I don't know when it happened, but I have become at peace with incremental progress. Maybe somewhere I leveled up in Patience and acquired the Consciousness of Progress skill. All I know is that I can now be content with the progress of a project involving many, many tiny steps and can see the end approaching ever closer without the feeling of impatience and endless futility that I used to feel.
It's a good thing, because a lot of what I do involves many tiny, repetitious steps. At work I fill endless numbers of 96-well plates, one well at a time, with as much precision as experience and good instruments can bring. At least there, I have measurable progress and an endpoint within hours, certainly by the end of the day. But what I do for fun is much worse. I knit. I needlepoint. I cross-stitch. Yes, the womanly arts of the needle offer many chances to drive yourself crazy doing something thousands of times to cover very tiny amounts of real estate. Knitting is good for slowly building something one stitch at a time. There's no equivalent of a multi-channel pipettor for knitting (okay, there are machines, but they don't count as far as I'm concerned). A mitten is good for fairly rapid progress, allowing me to actually complete something in one evening, but other projects call for serious amounts of time. Yet the finish line doesn't seem as endlessly far away now as it used to - I can appreciate two rows of the Pirate Queen's Booty Bag completed in a night's work as a substantial contribution instead of feeling it to be a hopelessly small addition to the whole. What brought about this change in perspective?
I have a huge needlepoint canvas - La Licorne Captive it says at the top, the Unicorn in Captivity from the tapestries at the Cloisters. It is 25" wide by probably at least 36" long (I don't want to unroll it to measure), with 10 stitches per inch = 100 stitches/square inch, so approximately 90,000 stitches to finish it. A two foot length of wool seems to cover maybe two square inches at the most, and I can usually manage about 3 or 4 of those in a sitting. After months of off-and-on work I have maybe 3/4 of the top half completed, but I can feel all those tiny bits adding up with great satisfaction. I could just as easily see my slow progress with despair over the infinity of stitches ahead of me, but somewhere along the line I learned to appreciate the slow accumulation of tiny elements into a whole. I find it easier to see days becoming years, too. Maybe it's just age - each year is now 1/50th of my experience instead of a larger part. Whatever the cause, I hope this perspective gives me some kind of advantage or insight or patience outside the realm of the needle. But now, back to the Booty Bag!
Jan 15, 2010
Jan 2, 2010
Could be worse
It's cold out, and inside I have it set for 68F, which seems cold to me but saves money. But I minimize my complaining by reflecting on every century before the last, and how cold everyone must have been.
Read Dickens, or Little House on the Prarie (or anywhere else the Little House set up) and you'll realize that the rooms inside houses were often very little warmer than the outside. For most of human history people had little more warmth in winter than the deer and the birds. Sure, there was fire, but if you didn't stay right next to it, the effects weren't far-reaching. Imagine a tipi or yurt. Laura Ingalls would wake to see frost on the inside of the windows and on the nails sticking through the unceilinged roof. People in books speak of having to break the ice on their bowl of water before washing their faces in the morning. I stand around and wait for the tap water to get warm before I wash my dainty hands. How much stronger these people would be than we are in the same situations. Kids would go barefoot until frost, and probably did so indoors to save on shoe wear. No down parkas, just whatever skins you could wrestle from their furbearing owners or whatever you could weave or knit from your woolbeasts. It helps keep my woes in perspective to think that people survived a world warmed only by open fires (or at best, tile ovens) for centuries.
Did they feel as cold as I would? Were they so used to it that they were comfortable at a 50 degree room? Did mothers' hands feel the iciness of metal needles as they knit the next pair of socks like mine do?
And walking - in Dickens, people walk to a town 10 miles away because they can't afford any other transit. Characters take 2 hour walks just for fun every morning. If I walk 2 miles to my grocery store, I'm pooped and can't picture myself carrying bags of groceries back, so I use the car for that short trip, feeling secretly ashamed. But it's not just the walking, it's the time. Two hours of leisure walking time every morning? An hour each way to walk to the store? They didn't seem to mind cold, dark, rain - if it rains on your 10 mile walk you hang your wool coat and shawl before the fire at your destination and don them again for the walk back. And you'd be cheerfully conversing with your companion the whole way.
