truly bring the suck.

Now I've made myself sad. ZOMGZ KITTEHS!

I Am Not A Fast Cook: Genuine French Bread II: This Time It's Personal

2011-06-27T12:51:00.000-04:00

So last week's recipe involved setting aside a piece of the dough and storing it to use as a starter in the next batch. I promised I would report back with results, and I have to say: ROUSING SUCCESS.

To make the starter, I cut a double-handful of dough (after the first rising) and put it water in an airtight container (big enough to have room for expansion at the top) and stuck it in the back of the fridge for a week. To use it, I followed the same procedure as last week, except that:

-- I used 1/3 less water and yeast, for 2 cups and 2.5 teaspoons, respectively;

-- The starter went into the flour at the same time as the yeast/water mix.

Aside from that, everything went as before. This batch, I made one baguette and one large loaf, and they were AMAZING. The texture and flavor were both affected by the use of the starter; the crust was thicker, the crumb was finer, softer and spongier, and the flavor had a delightful nutty tang to it that resembled sourdough. It was probably the best bread I've ever made, from any recipe. I put aside another starter for next week, so I can continue this delicious cycle.

No, I didn't do all this just for that one pun. (Although now that it's out there, I kinda wish I had.) Enjoy!

Thought dead, the long unheard-from returns.

2011-06-27T11:21:00.000-04:00

Hey hey, chapter fourteen is finally up. Only two more to go, so at this rate, I should be done by ... this time next year.

I keed, I keed.

Kind of.

Anyway, enjoy!

Ah, memories.

2011-06-22T12:06:00.000-04:00

The central intersection on my college campus had a scramble light — every two or three cycles, all lights would go red and you could cross through on the diagonal. There was a loud chirp to signal the scramble, and it was always patently obvious what was going on. I remember one father/daughter pair carefully crossing one side during a scramble, then waiting to cross the other side and GLARING at everyone in the center. WHY WEREN’T THEY FOLLOWING THE TRAFFIC RULES? WHY WEREN’T THEY WAITING THEIR TURN AND CROSSING IN THE CROSSWALKS LIKE THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO? HOW DARE THOSE HEDONISTIC STUDENTS CUT THROUGH THE CENTER! The father seemed especially miffed, with a definite "At least some of us still know how to follow the rules!" tinge to his body language.

Just throwin' that out there. It still makes me LOL.

Victor Davis Hanson can be depressing as hell

2011-06-20T21:51:00.002-04:00

but you already knew that.

You should still read the whole thing.

I Am Not A Fast Cook: Genuine French Bread

2011-06-20T15:09:00.001-04:00

This recipe is taken step-by-step from Jacque Pepin's "Complete Technique", an invaluable illustrated reference for cooking French cuisine. A word of warning: This is a HUGE batch of bread. I made three baguettes, one free-form loaf and one round country loaf, plus a starter in a jar for next week. Which I will have to use next week, or it'll go bad. Which means another batch. Not that I'm necessarily complaining, but man that's a lot of bread.

Begin by mixing 3.5 cups of water at 80F and 1 tablespoon and 3/4 t. (three packets' worth) of yeast in a large bowl. Set aside, stirring at the two- and five-minute marks. When the water starts to foam, add six cups flour (scooped, not sifted) and work for five minutes. The book says to use a stand mixer; I used the dough hook attachments on my hand mixer. BE VERY CAREFUL; if you're not, you'll blow out the motor on the mixer, your elbow, or both. After five minutes, add 1 tablespoon kosher salt and two more cups of flour and mix for another two minutes.

Turn out onto a floured surface and work in one more cup of flour (more or less; just keep adding flour when the dough gets too sticky to handle). Kneading will take about 15 minutes to reach proper consistency, satiny, resilient and just slightly sticky. Move the dough to a floured LARGE (emphasis on LARGE) bowl, cover with plastic or with a towel, and place in a warm (80F) place for two hours. (A quick note: I used the biggest bowl I had, and it still overflowed. If you think the bowl you have is big enough, get the next size up. I mean it.) After two hours, move the dough back to the floured board and work for about two minutes to take care of any large air bubbles.

