Adridne

Where have I been keeping myself?

2007-11-02T15:10:00.000-04:00

Things I have been doing instead of posting on this blog:
- Playing World of Warcraft.
- Knitting. I have finished a pair of socks! Go me!
- Working for The Shakespeare. This may develop into a full-time job. I have been working there steadily since mid- August, in both the scene and paint shops.
- Eating carrots. I have become some kind of carrot-addicted rabbit-person. No, really.
- Watching the Forsyte Saga (series 2). Oh, the drama. Oh, the costumes. Gina McKee is fabulous. Soames is suitably horrid. I want to make early twentieth century fashion popular again.
- Going to Greensboro and Maine. Both were lovely.

Baby Eggplant #1

2007-07-16T21:38:00.001-04:00

Baby Eggplant #1
Originally uploaded by Adridne

Another Takoma Park Farmer's Market purchase. I bought two, actually, for 75 cents total. Both together fit in the palm of my hand. The man asked "Is this all?" somewhat dubiously. I assured him that it was.
I think I'll paint the second one tomorrow.
Watercolor, 5.5" x 5.5"

Taylor Gold

2007-07-15T12:59:00.001-04:00

Taylor Gold
Originally uploaded by Adridne

mmm.... Taylor Gold pear.
Watercolor, 4.75" x 4.75"

2007-05-23T16:07:00.000-04:00

Look what I got! Salvation Army is my friend. I went there to drop off a ginormous carload of stuff that Fuz and I no longer need/want, and I stopped into the thrift store, and there was a spinning wheel!
I have been drooling over pictures of spinning wheels in the Halcyon Yarns catalogs for years, but I never thought I'd be able to afford one. But there she was, covered in dust between two stools. $40. For those of you who are not in the know, this is aproximately 1/10 of what one could expect to pay for a spinning wheel. Really nice ones can cost upwards of $1,000. So, after researching the maker, asking for advice on Craftster, and checking with Fuz (space is at a premium here) I returned to the store and bought it. Yay! I am in love.
It's made by Clemes & Clemes, a manufacturer which no longer makes spinning equipment. But there are rumors that they're going to start again real soon...

In other news: we're going to France on Friday. Maybe I can buy roving to spin? We will see...

PS- No, I do not know how to spin. I'm working on that part, okay?

Grad School? Check.

2007-05-12T09:21:00.000-04:00

I'm back.
Today Fuz and I will go upto Philly and tomorrow we'll return with the rest of my stuff. The cats, thank god, are already here in Silver Spring.
I am a Master of the Fine Arts in all but name.
Graduation on Thursday.
Woo hoo.

Jammie Pilfering Motherfuckers.

2007-04-29T20:45:00.000-04:00

Someone stole half my laundry.
The darks.
I took the darks out of the dryer and put them in my giant purple laundry bag, put the lights in the dryer and went back upstairs. When I went down to retrieve my nice, freshly cleaned clothing, the lights were still in the dryer, but the bag of dark laundry was no where to be seen.
Who steals laundry?
There is a door to the outside in the laundry room. It is frequently left open.
Downstairs-neighbor-Brian said he saw strange men knocking on doors just after the time I left my laundry. He heard them go into the laundry room.
They got most of my pants.
My new favorite pants.
My black linen capri pants with a broken belt loop that I loved anyway.
Many t-shirts.
And my pj pants.
They stole my jammies.
Jammie stealing bastards.

Biscotti

2006-12-21T14:41:00.000-05:00

Biscotti
Originally uploaded by Adridne.

I have some strong opinions about biscotti.
1) They should be hard. We're not making nice little almond cookies here. This is food that fights back. If you can chew them without dipping them in a beverage, you're doing it wrong.
2) They should be filled with almonds. The actual cookie part is really just there to cement the almonds together and carry the almond extract.
3) Actually, I guess I only have two strong opinions about biscotti.

I foolishly left my All New Joy of Cooking in Philly. I wanted to make biscotti to bring up to Maine for Christmas, so I looked for recipes on the internets. This led to Cooking for Engineers, home of my favorite corn fritter recipe. The biscotti recipe was.... okay. I upped the almonds and almond extract, and, in the end, added some impromptu extra liquid. The result:
Biscotti
2 large eggs
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 tsp almond extract
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp Mocha Caramel cream liqueur*
1 cup whole raw almonds
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt

Preheat the oven to 350. Chop the almonds. But not a lot. Chopping each almond into 2 or 3 pieces is about right. If some whole almonds get through, that's fine. Toast them in a toaster oven until they're a bit browned and really fragrant. 400 is about the right temperature.
Cream the sugar and eggs together. Add the vanilla and almond extracts, the liqueur, and the almonds.
In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Make a well in the middle and pour in the egg mixture. Fold it until it's well mixed. At this point the dough should be really, really sticky. Like you mixed up a batch of plaster using superglue instead of water. You can start mixing it with a fork or a wooden spoon, but I highly suggest finishing it with your hands. It just works better. If the dough isn't sticky, add some liquid 1 tbsp at a time until it gets to the aforementioned plaster/superglue consistency.
You will have a lumpy batch of incredibly sticky dough. Separate it into two halves, and make each one into a loaf about 3 inches wide and an inch thick. This is best achieved on the baking pan. They should be flat little loaves. A sil-pat sheet will really help you out here. Other wise, lightly grease the pans first. Bake at 350 for 45 minutes, until the loaves are light brown. Rotate the pans halfway through the baking time. When they're done, let them cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes. Slice them into 1/2"-3/4" thick pieces, cutting at a slight diagonal. Spread these out on the baking sheet, one cut side up, and bake them at 350 for 8-10 minutes, until golden brown on top. Turn them over and bake for another 8-10 minutes until this side is golden brown, too. Let them cool completely before storing them in an air-tight container. They keep for about a month, though in my household they're usually gone in a week or less.
Makes about 25 biscotti.

*When I was making this batch, I finished the dough and it was NOT RIGHT. It was crumbly and dry, like pie crust dough. It is not to panic, thought I. We'll just see what's in the fridge I can use as some extra liquid. Milk? Eh. Chai concentrate? No. Godiva liqueur? Maybe. Mocha Caramel cream liqueur? Hell yes!