Shall we go into water? Would Americans be taking daily baths if they had to pump the water and chop the wood to fuel the stove to heat it? Would we do as much of any washing as we do now?
Do I have to weave my own fabrics? Do I have to grow or slay or can my own food? Do I have to use a chamber pot or outhouse? I keep all this in the back of my mind to remind me to appreciate this way life and not abuse it. And I always have this nagging feeling that we should never forget these things because we may some day need this knowledge again. Our current way of life (for Americans, at least) is probably unsustainable in the long run, and there's that "live simply that others may simply live" that ticks in the back of my mind. For now I will continue to appreciate 68 degrees and electricity and indoor plumbing. I'm not ready to go off the grid yet.
Read Dickens, or Little House on the Prarie (or anywhere else the Little House set up) and you'll realize that the rooms inside houses were often very little warmer than the outside. For most of human history people had little more warmth in winter than the deer and the birds. Sure, there was fire, but if you didn't stay right next to it, the effects weren't far-reaching. Imagine a tipi or yurt. Laura Ingalls would wake to see frost on the inside of the windows and on the nails sticking through the unceilinged roof. People in books speak of having to break the ice on their bowl of water before washing their faces in the morning. I stand around and wait for the tap water to get warm before I wash my dainty hands. How much stronger these people would be than we are in the same situations. Kids would go barefoot until frost, and probably did so indoors to save on shoe wear. No down parkas, just whatever skins you could wrestle from their furbearing owners or whatever you could weave or knit from your woolbeasts. It helps keep my woes in perspective to think that people survived a world warmed only by open fires (or at best, tile ovens) for centuries.
Did they feel as cold as I would? Were they so used to it that they were comfortable at a 50 degree room? Did mothers' hands feel the iciness of metal needles as they knit the next pair of socks like mine do?
And walking - in Dickens, people walk to a town 10 miles away because they can't afford any other transit. Characters take 2 hour walks just for fun every morning. If I walk 2 miles to my grocery store, I'm pooped and can't picture myself carrying bags of groceries back, so I use the car for that short trip, feeling secretly ashamed. But it's not just the walking, it's the time. Two hours of leisure walking time every morning? An hour each way to walk to the store? They didn't seem to mind cold, dark, rain - if it rains on your 10 mile walk you hang your wool coat and shawl before the fire at your destination and don them again for the walk back. And you'd be cheerfully conversing with your companion the whole way.
Shall we go into water? Would Americans be taking daily baths if they had to pump the water and chop the wood to fuel the stove to heat it? Would we do as much of any washing as we do now?
Do I have to weave my own fabrics? Do I have to grow or slay or can my own food? Do I have to use a chamber pot or outhouse? I keep all this in the back of my mind to remind me to appreciate this way life and not abuse it. And I always have this nagging feeling that we should never forget these things because we may some day need this knowledge again. Our current way of life (for Americans, at least) is probably unsustainable in the long run, and there's that "live simply that others may simply live" that ticks in the back of my mind. For now I will continue to appreciate 68 degrees and electricity and indoor plumbing. I'm not ready to go off the grid yet.
Mar 7, 2009
How to enjoy toast
It has been too long, hasn't it? Too bad you don't have access to the many postings I've written in my head.
How to Enjoy Toast.
Don't eat toast for a long, long time. When you do, eat disappointing bread. That way when you do get some really good toast you will have a keener appreciation for the whole experience. When you finally have baked a loaf of bread that is honestly, actually good in flavor and texture, your hands will tremble with the anticipation as you carefully slice it to an even thickness. Gently introduce in into the toaster and wait to see how it comes out. Put it back in if necessary to get the proper level of brown. Upon that perfectly browned toast spread a generous layer of real butter at room temperature, covering the entire surface of the slice from crust to crust, including the crust (which is not too thick in this nearly perfect loaf). Let the butter melt and sink in, so that the surface crunches under your teeth, while the still-soft layer beneath is now infused with the melted butter. The crunch, the softness within, the butter, the flavor of the bread - those of you who eat toast casually and easily have no idea what a sensual experience it can be. It was worth the hunt for millet flour to add to the other 6 flours in the recipe.