Use a dough cutter or large knife to section the dough; I cut off about an eighth for the stored starter and about a third of the remainder for the country loaf. The remainder of that, I cut into four long pieces. Shape the dough (use lint-free towels as dividers to help the baguettes keep their shape) and let rise for one hour (one-and-a-half hours for larger shapes).

Preheat the oven to 425F and place a pan of water on the bottom rack to create steam. If you have baking tiles, place them in the oven now. Carefully turn the risen loafs bottom-up, sprinkle with flour and slash the tops with a long, thin knife. If you're using tiles, carefully slide the loaves directly into the oven. If you're using sheet pans, sprinkle them well with cornmeal or farina and position the loaves so they won't bake together. As soon as the loaves are in the oven, toss in a quarter-cup of cold water for a burst of steam and bake for 30 minutes. When done, the bread will be lightly browned and sound hollow when tapped with the handle of a knife. For larger loaves, follow the steps above, but bake for 40 to 60 minutes. Let cool at least 30 minutes before slicing, and enjoy!

Next week's recipe will describe the steps for using the starter, and will detail the outcome. Whee fun! Enjoy!

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

2011-06-20T10:31:00.000-04:00

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Ahem. Lemme 'splain.

See, we already knew that Martin Freeman, the guy who plays John Watson in Stephen Moffat's Sherlock, is playing Bilbo Baggins in the upcoming film adaptation of "The Hobbit". But what I just found out (actually I first heard it on Friday but I found more confirmation today) is that Benedict Cumberbatch, guy who plays Sherlock Holmes in the aforementioned series, is providing the voice of the dragon, Smaug.

*deep breath* Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Oh hells yeah.

2011-06-15T14:12:00.000-04:00

I'm not the type who would get a tattoo but if I were to get a tattoo this is the kind of tattoo I would get.

Storytime: Curiosities

2011-06-08T21:02:00.000-04:00

It's another flash fiction challenge from Chuck Wendig! Woooo! This week's theme was a freaky photo of some random doll heads. [This site is not responsible for any nightmares or other disturbances triggered by said photograph -- ed.] As always, no apologies for quality or campiness. Enjoy!

Curiosities

Asphodel was pushing one hundred, but his sharp, dark eyes saw everything in his cramped little shop. “You have new hired boy, yes?” he asked Harvey, his false teeth clicking around his accented English. “Someone to help you on boat? Is good news, my friend.”

Harvey looked over his shoulder Tucker, hiding behind the end of a row of shelves, and shrugged. “I s’pose,” he grunted, and rubbed his thick, arthritic fist on the wooden countertop. “So far he just works for whatever I can feed him.”

“Ah, so he is good employee, then.” Asphodel smiled knowingly, and slowly leaned to one side for a better look at the lanky teen. “Or maybe not so good. He is like squirrel after winter, all skin and bones.”

“It’s only been a couple months. He was worse off when I met ‘im,” Harvey bristled. A voice shouted angrily in the street outside and Tucker jumped, rattling something on the shelf and moving quickly away. Harvey shook his head. “You’re right about the squirrel part, though. You got anything you want delivered?”

“That depends,” the old man answered. Asphodel could supply anything from pre-war electrics to livestock feed to fuel. If he didn’t have it, he could get it for you. His arrangement with Harvey went back decades. “Do you go north or south this time? I have package that goes upriver, but if you go south -- ”

“Nah, I’m goin’ north,” Harvey waved reassuringly. “Probably won’t ever go south of Saint Louis again, if I can help it. Delta’s finally gettin’ too rough for me. Or maybe I’m just gettin’ old.”

“You are not more than sixty. Old is no excuse,” Asphodel shuffled to the storeroom door. “I come back in a few minutes. You find what you like and we make deal, yes?”

“Sure.”

Asphodel nodded and disappeared behind the curtain, and Harvey stuck his hands in the pockets of his corduroy jacket and went looking for Tucker. He found the boy staring into a box of knick-knacks, studying it in the filtered light of a filthy window. Harvey rocked back on his heels and asked, “You find anythin’?”

Tucker yelped and snatched his hands away from the box, ducking his head in a guilty reflex. Harvey sighed and repeated the question, and he shook his head. “No,” he muttered, his sunbleached hair hiding his eyes. “Just ... just looking.”

