I was at the meat counter today, thinking about lamb chops. I have never made them before, and there were none on display. I was just about to ask the butcher when a woman came up and asked about lamb chops herself. I overheard and inserted myself into the conversation. He was telling her that he would cut 6 for her, so I asked him to add another 8 for me.
He went into the back and the woman and I stood side be side for a while. After a bit, I asked, "So, what are you making?"
"Oh, a new recipe I haven't tried before. You rub the lamb with cumin..."
"Mmmm...that sounds good."
"Yes, and then you serve it with couscous and dried cranberries."
"That's funny. That is the identical thing I'm going to do with my la- " We both said, "Cooking Light?" at the same time and then, simultaneously, "Yeah, I have a subscription."
By the way, lamb chops are TINY. Eight of them cost $20. I almost died when I saw the price.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Floor is Done!
Hooray! The flooring project is almost over! I must admit that having the computer set up on a card table in the living room has been kind of fun, with the exception of the 2 miles of phone line we had to run in order to get on the Internet. And the Foosball table...well, I'll miss it when it finally moves downstairs.
There's still a little bit left to do. Here is Si, carefully fitting IKEA tab A into IKEA slot B. We had to remove the old desk in order to do the project. There was a reason the previous home-owners left that desk behind: there was no getting it out of the office intact. Si literally chopped it up. I'm sure that was satisfying.
The guest room is pretty much put back together except the heavy stuff.
There's still a little bit left to do. Here is Si, carefully fitting IKEA tab A into IKEA slot B. We had to remove the old desk in order to do the project. There was a reason the previous home-owners left that desk behind: there was no getting it out of the office intact. Si literally chopped it up. I'm sure that was satisfying.
The guest room is pretty much put back together except the heavy stuff.
The rec room...well, this is as "put together" as it ever looks. Someday, this will be a great party room. For now, the Foosball table will reside in splendid isolation. Until we have money for other furnishings, it is the sock-foot skating rink, the "Blind Man's Bluff" floor and the dance studio.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Rain Man
I was unexpectedly interviewed by our local Fox affiliate on Thursday. As in, my boss burst into my office and said that Fox was doing a special report about whether or not immigrants really want to learn English. Would I do an interview? "Sure. When do they want to do it?" "They're on their way over." So much for camera-ready.
I hate watching myself on video. I mean, really hate it. Is this common, do you think? The mobility of my face, when I see it from the outside, looks weird to me. "Ooooh," I think. "Whoever she is, she needs to calm down." At any rate, I dispatched the interview; it ran during three time slots; I tolerated watching it once, (online, with my hair pulled over my eyes, like that's going to help) just to make sure they didn't edit my quotes out of context. In fact, they generously let me keep my sound bites intact. Duty done.
I was in the produce section yesterday (have you noticed that this seems to be where stuff happens?), and a man came over to me to comment on my choice of pomegranate. Then he looked at me intently and said, "Do I know you?" This happens sometimes at the local supermarket, resulting in the well-known verbal square dance: "Hmmm...do your kids go to XYZ school? Play soccer? Do you live near here? Work out at the rec center?" I opened my mouth to start the routine, and I saw his light bulb come on (it must have been my open mouth that did it). I know! You were on TV! Wow!" I was completely freaked out; first, because he remembered my face after about 30 seconds on the air the day before; but especially because he was making an embarrassing scene about it. He was loud and effusive. "Wow!" Wanted to shake my hand. "Cool!" My eyes were bugging out of their sockets from startlement. Textbook "deer in the headlights". I pointed out that it was extraordinary for him to remember a face in that way. "I guess I just have a photographic memory!" he said, still thrilled. God, what would he have done if I were Angelina Jolie? Stuffed his face into my cleavage? Yeah, OK, what cleavage?
He must be some sort of savant. Unable to function in society, but remembers every face he's ever seen on TV.