In addition to that racy bit of oral stimulation, I have been working on my dollhouse. I got 4 kits for furniture from eBay (thus losing my eBay virginity) and ordered different size doors to see which fit which openings. So far I have built 3 of the kits and am working on the 4th, which is much more complex, requiring more input from me than just gluing and staining. I realized the other night that the part I like most of all is that I have a place where I can set up this stuff and LEAVE IT THERE. For so many years I couldn't get out the sewing machine or do a jigsaw puzzle or set up any kind of craft without having it on a shared surface like the kitchen table, thus having to put it away every time the table was needed for something else. Now I have an entire room set up just the way I want it: table to work on with a stereo and TV to entertain me, lights I can focus on my work, and nobody else needing the space for any other reason. This is so satisfying, after years of compromise - I can't tell you how delightful it is. Just having that space exclusively for myself is something I so needed. True, I'm sanding and dropping pieces of wood on the rug and making a mess, but it's my mess and I am solely responsible for it. Love it.
I bought a piano, which sounds like an extravagance, but my tax refund and bonus and a fire sale all came together to make a great opportunity. Nothing is wrong with my old one except the tone, which sounds like the piano is wrapped in layers of blankets, and I had the chance to buy something brighter so I went for it. So far no luck finding a charity to take the old one, but I have interest from an ad in the paper. I can throw in a pile of old lesson books - my kids never play, after all those lessons. I had reconciled myself to just living with this dull piano because the money for a new one could be better spent on other things, but this was a good deal. I hope it's as good a piano as it sounded in the store. It's a Pearl River - I didn't spring for a Yamaha or anything nicer, but for a lower-end piano it sounded good. But I gotta get the old one out before I can move it in. Now I'll get back to saving for college.
Speaking of college, they say there are a lot of scholarships available for kids in FIRST Robotics - I hope so. They didn't do well at the regional competition they went to last weekend - 50th out of 61 robots, but they are also going to a regional in Annapolis where they have a chance to do better. The robot was designed poorly - they went with one of the possible design choices and it was the wrong choice, but they may be able to modify by then. They did get an award for their community service projects, though. I can put a few pictures of the team up on Flickr if I remember how. The boy now has glasses and a haircut and went from hippie to nerd overnight, in looks anyway.
The girl is still looking (so she tells me) for a job and hanging with dead-end boyfriend. She thinks she might want to go to art school spring semester, but I don't think she's motivated enough to do the work to get to that point. She thinks she wants to go spend a few weeks with her grandparents in Florida to get away from it all here. I can't see that working well on either side, but maybe try 5-7 days. I still have a ticket for her that she didn't use earlier. I think she will be bored out of her mind and they will be stressed, maybe shocked by her. I have to think about it more. Lots of alarm bells go off in my head.
How to Enjoy Toast.
Don't eat toast for a long, long time. When you do, eat disappointing bread. That way when you do get some really good toast you will have a keener appreciation for the whole experience. When you finally have baked a loaf of bread that is honestly, actually good in flavor and texture, your hands will tremble with the anticipation as you carefully slice it to an even thickness. Gently introduce in into the toaster and wait to see how it comes out. Put it back in if necessary to get the proper level of brown. Upon that perfectly browned toast spread a generous layer of real butter at room temperature, covering the entire surface of the slice from crust to crust, including the crust (which is not too thick in this nearly perfect loaf). Let the butter melt and sink in, so that the surface crunches under your teeth, while the still-soft layer beneath is now infused with the melted butter. The crunch, the softness within, the butter, the flavor of the bread - those of you who eat toast casually and easily have no idea what a sensual experience it can be. It was worth the hunt for millet flour to add to the other 6 flours in the recipe.
In addition to that racy bit of oral stimulation, I have been working on my dollhouse. I got 4 kits for furniture from eBay (thus losing my eBay virginity) and ordered different size doors to see which fit which openings. So far I have built 3 of the kits and am working on the 4th, which is much more complex, requiring more input from me than just gluing and staining. I realized the other night that the part I like most of all is that I have a place where I can set up this stuff and LEAVE IT THERE. For so many years I couldn't get out the sewing machine or do a jigsaw puzzle or set up any kind of craft without having it on a shared surface like the kitchen table, thus having to put it away every time the table was needed for something else. Now I have an entire room set up just the way I want it: table to work on with a stereo and TV to entertain me, lights I can focus on my work, and nobody else needing the space for any other reason. This is so satisfying, after years of compromise - I can't tell you how delightful it is. Just having that space exclusively for myself is something I so needed. True, I'm sanding and dropping pieces of wood on the rug and making a mess, but it's my mess and I am solely responsible for it. Love it.