Back from School

2006-12-21T11:09:00.000-05:00

I have returned from Philadelphia and the worst apartment ever. Perform a little trick with me, okay? I am going to predict which of your upstairs neighbor's pipes you would least like to have leaking into your living room. Pick one. Think hard! Got your least favorite pipe in mind? I know what it is. I think we all know what it is. That's the one which was leaking into my living room until Wednesday. It is now not leaking anymore. It only took my landlord three months to fix it.
I can't wait to not live in Philly anymore.
Excuse me while I go make biscotti to bring to Maine tomorrow.

TTFN

2006-08-23T16:48:00.000-04:00

This will probably be my last blog post until January, as I don't really intend to get internet access at my apartment this year. Tomorrow I'm packing the car and going to Philly, Fuz will follow with the cats (one of whom is now drooling happily on my lap) on Friday.
See ya'll at winter break!

Back to School

2006-08-22T09:39:00.000-04:00

So, in addition to painting vegetables, I've been getting ready to go back to school for my third and final year at Temple.
Apartment: check. It's pretty good this year, I hope to not feel like I'm living in a bad movie. It's the first floor of a duplex. New floors. The walls in the living room have big mirrors on them. Like, really big. And there's a non-functioning fireplace, which has some interesting possibilities.
I'm going up on Thursday, moving everything I can by myself, and Fuz will be up Friday evening with the cats and to help me move the big stuff.
Now I just have to pack up everything here.

Cherokee Purple

2006-08-21T10:08:00.000-04:00

Cherokee Purple
Originally uploaded by Adridne.

I don't know why I find certain vegetables so pretty. Really red peppers. Tomaotes with greens and purples in them.
The Takoma Park Farmer's Market is an excellent place to go to find them, though.

It Was Delicious.

2006-08-06T17:39:00.000-04:00

It was delicious.
Originally uploaded by Adridne.

Went to the farmer's market today. Beautiful red peppers, $1 each.
I miss the farmer's market in California. We went to two with Dad, and they were fantastic. The strawberries were to die for. The Takoma Park market is good, but it just can't compare.
I bought two peppers anyway. And painted this one.

Halfway through the painting: This is awful! Why can't I just buy food and eat it like a normal person? No, I have to paint it and make myself miserable. It's utter crap.

It got better.
Later, when I decided I was finished, I knew there was only one way to stop myself from overworking, nitpicking the painting to death.

I ate it like an apple.

1880's Jacket

2006-07-30T15:14:00.000-04:00

1880's Jacket- front
Originally uploaded by Adridne.

So I took a draping and flat patterning class last semester. It was fantastic. Really, really fantastic. I may have learned more in this class than in any other class in grad school. It is possible that this is because I had a relatively low base of knowledge to begin with. But anyway, it was great. I learned how to make really complicated things from nothing more than a vague pencil sketch and an idea. For the jacket above, here is the process: (more or less)
-Assignment: make a period jacket/bodice. 1880's.
-Research: Last Courts of Europe, The Cut of Women's Clothes, Patterns of Fashion.
-Design: Okay, this was not so much "design" as "sketch really fast."
-Drape: draped the body on the dress form.
-Pattern: Made the pattern from the draped pieces. Trued the pattern up. Made a one-piece sleeve to convert to a two-piece sleeve later. Flat patterned the collar and cuffs. Made patterns for the back pleats from the back pattern pieces.
-Muslin: Made it in muslin. Not the cuffs or the pleats, just the body, collar and sleeves. Fit it to Erin. Marked the one-piece sleeves to make them into two-piece sleeves. Patterned sleeves.
-Shopping: Bought heavyweight sage green wool with a white chalkstripe. So pretty... There was some (okay, 2 yds) left over, and if I could think of something to make with it, I would totally buy it from the costume shop and use it on myself. Also bought taffetta to line the collar and do the cuffs/flanging.
-Cutting/flatting: Cut everything out of the wool and a cotton. Flatted the wool to the cotton. This is so that sweat/body oil/whatever will not damage the wool.
-Sewing: Sewed body/collar.
-Fucking sleeves: Sewed one sleeve. Was not right. Sewed again. Still not right. Took it out, resewed body of sleeve, did the incredibly complicated silk-organza-tape-and-steam-it-upside-down procedure. Worked. Did second sleeve.
-Finishing bits: That taffeta steams like a charm. Made reams of bias tape. Flanged neckline and center opening. Made cuffs. Faced center opening. Made button holes, attached buttons. Made pleats. Bias taped bottom hem. Sewed on cuffs, added snaps, non-functioning buttons. All done!

The Distractions of Real Life

2006-07-24T13:30:00.000-04:00

I have not been blogging. Instead I have been:
-Visiting Dad in Los Angeles
-Playing Lexicon
-Pain ting
-looking for an apartment for the school year
-Participating in an Indiana Jones-themed swap on Craftster
-reading mystery novels set in feudal Japan
-re-reading all of Sandman
-making ice cream/sorbet
-reading MetaFilter
-goofing off.

Return of (to) Old Songs

2006-06-27T17:53:00.000-04:00

Old Songs 2006 was this past weekend, so a-roving we went. For roving, it was pretty directed, actually, we just drove to Altamont, NY, camped for two days, and drove back. I have discovered that two days of good weather is just about the perfect amount of camping for me. Fun without being taxing, and the ice in the cooler lasts about that long. It's just long enough to make me long for a real bed and a shower without making me all grouchy. Two days in bad weather is another creature entirely. Cool at night is a must.

Awesome things from this year:
Michael Cooney- a folk festival all by himself. Got up for his mainstage bit, with no intro sang the Simpsons version of the "Do, Re, Mi" song from The Sound Of Music. It was fantastic.
Finest Kind- sometimes accompanied, sometimes a capella, always some of the tightest harmonies I've heard.
Potato Pancakes.
The nice soap lady- Overhearing my mention of knitting, she asked me to help her turn the heel of a sock. She was having trouble, not least because she was trying to go from step three to step five. Gave me a free soap for my help. Mmm, lanolin soap...
I got the four-CD Utah Phillips Starlight on the Rails songbook. Dozens of Utah Phillips songs, each preceeded by an intro/explanation by Utah himself. I had always wondered why it's called Stupid's Song...

I missed Faith Petric, I wish she had been there. Also Christine Mangsen. But discovering new people was also good.