I hate watching myself on video. I mean, really hate it. Is this common, do you think? The mobility of my face, when I see it from the outside, looks weird to me. "Ooooh," I think. "Whoever she is, she needs to calm down." At any rate, I dispatched the interview; it ran during three time slots; I tolerated watching it once, (online, with my hair pulled over my eyes, like that's going to help) just to make sure they didn't edit my quotes out of context. In fact, they generously let me keep my sound bites intact. Duty done.
I was in the produce section yesterday (have you noticed that this seems to be where stuff happens?), and a man came over to me to comment on my choice of pomegranate. Then he looked at me intently and said, "Do I know you?" This happens sometimes at the local supermarket, resulting in the well-known verbal square dance: "Hmmm...do your kids go to XYZ school? Play soccer? Do you live near here? Work out at the rec center?" I opened my mouth to start the routine, and I saw his light bulb come on (it must have been my open mouth that did it). I know! You were on TV! Wow!" I was completely freaked out; first, because he remembered my face after about 30 seconds on the air the day before; but especially because he was making an embarrassing scene about it. He was loud and effusive. "Wow!" Wanted to shake my hand. "Cool!" My eyes were bugging out of their sockets from startlement. Textbook "deer in the headlights". I pointed out that it was extraordinary for him to remember a face in that way. "I guess I just have a photographic memory!" he said, still thrilled. God, what would he have done if I were Angelina Jolie? Stuffed his face into my cleavage? Yeah, OK, what cleavage?
He must be some sort of savant. Unable to function in society, but remembers every face he's ever seen on TV.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
"A Long Way Gone", by Ishmael Beah
Our book club doesn't meet until Sunday, but (if any of my fellow book-clubbers visit), I won't give anything away.
[Let me preface this in the same way I preface all of my book reviews. I am a dorky amateur and I would never claim that this is a real book review. Just my impressions, for what they're worth.]
I can be fairly unequivocal in this case, however. "A Long Way Gone" is an important book, and it needs to be read. By you.
It is the autobiography of a young man (now in his 20s and living in New York), who was caught up and displaced by the civil war in Sierra Leone when he was 13. Don't worry if you don't know a lot about the history of Sierra Leone. I don't, either. It doesn't matter. He describes his flight from anti-government rebels; wandering homeless, alone and with other boys; his eventual recruitment into the army and his evolution into a killing machine. He then relates his rehabilitation and his escape from the increasing chaos in his country.
Everywhere in the world where there is war and unrest, people do despicable things to each other and to children who get in their way. Lucky middle-class Americans like me know this on an intellectual level, but there aren't many opportunities to read a detailed, first-person account of these atrocities: not only because lots of kids don't survive them; but because the kids who do lack the opportunities, education, support and emotional strength to tell their stories in a compelling way. Beah, in his acknowledgements, credits a lot of friends who convinced him to write this book and urged him to finish what must have been a harrowing project.
"A Long Way Gone" is an excellent prescription if you need an attitude adjustment. When I feel stressed because Nathan called someone a "dip s***", I need to remember that, in many countries, I would be living in constant anxiety about whether my kids would get blown up today.
Quality writing: 8 Like several of the books I've read lately, this book doesn't feature carefully crafted scenes or background information. Beah is matter-of-fact about his experiences and doesn't waste a single word. Having said that, I often felt (unfortunately) like I was right there. He's at his best when he's depicting the inner landscape of his feelings, reactions and memories.
Character development: 5 It's really a story about being alone, even when he's with other people. He describes his friends and family, but he doesn't flesh out many of characters; and this is surprisingly effective, because you sense how transitory his relationships become.
Interesting plot structure: 9 The action never stops (no matter how much you wish it would). His journey becomes more amazing in every phase. I could say more, but then you'd want to kill me.
Addictiveness: 9. I brought it home from the library and read the first three chapters standing in the kitchen with my other books under my arm and my jacket still on.
Overall grade: 8
[Let me preface this in the same way I preface all of my book reviews. I am a dorky amateur and I would never claim that this is a real book review. Just my impressions, for what they're worth.]
I can be fairly unequivocal in this case, however. "A Long Way Gone" is an important book, and it needs to be read. By you.