I bought a piano, which sounds like an extravagance, but my tax refund and bonus and a fire sale all came together to make a great opportunity. Nothing is wrong with my old one except the tone, which sounds like the piano is wrapped in layers of blankets, and I had the chance to buy something brighter so I went for it. So far no luck finding a charity to take the old one, but I have interest from an ad in the paper. I can throw in a pile of old lesson books - my kids never play, after all those lessons. I had reconciled myself to just living with this dull piano because the money for a new one could be better spent on other things, but this was a good deal. I hope it's as good a piano as it sounded in the store. It's a Pearl River - I didn't spring for a Yamaha or anything nicer, but for a lower-end piano it sounded good. But I gotta get the old one out before I can move it in. Now I'll get back to saving for college.
Speaking of college, they say there are a lot of scholarships available for kids in FIRST Robotics - I hope so. They didn't do well at the regional competition they went to last weekend - 50th out of 61 robots, but they are also going to a regional in Annapolis where they have a chance to do better. The robot was designed poorly - they went with one of the possible design choices and it was the wrong choice, but they may be able to modify by then. They did get an award for their community service projects, though. I can put a few pictures of the team up on Flickr if I remember how. The boy now has glasses and a haircut and went from hippie to nerd overnight, in looks anyway.
The girl is still looking (so she tells me) for a job and hanging with dead-end boyfriend. She thinks she might want to go to art school spring semester, but I don't think she's motivated enough to do the work to get to that point. She thinks she wants to go spend a few weeks with her grandparents in Florida to get away from it all here. I can't see that working well on either side, but maybe try 5-7 days. I still have a ticket for her that she didn't use earlier. I think she will be bored out of her mind and they will be stressed, maybe shocked by her. I have to think about it more. Lots of alarm bells go off in my head.
Dec 7, 2008
Bread and more
These are a pair of nice-looking loaves, aren't they? Too bad they're not really that nice to eat. One is regular bread for crumbs, and the darker one is mock pumpernickel. I had some of that toasted for breakfast, some with tuna for lunch, and the rest is in the oven becoming croutons to have with the split pea soup I'm also making. It was pretty dry and dense aroung the edges. I can now make pretty loaves that don't rise to ridiculous heights with holes all throughout, but I still can't make them edible. What you can't see on those pretty loaves is the evidence I found this morning. I put them in plastic bags on the counter overnight, and this morning I discovered that someone had flang a fang into one, right through the bag. Many little holes, nibbled crust. Stupid cat. It might be the same one who licks plastic bags for no particular reason, or the one who believes that everything edible in the house is rightfully hers. I also have a piece of beef in the crockpot with some onions, so it smells like Grandmommy's house. There will be no limas, however. This is my weekend cooking orgy so I have decent food during the week. If the boy doesn't like it he can eat Spaghettios.
I took the boy out to get Christmas presents today, and actually bought myself something I didn't need. It probably helped that I wasn't spending my own money - I had a gift card from my last co-op. I got CDs of Leonard Bernstein's Candide and his Beethoven's 9th. Barbara Cook's soprano makes the hair stand up on my neck, it's so good. And you can even understand the words, unlike opera singers.
Parking lot story. I pulled in, 3 spaces from a cart return. Lady next to me, 2 spaces from the cart return, sails in with her full cart and bangs it into my car. While I'm sitting in it. Never pauses or looks. Unloads her stuff, bangs into my car again (leaving a dent), then drives the cart around my car to park it 4 spaces from the cart return. Go figure. That one had me shaking my head all the way home.
Not much to report, but I'm trying to stay in the habit of writing. Just brain droppings, really. Oh, and the vanilla macaroni and cheese tasted fine - smelled like vanilla but didn't taste like it. Maybe make pudding with the rest of the rice milk. Weird stuff.