“Well, that’s allowed,” Harvey grumbled. “Nobody’s gonna come down on you for that.” Tucker’s scrawny frame relaxed, and Harvey sighed again. “If you see somethin’ you want, lemme know. I’ll be up at the front.” He glanced in the box in passing, then stopped and reached in. “What’n God’s name d’you want with these?”

The box was full of doll parts -- mostly heads, palm-sized balls of painted bisque, smiling up at him with empty, unblinking eyes. They might have been two hundred years old, or twenty; the wear made it hard to tell and he was no expert. Harvey plucked one out and cupped it in his hand. “Never did like these things,” he observed, rolling it back and forth. “Always felt like they were gonna move the moment I wasn’t lookin’. Gave me the willies.”

Tucker shuffled his feet -- he was already outgrowing the second-hand boots Harvey had found for him -- and ducked his head further. “I kinda like them,” he mumbled, so low Harvey could barely hear him. “My sister had a doll like that, with a china face. I guess it just, I dunno, it reminded me.” He tugged the ends of his jacket sleeves down to his fingertips, hiding the healing scars across the backs of his hands. “It’s stupid.”

“Aw, that ain’t stupid.” Harvey looked away, out the window at the dusty street. A fat young man in a red auto from fifty years ago was yelling at a wagon team for blocking the way. The teamster seemed to enjoy it, sitting back and grinning while the antique engine idled away its expensive charge. “That car out there, now that’s stupid. Where’s he even plug it in around here?” Tucker looked out and laughed a little, and Harvey decided to push. “How old’s your sister?”

Tucker paused while he counted back in his head. “She was five when I left, so ... nine,” he murmured. “She’s nine now.” His jaw tightened. “You can put it back.”

Harvey wrapped his fingers around the porcelain head and scratched his jaw with his other hand. He needed a shave. “Y’know, if you still wanna try and get in touch with your folks, there’s a radio -- ”

“No thanks.” Tucker pushed past him and headed for the front door. “No point looking for someone who isn’t looking for you. I’m gonna wait with the supplies.”

“Now you don’t know -- ” Harvey tried, but the door banged shut before he could finish. He chucked the head back into the box and went to the counter. “Phodey, you got that delivery?”

Asphodel came through the curtain with a small wooden box and a thin paperback in his translucent hands. “The boy has gone?” he asked. “I had present for him.”

“He’ll get it,” Harvey promised, slipping the book into his back pocket. He tucked the box under his arm. “No charge for this one.”

Asphodel’s eyebrows went up. “No charge?”

“Ah, I been doin’ a lot of favors lately,” Harvey said. “Might as well do a few more while I’m at it.”

“You are a good man, to do favors.” The old man nodded and tapped the side of his nose. He lifted his chin at Tucker, sitting on the crate of provisions outside the shop. “I hear is rough for everyone on the Delta.”

Harvey touched his cap, embarrassed. “I gotta get back to the boat,” he grunted, eyes low. “Be safe, Phodey.”

“You too, my friend,” Asphodel waved as Harvey headed for the street. The door banged shut behind him. “You too.”

It's currently 7:36 p.m.

2011-06-03T19:47:00.000-04:00

and I'm still at work, waiting for a PDF to load in a particularly cranky system so I can fill out a couple forms and move on to the next one in the queue. I have some 15 more to go in the current batch.

Last count, the main queue had more than 240. That's down from the 330-some it had this time yesterday, which is why I was in the office until 8 p.m. yesterday.

I should point out that a) These are forms the previous department didn't get to in time; b) I have had precisely zero training for this, aside from "Copy box A into box 1"; c) 90% of the forms are either handwritten or dot-matrixed into illegibility. I won't lie; I'm guessing on a lot of things. I seem to be the only one who's really working to make a dent in the queue, too.

And I'll be back here tomorrow -- that's Saturday -- at 7 a.m. to go at it again. And I honestly would not care -- I am more than happy to work hard and give it my all -- except that management is breathing down our necks while we clean up someone else's mess and it is just so

damn

frustrating.