It is the autobiography of a young man (now in his 20s and living in New York), who was caught up and displaced by the civil war in Sierra Leone when he was 13. Don't worry if you don't know a lot about the history of Sierra Leone. I don't, either. It doesn't matter. He describes his flight from anti-government rebels; wandering homeless, alone and with other boys; his eventual recruitment into the army and his evolution into a killing machine. He then relates his rehabilitation and his escape from the increasing chaos in his country.
Everywhere in the world where there is war and unrest, people do despicable things to each other and to children who get in their way. Lucky middle-class Americans like me know this on an intellectual level, but there aren't many opportunities to read a detailed, first-person account of these atrocities: not only because lots of kids don't survive them; but because the kids who do lack the opportunities, education, support and emotional strength to tell their stories in a compelling way. Beah, in his acknowledgements, credits a lot of friends who convinced him to write this book and urged him to finish what must have been a harrowing project.
"A Long Way Gone" is an excellent prescription if you need an attitude adjustment. When I feel stressed because Nathan called someone a "dip s***", I need to remember that, in many countries, I would be living in constant anxiety about whether my kids would get blown up today.
Quality writing: 8 Like several of the books I've read lately, this book doesn't feature carefully crafted scenes or background information. Beah is matter-of-fact about his experiences and doesn't waste a single word. Having said that, I often felt (unfortunately) like I was right there. He's at his best when he's depicting the inner landscape of his feelings, reactions and memories.
Character development: 5 It's really a story about being alone, even when he's with other people. He describes his friends and family, but he doesn't flesh out many of characters; and this is surprisingly effective, because you sense how transitory his relationships become.
Interesting plot structure: 9 The action never stops (no matter how much you wish it would). His journey becomes more amazing in every phase. I could say more, but then you'd want to kill me.
Addictiveness: 9. I brought it home from the library and read the first three chapters standing in the kitchen with my other books under my arm and my jacket still on.
Overall grade: 8
Monday, November 5, 2007
Sleepover
There's no school today, so I told Nate he could invite his friend B. to spend the night last tonight. B. had never slept away from his family before, and Nathan had never had a friend for an overnight, so this was a major deal. I pitched a tent in Sara's room, and they could pretend they were camping. All three of them spent the evening running around and around, pointing imaginary wands at each other and screaming "Avada Cadavera!!!". If two people screamed simultaneously and there was no clear "killer" and "killed", I would hear a long pause, followed by a muttered, "OK... 'Scissors, Rock, Paper', then. One, two three! OK, you have to die."
I also heard them discussing plans for later.
B: Well, they call it a "sleepover", but that's a dumb name.
Nate: Yeah, 'cause we're not going to sleep, huh, B.?
B: No, way. I mean. It's "sleepover" 'cause I come over, but we're not going to sleep.
Nate: No, we're stayin' up all night and sayin' potty words.
B: Yeah. Poopy, poopy, poopy.
Nate: You are a butt-butt.
Etc...
They were both fast asleep before Simon was done reading to them.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Die, Dishwasher, Die!
Our dishwasher is, I think, older than the house, which was built in 1986. Most of the built-in appliances are from about 1972, judging from the instruction manuals helpfully left behind by Charles and Linda S., when they downsized their lives. I used to think this was a cost- saving measure on their part, but have since revised my position. Now I think Linda loved her kitchen stuff and brought her range, wall-oven and dishwasher from the old homestead out of intense personal attachment. Perhaps I am insensitive, but my first priority is that an appliance works well; not misplaced nostalgia about how I used it to cook the first meal of my married life. Two days after we moved in, we replaced her old range. It only had two burners and the oven was so small a cookie sheet wouldn't fit in it. She stopped by about a month later to get something she'd forgotten, and she was devastated. "Oh! You got a new range?!? Well. Oh, my goodness..."
Damn, Linda, if I'd known you cared so much, I would have saved it for you.
At any rate, all last week, the dishwasher wasn't working, and I thought, "YES! This is it!" But then I made the mistake of looking at the chunky square push-buttons on the front, and noticed that none of them was currently pushed in. Experimentally, I pushed the one that said "Automatic Wash Cycle", and the dishwasher sprang to life.