The Little Brown Dress That Could

2006-06-21T09:55:00.000-04:00

I am fascinated by this project. It sounds so simple: Alex Martin made a dress. Now she is wearing the dress every day for a year. But then I start thinking about it. Could I do that? What does it mean? What would I learn? What would I do differently if I couldn't change my clothes?
Reading her blog is great. She constantly questions her reasons for doing the project, as well as the things she's learning from it. She has mostly received positive comments from people. She's looking forward to the project's completion on July 7th, but she also seems pre-nostalgic. The dress has become a refuge from decision making, from time spent on fashion, from her own poor self-image. I think the most interesting blog entries will be the ones after the un-dressing party.

Wreck and Roll!

2006-06-12T11:47:00.000-04:00

We went to the roller derby! Which was a lot more fun than you might expect. It's kind of like racing (Going in circles really fast! Crashes! Pile ups!) and kind of like hockey (Fist fights! Body checking! Crashes!). I expected to be vaguely amused for a while, and then just sort of tolerate it. But it was awesome! I got really into it. There may have been cheering involved. We were sitting in the first row right by where they start. Due to our position at the exit from a curve, we got crashed into a lot. Which was surprisingly controlled. Anyway, it was lots of fun.
Then we went to Denny's. Which was even worse than I expected. I had not eaten at a Denny's in years. I still have not eaten at a Denny's in years. We went in a little before nine o'clock. There were eight of us, and we were seated in two tables of four. With different waitresses. Table 1: John, Mary, Steve, Maggie. Table 2: Fuz, myself, John, Susan. Now, Susan is eight months pregnant. So she was very hungry when we came in. She was also very hungry fifteen minutes later, when the waitress finally deigned to take our order. She was also very hungry (as were all of us at Table 2) at nine thirty, when Table 1 had already finished eating and our food had not come. She was still hungry and also very angry at nine forty-five, when she decided that we were going to leave the restaurant, because our food had not come. Table 1 paid, and the rest of Table 2 meekly followed Susan to the front. The manager was quite peeved at our declaration that we were leaving and had no intention of paying for food we had not received, until he noticed that our check was timestamped with 9:06, and it was now 9:45 and, okay, he'll just void that out, so sorry.
There is a lesson here, y'all.
Do not keep food from the pregnant lady. She will totally walk out and go to Taco Bell.

A Modest Proposal

2006-06-01T10:03:00.000-04:00

Here is what we're going to do, okay?
1) We are going to pretend that the travesty known as X-Men: The Last Stand was never made.
2) We are going to stuff Brett Rattner into a tiny, tiny box and mail him to the desert.
3) Whoever is In Charge of these things is going to hire Bryan Singer to do X-Men 3.
4) He is going to make a wonderful, wonderful movie.

I can't wait until X-Men 3 comes out, how about you?

18 Tons And What Do You Get?

2006-05-23T15:22:00.000-04:00

Q: How do you remove 18 tons of brilliant red sand from the stage of the Lansburgh?

A: With a 17-foot tall vaccuum.

I am so not kidding.

The Longest Episode of Alias Ever.

2006-05-15T18:01:00.000-04:00

While we were in Ithaca, we went to see Mission Impossible III with Fuz's mom, aunt, and cousins. It was the longest episode of Alias I've ever seen. Really. There were all of these suspicious similarities.
Based on these, I have assembled some handy tips in case you ever discover that your life is being written by J.J. Abrams.

Tip 1: Your spouse is a spy. Also, possibly, your best friend/parent/crush/the bag guy at Safeway. Basically everyone around you is a spy, including that polar bear they shot on Lost. This explains so many things. Unexplained absences? Spy. Unaccountable familiarity with firearms? Spy. No tells in poker? Spy. Soulfully asks you to "just trust me for now" while offering no explanations for bizarre behavior? Spy, spy, spy.

Tip 2: Your boss is also a spy, but not for who you think. You think that your ominous boss is out to get you, and, unlike most people, you are 100% correct. Your boss is a spy for a scary, secretive organization and has been using you to achieve the goals of the same.

Tip 3: No one is who you think. There exists a technology allowing people to create dopplegangers. You must never accept that anyone is who they say they are. This goes double if they ask you to lend them money, "just until payday".

Tip 4: If you are a spy, there is a good chance that your innocent significant other will be killed/tortured/blown up to get back at you. It is suggested that you only date other spies, as this only applies to non-spies. Of course, if you are dating another spy, they're not spying for who you think they're spying for...

Tip 5: That mysterious and valuable item you're been assigned to steal? Just leave it alone, okay? The people who want you to steal it for them are probably no better than the people they want you to steal it from. Your boss is evil, remember? If you absolutely must retrieve it, keep it for yourself and give your evil boss a convincing double. They will never notice this.

Above all: Trust no one, not even your parents. Especially the dead ones.

The End of the Semester

2006-05-13T09:37:00.000-04:00

The semester is over! Yay living in Silver Spring! Yay no homework! Yay actually blogging!
I'm in Ithaca, having moved 90% of my belongings to storage. Fuz came up yesterday and helped me move, then we drove here for his cousin Ben's graduation from Ithaca College. Tomorrow we will drive back to Silver Spring with a brief stop in Philadelphia to get the other 10% of my belongings.

Things I Will Miss About My Old Apartment:
-Big
-Sunny
-My awesome stove. Will post pictures soon.
-Free satellite TV. Somewhere on cable, Law & Order is always playing.

Things I Will Not Miss About My Old Apartment:
-Moving the car for street cleaning
-Constant anxiety about my car getting broken into after it happened that one time.
-The dripping kitchen sink
-The lack of lighting in the kitchen
-A police officer was shot and killed two blocks down the street on Monday. I heard the gunshots. I was never really comfortable in the apartment after that. The neighborhood is not bad, it's lower middle-class, people plant flowers and take walks. I thought it was pretty safe. Apparently not safe enough for Gary Skerski, though.

It Has Pew Ends.

2006-02-02T13:09:00.000-05:00

I just got this book. I am in geek love. It has everything. It has pulpits. It has entire storefronts. It has more doors than I can count. I just want to go home and drool over it for a week.

Words of the Day

2006-01-12T14:40:00.000-05:00

Today's words we taught Me Joo:
"Sarcastic"
"Not really"

And best of all, we taught her how to tell "your mom" jokes. Which she calls "mom's jokes".
Sometimes I love work.

Two Stories To Tell Children And One You Maybe Shouldn't.

2005-12-30T08:46:00.000-05:00

It was a long, long drive back from Maine yesterday. Twelve hours of rain. Pretty awful. Around hour ten, it was established that I should tell Fuz a story. A story with an elephant. These are what I came up with.

