I had my second, and final, knitting class the other night. I'm now seven rows into my first scarf. I had big intentions of making my first knitted item a gift for someone, but I can see now that with my arthritic fingers and spazmobility, it won't really be worth giving. Besides, by the time I finish, it will be May, and who wants a scarf in May?
The second class was actually not as wonderful as the first. In the first class, you may remember, I was the only one of three women to have never before attempted to knit. That was where I had the revelation that there are people in this world who thrive on being better at something than anyone else. Unfortunately for the two women besides me, they were both like that. Chaos ensued as I tried desperately to keep up. I am nothing if not an overachiever, and the teacher was falling all over herself to keep me interested. I got enough compliments to really get me excited for the next class.
The official second class was cancelled because of weather, so I had the option of attending a make-up class (which conflicted with something else) or going to the second session of the "Making Mittens" class. The Mitten class was filled with young, sarcastic, wonderful mitten-making women who just barely knew what they were doing. The teacher had to cut back on complimenting me in order to keep them on track. Best quote of the evening: "Gloves are like mittens, but with lots of thumbs. Thumbs of varying length. And no finger compartment."
One of them, Melanie, seemed particularly interested in talking to me, since we were the only ones in the class who weren't part of the weird Organic Chemistry clique at the other end of the table. We seemed to hit it off okay during the parts of class when the teacher left the room.
I was scheduled to meet Marc for dinner afterwards, and I contemplated inviting Melanie along, since the restaurant was right around the corner. But at the end of class, as I was putting my seventeen layers of outerwear back on, Melanie was suddenly engrossed in her work, not even glancing up to say goodbye.
During the long walk back to my car, I reasoned that we probably wouldn't have hit it off, anyway, even though I really wanted her to be "my friend I met in knitting class."
In these months of having few local friends, I've developed an uncanny ability to live an entire experience without ever starting it. I imagined our first fight, the disagreement over whether acrylic-wool blend yarn should really be considered a natural fiber. She probably likes to eat shrimp. I bet she loves Nelly. Oh well.
I never used to be like this. I was an ugly cloud of cynicism, yes, but with a big thick silver lining of hopefulness. I am the worst introvert ever. At least I have my knitting. Oh, God. Just shoot me.
by Fred M. Rogers
It's such a good feeling to know you're alive.
It's such a happy feeling: You're growing inside.
And when you wake up ready to say,
"I think I'll make a snappy new day."
It's such a good feeling, a very good feeling,
The feeling you know that we're friends.
Real Audio here, with the wonderful Mr. Rogers postscript.
Ten years ago, today, the World Trade Center was bombed for the first time. I was in Albany, contemplating whether I would move to New York City for college. I don't remember exactly where I was when I found out (unlike the subsequent attack, which I remember all too well), but I definitely felt a firm detachment from the event, as if nothing like that could ever touch me.
The editorial I linked is a tasteless call to arms that uses the WTC disasters in name to justify the use of force in another part of the world, against a different enemy. I agree with the writer that underestimating your enemy is the worst mistake of battle, but it's eye-for-eye retaliation like this that results in absurd levels of military escalation in the first place.
But then, I guess I shouldn't expect much more from The Post. From The Times, here is where we were, then, and here is where we are now.
Not living in or around NYC has induced a serious Perceived Lack of Shoes (PLOS, not to be confused with PLOOJ, from which I also, coincidentally, suffer) of late.
Looking for the PLOOJ link just led me all over the place. I think this must be referring to me... and my vulgarity, which I hold even nearer and dearer than my shoes, sorry to say. Incidentally, and as I fear others would attest, I'm not half as vulgar here as I am in person.
What are you hoarding these days?
There is some serious man-despising going on near my little corner of the web. Post-Valentine reality checks, sudden unexplained breakups, and cryptic why-oh-whys are all I read these days, it seems.
Luckily, everything here is still a-o.k. Or at least, we're not fashioning angst-ridden anonymity for random consumption by passers-by.
Snuggle yourselves up in those thick covers, kids. Spring'll come soon enough.
Anyone know where Ev got these sneakers?
Update:
Evan is a man who appreciates my need for shoes. The sneakers in question are called the "Evidence," which I would probably buy, sight-unseen, if my name was Ev. Thanks Ev!
Unfortunately, they came from a place called Shoe Biz, in the Haight, in SF, where I haven't been in years and don't really anticipate being for a while. To all others: keep an eye out for these sneaks, or something similarly red and yellow, for me.
Yet another update:
Wheeeeee! The internet rules the school!
While this is exciting, the problem with hydrogen cars is the production of hydrogen. It's a common misconception that hydrogen fuel is a cleaner alternative to fossil fuel. The fact is, it's hardly even an alternative.
Here's the problem. You can get hydrogen from one of two sources: either from methane (derived from fossil fuel) or from water.
If you get the hydrogen from methane, you have to treat the methane with steam. The steam is usually produced by the burning of fossil fuels, and carbon monoxide is still a byproduct. For the geeks in the crowd, I submit this:
CH4 + H2O + e -> 3H2 + CO
See that e? That's energy, for creating steam. And that CO? Still pretty bad.
