Tag: books

News & Politics, Pets, Photography

A Recipe, the Moon, and Some Other Stuff

Shelly

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I love green beans. They are quite possibly the most perfect food in the world. One of my favorite ways to make them is to sautee them with a bit of tamari and lemon juice.

(All measurements are very approximate.)
4-6C fresh or frozen green beans, cut to taste
1T olive oil (enough to lightly coat pan)
4-6 scallions, chopped
4oz mushrooms, cut to taste
2-3T tamari (you can substitute soy sauce)
a few cloves of garlic, chopped
the juice of one lemon

Lightly coat a wok or large frying pan with olive oil and bring up to medium heat. Add the scallions, green beans, and tamari and cook for about 15-20 minutes. Add the mushrooms and garlic and cook until the mushrooms are tender. Add lemon juice and turn up heat slightly. This is a good time to taste and adjust the tamari and add any other seasonings you might like. I prefer fairly plain food, so I stick to just tamari and lemon. When all the liquid is cooked out, remove from heat and serve.

The left-overs make a damnfinegood breakfast, too.

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Last night, I got home a little before 8:00. It was nearly full dark, the sky had cleared, and the waxing gibbous moon was a lovely, buttery color.

I feel out of touch with the shifting seasons right now. My regular schedule is such that I’m up at 4am and out the door by 5am. I get to see the slow, subtle, daily changes in the morning light. I miss the fog and the smell of early morning. I miss the quiet, secret feel of pre-dawn. I miss being one of the first people at work.

Right now I’m on a later schedule, leaving home around 8am. That means that the sunset shift is coming as a bit of a shock. Instead of a steady build-up to fall, it feels like it’s happening all too suddenly. When I get to work, there are hordes of people and, despite the fact that it’s a library, it’s noisy and crowded and bustling. It makes me feel anxious and like I’m putting my feet in all the wrong places.

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Despite the fact that Harriet’s a high strung, tweaky, high maintenance sort of dog, she’s completely unperturbed by things like loads of laundry descending upon her while she’s innocently napping. I guess that’s not really all that surprising, as she loves to be covered up while she sleeps. I expect the laundry feels nice and toasty warm to her.

Right now, in fact, she’s sleeping on the bed. Somehow, she’s managed to get one of the pillows on top of her. It’s draped over her like a blanket. She takes being comfy very, very seriously.

I’ve noticed that she’s starting to take some interest in strange noises. While she was one of two, she would leave the watch dog duties to Elliott. The house could be overrun by an army of zombies and she’d happily sleep right through it. Last night, while we were sitting on the couch watching Big Brother, the cat knocked over something in the bedroom. Harriet snapped to attention, gave me an “Aren’t you going to check that out?” look, then let out a couple of soft woofs. She’s also started to alert me to cars going up and down the drive, which is reassuring. Not that I’m concerned about traffic, but that I’m glad she’s taking interest in what’s going on around her.

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In other news, I finally finished the new Harry Potter book. It was spoiled by some asstrumpet online, so I knew what was going to happen, but that didn’t soften the blow. I’ve read a couple of blog reviews of it, all of which were unhappy about the ending. I won’t say that it makes me happy, but I do see why it was necessary. Part of the hero’s journey requires that s/he go it alone.

Some of the responses I read were hopeful that those who have died would return in the last book. I don’t think they will. I hope they won’t. One of the things that’s struck me about the last couple of books is that they don’t lie to kids about death. Death can be sudden and incomprehensible, it can happen at the hands of those we trust (but maybe shouldn’t), and it is, most of all, final. You don’t get do-overs.

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Via Bitch Ph.D. and posts to a couple of my mail lists:

Have you heard about Cindy Sheehan? She’s the mother of a soldier who was killed in Iraq. She’s been holding a vigil outside the president’s home in Crawford, Texas, waiting for him to talk to her. All she wants is an explanation from him for why her son had to die. Personally, I think that’s the least he could do for her. Bush, who is there on vacation, refuses to speak to her, though. Apparently, he needs to get on with his life. Must be nice. Some folks, like Ms. Sheehan’s son, Casey, aren’t lucky enough to have a life to get on with. Ms. Sheehan is camped out, waiting for the president to change his mind. She might be in for a long wait, so there is a postcard campaign to 1) help show support and 2) help her pass the time. Ideally, you would send a postcard a day, but I think even just one would make a difference.

Cindy Sheehan
Crawford Peace House
9142 East 5th Street
Crawford TX 76638-3037

No matter how you feel about this war, I think you’d agree that the loved ones of those who have died deserve to know what, exactly, they died for.

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Long Time No Blog

Shelly

Cars
Because life is never quite exciting enough, the MoonPie of Delight decided to die. Of course, she waited until after I’d spent $500 getting the oil pump and some damned seal replaced, before shuffling off this mortal coil. That’s how these things happen, I guess.