1
Once upon a time, there was a little boy who got lost playing in the woods. He wandered and wandered trying to find his way home, but he was hopelessly lost. At last he came across an elephant in the woods.
"Hello," said the elephant.
"Good evening," said the boy, who was very polite. "Aren't these woods awfully small to have an elephant living in them? And do elephants live on this continent?"
"I'm a magic elephant," said the magic elephant. "I can live anywhere I want."
The little boy decided that the elephant was probably right, and he should just let it go.
"Since you've found me, and you seem to be a nice and polite little boy, I shall give you a wish," said the magic elephant, "anything you want."
"Well," said the little boy, "it's been kind of fun wandering around in the woods after dark, which I am not normally allowed to do, but what if there's a magic man-eating tiger out here, too? I think I'd better wish for you to send me home."
"Very well," said the magic elephant. "I will pick you up with my trunk and throw you home. Get ready."
The little boy, who had never been thrown by an elephant before, was not sure what kind of preparations to make. He settled for taking a deep breath. "I'm ready," he said.
The magic elephant wrapped his great trunk around the boy's middle, wound up a couple of times, and threw him into the air. The magic elephant threw him so hard, in fact, that he achieved escape velocity and went sailing out of the atmosphere, all among the stars and the starfish and the planets and the nebulae. The little boy, who had learned about the vacuum of space in school, and had no desire to experience it firsthand, held his breath. He passed the moon, which was populated with colonies of space-going moon-ferrets. He passed Mars, which was covered with throngs of tiny green people. He passed Jupiter, which was a huge gassy planet, and huge gassy people lived on it. He passed Saturn, and saw the tiny inhabitants ice-skating on the rings around the planet. He passed the light blue planet Uranus and saw the three eyed people who lived there, each bluer than the last. He passed the dark blue planet Neptune and saw the purple goldfish who swam in its atmosphere stop and stare at him (They thought he was a comet.) He used the gravity well of Pluto, which was inhabited entirely by tiny grey women who reproduced through parthenogenesis, to swing around and slingshot himself back towards Earth. Again he passed Neptune and Uranus, Saturn and Jupiter, Mars and the moon. Finally he went speeding into the atmosphere of Earth, miraculously not burning up on re-entry. He fell down, down, down, into the forest and landed, THUMP!, on the back of the magic elephant.
"Er," said the magic elephant, "do I know you from somewhere?"
"Yes," said the little boy. "You threw me home just now, only you didn't. You threw me into space, and it's a good thing I was holding my breath."
"Oh," said the magic elephant. "Sorry about that. Shall I try again?"
"Yes," said the little boy, who would have preferred to take a bus, but who had no other way to get home. "But gently this time, and on a more horizontal trajectory."
"Right," said the elephant. He wound his great trunk around the boy's middle and threw the little boy, more gently this time, and on a more horizontal trajectory.
The little boy went sailing over the forest, and he saw his house coming up. He tried to reach out and grab the chimney, but he was too high, and going too fast. He went past his house, and past his street, and past his neighborhood, until his whole town was just a spot of light on the horizon, and then it disappeared, and he was flying over unfamiliar towns and cities. He flew over farmland and rivers and lakes and ponds and cities and finally out over the ocean, where he saw whales and sharks and islands and icebergs. He flew over Mongolia, where he saw horses and polar bears (they were visiting the horses) and yurts. He flew over Russia, where he saw onion domes and people in furry hats. He flew over Romania, where he saw vampires and terrified villagers. He flew over Italy, where he saw plazas and the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He flew over France and almost got caught on the Eiffel tower. He flew back out over the ocean, and now he was getting lower and slower, and he worried he might not make it to the other side. The waves were breaking right beneath him when he saw the shore approaching. At last, with land under him, he came crashing back through the trees of the forest and landed, THUMP!, on the back of the magic elephant.
"Hullo," said the magic elephant, " you again?"
"Me again," said the little boy. This time you threw me all the way around the world."
"Sorry about that," said the magic elephant. "Shall I try again?"
"Yes," said the little boy, who was beginning to despair of ever getting home. "Only much, much more gently this time."
"Right," said the magic elephant, and wrapped his great trunk around the boy's middle. This time the elephant, very, very gently, tossed the little boy into the air. He went drifting low over the treetops, disturbing some birds and barely clearing the branches . He saw his house coming up, and he was going lower and lower, and finally he went tumbling through the window and landed THUMP! on his bed, and went right to sleep.
2.
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who wandered into the woods and became lost. She wandered and wandered until at last she came to a clearing, where she found an elephant.
"Excuse me, " said the little girl, " are you lost like I am? I didn't know elephants could live in these woods."
"No," said the elephant. "I am a magic elephant. I can live wherever I want."
"Oh," said the little girl.
"Since you are lost," said the magic elephant, "would you like me to pick you up and throw you home? I'm quite good at throwing lost children home."
The little girl considered this. Her home life was not all it could be. She was largely ignored by her parents in favor of her three younger brothers, which was how she had been allowed to wander into the forest in the first place. "No." she said. "I think I'd like you to throw me to someplace where I can lead an exciting life."
"Can do." said the magic elephant. "I'm going to pick you up with my trunk and toss you off to somewhere exciting. Ready?"
"Ready." said the little girl.
So the elephant wrapped his great trunk around the little girl's middle and tossed her straight up, way, way, up into the sky. She sailed up and up and up until she was among the clouds. She slowly arced back down and landed THUMP! on a wooden surface.
The little girl was most surprised to find herself on the deck of a ship floating in the sky. It was like a small sailing ship, but where the masts would be on a sailboat, there were three mighty ropes tethering the ship to three clouds which suspended the ship in the sky. There were women in bright clothes on the deck of the ship, and they rushed to surround the girl who had fallen into their midst.
"Arr. Who be ye? And how did you come here, in the middle of the air?" asked a woman wearing a curved and shining sword at her hip.
"A magic elephant threw me here when I asked him to send me someplace where I could lead an exciting life," the little girl explained.
"Well, you're in the right place then. Arr. We be a ship of cloud pirates, and if you like, you could join our crew. I'm Captain Helena Catherine Bollivio, and I am the queen of the cloud pirates. "
So the little girl went to live with the cloud pirates. They traveled the world seeing wonders. They attacked airships and cable cars, throwing the passengers off and claiming the valuables as their own. She learned how to shoot a blunderbuss and a bow, how to divide the booty, and how to swab the deck. The cloud pirates taught her all the sky shanties and cloud pirate songs. From the pilot she learned how to navigate by the stars and how to work the radio. From the cook she learned how to prepare sea gull and albatross. The captain herself, Helena Catherine Bollivio, Queen of the cloud pirates, taught her how to frighten the innocent with terrible cloud pirate curses, and the correct way to hold a cutlass in one's teeth (sharp side out).
After a year, the pirates offered her a cloud-frigate of her own to command, with a crew of ten cloud pirates. But the girl had grown disillusioned with the cloud pirate life, with its violence and noisy battles. She was tired of robbing others of their hard-earned money and cable car tickets. So the pirates navigated back over the forest where they had picked up the girl, and after putting on a parachute, she took her leave of the cloud pirates and jumped over the side of the ship.
The cloud pirates had been quite high up, and with the parachute slowing her descent to a safe speed, it took the girl a day and a half to get back to the ground. The cook had thoughtfully given her a few sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper. She ate them, carefully folding the wrappers and putting them in her pocket, for cloud pirates did not litter. Halfway down, in the middle of the night, she was passed by a little boy shooting upwards at tremendous speed. She thought he must be going to replace her on the cloud ship, but in fact he was on his way to becoming the world's first open-air astronaut.
Al last she fell through the branches of the trees and landed in the forest. She wandered until she came again to the clearing where she had last seen the magic elephant, and he was still there.
"Well," said the magic elephant, "how did you like the cloud pirates?"
"Quite well," said the little girl, "they were very kind to me, and living with them was certainly exciting. But I don't think I can condone the violence they use, or the fact that they feel no remorse about stealing the goods of others and throwing them off of airships."
"I should think worse of you if you did," said the magic elephant.
"Could you send me somewhere else please?" asked the little girl. "Someplace where I could earn an honest living? Somewhere peaceful and quiet?"
"I know just the place," said the magic elephant.
He picked the little girl up with his trunk and threw her into the air. She went speeding over the forest and over town and cities and rivers and lakes and out over the ocean. She flew lower and lower until with a SPLASH! she broke the surface of the water and continued down under the waves. She sped through the water, slowing all the time, until she stopped at last outside a huge pen filled with all kinds of fish. She was soon surrounded by mermaids, wanting to know who she was and how she had arrived here so suddenly, in the middle of the ocean.
"I asked the magic elephant to throw me somewhere peaceful where I could learn to make a living," the little girl explained.
"Ah," said the head merwoman. "Well, you may stay here with us if you wish, and we will teach you how to herd fish."
So the little girl went to live with the mermaids, and learned to herd fish. They taught her how to tell a sea bass from a tuna, and how to train an eel to lay around her neck like a necklace. She learned how to ride a whale and how to fend off the attacks of sharks. She spent her days gathering pearls from sleepy oysters and tending the kelp gardens. She loved swimming with her flock of manta rays and singing them cloud pirate songs at night until they fell asleep, drifting on the currents deep in the ocean.
But one can only hold one's breath underwater for so long, and after a year the girl bid farewell to her mermaid friends and hitched a ride to shore with a passing group of humpback whales. At last, just at sunset, she came ashore near the elephant's forest and once again found his clearing.
"Hello," said the magic elephant. "Still not happy?"
"The peace and quiet of the deep ocean was lovely," said the little girl. "But I missed the exciting cloud pirate life, too. I think I need something in between."
"Hmm," said the magic elephant. "Let me think. Ah. I know just the place."
He wrapped his trunk around the little girl's middle and tossed her into the air. She went flying over the trees and into the dark night sky. She flew along a river, and in the distance she could see lights. As the lights got closer and closer, they spread out and became many lights. She was flying towards a great city, all lit up in the night. She flew among the buildings and over subway cars and busy streets. Finally she flew in an open window and landed THUMP! on the floor.
She had landed in a room covered with mess and paint. A woman was in the room, working on a portrait of an extremely ugly dog. She was very deep in concentration and failed entirely to notice that a little girl had just flown through her window and landed on her floor.
"Er," said the little girl, "hello? Excuse me?"
The woman turned around. "Goodness! Where did you come from?" she asked.
"The magic elephant threw me here because I asked him to send me somewhere exciting where I could make an honest living," replied the little girl.
"Well," said the woman, "that I can teach you. I'm a painter."
So the little girl learned to paint. She grew up to be famous for her extremely detailed portraits of fish, and for her lively cloud pirate battle scenes.
3.
Once upon a time an extremely rude little boy found his way into the forest and couldn't find his way out. At last he happened upon a clearing where he found an elephant.
"That's absurd," said the little boy, "elephants don't live here. This forest is much too small."
"I'm a magic elephant," said the magic elephant. "I can live wherever I want."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of," said the little boy. "There's no such thing as magic elephants! And elephants can't talk, either!"
"Have it your way," said the elephant, and he picked up one huge elephant foot and squashed that rude little boy quite flat.