Pulpy fantasy Storytime: Warnings

2011-06-03T11:30:00.001-04:00

So apparently Chuck Wendig does flash fiction challenges every Friday or something like that. I am very excited to have just now discovered this. The theme was "The Unexpected Guest"; length: 1,000 words; genre: Any. My contribution is below. Enjoy!

Warnings

Something woke Allin in the night, a sound she couldn’t identify, or even remember. The fire was burned down to coals, but she pushed her blankets aside and sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees and her skirts around her feet, shivering. Even in summer, deep in the Agweth where the trees blocked any wind, midnight chilled something at the center of her that she couldn’t quite explain. It must have been the dream again, she told herself, and touched the necklace she wore beneath her shift. She should tell Fional.

The kensis stood on the other side of the camp, standing beside the highway, watching the way north. The risen half moon lit the wisps and flyaways of her white hair, outlining the winding curves of the complicated braid that wrapped around her head. The long silver pins that held it in place glinted dully when she cocked her head, alerted to some sound Allin couldn’t hear. Allin nestled her cheekbone on her knee, comforted just to see her, knowing she was there. She could tell her about the dream in the morning.

Her eyes had just closed again when Fional spoke. "You,' she murmured, and Allin knew without looking that it wasn’t addressed to her. 'I wondered when he would send you.'

The answering voice crawled up Allin’s spine and clutched at her heart, driving it down into her stomach. "You always did rely on us to make the first move," it said, a man’s voice, high and sibilant, and full of the wrong kind of laughter. "I suppose that’s why we’re at Sathsem and you’re, well -- " He chuckled. "Here."

"You are not the rider I saw behind us today," Fional said, her soft, patient voice hardening into something Allin had never heard before, not in the fifteen years she’d known her. It was crystalline and layered and deep, and it terrified the girl almost as much as the malice in the newcomer’s speech. Holding her breath, Allin forced herself to open her eyes and look.

A rider had appeared in the center of the road, blocking the way south. He sat tall on the horse, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his right hand lazily wrapped in the reins. Black lines crawled from beneath his collar and across the side of his face, disappearing into his blond hair. They twisted horribly when he laughed. "The One Who Rides Behind," he cackled. "No, although we do have plans for him." His smile turned downward, and he dismounted. "You know why I’m here, Fional."

Fional faced him, tall and inscrutable, her shining blue eyes narrowed to glittering slits. "Nyshat, I will give you one chance to leave," she replied, shrugging off her coat and letting her arms drop to her sides. "Get on your horse and go."

"Or you’ll do what?" Nyshat sneered, looking her up and down. "I took you at the battle of Four Winds with an army at your back. I can take you here." He spat at her feet and drew his sword. "You spent your centuries guarding an empty line, heir-protector. You should consider it a favor that I release you from your duty."

Fional’s braids fell around her shoulders, the pins flashing in her hands. Allin hadn’t even seen her move. "I told you to go," Fional said, suddenly many voices in one. Blue sparks ran from beneath her sleeves, dripping from her fingers and the sharp points on the pins. "You should have listened." She slid one foot backwards, balancing on her toes. Nyshat raised his sword and darted forward.

Allin cried, "No!"

She didn't remember deciding to stand. She didn't remember looking around for a pine branch until she was thrusting it into the coals. She was aware of grabbing up her skirts with her left hand; of her bare feet kicking up dust from the dry grass; of the branch popping and flaming at arm's length; of Nyshat's colorless eyes as they shifted from her protector to her. He turned and leapt at her, a snarling blur too fast to follow, and her mouth was too dry to shout again --

-- and the world was dazzling red and blue, and Fional's many voices commanded

STOP

-- and she was on the ground, looking at the stars, unhurt, with Nyshat frozen in mid-stride before her.

Fional came back to the fire from the road, the blue light dripping from her fingers leaving sparkling trails behind her in the weeds. Allin pushed herself to her feet, tossing away the extinguished branch, and backed away from the attacker. "Is he -- " she asked.

Fional shook her head. "No," she said, and her voice was her own once more, low and musical and sweet. Her long hand brushed a few wayward brown hairs back from Allin's forehead, and she smiled sadly. "But he will not be the last. You should conceal that."