Dec 4, 2008
Ingredient FAIL
As I'm waiting for the gluten-free mac and cheese to finish in the oven, it smells like cake in here because the gluten-free Whole Foods unsweetened rice milk contains - vanilla. I thought I'd try rice milk because making mac and cheese with regular milk and forgetting to take a lactase pill makes me feel crappy. I tried LactAid milk, but apparently the active lactase enzyme can also break down cornstarch, so it doesn't thicken. Gluten-free, the rice milk said. Unsweetened, it said. Didn't look close enough at the ingredients, did I? Should be interesting. Either way I'm gonna eat it - not wasting all that cheese and all that good rice pasta.
As you can see, the boy is getting rather hairy. He wanted to grow it long and see what that's like, so I said fine as long as you take care of it. He looks like he came out of my high school yearbook. He has begun the heartbreaking struggle of high school social life - he likes a girl who does not like him that way. But she has a crush on a cartoon anime character that he resembles, so there's hope. How many times did we get our hearts stomped on during those years?
My former in-laws are ignorant cretins. But you knew that. Whenever we went there, it was excruciatingly boring for the kids and I, since there was no hospitality to speak of. No one cleared dolls off a chair for us. No one engaged us in conversations or seemed to be genuinely interested in us. No one checked to see if we were comfortable or in need of attention. The best the kids could do was wander off to the spare bedroom to watch a TV that wasn't tuned in to golf. Not much of a relationship to begin with, harder to maintain as the kids got older & had more interests of their own. Last week Ex bugged me to contact the girl (he can't seem to maintain contact with her himself, which is a whole story for another time) and have her call his parents. He had mentioned to us before that they believe she never thanked them for birthday gift. Okay, it's possible, also possible that she called and they just forgot. She agreed that she would be sure to apologize just in case she didn't. So she calls them, and they lambasted her for 10 minutes about what a bad grandchild she is, she didn't thank them, she never goes to see them, etc. Hello? Do they call her? Do they show any interest in her? Have they given her a reason to want to stay in touch? Do they understand that she has a full-time job, boyfriend, etc? She thinks her dad has been talking trash about her to them. Yes, she probably hasn't seen them since graduation, but she has been working the few times her dad went over there. I was so pissed at this. These people have done nothing to engender feelings of love or even obligation in these kids, other than overloading them with gifts. That family has never understood that material goods do not equal love. I'd be happy to never see them again. I'd love to tell her that she's 18, she can decided for herself how much contact to maintain, but I'll be the diplomatic parent and suggest she continue to make the effort, although what she will get out of it I can't imagine would be worth it. I have tried to be patient and civil with them, but it's just not worth it.
Rant over. In other news, I have finally bought a digital camera after the first one went missing, so I can show you the knitting projects I've done once I figure out how to put them here. Or just e-mail them. But for now, I'm going to go see what vanilla macaroni and cheese tastes like.
Nov 26, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving!
Like it says, happy Thanksgiving to all. I will make a pumpkin pie tonight, and lasagna tomorrow, gluten-free of course. I thought I might have to go in to work Friday (we have off), but my cells cooperated and the stars aligned, so I have 4 days off. I left early today (well, late compared to everyone else since we closed at noon) and thought I would stop at the grocery store, but the Shop Rite parking lot was full in places I didn't even know they had spaces, so I decided it could wait. The cats, however, are all thrown off by my coming home early and will spend the next two hours fighting because they think it's dinner time.
My 401(k) is now officially tiny, since I lost $100,000 in stock losses and split what was left with the ex. At least that's one more official thing that's done. They are still pondering the request to split the pension. It's all imaginary money anyway until I retire, which apparently I won't be able to do for a long time.
Not much else going on except for occasional robotics events. I suppose I should put up the tree one of these days, although I expect to be regularly extracting cats from it. I will do what I did last year and wire it to the wall so at least they can't knock the whole thing over.
Fun things I can do with a 4 day weekend:
- vacuum the dust from under the fridge
- shred assorted documents
- order new checks
- change sheets
- scoop the litterbox
- arrange old photos by approximate date
- eat lasagna
- make bread crumbs from GF bread
Are you excited yet? Woohoo!
Have fun, don't eat too much.
My 401(k) is now officially tiny, since I lost $100,000 in stock losses and split what was left with the ex. At least that's one more official thing that's done. They are still pondering the request to split the pension. It's all imaginary money anyway until I retire, which apparently I won't be able to do for a long time.
