I am suddenly ridiculously covetous of a KitchenAid stand mixer. As in, I have been dreaming about the damned thing. In seafoam aqua blue-green. Of course, I don’t exactly have an extra $400 sitting around, but that’s just a minor detail.
I’ve also been dreaming of all the homemade bread I could make, if I had a stand mixer. Yeah, I could buy good bread, but I want to make it myself and bake it in my very own oven. I just don’t want to do all the kneading, cuz I’m lazy that way.
Courtesy of Facebook, again. I just got a message from my little sister. As in, the one I’ve never met. I guess she found my brother, and through him, found me. Not like I’m hard to find, because my name sticks out like a sore thumb. Hers, though, has changed, because she’s been married. I wouldn’t have been able to find her, no matter how hard I tried.
Anyway, the whole “What do I say to someone I’m related to but have never met” problem rears its perplexed head yet again. I’m not complaining! It’s just strange and awkward to have to think about something that other people get to take for granted.
1. Laundry. Done.
2. NaNoWriMo allotment. Done!!!
3. Errands. Done
4. Kitchen cleaned. Done.
5. Vacuuming. Not so much.
6. Lunch for tomorrow. Done.
7. Computer file back-ups. Done.
8. iPod synched and charged. Done.
9. Banana bread baked. No, but bananas have been mashed and frozen for later.
10. Take photos. Didn’t do that, either. Maybe tomorrow.
Like most people, I think, I have a whole list of foods that I think of as “comfort foods.” Mashed potatoes, hot chocolate with toast, soup, etc. I was thinking about it last week, and realized that when it really comes down to it, no matter how much I think I might want one of the classics, I almost always end up making either buttered popcorn or buttered noodles. Apparently I can blame my dad for that, because those were the two things he used to make when I was little.
And that makes me think of fried eggs. No, really. I have always had a complicated relationship with eggs. I hate them scrambled, and only a few years ago learned to enjoy them that way, with cheese and lots of veggies. Sort of like a messy omelet. I don’t like hard yolks or whites that are not thoroughly cooked. I do like them hard-boiled, especially if they are dill pickled. I also like runny fried egg yolks, but not so much the whites.
Which brings me to something I had completely forgotten about, but was recently reminded of. I have always eaten fried eggs (over medium and unbroken, please, with no crispy bits), whites first, with buttered toast. Cut off a bite-sized section of white, place it on toast, and nom. When the white is gone, quarter the yolk, place each section on a piece of toast and nom. Mop up the spilled yolk with the rest of the toast.
I learned that from my dad, too. I remember, when I was about four years old, sitting at the kitchen table, refusing to eat my egg and toast because the whites were disgusting. He told me to eat the white first, with the toast, then the yolk, which I liked, would be my reward. To this day, that’s how I eat fried eggs.
I just got back from running errands, one of which took me past a Christian school where a ball game was in progress. The players were wearing long, tunic-y uniforms with large crosses on the front. It looked for all the world like a bunch of little kids were heading off for their first crusade, and I wonder if the analogy was intentional.
In which we are blindsided.
I’ve been playing around on Facebook lately. I am a late adopter, but better late than never, yes? The Venn diagram of family, real life friends, old classmates, and on-line friends is interesting, and watching some of those folks interact is kind of funny.
It has had some odd and unintended consequences, though.
A few days ago, my uncle Paul sent me a Facebook message. I haven’t seen Paul since I was about three years old. I have a foggy memory of him visiting us when we lived in Rushville, right after my brother was born. My mom always said that Paul was a sweet guy, so I was glad that he got in touch with me. What I was not expecting, though, was my reaction when he said he hadn’t heard from my dad since 1986. No one knows where he is, apparently. The thing is, I knew that already, and I wasn’t expecting news about him. I really do just want to get to know Paul and his family. I’ve got aunts and uncles and cousins I’ve never met, and that’s just ridiculous.
I don’t think my uncle Paul thinks I’ve got ulterior motives for contacting him–that he’s just a way to find my dad. After all, Paul contacted me. And he’s been in sporadic touch with my mom over the past few years. I don’t know why I’m worried about it. It’s just weird.
I’m also having a difficult time with the whole “dad” thing. I remember the last time I talked to him. He called, and we spoke on the phone for about five minutes. I was 10 years old, and I distinctly remember feeling conflicted about what to call him. I’d always called him daddy, but I was old enough by that point to feel uncomfortable calling him that. And you know what? I’ve pretty much avoided calling him anything at all since then, because I still haven’t figured it out. What do you call your father when you haven’t called him anything in 30 years?
Anyway, the blindsided part? I suddenly got all weepy while replying to my uncle Paul’s Facebook message.
In honor of Andy’s birthday.
I got a temporary crown this morning. The permanent one should be ready in a couple of weeks, but the first Friday appointment they had was on 9/11. I’m not superstitious. Much.
Now, if the Novocaine would just wear off. She had to give me a second dose because that tooth was really, really sensitive, and even then, I could still feel her working on it. It didn’t hurt, but it felt uncomfortable. I don’t want to imagine what it would’ve felt like if I hadn’t had the second shot.
“Reducing health inequities is, for the Commission on Social Determinants of Health, an ethical imperative. Social injustice is killing people on a grand scale.”
From Closing the gap in a generation: health equity through action on the social determinants of health, World Health Organization, 2008.
Sometimes I actually get interesting books to catalog!
red paper boat 