Allin looked down, to where the stone around her neck glowed red beneath her shift. She covered it with her hand, and her back prickled. Nyshat watched her, only his horrible, empty eyes moving as she circled him for a better look. Matching him glare for glare, her dark gaze boring into his, she ordered, "Send him back."

Fional made a sound in her throat and said, "Go," and Nyshat had no choice but to turn in place and run, following the road south, back to his master. His horse had long fled. When he was out of sight, Allin went back to the fire and lay down, still holding her necklace. "There'll be more of them, you said?"

"I did," Fional affirmed, taking her place in the road again. "And there will be. But not tonight." The last drips and dots of blue light flickered on her fingers as she pinned her braids back in place. "So go to sleep. We have a long road still before we reach Sathsem."

Doom and gloom and you know what, it's time for lunch.

2011-06-02T12:11:00.001-04:00

are

boned.

Be sure to read that last one to the end; it's a doozy.

Personally, I choose to remain calm and take whatever comes my way. I liked Bobbi's take on things, and I liked the post she linked to, because they summed up what I've thought for a few months now: You can't stop the flood by shouting at it, so you might as well climb a tree, get a good grip and get comfortable, because it's going to be a while before the waters go down. I'll be honest: My religious views have a lot to do with that decision. I firmly believe in that lillies-of-the-field, birds-of-the-air bit, and I embrace Paul's advice to be content no matter what the circumstances. Doesn't mean I always succeed, or that I'm never anxious -- good Lord, no. But it's the state I work toward. I'm also stocking up on canned tuna fish and eggs, and the stuff for to bake things with. Past that, well, I take things two weeks at a time anyway. As long as I'm fed and clothed and the kitty has kibble, I'm doing all right. I just pray that those I care about can find the same peace.

Wise words

2011-06-02T09:07:00.000-04:00

Yesterday my uncle Grumpy Bear sent me an e-mail with a link to this photo essay featuring unions and full-on Communists marching hand-in-hand on May Day, happy as clams to be with each other. Having spent time in divided Germany, Mr. Bear had this to say:

The difference between socialism and Communism is the "S" is second to the "C", and Communism eventually starts to enforce its mission with bullets. And as I remember, the only defense is to send bullets back and hope you have a lot more than they do.

He later pointed out that products like Mountain Dew and McDonald's wouldn't exist under a Communist government, which is something I'm more than happy to take his word on.

Oh blarg.

2011-05-31T15:16:00.000-04:00

The good news: I wore sandals to work for the first time in close to a year, and so far my ankles are behaving themselves. So yay for that!

The bad news: They keep the AC cranked here, and my current cubicle is under a vent. And since my feet sweat for any (or no) reason, I'm freezing. Seriously, it's set to 72F or some such, which is way too low unless you're one of those "OMG it's so hotttttt in here" types, and I believe they are much rarer than the "OMG I can't feel my fingers" types.

I know, I know. First world problems. Still better than a stick in the eye.

I Am Not A Fast Cook: Bacon Spinach Quiche

2011-05-31T10:55:00.000-04:00

I put this together on short notice Friday night, going from "Preheat oven" to "insert quiche into said oven" in about 20 minutes. I had nothing prepped before I started. I'm pretty proud of that, actually.

1) Preheat oven to 400F.

2) THE CRUST, part I. In a food processor, combine 1 cup flour, a pinch of kosher salt and 1/4 stick COLD butter, cubed. Pulse until thoroughly crumbed, then add another 1/4 stick of butter and repeat. Move to narrow, high-sided bowl and cut in 1/4 c. cold 2% milk (I used a table knife). The dough will seem very crumbly and not quite wet enough; this is okay. Shape it into a ball with your hands, cover the bowl with a paper towel, and set aside.

3) THE FILLING, part I. Chop four pieces of turkey bacon and begin to saute in a buttered skillet. Chop one half of a large white onion and add to the bacon. Chop one cup crimini mushrooms and add to skillet. Stir occasionally. Grate three ounces cheddar and three ounces gruyere cheese. Set aside. When mushrooms are almost cooked, remove skillet from heat, add four cups fresh baby spinach, cover and set aside.