Mom says it's because I'm an adult.

2005-12-24T08:08:00.000-05:00

There's this... thing. This thing where I really, really care deeply about my grades. This thing where I want to get straight A's. Because, well, because I should, dammit. I should be able to get straight As. I take four classes per semester. Every semester so for, I've gotten three As, and one A-. This is the most infuriating experience ever. Fuz tells me that an A- is an A, and I should just be happy. This is a dirty, dirty lie.
Now, this is the first time I have ever cared about my grades in my whole life. I did not care kindergarten through college. I did not care about my grades so much that I went to a college which had no grades at all, which believed that grades were part of an oppressive patriarchal system. Now that I am in grad school, an A- is like a poke in the lungs with a stick. This is very confusing. Why do I care? What business do I, a good Hampshire College student, have with caring about grades? It's awful.
So I was antsy for days waiting for my grade report to come in for last semester. Finally, the day I got to Mom's for Christmas, all of my professors put in my grades. This is the conversation I had after checking.

Me: Three As and an A-. Again! I hate this! It just nags at me! A-!
Bob: You've got a problem, Kathleen
Long pause.
Bob: And it's not the A-.

He may be right.

Peanut Butter Cheesecake

2005-12-20T16:46:00.000-05:00

As mentioned before, while I am at Fuz's, I believe in using the ice-cream maker as often as possible. And not for vanilla, oh no. While I greatly enjoy vanilla ice cream, Ben & Jerry's makes it better than I can. The ice cream maker is for flavors I make up. This week, that means Peanut Butter Cheesecake.
There's this really good recipe in the All New Joy of Cooking, see? It's for peanut butter pie. But it's more like peanut butter cheesecake mousse. It's my favoritest thing in the whole wide world. And so I was thinking about peanut butter cheesecake ice cream. And I made it. And it rocks. I am having a bowl right now.