I jumped and looked around frantically. Oh, man! What have I DONE?! I was peering at the front panel, trying to figure out how I could return it to its state of disrepair when my husband walked in. Busted. Si said, "Well that explains that. I wonder how that button came un-pressed. Maybe someone bumped into it." Happy that the problem was solved, he wandered away again.
Anyone know how to sabotage a dishwasher?
Damn, Linda, if I'd known you cared so much, I would have saved it for you.
At any rate, all last week, the dishwasher wasn't working, and I thought, "YES! This is it!" But then I made the mistake of looking at the chunky square push-buttons on the front, and noticed that none of them was currently pushed in. Experimentally, I pushed the one that said "Automatic Wash Cycle", and the dishwasher sprang to life.
I jumped and looked around frantically. Oh, man! What have I DONE?! I was peering at the front panel, trying to figure out how I could return it to its state of disrepair when my husband walked in. Busted. Si said, "Well that explains that. I wonder how that button came un-pressed. Maybe someone bumped into it." Happy that the problem was solved, he wandered away again.
Anyone know how to sabotage a dishwasher?
Thursday, November 1, 2007
So, Mom, Know What I Want to be NEXT Year?
No. Just give me a few days to recover. The first thing Nate said when he woke up this morning was, "Is it November today? Do you know what that means? CHRISTMAS IS COMING!" Erk!
This was a great year for trick-or-treating. The kids are old enough that we don't have to hold their hands and walk them up the sidewalk to each door any more. Our little neighborhood is a dead-end street with two cul de sacs branching off it. This year, the kids all joined in a pack; roaming the neighborhood, running across the lawns, leaping the flower beds and hiding in the bushes. It had a pleasantly marauding atmosphere. Simon and one other dad just stood on a corner chatting and sort of keeping an eye on things. We ran out of candy. When Sara and Nathan came in, I made them sort through their loot for stuff they didn't like that much, so we had something more to give out. Si figures that, if that were to go on long enough, we'd all end up with the same candy we bought in the first place. Some kids came around twice, but had actually gone home and changed costumes. That level of initiative should be rewarded, in my opinion.
Nate was so wired I couldn't really get him to stand still for a photo. You can see by his poses that his skeleton was kind of a...ninja-skeleton. His eyebrows are still charcoal-colored this morning.
Since Hermione always looks pretty serious on the "Harry Potter" movie posters, Sara has to as well, I guess. I told her she looks good as a brunette, but she's not buying it - says it makes her look too much like me. Dear me. Perish the thought. Finding a Gryffindor tie was not easy. In fact, this tie used to be grey, blue and red. Isn't it fortunate that "Gryffindor gold" is exactly the same color that we painted our office walls last year?
This was a great year for trick-or-treating. The kids are old enough that we don't have to hold their hands and walk them up the sidewalk to each door any more. Our little neighborhood is a dead-end street with two cul de sacs branching off it. This year, the kids all joined in a pack; roaming the neighborhood, running across the lawns, leaping the flower beds and hiding in the bushes. It had a pleasantly marauding atmosphere. Simon and one other dad just stood on a corner chatting and sort of keeping an eye on things. We ran out of candy. When Sara and Nathan came in, I made them sort through their loot for stuff they didn't like that much, so we had something more to give out. Si figures that, if that were to go on long enough, we'd all end up with the same candy we bought in the first place. Some kids came around twice, but had actually gone home and changed costumes. That level of initiative should be rewarded, in my opinion.
Nate was so wired I couldn't really get him to stand still for a photo. You can see by his poses that his skeleton was kind of a...ninja-skeleton. His eyebrows are still charcoal-colored this morning.
Since Hermione always looks pretty serious on the "Harry Potter" movie posters, Sara has to as well, I guess. I told her she looks good as a brunette, but she's not buying it - says it makes her look too much like me. Dear me. Perish the thought. Finding a Gryffindor tie was not easy. In fact, this tie used to be grey, blue and red. Isn't it fortunate that "Gryffindor gold" is exactly the same color that we painted our office walls last year?
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