4) THE CRUST, part II: Shape dough into a disc and place on a floured board. Roll to about 1/8" thickness and lay into a 9" pie dish (glass is preferred). Adjust/trim edges as needed. Set aside.

5) THE FILLING, part II. Combine four eggs and one cup 2% milk. Beat until thick and creamy. In a separate bowl, toss the bacon, onion, mushrooms and spinach with the grated cheese and arrange in crust. Cover with custard and place in oven for 35 minutes, or until a knife blade in the center comes out clean. Let sit for at least 10 minutes before serving. Enjoy!

Do I know my readers, or what?

2011-05-26T22:11:00.000-04:00

Technically, this icon is for Facebook accounts. I don't have a Facebook account, so I'm putting it here. Besides, I know a statistically significant chunk of you will dig it:

That's right: It's the long-awaited donation drive to upgrade the NaNoWriMo servers! Also, vacuum tubes. If it wasn't for the vacuum tube I would just do a boring old link, but ... yeah.

Toldja you would dig it.

Wow.

2011-05-25T11:26:00.001-04:00

A before-and-after comparison of an intersection in Joplin, MO.

I Am Not A Fast Cook: Summer Spaghetti

2011-05-25T09:58:00.000-04:00

A quick and easy dish for when you want a real meal for dinner, but it's starting to be too hot to properly cook (and you're feeling tired and lazy anyway). All portions for one serving; scale up as necessary.

Start by cooking three quarters of a cup of penne pasta in salted water. Before the penne is done cooking, heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a medium to large skillet or saucepan. Saute one pressed or chopped clove of garlic, one half cup chopped artichoke hearts, one quarter cup sliced black olives, one half cup sliced red onion and one chopped tomato. Drain the penne and add it to the skillet, stirring to incorporate the vegetables. Add two generous handfuls of raw baby spinach, cover the skillet, turn the heat to low (or off, if using something like cast iron) and let sit for two minutes or until the spinach begins to wilt. Toss with shredded mozzarella or quattro formaggio and serve immediately. Enjoy!

Storming Le Moostille

2011-05-19T14:47:00.000-04:00

Because everything's funnier with cows (even things that really shouldn't be): Famous World Ideologies, As Explained By References To Cows:

-- Feudalism: You have two cows. Your lord takes some of the milk.

-- Pure Socialism: You have two cows. The government takes them and puts them in a barn with everyone else’s cows. You have to take care of all the cows. The government gives you all the milk you need.

-- Bureaucratic Socialism: Your cows are cared for by ex-chicken farmers. You have to take care of the chickens the government took from the chicken farmers. The government gives you as much milk and eggs the regulations say you should need.

-- Fascism: You have two cows. The government takes both, hires you to take care of them, and sells you the milk.

It gets ~~worse~~better from there.

Dude, and then, and then, and then it, like, explodes! Dude!

2011-05-17T15:40:00.002-04:00

Scott Adams points out the blindingly obvious:

Let's see if you can solve this puzzle. We've learned that Osama Bin Laden's compound had marijuana, pornography, and some sort of herbal Viagra. He had no air conditioning to keep him cool in the blistering heat of summer, and no heat to protect him from the cold of winter. He had no phone and no Internet connection. He had a home office and three wives living with him. Using only these clues, help the CIA solve the following puzzle: Why didn't Bin Laden come up with any good plans lately?

Be sure to read the whole thing. Drink warning is definitely in effect.

Hipsters ruined everything.

2011-05-17T10:59:00.000-04:00

Well, this certainly explains a lot. Get a job at someplace other than a coffee shop, hipster!

Why should chemistry have all the fun?

2011-05-17T08:23:00.000-04:00

Behold: the periodic table of storytelling elements. I especially love the examples at the bottom, showing the atomic structure of famous works. Man, this'll come in handy come NaNoWriMo time.

Presented without comment: One more for the road

2011-05-16T16:07:00.001-04:00

Presented without comment: The followup

2011-05-16T10:13:00.001-04:00

Presented without comment.

2011-05-16T10:13:00.000-04:00

Man, being this awesome is exhausting.