Peanut butter cheesecake ice cream
3 egg yolks
1/2 c sugar
1 c milk
1 1/2 c whipping cream
dash of vanilla
1/2 c cream cheese
3/4 c peanut butter

In a bowl cream the egg yolks and sugar. The more you beat them together, the better. They should be runny and a light yellow. Put the milk and cream in the top of a double boiler over medium heat. Add a dash of vanilla extract. When the water starts to simmer, whisk in the egg yolks and sugar. The mixture will thicken. When it's starting to thicken, but not pudding-like, remove from heat and whisk in the peanut butter and cream cheese. Pour in to a heat-proof bowl and chill completely in the fridge. Pour into ice cream maker; process according to manufacturer instructions.

Makes about 1 1/2 quarts. So good.

English as a Second Language

2005-12-19T13:23:00.000-05:00

So there's this new scene design grad student at Temple. Me Joo. She's Korean. She's never done scene design before, but she's a completely amazing artist. She came to the US in April. She spoke no English. She entered grad school in August. This is way more courage than I have.
She's also never done carpentry before, and has had to learn everything in the shop. She's really quick. I suspect that if her English was better it would be more obvious that she's really, really smart.
So we have a lot of fun in the shop teaching Me Joo new words as they come up in conversation.
An incomplete list of words I have taught/seen taught to Me Joo:
Cheesy
Bugger
Substantial (As in, "Our complaints were substantial." Try teaching that to someone who doesn't know the word "substance.")
Transparent (As in, "His motives are transparent.")
Honky ("Me Joo, never use this with someone you don't know.")
Enamel
Animal
Plane (As in flat surface)
Plane (As in tool for making a flat surface flatter)
and, in one memorable afternoon,
Snickers (the candy bar)
Sneakers (the shoes)
to snicker
to sneak
ass (can be applied to donkey or butt)
donkey (can be applied to ass, but not butt)

This is a lot more fun than it sounds like. I'm definitely looking forward to next semester with Me Joo in the shop.

Dairy-free Ice Cream Experiment #1

2005-12-19T08:46:00.000-05:00

I am sad to report that Dairy-free Ice Cream Experiment #1 was a near-total failure.
Ingredients:
1/2 c. coconut cream
1/3 c. coconut milk
1/3 c. sugar
1 egg yolk
2.2 oz. dark chocolate

Based on my favorite gelato recipe, I was hoping this would produce a nice, creamy coconut-chocolate ice cream. My big fear was that the coconut milk would make big ice crystals, instead of the creaminess I wanted. Well, it's not icy. It's also not ice cream. It's a yummy, coconut-chocolate... thing. It's kind of like cold taffy. Very sticky. I think there were two problems: 1) too much sugar, and 2) not enough mixture for the machine to process properly. Will try again soon with a different recipe.

Hello, Internets.

2005-12-16T14:04:00.000-05:00

Oh, Internets, how I have missed you. I have been sadly neglectful in keeping you abreast of the new developments in my life. There are new grad students, and a new apartment which is a whole different kind of broken from my last one, and so many cute antics on the part of the cats that I could not possibly tell you about them all.
Not to mention new knitting and a planned ice cream experiment. I will start now, with a conversation I frequently have with Sienna.
Sienna talks to me. A lot. I've started talking back. This is how our conversation goes from my side:

Sienna: Mraaah
Me: What's that, Sienna?
Sienna: Meeeeeeeer
Me: Timmy's fallen down the old well? Oh, no!
Sienna: Mrrrrrraaaaur
Me: Unfortunately, I am much too busy with homework to go off and rescue careless children.
Sienna: Ark?
Me: You'll have to go yourself.
Sienna: Roooahnnn
Me: Rope's in the closet.
Sienna: (angry squeaking noises)

I suspect this is how these conversations sound to her:

Sienna, Princess of the cat world: Pay attention to me.
Me, lowly peon: (those noises adults make in Charlie Brown cartoons)
Sienna, Princess of the cat world: It has been at least two minutes since you've thrown the bouncy mouse.
Me: Wauh wauh, wauh wauh wauh.
Sienna, Princess of the cat world: Tell me I'm pretty.
Me: Wauh wauh wuah, wauh wauh wauh wauh, wauh!
Sienna, Princess of the cat world: Now!
Me: Wauh wauh. Wuah wauh wauh wauh.
Sienna, Princess of the cat world: You're being flippant, aren't you? I hate you.
Me: Wauh wauh wauh.
Sienna, Princess of the cat world: I'm going to eat your face while you sleep.

Around this time Ochre usually comes and pins Sienna down and bites her for a while. Sienna's a pretty bitter cat.

Props of the West Indies

2005-10-15T17:25:00.000-04:00

Having trouble finding props for Playboy of the West Indies. Have you ever tried to order a pair of machetes online with no sales tax and expedited shipping?
I don't even want to get in to finding a 55-gallon steel drum.
Painting is going well, though. We may even be ready for load-in on time.

Happy Birthday to Me.

2005-09-25T12:01:00.000-04:00

In DC. Had an excellent day yesterday. Went to see Neil Gaiman read from Anansi Boys. Walked around the National Book Festival. Walked around the anti-war protest, which was great. Went to see Luke and Jenny, who, having evacuated from New Orleans to Houston, have now evacuated from Houston to Jenny's parents' in Bethesda. Met nephew Ryder for the fist time. He was extraordinarily cute and sleepy. Huge eyes. Fuz took Dad and I to the Tako Grill for dinner. V. good sushi. Dad gave me an iPod for my birthday. Yay! Went to dessert at Kramer/Afterwords. Tried to buy myself a birthday present, but they were sold out of Anansi Boys. Will find it elsewhere. All around excellent day. Today: back to Philly, homework.

