Tag: food

Crankypantsing, Meta

Stop! Thief!

Shelly

While perusing my website stats, I found that someone was using one of my photographs as the background image for their blog. It was a large image, too, and because they had linked directly to my file instead of placing it on their own server, they were sucking my bandwidth. Bastards! I renamed the file and replaced it with another containing “image used without permission” text.

What is wrong with people? Do they think that, just because they found it on Teh Internets, they have a right to steal it? Or, do they just not care? I don’t get it. It’s not even like this girl was being half-way smart about it, either. If she’d copied it to her own server, I would have been less likely to have noticed (or cared!) that she’d taken it.

And, damn! I made brownies yesterday and forgot to put one in my lunch this morning. I also made some kick-ass vegetable soup, which I did remember to bring. It’s got all sorts of good stuff in it: garlic, green onions, tomatoes, potatoes, broccoli, carrots, celery, and brussels sprouts (I didn’t have cabbage, which is just as well, because I think the brussels sprouts were even better). It’s rich and thick and just what I needed, bein’ deathly ill an’ all.

I received my copy of The Diary of Anne Frank:  the revised critical edition–just in time, too, because I needed something to entertain me while I battled the plague. The book is a bit overwhelming, and, at 800+ pages is too large and heavy to be a comfortable read-in-bed book, but I couldn’t wait to get started on it. I haven’t gotten to the actual diaries yet–yes, diaries, plural. While in hiding, Anne wrote, then rewrote her diary with an eye toward publication. Then, her father expurgated much from the version that was originally published, so there are three versions of the diary–because I’m working my way through the documentation at the beginning of the book. There’s quite a lot of it, so it’s no small feat. Not that it’s not fascinating–it is!–but I can’t wait to get to the diaries themselves. Obviously, I’m reading them because I’m interested in the subject matter. I’m also interested in them as a journaler, though, so that gives me another perspective to consider as I’m reading them.

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

Messy Marvin

Shelly

One of my coworkers has a young granddaughter. That means that we get to hear granddaughter stories. Not being into small children in the abstract, I ought to find this a trying experience. I don’t though. Her granddaughter cracks me right the hell up. So, the other day, she told us about taking GD out to eat. GD dribbled something down the front of her shirt and was quite upset about it. I don’t blame her. I hate it when I do that, too. I don’t, however, throw screaming fits when it happens. GD does, apparently, so their solution was to turn her shirt around, back-to-front. Jeenyous!

So, anyway, I caved in and got pizza for lunch this afternoon. And, not just any pizza, either. It was one of those deep fried pan pizzas from Pizza Hut. Yes, it was a mistake. Duh. A hideous mistake. Not only could I suck the grease out of the crust, but I managed to drop a piece of it on my shirt. Now I have a hummense constellation of grease taunting me.

Excuse me while I run to the restroom to turn my shirt around. What I can’t see won’t bother me, right? Much.

* Yes, I am Messy Marvin.

Art, Collage, Paintings, Poetry

The Tree of Mercury

Shelly

Tree of Mercury
The Tree of Mercury
oil on canvas
48 x 67 inches

I started this painting a couple of years ago and didn’t completely finish it. It’s ginormous, so physically maneuvering it is a little tricky. Since I’ve been rephotographing and measuring everything, I thought I should dig this out and try to shoot it, too. That was an, um, adventure.

I love the twisty, viney bits and have based a few other pieces on it.

The Keeping Tree
The Keeping Tree
5 1/2 x 5 1/2 inches
collage on paper, with pennies, cork, hat pin, and yearbook photos

To Blossoms
To Blossoms
9 1/2 x 12 inches
collage on paper, with 35 mm film, dried ironweed flowers, and yearbook photo

To Blossoms
by Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast?
Your date is not so past,
But you may stay yet here a-while,
To blush and gently smile;
And go at last.

What, were ye born to be
An hour or half’s delight;
And so to bid good-night?
‘Twas pity Nature brought ye forth,
Merely to show your worth,
And lose you quite.

But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne’er so brave:
And after they have shown their pride,
Like you, a-while;–they glide
Into the grave.