2011-05-13T12:47:00.002-04:00

It's Friday -- more to the point, it's payday -- and that means t-shirts! I picked up one of these and one of these, and I made a special point of getting one of these.

I know, I know; I'm a nerd. But I'm a cute nerd, and that counts for a lot.

Next up is one of these and one of these. Oh yeah. I am going to be stylin'. Happy Friday! Cheers!

Tastes like ... well, like a mix of chocolate and AWESOME, actually.

2011-05-07T08:28:00.000-04:00

Taking years of flak and abuse for things that could have been done differently, but that you believe were done right, despite the naysayers: That's gotta be hard. Being proved right when your opponent is forced to follow your playbook: Priceless.

Nope, they're not under warranty. Dangit.

2011-05-06T14:55:00.001-04:00

So the doc says the only reason my left foot's still at the end of my leg is because there's skin holding it on, and because there's really nowhere else for it to go. The way he moved it around, it was obvious the ankle's only there for tradition's sake -- he used the word "rattle", and not as a sound effect -- and the visuals reminded me of articles I've read about internal decapitations. He also gave me the name of a colleague who focuses on surgeries, and told me to call him whenever I was ready and they would get me all set up.

Yayyyyyyyyy.

It's going to take a little while for my finances to line up, plus I want Righty to have had a full year to heal, so right now I'm looking at the latter half of September. That's barring incident; if I fall off a flat surface and sprain something -- it's happened more than once -- that'll get bumped up.

Woooooooooo.

Ha ha ha ha ... oh, wait.

2011-05-06T13:01:00.000-04:00

So apparently Ahmadinejad and his pals are being asked to step down and arrested, respecitively, for, quote, "being "magicians" and invoking djinns (spirits)." More fun from the article:

Ayandeh, an Iranian news website, described one of the arrested men, Abbas Ghaffari, as "a man with special skills in metaphysics and connections with the unknown worlds".
[snip]
Ayatollah Mesbah Yazdi, a hardline cleric close to Khamenei, warned that disobeying the supreme leader – who has the ultimate power in Iran – is equivalent to "apostasy from God".

It's funny until you remember ... these are the guys who are trying their darndest to get The Bombah. In your best squeaky voices, all together now:

I'm scared.

Things I learned the hard way today

2011-05-05T12:28:00.000-04:00

-- If you're running late and don't have time to make coffee, bringing your coffee press and fixin's to work is a great idea. It is rendered entirely moot if you forget to bring the coffee itself.

-- Crappy instant is better than twice-used grounds.

That's all I got. (Unless you want to hear the one about my emergency bra ... )

Imma check the warranty on these things again. Maybe it's still good.

2011-05-04T16:14:00.000-04:00

Breda makes a good point about gimps with guns (her words): Namely, since it's harder to run away, we're that much more likely to get mean. I bring this up for a couple reasons; mostly because it's funny as hell, but partly because the slice-and-dice on a certain R. Ankle puts me into that category, and that qualification will no doubt be doubled by the end of the year.

I mentioned in the comments on Breda's post that I always end my range sessions with an off-balance stance. Righty gets tired and wants to go home pretty reliably at about the two-hour mark, so I always take a few shots leaning on something to take the weight off. I figure it's a good skill to cultivate, especially since Lefty goes in to get his picture taken on Friday. I'm guessing the x-ray will look like that one kitchen drawer that's always full of pens and batteries and rubber bands. Something's been popping in and out of place since last week, and I'm training myself up to drive with my right foot again (my lower back thanks me). I could joke that once Lefty gets cut up, I'll be balanced again; I could also joke about getting two weeks' vacation from work, plus painkillers!; I could joke about a lot of things, but fact is I don't want to. I mostly just want to get it over with. If I can wait 'til after Labor Day to have the surgery, I will; that would give Righty a full year to recover, and it would be less pinchy financially. I hope I can. The sooner it's done, the sooner I can recover and, hopefully, finally, get some real exercise.

Also: Hot DAMN but I miss my bicycle.