Not much else going on except for occasional robotics events. I suppose I should put up the tree one of these days, although I expect to be regularly extracting cats from it. I will do what I did last year and wire it to the wall so at least they can't knock the whole thing over.
Fun things I can do with a 4 day weekend:
- vacuum the dust from under the fridge
- shred assorted documents
- order new checks
- change sheets
- scoop the litterbox
- arrange old photos by approximate date
- eat lasagna
- make bread crumbs from GF bread
Are you excited yet? Woohoo!
Have fun, don't eat too much.
Nov 16, 2008
Back in the saddle
Ooh, has it been that long since I sat down to do this? Maybe I haven't been cranky enough to need to vent.
Things are pretty routine here. Last weekend's visit to Florida messed me all up, though, because of all the weekend stuff I usually do that I didn't get to do, like cooking for the week ahead. I still have yet to rake one leaf because it's either dark or raining or I'm not here. Today is windy and cold and maybe they'll blow away anyway, so screw it for this weekend.
I'm a bad daughter for saying it, but I don't enjoy those visits much. The travel is a pain even without small children, and a good chunk of money to boot. I get to have conversations with dad, but I found myself just enduring mom much of the time. She has very few interests that can get her out of the house, in contrast to dad who is out and about, but is bored in the house. He wants stuff to do, but he doesn't seem to want to do anything with other people, so no joining the Kiwanis or volunteering. Mom narrates everything we see, which really tries my patience, but I do my best to not say anything as she talks over whatever we're watching on TV or at Sea World, which is where we spent Friday. Anything that she finds offensive is "stupid" or "disgusting", her only two adjectives, usually related to sex. I guess maybe this is typical of older people to have fixed and narrowing opinions and interest as they age, but shoot me if I ever get like that. I'm not sure she enjoys our visits either, because she seems to be eager to get back to her routine (but then I guess I was too). And of course she is still more concerned with her possessions not getting messed up than with her grandkids feeling at home. That used to make me feel horribly anxious when I would take my kids to their house and have to spend the whole time making sure they didn't touch any of the attractive nuisances or dare spill anything or leave a crumb - I would get so stressed out I couldn't wait to leave. I love her, but sadly I can't find much connection any more. If I ever have grandkids I want to focus on them having a good time with me and not whether we are making a mess.
Sea World is different from what I remember from about 14 years ago - the shows are now big epic dramas rather than just putting the animals through their paces. No more trainer holding out a fish and explaining how they train the animals and putting them through their paces. Now it's Cirque Du Soleil that just happens to have sea mammals as part of the big costume/video on big moving screen/thundering soundtrack/touching backstory spectacle. They also are apparently very paranoid about ticket sales on line - you have to create an account, and you have everyone's name on their ticket and might have to show ID. For $70 a person (child price stops at 9 and is only $10 less) you get a few sea animals and a lot of very nice landscaping. And yet they want to charge $3 more for a ride up and down an observation tower. Man, I really sound like a cranky old person here. I just wonder, is this what the 2008 audience requires to have a good time at Sea World? Are children (and adults) so jaded that they can't just be awed by the fact that something as intelligent and carnivorous as an orca will willingly cooperate with humans in return for a mouthful of stinky fish?
Okay, end of rant or I could go on until I digust everyone. Yesterday I put a whole chicken in the crockpot. While I was cleaning it I found huge solid globs of yellow fat, and I wondered about how to render it and use it like in Jewish cooking, so I looked that up and saved them. I also skimmed off almost a cup of fat from the Crockpot, leaving behind 2 cups of other juices that cooked out of the bird, which will be broth for making tetrazzini tonight. I kept the skimmed fat also, which is now solid in the fridge. Then I picked off the meat after eating a leg, to use for the tetrazzini, salads, and whatever else. THEN (I wasn't done) I put all the leavings in the soup pot with water, salt, and an onion, and cooked it for 2-3 hours to make 6 cups of broth now in the freezer for future soup, risotto, whatever. I left the cooked solids sitting overnight (it was late), meaning to throw it out today and take it out to the trash. Apparently, though, some feline managed to knock the crockpot lid askew and steal the one leg bone that remained in there, so I'm hoping her digestive system can handle bird bones, being a normal part of a wild feline diet, because I don't see any sign of it on the floor.