So now I’m car shopping, which is pretty damned funny. I know nothing whatsoever about cars, beyond “Oooh, pretty!” Somehow, that strikes me as an ass-backwards way to go about choosing a car, but what can I say? At this point, I’m leaning toward another hatchback or a small wagon (Ford Focus or Subaru Outback?), but Jeebus only knows what I’ll end up with when it’s all said and done. I know that it will not be a sedan or coupe. I need rear cargo space that will accommodate a medium-sized dog crate and/or art. Plus, I’m just not a sedan sorta person. A small SUV would be fine, but for the few occasions 4WD would actually be helpful, it hardly seems worth the expense. The extra clearance would definitely be good (the driveway is gravel and often in serious need of grading), but again, I’m not sure it’s worth the expense.

Anyway, the result is that I’m superdamned cranky. I don’t like being carless.

Dogs
On the bright side, I found myself a little virtual dog therapy. Check out this little guy. Have you ever seen anything like those ears? I didn’t think so! I really recommend looking at the video, too, if you’re on broadband. I know I said male Boxer*, but I’m smitten. Unfortunately, he’s the right dog at the wrong time. Damn, is he ever gorgeous, though! Hopefully, someone will adopt him soon, so he can stop tormenting me.

On the homefront, Harriet is still being a sissypants about going out into the yard by herself. She’s desperately in need of another dog to hold her paw and egg her on. I don’t mind going out with her, but for some reason, she says it’s not the same as chasing bunnies with another dog, thankyouverymuch. She’s enjoying getting all the attention for her very own self, though. Boxers are not lap dogs, but evidently no one ever told her that. I spent yesterday evening, sitting on the couch, trying to balance my book on top of her. It’s a Very Good Thing she’s cute.

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Arting
In other news, I’ve not been in any sort of mood to do any arting. I’ve been re-reading the first five Harry Potter books, instead. I finished the fifth one Monday and–finally!–started on the new one yesterday. If I can tear myself away from it, I’m going to spend tonight and tomorrow catching up on other people’s art.

Movies
In movie news, I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory over the weekend. It was everything I’d hoped it would be–much creepier than Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. I’m a huge Tim Burton fan, though, so it would’ve had to’ve been pretty dreadful for me not to have enjoyed it.

I’ve also been working my way through a stack of Netflix: The League of Gentlemen, seasons 2-3 (brilliant, of course), Dogville (a wonderful Lars von Trier oddity), and the rest of Wonderfalls (I can’t recommend it enough). Another little film was recommended in one of “my” dog groups: The Miracle of the White Stallions. It’s a typical mid-’60s Disney film, but I thought it was well worth watching. It’s set in WWII Austria, so the Disnification of the war, Nazis, Americans, etc. is interesting. Plus, pretty horsies!

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* The master plan was to eventually end up with a female Sibe and a male Boxer. Since Harriet is such a fearsome bitch where other girldogs are concerned, the next dog will have to be a boy. Since the boy half of the eventual duo was to be a Boxer, that meant that the next dog was to be a Boxer boy. That’s what I get for making plans, right? Becaue, now I’m seriously rethinking them. A male Sibe-female Boxer combo can’t be too bad, can it? Those Boxer girls are such pains in the arse when it comes to bossypantsing, though, so I dunno. A female Sibe would, I think, be much easier to live with. I could go around in circles like this for days on end.**

** This should give you some idea why car hunting is making my brain explodiate.

Crankypantsing

Title o’ the Day

Shelly

Opinion on the proposal for a Council decision establishing a community action programme to promote active European citizenship (civic participation) and the communication from the Commission to the European Parliament and the Council on measures to be taken by member states to ensure participation of all citizens of the Union to the 2004 elections to the European Parliament in an enlarged Union.

Now doesn’t that sound like a barrel of laughs? Hello and welcome to my life. I know you’re all envious, aren’t you? In other news, the mosquito bites still itch like crazy, it’s still hot and humid, and the fountain machine at my favorite Big Foot is dispensing weak sodapepsicokepop. I’m trying to think of something positive about this day, but for the life of me, I can’t come up with anything–just more suckitude. Like, for instance, when I got to work this ayem, the custodians were busily (and noisily!) replacing all the fluorescent bulbs we’d asked them to remove. So, now I’m working under interrogation lights.

But, hey, it’s not all bad news. It’s once again safe to get your tits out. Praise be!

Art

The Beanie!

Shelly

The weather was gross yesterday–cold and sleety and grey, grey, grey. All day at work, the only thing I could think of was going home, making a cup of hot cocoa, and relaxing. When I stopped at the end of the driveway to check the mail, there was my copy of Michael Nobbs’ The Beanie. Oh frabjous day! I could hardly wait to get up to the house and dive in. I let the dogs out and opened the package. Standing at the door, where I could easily check on the dogs, I started reading. It was just as lovely as I’d imagined it would be–funny, gentle, warm, and comfortable. It also is a much needed reminder for me to try to appreciate and live every moment, even the ones that try my patience.

So, go order your copy of The Beanie now!