WHAM WHAM WHAM

2011-05-04T12:19:00.001-04:00

That's the sound my forehead makes when I bang it on my desk, because:

-- I'm within listening distance of our resident office kook, the guy who indulges in UFO conspiracy theories and likes to hold forth at length on various political issues and current events, and all from that "I have it on good authority" outlook that goes hand-in-hand so well with leftist entitlement politics;

-- He's discussing this with a group of women who work pretty much solely from the emotional center of the brain when analyzing arguments and statements, and who eat the kooky gentleman's crap right up, wide-eyed and credulous;

-- I am not, however, within speaking distance of this conversation, and cannot contribute or offer a countering view without either raising my voice or getting up from my work;

-- Right now, they're discussing the price of oil and how the eeeeevil oil companies make huge profits at the expense of the consumer.

WHAMMITY WHAMMITY WHAM.

Fun with dates and numbers

2011-05-04T09:19:00.000-04:00

One of my driving habits (taught me by my parents) is to keep a small notebook in the glove box, and to note down the date, the odometer and the price and amount of gas each time I fill up my car. It's useful for a lot of things: Checking for changes in miles per gallon, figuring out how many miles I put on the car in given amount of time, things like that. But it's also turned out to be a handy historical record.

For instance, the first entry in the notebook is from Feb. 22, 2008, shortly after I acquired the car. (It's a Focus, if you care. Good little car.) I bought 10.005 gallons of gas at $3.04 a gallon, for a total of $30.51. On Nov. 01, 2008, I bought 9.306 gallons for $19.25 ($2.069/gal). One year ago, on May 06, 2009, I bought 9.825 gallons for $22.00 ($2.239/gal).

And on Monday, May 02, 2011, three years into Barack Obama's presidency, I bought 10.304 gallons of gas at $4.299/gal, for a total of $44.30. That's more than twice what I paid on the day before he was elected.

Isn't math fun?

Gotta be the squeein'-est thing in the 'verse.

2011-04-27T13:16:00.001-04:00

It's Mal and his crew! On cupcakes! Still can't quite believe that show got cut. *does the huffy pouty stompy dance* At least we still have Fringe. And I imagine the Eleventh Doctor & Co. would make some pretty cute fondant figures, too.

I'm a nerrrrrrrrrrrrd.

I Am Not A Fast Cook: Four-Cheese Olive Rolls

2011-04-27T09:31:00.001-04:00

I adapted the following from this recipe I posted a while back. It still needs a little tweaking, so some of the instructions below are more "best guess" than "do not deviate, ever". Have fun!

In a large bowl, mix 3 cups flour, 1 tablespoon yeast, 2 tablespoons sugar and 1 teaspoon kosher salt, stirring until thoroughly combined. Heat 1 1/4 cups water to 110F and add to the dry ingredients, working with a wooden spoon or the dough hook attachment on your mixer, if you have one. (If you don't, get one. They're darn handy.) Before the mixture forms a true dough, add 2/3 cup chopped kalamata olives and 3/4 cup four-cheese blend (usually parmesan, romano and such -- any cheese you'd find on pizza will work). Continue mixing until the dough pulls away from the sides of the bowl and forms a ball.

Turn the dough ball out onto a floured work surface and work until it holds together on its own, then cover with the inverted bowl and let rest for 10 minutes. Knead for 10-15 minutes, adding flour as necessary to prevent sticking, then place in a cleaned and oiled bowl, cover with a towel and set in a warm place to rise for one hour, or until doubled. When doubled, punch down, turn out and knead for 2-3 minutes, then cover and let rest for 15 minutes. Divide dough into sixteen pieces and shape into balls, and place on baking sheets dusted with cornmeal (or similar). Top with more cheese. Let rise again for 45 minutes. Bake in a preheated 450F oven for 15 minutes. For a thicker, harder crust, place a pan of boiling water on the oven floor, or on the lowest rack. Cool on wire racks and enjoy!

I'm good with whatever, man.

2011-04-22T16:49:00.000-04:00

Tonight's plan is to try and get SigOth hooked on Doctor Who (fingers crossed, yo!) and to watch part one of the Fringe season finale (it's a three-fer!). To go with all this, we're getting takeout from a local Chinese buffet place (the one where all the expats eat -- ees very, very good). I'm strongly tempted to order this.