If you produce it from water, you need a lot (a LOT) of energy to break down the water into its components.
2H2O + e = 2H2 + O2
e here is 286kJ/mole, a whole freaking lot of energy. And let's not forget, while our supply of water may seem infinite now, so did the world's resources for fossil fuel less than one-hundred years ago.
Either way, you're just moving the dependence on fossil fuel from the engine to the fuel production.
I worked on a collaborative project to determine whether the energy for the breakdown of water could be harnessed by photovoltaic cells, but the efficiency, or return on energy investment, of the cells (and pretty much any "alternative" energy source - wind, hydroelectric, biomass, to name a few) is so low that it would take a continent of cells to generate enough hydrogen to shift our dependence on fossil fuel.
There is one alternative energy source that would produce enough energy to reliably output enough energy for the production of hydrogen: nuclear power! But I doubt an increase in dependence on nuclear power is what we're looking for.
The decrease in dependence on fossil fuel is imminent, but impossible under current conditions. So while GM working on a hydrogen-powered car is an exciting step in the right direction, it's no great surprise that automotive companies are perfectly willing to jump on the hy-powered car bandwagon, since the production of the fuel is the problem, and that's not their problem to solve. They would rather present so-called alternatives than admit that the only real solution is to eliminate the entire car-paradigm. We need to decrease consumption of fuel, period, by changing the way we think about transportation. And that's a cultural shift that America isn't prepared to make.
Here in Connecticut, things are not going too well on the socialization front. I'm afraid we lost our ability to mix well once we got married. Consider this conversation we had over fast food last night:
K: Those people look nice. We could be friends with them... Try to spill something on them on the way out.
M: Our clumsiness could be our ticket in!
K: I bet those spilly people in the Pasta Pro commercial have tons of friends.
How do you make friends?
"There are going to be times," my mother has said, "that you will just have to smile and nod. You will feel your head shaking up and down, and you will ignore the rattling that the action causes. You will be shaking to loosen the blood clot intent on stroking out your common sense. You will feel an ounce of brain juice make the snotty transition to spinal fluid: useful on physical impact, but dripping with knowledge lost. Your heart may ache, and your skin could fall clammy. There will be a piercing ringing sound within the room, rendering you deaf but not affecting your offender. The tiniest of hairs will be righted, straining away from your skin as if you have licked each finger for insertion into ten different light sockets. Your bowels will clench. And just as you feel a scream burp up from your lungs and enter your throat, you will inhale the sticky, musty air that hovered about your moistened lip seconds before. As you exhale that same air minus its healing eight protons and eight electrons times something like Avogadro's number, you will feel your lips tighten into a smile, genuine or more likely manufactured, and you will notice that you continue to nod, with or against your better judgment."
I am, of course, paraphrasing.
Marc and I are heading out tonight for the first of two official Valentine dates, to one of those paint-your-own-pottery places for a BYOB group date-and-paint thing.
You may remember the last time we painted our own pottery, it was a set of plates that we made as a wedding gift for our friends Joe and Solmi.
The Valentine offer is off. If I know you, and trust you, you will probably still get one. I've been the victim of some internet creepiness lately, and I just don't feel very positive about sending notes d'amour to some stranger who could potentially be behind some things that made me feel severely not-so-good.
I hope everyone has a Valentine's Day that is not spent feeling not-so-good.
I always thought your W-2 Form(s) were supposed to be delivered to you by your employer prior to the end of January, or else. Turns out that's just the "recommended" date, and there's no real penalty for an employer who ignores it. If you haven't received your form(s) by February 14th, though, the IRS will take an official complaint from you by phone, and will serve the employer with a Form 4598: Form W-2, or 1099, Not Received, Incorrect, or Lost.
I got mine, but guess whose evil ex-employer has shafted him on yet another front. Have you received your W-2 form(s) for last year's employment yet?
Last night, as what I thought was to be the final episode of Joe Millionaire came to an abrupt end with no final bimbabe decision, just a lot more hand-waving about connections made and lessons learned, I turned to Marc in dismay and said, "I knew this would happen, and yet I still feel like Fox just raped me."
And then that jackass butler told us all about next week's surprise ending, and I got all excited, and turned to Marc with what must have been a look of great anticipation, and he just laughed. I'm just that easy, I guess.
Incidentally, is everyone in Australia named Paul Hogan? Or just the exports?
... unleashing the power of milk?
It's carbonated flavored milk. You know, for kids.
Everything I thought I knew about good smells was just obliterated when I took Diane's birthday cupcakes out of the oven. I'm not joking. I'm actually sitting at the computer, sweating, out of breath, hair mussed. They smell that good.
Sometimes, the best laid plans for coconut chicken can run awry. But the grilled cheese sandwiches were divine, and the chicken can wait for another night.
I had my first knitting class the other night, and discovered the whole knitting thing to be just as elitist as I suspected. Tell me, how can you in good scruples attend a Beginners' Knitting class when you've already knit a sweater? Sister, you belong down the hall.
We totally voted for Julia DeMato. Twice. Rock on, Connecticut!
The cold finally got to me, and we've booked a trip to the greater LA experience for early April.