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We’ve had on and off clouds all day, but it’s been dry. That’s due to change soon, though. A line of storms is heading our way. I looked out a little bit ago and saw that the sky had darkened. After the cloud had passed, I took a photo of it. The sun was in the west and the cloud in the east. It’s amazing what a change in perspective will do. While overhead, it turned everything black, but with the sun on it, it looks soft and benign.

And, an instant review. Soy Fusion’s Matcha Green Tea is excellent. It sounds kind of gross (soy milk and green tea), but it’s nummy stuff. Then again, I love lots of soy milk in my tea, so this isn’t much of a stretch.

Crankypantsing

Supermarket Assault

Shelly

On my way home from work one day last week, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things. Aside from “veggies” and eggs, I didn’t have a list, so I did more aimless wandering than usual. Do I need anything from the Indian food section? Hmmm. Green chile poppadoms would be nice. How about the juice aisle? Do I need any V-8? No? Oh, that’s right, I still have some left from the food co-op. Oh, yes, here we are. Eggs…

You can see how it went.

So, I cruised through the dairy aisle, past the bulk-frozen-foods section, and into the normal-sized frozen foods section, where I was immediately transfixed by the vast array of potatoey goodness. Mind you, I don’t normally succumb to it’s siren call, but on this day, I was sorely tempted.

And then it happened. A little old lady assaulted me in the frozen foods section of Marsh. First, she sneaked up behind me, until she was this >< close. She grabbed me by the arm and proceeded to explain to me that all those nummy potato products are unhealthy. Well, duh! Then she told me that she stays skinny by indulging only in ice cream. Next, she looked at all the stuff in my cart (various fresh veggies, eggs, poppadoms, plain yogurt, and a couple of jars of marinara sauce). I didn't ask her for a critique of my diet, but that didn't stop her. I found out that Knorr makes a package mix that is way better than any marinara sauce in a bottle. That may be. I'm doubtful, but I'm not about to argue with random bossy people. I also found out that people in Italy don't eat much beef. M'kay. I suspect the Italian terrain isn't well suited to cattle ranching, but I'm not sure why I ought to care one way or the other. Also, Edy's ice cream has gum fillers but Breyers is pretty good. (I think Breyers has an offensive after taste and I'm pretty enamored of Edy's coffee with chocolate cappuccino chip, but I'm not the expert whose daddy owned a drug store with a soda fountain, so what do I know?)

Really, I now know more about this woman's life than I know about most of my friends' lives. She's a photographer who works for the county court system. She makes US$40K/year. She's lived in Bloomington her whole life, but travels to Italy frequently. The last time she was there, she nagged the bed and breakfast owner into selling her the dishes right off the dining table. She knows the secret to the perfect vinegar and oil salad dressing (ugh).

And then, the pièce de résistance, she started ranting about fat, smoking, and poor people. Heaven help me. Did I look like someone who gave a rat's ass what this woman thought about the health and habits of poor people? I Don't Think So. Apparently, back in 1492, she happened to be driving past a soup kitchen and was offended when she saw that some of the folks in line were (gasp!) smoking. Unsurprisingly, she had the brass ovaries to get out of her car, go inside, and complain to one of the workers about it. Who, rightly, told her that charity isn't charity if there are strings attached. I guess that must've pissed her right off, if, years later, she still feels the need to air her grievance to random strangers in the frozen foods department.

At this point, nearly 30 minutes had passed and I was close to homicidal. Yes, I know I could've just walked off or told her I had to go, but I have a hard time being that mean to someone else, even when it's a stranger[1]. Thankfully, some poor guy wanted to get into the ice cream freezer behind us. She started talking to him and forgot about me, so I beat a hasty retreat. As I was waiting in line, I could hear her, across the aisle, assaulting someone else. It sounded like she was picking through their grocery cart, too.

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[1] When I worked at the local newspaper, part of my job involved taking customer service calls. We'd get quite a few of them in the early morning from elderly folks who were obviously lonely and had no one else to talk to. I'm not good at small talk with strangers, so it was very uncomfortable to me to find a way to do what my job required without hurting the caller's feelings or make them feel even lonelier. That job sucked for me on so many levels that I can't even begin to describe the vastness and deepness of its ginormous, hummense suckitude.