Here's what the world wide web told me to do with that chicken fat: take those globs of fat (possibly saved in the freezer to make a large quantity) and the skimmed fat, melt it down, add salt and a sliced onion, and cook it until the onion and fat are dark brown but not burned. Pour through a sieve, save the fat in the fridge, and eat the crackly onion pieces and whatever chicken cracklings remain. Use the fat for cooking whatever would be good cooked in oniony salty fat. I may do this with the onion, it sounds awesome.
I have to thaw a bun for a sandwich for tomorrow, when I am helping disassemble 70 mice for their assorted parts and won't have a fridge or microwave for my lunch. We will be taking skin, kidneys, liver, diaphragm, blood, heart, tongue, brain, all four legs (one of the co-ops is still amused by my image of said mouse up on cinder blocks after removing all four tires) to have multiple muscles dissected out later, and spine with tail attached. In a hot noisy room next to the cage washer, with the sound of that and the smell of autoclaved mouse bedding all day, on my feet. And a new person who is pissing off everyone else by not listening to anyone, but we have to take her. Friday I spent my afternoon sorting through about 30 boxes of frozen mouse parts for another study, pulling out tubes containing 182 hearts, kidney pairs, and pieces of skin and then putting them in numerical order in other boxes. It was a swell time! One tube popped open while thawing and shot a kidney across the room, which I managed to recover. Mamas, don't let yer babies grow up to do in vivo studies.
The boy shaved - came out of the shower one night and showed me his clean baby face. He's so cute. His dad was disappointed he missed this father-son bonding opportunity, so I suppose he'll lay some guilt on him for a while because that's what he does. I got him some shaving cream and razors today so he doesn't have to use his sister's expensive razor heads again. He probably won't need it for a few weeks anyway.
In general, I find I am happy and content (notwithstanding the complaining above). I splurged on a whole pound of spring mix and I am eating awesome salads with chicken, clementine sections, and sugared sliced almonds. I put chocolate syrup on my plain yogurt with cashews for breakfast because I was out of fruit, and it was like a sundae. I got out yesterday (72 and sunny!!!) and got the two big Christmas items (Xbox for boy and PSP for girl) before the carols in the store could drive me nuts. The juvenile delinquent cat has discovered the joy of lap, and has been coming to curl up with us unbidden - he even tried to share this typing experience with me. My knitting is going well, bills are paid, kids are not in trouble. House could be cleaner, but eh. Hope all is well with you and your trips to Florida are peaceful and easy.
Things are pretty routine here. Last weekend's visit to Florida messed me all up, though, because of all the weekend stuff I usually do that I didn't get to do, like cooking for the week ahead. I still have yet to rake one leaf because it's either dark or raining or I'm not here. Today is windy and cold and maybe they'll blow away anyway, so screw it for this weekend.
I'm a bad daughter for saying it, but I don't enjoy those visits much. The travel is a pain even without small children, and a good chunk of money to boot. I get to have conversations with dad, but I found myself just enduring mom much of the time. She has very few interests that can get her out of the house, in contrast to dad who is out and about, but is bored in the house. He wants stuff to do, but he doesn't seem to want to do anything with other people, so no joining the Kiwanis or volunteering. Mom narrates everything we see, which really tries my patience, but I do my best to not say anything as she talks over whatever we're watching on TV or at Sea World, which is where we spent Friday. Anything that she finds offensive is "stupid" or "disgusting", her only two adjectives, usually related to sex. I guess maybe this is typical of older people to have fixed and narrowing opinions and interest as they age, but shoot me if I ever get like that. I'm not sure she enjoys our visits either, because she seems to be eager to get back to her routine (but then I guess I was too). And of course she is still more concerned with her possessions not getting messed up than with her grandkids feeling at home. That used to make me feel horribly anxious when I would take my kids to their house and have to spend the whole time making sure they didn't touch any of the attractive nuisances or dare spill anything or leave a crumb - I would get so stressed out I couldn't wait to leave. I love her, but sadly I can't find much connection any more. If I ever have grandkids I want to focus on them having a good time with me and not whether we are making a mess.