Diane, if you're reading this, the cupcakes will be pink and they will be delicious.
Sorry, but I'm still not convinced that further inspection of Iraq isn't the best idea. The conversations were convincing, but if we can record them, why not intercept the movement?
I can safely say that the Yale hockey band is the loudest hockey band I've ever encountered.
So, here we are, on Movable Type. Things are going to look wonky for a little while, as Marc and I (more Marc than I) continue to work out the details of this little technological wonder. And you thought all I was doing was cooking and knitting...
You've abandoned your fear of putting chocolate into a perfectly good-looking chili. Maybe you even sprinkled some shredded cheese on top, you wacky risk-taker. It was worth it, right? However, since it's just you and my husband eating from that big pot (if he can smell it, he'll be over... perhaps I should have included that warning previously), you're stuck with a couple of dishes worth of leftovers. And now you're getting excited about this whole thinning of the line between sweet and savory. You've been craving chocolate-covered pretzels. Coconut chicken. Mango curry. And have I got the perfect solution for you: cornmeal pancakes.
I first had cornmeal pancakes at the now sadly defunct Royal Canadian Pancake House in New York, on Second Ave around 17th St. I've never really been a pancake person, so I wasn't too excited about this choice of restaurant. I was eating there with several friends before heading up to Central Park for the Rocket From the Crypt show at Summerstage. It was the 4th of July.
Cornmeal pancakes, like chocolate chili, bridge the sweet-savory gap perfectly. The finished product can be just as easily topped with breakfast syrup as with black beans and salsa. Or, in this case, leftover chili reheated on the stovetop. The way to get Marc to enjoy leftovers (neither one of us is a big fan of leftover food) is to refocus the meal on a new main dish. This works for both of us. As Marc pointed out, they're not so strange with chili. They're practically cornbread. As an added bonus, the smell of these pancakes cooking is just about the greatest aroma you could possibly have around your house.
Here's the recipe, adapted from the Joy of Cooking:
________________
Cornmeal Pancakes
Makes about 18 pancakes
Ingredients:
1 1/4 c. yellow cornmeal
3/4 c. all-purpose flour
1 3/4 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 2/3 c. milk
4 tablespoons butter, melted, plus extra for the griddle
1/4 c. syrup
2 large eggs
small can of yellow corn
1/2 c. shredded cheddar cheese
Optional extras:
1 c. chopped fresh broccoli
1/2 c. chopped chile peppers
Whisk the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, and salt together in a large bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the milk, butter, syrup, and eggs. Pour the wet ingredients over the dry ingredients and stir them together. This batter will be much thinner than normal pancake batter. Stir the corn and cheese into the batter. If you want to add broccoli or chiles, now's the time to stir those in, too.
Preheat your oven to 200°F, and place a cookie sheet on the rack inside. Heat up a nonstick griddle or fry pan on the stovetop. Melt about 1/2 tablespoon of butter on the hot surface. Once the butter looks foamy, spoon 1/4 cup of batter onto the griddle for each pancake. Leave room for the batter to spread. Cook until the tops of the pancakes are starting to look cooked around the edges. Turn and cook until the underside is lightly browned. As you finish the pancakes, scoop them onto the cookie sheet in the warm oven so they'll all be warm when it's time to eat. If things on the griddle start getting sticky, you can melt a little more butter in between batches. I find that the batter has enough grease in it that things stay pretty much non-stick without assistance, but I use a non-stick fry pan, and on something like cast iron your results might vary.
I tend to go a little crazy with the accompaniments for these pancakes, with shredded cheese, salsa, sour cream, chopped cilantro, and pancake syrup (to be used alone, not with all that other stuff). Now enjoy!
This has been the Winter of experimentation in the kitchen. It was the first room I unpacked. It's such a comfort to be in a place where we're happy at home. I grocery shop. I read cookbooks. I plan ahead, or I just whip something up. It has been a successful learning experience.
Since we started measuring temperatures on the Kelvin scale, we've been craving those deep, hearty dishes of Winter. The kind of meals that cook over low heat and fill the house with yummy smells. The crock-pot stews, the thick soups, and chili, chili, chili. When my mother came to visit in November, she made us her chili recipe. It's a basic, meat, tomatoes, and beans kind of chili. Then we stepped up to chicken and white bean chili. Last week, we finally went veg with this recipe, adapted from Real Simple:
____________
Vegetarian Chili with Chocolate
Makes 6 to 8 servings
Ingredients:
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 green bell pepper, finely chopped
one 16-ounce can crushed tomatoes
1 14-16-ounce can borlotti beans, drained
1 14-16-ounce can pinto beans, drained
2 14-16-ounce cans kidney beans, drained
5 cups vegetable broth
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 ounces bittersweet chocolate
In a stockpot, over medium heat, cook the oil, garlic, onion, and green pepper until slightly softened, about 10 minutes. Add the tomatoes, beans, vegetable broth, cumin, and salt. Stir to combine. Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer, stirring occasionally, 1 to 1 1/2 hours, partially removing lid to thicken during final 15-20 minutes. Before serving, stir in the chocolate until melted.
Tomorrow: What to do with the leftovers...
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