Art, Artist Books, Collage

More Vessels

Shelly

These are two new pages for the Vessels book.

Migration
Migration
collage
7 1/4 x 10 inches

I covered up the desert at the bottom of the giraffe picture with a carrot I found in a food magazine. The idea of the giraffes walking into the ocean seemed kinda funny. The carrot balances out the orange at the top, plus it adds the perfect surreal touch.

What Lily Saw
What Lily Saw
collage
7 1/4 x 10 inches

The label at the top right came from Catherine. She got me my first library job when I was in college. She also taught me how to weave and quilt. She passed away a few years ago and most of her crafting stash went to my mom. I ended up with a few things, though, including some spiffy fibers. This yarn label was in one of the boxes of supplies.

Ibarra Mexican style chocolate makes the best hot cocoa. It’s got a hint of cinnamon in it. I don’t usually like cinnamon, but it adds the perfect touch. It also has lecithin in it, which makes it extra creamy.

Crankypantsing

That Ain’t Natural

Shelly

I just found a half a loaf of bread that had fallen off the top of the microwave and got hidden behind a box of cereal. The bread is old enough that I don’t remember buying it. It’s not the least bit molded, which is really disturbing: the use by date is February 14 (presumably 2005). I could understand it if this were white bread. That stuff has a shelf life that rivals Twinkies. This was 100% whole wheat bread, though. I’ll keep this experience in mind the next time I’m tempted to buy something besides Ezekiel bread.

Pets

Lemons!

Shelly

There have been lots of discussions in the dog groups about weird things our dogs will eat. Sunday night, I tried grapefruit. Both dogs said, “More, pleaseandthanks!” While I was at Babbs this morning, I picked up some lemons, with the intention of seeing what they’d make of them. Elliott ate a few pieces, but was less than thrilled (he’ll eat anything I give him). Harriet is a little more picky, but will give most things a try. Surprisingly, she really seems to like lemons. Altogether, she ate about a quarter of a lemon, peel and all.

Art

Radishes, Again, and Paper

Shelly

I’m having my mid-morning snack (actually, since I get up at 4am, it’s more of a mid-day snack). I’m still on a radish bender. Yesterday’s radishes were hot and slightly smoky tasting, but they were nice and crunchy. Today’s radishes are sweet and garlicky. The flesh is crisp and delicately veined with red and pink. Mmm.

In artings news, I started on another drawing for the Vessels book last night. It’s Pitt pen and watercolor pencil on paper. Oh, and such paper!–140 lb Cartiere Magnani hot press. It’s yummy stuff, soft and silky and perfectly balanced. I don’t normally like the finish on hot press papers, but I think I’m in love. The act of putting pen to this paper is a joy.

I’m getting ready to begin a journal round robin for the Art Erratica group. Mail out date is March 15, so I need to get started on binding this puppy. (Who? Me? Procrastinate?) I’ve been putting it off because I couldn’t decide what materials I wanted to use. I guess I can check paper off the to-figure-out list. And binding (I’m going with coptic). Now I just need to decide what I want to do for the cover and whether or not I’m going to wrap the spine edge of each signature with a decorative paper or, hmmm, maybe ribbon?

Art, Paintings

Radish

Shelly

Radish

I went to the grocery store Saturday morning and bought a cartful of veggies. Babbs has the yummiest veggies. (Though the cashier was confounded by my sack of fresh brussels sprouts. “What are those?” she asked.) Their radishes are especially good–crisp and sweet and slightly sharp, without the excessive bite that radishes can get. Oh yes, and a hint of garlic, too.

I washed and halved a baggie of them to bring to work today, so I’d have something to snack on. I overestimated as I was pulling them off the greens, so it’s a very large baggie of radishes. I was distracted by the dogs underfoot; it never fails to amuse me as they snatch the flung roots and tops and gobble them up. I’ve trained them well to intercept random veggie missiles.

Anyway, I’m enjoying my little late-morning snack.