Dear Internets,

2005-09-06T09:54:00.000-04:00

I have missed you since moving to Philly. I have a lovely new apartment, which I hope someday to unpack. This apartment does not have the Internets yet, I am still working on that. Hope to see you soon, Internets.
love,
Kathleen

To: Potential Landlords

2005-08-23T11:20:00.000-04:00

When you post an apartment listing, I assume you are aware that this may lead to people actually calling you and wanting to look at said apartment. I do not understand why this seems to be news to so many of you. When I call you and tell you that I would like to look at an apartment, you behave as if this is some huge imposition upon your time and resources. "What?" you say, "You want to come and see the place? Can't you just make up your mind over the phone? Well, why not?" It comes as a terrible and unexpected development that people do not wish to move without knowing where they are moving to.

And this worries me. Here's the thing, see: when you act all imposed-upon because I want to come see an apartment you want me to rent, I start picturing how you are going to act when I call you and say "My stove/sink/god-forbid-toilet is broken. Please come and fix it." I picture you putting me off for days, weeks, months. I picture you whining about how you don't like to hire other people to fix things, but you can't fix it yourself because your feet hurt/you don't have time/you're really lazy. And this is exactly why I moved out of my last apartment.

So, Potential Landlords, please remember this. Be friendly and pleasant on the phone. Do not sigh and moan. This way, when you put off fixing things it will be far too late for me to escape.

Apartment wanted in exchange for pie.

2005-08-22T16:12:00.000-04:00

Who I am: A Temple grad student in need of housing for the coming school year. I have two cats and a lot of furniture.

What you will give me: A one bedroom apartment. Not a studio. You heard me, one bedroom. This implies at least three other rooms, counting the bathroom. This apartment will be in a safe neighborhood, as I do not wish to be mugged every morning on the way to my car. It will have the usual set of kitchen appliances (stove, fridge, sink) all of which will be in usable condition. It will have a complete and functioning bathroom. It will not have funny smells. I will be allowed to keep my cats here. Neighbors will not complain about my habit of staying up until 1 am doing my homework and watching TV shows I download off the Internets. It will be not more than 45 minutes drive from Temple University Main Campus in morning rush hour. The area of this apartment will be not less than 600 square feet. If anything breaks you will fix it with extreme promptness and no complaining about how your feet hurt you. There will be no slithering out of this.

What I will give you: Pie. Once a week. Not hair pie, or muff pie, or some other euphemism for sex. Actual pie. Baked-in-an-oven pie. Whatever kind you want. Except not with meat, because I'm a vegetarian. So mincemeat pie with venison the way my grandmother makes it is right out. Perhaps this seems like a bad deal to you. You have never eaten my pie. Men have fought duels over the last slice of my Peanut Butter Mousse Cheesecake. I don't even want to get into the unfortunate happenings of last Thanksgiving and the apple pie. So here's the deal. You call me up Saturday night and tell me what kind of pie you want. Come and get it Sunday afternoon. That's it. Perhaps you will want pumpkin pie every week. That's fine. Maybe you want to alternate chocolate cream pie and lemon meringue. That's okay, too. No pie on weekdays; I have too much homework.

What I will not give you:
-Rent money. This is a strictly for-pie deal.
-Sex of any kind. Unless maybe you want to relive that American Pie scene once a week, in which case, hey, once you take the pie I don't care what you do with it. Please don't tell me, though.

I'll throw in homemade ice cream if you throw in utilities.
Am I serious? Are you willing to give me an apartment in exchange for pie? You bet.

Home again, Home again

2005-08-21T17:53:00.000-04:00

We are back from Maine. Things which happened:
-Fuz and I, Mom and Bob, Eric and Susie, and Hillary and Ben met up at Seng Thai in Portland. Everyone got along like a house on fire. Much Pad Thai was eaten.
-Went to camp. Lovely night swim.
-Hung around. I am sure that Fuz will relate the story of the accidental 25-mile bike ride he and his father went on.
-Went swimming everyday. Ditto kayaking. Picked buckets of blueberries from various islands on the lake. Made blueberry Swedish pancakes with blueberry sauce. Made blueberry jam. Made blueberry crumble. You've seen Charlie and the Chocolate factory? I have two words for you: Violet Beauregarde.
-I did a watercolor of the view from camp for mom.
-Went back to Mom's in Cape Elizabeth.
-Went shopping with Mom. New shoes!
-Went to visit Grammie. Boring. Moved giant oak file cabinet I intend to inherit. Ate Italians.
-Went to Two Lights. Looked at ocean. Coll ected shells.
-Came home.
-Found that cat sitters had left a Stench. A bad, bad Stench. Stench Which Walks Like A Man. Opened windows. Took out trash. Cleaned things. (This phase actually went into today. We spent several hours cleaning today.) The Stench is now mostly gone. May it never return.

It's like a bad movie.

2005-08-12T20:10:00.000-04:00

Fuz and I are leaving tomorrow to spend the next few days with our parents. Fuz, myself, my mom and Bob, his parents in a tiny cabin with no indoor plumbing. Our parents have never met before. Wish us luck!

We are living in the future.

2005-08-10T18:09:00.000-04:00

Item #1-
I am re-reading Kim Stanley Robinson's excellent Mars series. Hard sci-fi with sociology and economics thrown in for fun, but very entertaining. I keep hearing things on NPR about NASA and their goals which make me think that these books are coming true. Very slowly. This has been slightly creepy ever since I realized that the main characters of the books are approximately my age.

Item #2-
The other day on NPR someone pronounced the current year "Twenty Oh Five". It was very unsettling. We live in two thousand five. Twenty oh five is clearly a date in the future.

Item #3-
That newly discovered planet/planetoid? They're calling it Planet X now.
"Where are we going?"
"Planet X!"
"When are we going?"
"Real soon!"

Thirty Hours

2005-08-04T17:20:00.000-04:00

830 am (Dublin time): Taxi arrives. We go to the airport.

915: Arrive at airport. Realize that our flight is delayed by four hours, due to weather/crash in Toronto, where our layover is. This means missing our connection. Stand in line.

1000: After being politely brushed off by the re-booking people, we are checked in and given "light refreshment vouchers". Value: 7 euro. Actual cost of eating: way more than 7 euro.

1015: I am given the toll-free number for Air Canada. The nice man tells me that I will not be able to get a flight from Toronto to DC. It is not clear if he means tonight or ever again. We go upstairs and play gin rummy.

1200: We discover the airport's wireless internet. w00t. It costs 15 euro. We must have our fix.

145: We go through security and actually start waiting at the gate. Gate area smells of vomit. We change seats.

245: Boarding begins. There is no announcement, a woman just mutters something and starts taking tickets. As soon as I sit down on the plane I fall deeply asleep.