Sea World is different from what I remember from about 14 years ago - the shows are now big epic dramas rather than just putting the animals through their paces. No more trainer holding out a fish and explaining how they train the animals and putting them through their paces. Now it's Cirque Du Soleil that just happens to have sea mammals as part of the big costume/video on big moving screen/thundering soundtrack/touching backstory spectacle. They also are apparently very paranoid about ticket sales on line - you have to create an account, and you have everyone's name on their ticket and might have to show ID. For $70 a person (child price stops at 9 and is only $10 less) you get a few sea animals and a lot of very nice landscaping. And yet they want to charge $3 more for a ride up and down an observation tower. Man, I really sound like a cranky old person here. I just wonder, is this what the 2008 audience requires to have a good time at Sea World? Are children (and adults) so jaded that they can't just be awed by the fact that something as intelligent and carnivorous as an orca will willingly cooperate with humans in return for a mouthful of stinky fish?
Okay, end of rant or I could go on until I digust everyone. Yesterday I put a whole chicken in the crockpot. While I was cleaning it I found huge solid globs of yellow fat, and I wondered about how to render it and use it like in Jewish cooking, so I looked that up and saved them. I also skimmed off almost a cup of fat from the Crockpot, leaving behind 2 cups of other juices that cooked out of the bird, which will be broth for making tetrazzini tonight. I kept the skimmed fat also, which is now solid in the fridge. Then I picked off the meat after eating a leg, to use for the tetrazzini, salads, and whatever else. THEN (I wasn't done) I put all the leavings in the soup pot with water, salt, and an onion, and cooked it for 2-3 hours to make 6 cups of broth now in the freezer for future soup, risotto, whatever. I left the cooked solids sitting overnight (it was late), meaning to throw it out today and take it out to the trash. Apparently, though, some feline managed to knock the crockpot lid askew and steal the one leg bone that remained in there, so I'm hoping her digestive system can handle bird bones, being a normal part of a wild feline diet, because I don't see any sign of it on the floor.
Here's what the world wide web told me to do with that chicken fat: take those globs of fat (possibly saved in the freezer to make a large quantity) and the skimmed fat, melt it down, add salt and a sliced onion, and cook it until the onion and fat are dark brown but not burned. Pour through a sieve, save the fat in the fridge, and eat the crackly onion pieces and whatever chicken cracklings remain. Use the fat for cooking whatever would be good cooked in oniony salty fat. I may do this with the onion, it sounds awesome.
I have to thaw a bun for a sandwich for tomorrow, when I am helping disassemble 70 mice for their assorted parts and won't have a fridge or microwave for my lunch. We will be taking skin, kidneys, liver, diaphragm, blood, heart, tongue, brain, all four legs (one of the co-ops is still amused by my image of said mouse up on cinder blocks after removing all four tires) to have multiple muscles dissected out later, and spine with tail attached. In a hot noisy room next to the cage washer, with the sound of that and the smell of autoclaved mouse bedding all day, on my feet. And a new person who is pissing off everyone else by not listening to anyone, but we have to take her. Friday I spent my afternoon sorting through about 30 boxes of frozen mouse parts for another study, pulling out tubes containing 182 hearts, kidney pairs, and pieces of skin and then putting them in numerical order in other boxes. It was a swell time! One tube popped open while thawing and shot a kidney across the room, which I managed to recover. Mamas, don't let yer babies grow up to do in vivo studies.
The boy shaved - came out of the shower one night and showed me his clean baby face. He's so cute. His dad was disappointed he missed this father-son bonding opportunity, so I suppose he'll lay some guilt on him for a while because that's what he does. I got him some shaving cream and razors today so he doesn't have to use his sister's expensive razor heads again. He probably won't need it for a few weeks anyway.
In general, I find I am happy and content (notwithstanding the complaining above). I splurged on a whole pound of spring mix and I am eating awesome salads with chicken, clementine sections, and sugared sliced almonds. I put chocolate syrup on my plain yogurt with cashews for breakfast because I was out of fruit, and it was like a sundae. I got out yesterday (72 and sunny!!!) and got the two big Christmas items (Xbox for boy and PSP for girl) before the carols in the store could drive me nuts. The juvenile delinquent cat has discovered the joy of lap, and has been coming to curl up with us unbidden - he even tried to share this typing experience with me. My knitting is going well, bills are paid, kids are not in trouble. House could be cleaner, but eh. Hope all is well with you and your trips to Florida are peaceful and easy.
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