325: Take-off wakes me only briefly.

425: We land in Shannon to pick up more passengers. Everyone must get off the plane, taking all of their belongings with them. We do so.

500: "For security, all passengers waiting to reboard flight 894 to Toronto must exit the gate area and re-enter for reprocessing." Dammit.

525: Having had our passports thoroughly glanced at, we are all on the plane. Take-off for Toronto. I cannot fall back asleep, and the movie is Fever Pitch. Double dammit.

This is when I changed my watch to EST, so times will now confuse those viewers playing along at home. In reality, it was not like this. It was actually much more confusing.

Sometime mid-flight: "If there is a medical doctor aboard, will you please identify yourself to a flight attendant at this time." Repeated.

745: Landing in Toronto. Now, when you go through Toronto to the US, you actually clear US customs in Toronto. So you have to claim your checked luggage, clear customs, and then re-check your luggage to your destination. We get through Canadian customs, get our bags and go to stand in a line.

810: It is clear that this is the least useful line ever. We will have to stand in it for several hours if we want to get anything done. Carolyn and I decide to try our luck at the lines upstairs, leaving the menfolk to guard the luggage.

835: Dad comes upstairs to inform us that, because Air Canada operates on the six-year-old model of behavior, it's not their fault that our flight was delayed and therefore they don't have to give us fuck all in terms of hotel rooms, food, etc. However, Dad and Carolyn find out that there is a flight leaving for LA in... ten minutes. They will have to clear US customs, get to the terminal and get on the plane in ten minutes. Off they rush. "Bye," I yell. "Good luck! Hope I don't see you soon!"

855: There will be no flight tonight for us. Not to National, not to Dulles, not even to Baltimore. Suck. I get us seats on flight 300, boarding time 655 am. Back to Fuz.

900: We call The Moms. Both numbers are busy. For a long time. "Perhaps," says Fuz, "they are on the phone with each other, commiserating over the possibility that their darling children have been in a plane crash." I dismiss this as unlikely.

915: Fuz gets through to the FuzMom. "Oh, I was just on the phone with Dante's mother. We bonded." My mom's line: still busy. Hint to Moms: when you leave desperate messages to your children to call you and confirm that they have not been in a plane crash, stay off the phone.

930: I get through to my mom. She is most pleased to hear that I have not been in a plane crash. Fuz and I start debating renting a car and driving to Ithaca to spend the night there, and then driving to DC in the morning.

935: Phone message from Dad. They made it on the plane. I am killingly jealous.

1000: After looking at cars, we decide we are, in fact, too tired to drive. Also, too cheap to rent a car. Instead we sneak into the Interfaith Prayer Room and go to sleep. Ethics of this = doubtful. Carpet = comfy. Lights you can turn off = bonus!

1015: A security guard pokes his head in the room. We apologize for sleeping in here, he says it's okay, as long as we take our shoes off. Done and done. He even closes the door for us.

1100: I awake disoriented in a dark room! Where am I? Oh noes! No, wait, still the Interfaith Prayer Room. For some reason I cannot figure out how I am oriented to the door. This is somewhat important, because there is a different, much meaner security guy standing at the door. He is telling us we must leave this room. I hate this man.

1110: Having been ejected from the Interfaith Prayer Room, we drag our belongings out to the check-in area and find some seats to sleep in. Fuz looks up at the Departures screen. A flight is cancelled. A flight to DC. But not our flight, right? Because our flight leaves at 655. This flight leaves at 730. No, no, this could not be our flight. Except that it is. It is flight 300. Air Canada has booked us on a flight and then cancelled it less than two hours later. At this point it seems to be the most offensive thing to have happened since time began. Fuz goes to sleep, I make another sojourn to the ticket counter.

1120: The man in line ahead of me informs me that he has been standing in this line for over an hour. It is not a long line, but it is moving at a glacial pace.

1140: I decide I'm pretty lucky, because the pace of the line has picked up and I am seen by the nice night manager man, Chuck. Chuck is kind. Chuck is patient. Chuck is not allowed to rebook people. Sorry. Chuck directs me to the phones around the corner, which will give me a direct line to Air Canada reservations. I go.

1145: The reservations lady informs me that I have been automatically rebooked on a 940 flight to National. I tell her that this will not do. I must arrive in DC no later than 10 so that I can drive to Philly for an appointment. Oh. I can take a 655 flight to BWI. Will they pay for my taxi home? "When the airline puts you through this much, they'll usually pay for stuff like that. Mail them the receipt." Fine. Now I just need to go back to Chuck and have him check me out of flight 302 and into flight 7928.

1155: I watch Chuck deal with a middle aged woman having a temper tantrum because the shuttle bus to the hotel the airline is providing her with is late. The airline gave her a hotel and she is having a tantrum. I want to hit this woman. I refrain, because if I hit her and security takes me away, I will never get home. Of course, the way things are going, I may never get home anyway.

1157: Chuck informs me that he is not allowed to check me out of flight 302 and into flight 7928. I must come back to this counter at 430 in the morning and do this. Fuck you, Chuck.

1200: I stumble back to the waiting area and go to sleep. Sort of. I'm using the word "sleep" pretty loosely here. You know those airport announcements? The ones about "Unattended vehicles will be towed."? The ones that play every 15 minutes or so? They don't turn those off at night. I miss the Interfaith Prayer Room.

430: My watch alarm goes off, summoning Fuz I and from the land of sleep to the much more unpleasant land of Ontario. There is already a line at the ticket counter. Complete with a crying child.

515: We get to a ticket counter. The woman behind the counter has a thick accent and speaks very quickly and very softly. She tell us that she has been at the airport sine 8 last night and is about to go home. For some reason this means that she must take our tickets away to another counter and... do something. It is possible that all of this would have made more sense if we weren't so tired.

530: Having gotten our boarding passes, cleared customs and re-checked our bags, we go to wait for a shuttle bus to take us to our gate. I get breakfast from an overpriced airport cafe. Water, cranberry muffin, chocolate croissant. On the way back I spot Kindereggs in the airport convenience store! Kindereggs! The official choking hazard of fun! I buy two, giggling madly.

600: Shuttle bus takes us to the gate. We idle away the time reading about the horrific plane crash which occurred in this very airport such a short time ago. Newspapers with this as their cover story are all over the airport.

630: On the plane.

700: Take off.

855: We finally arrive at BWI. We get our bags and a taxi.

940: Home at last. Taxi ride: $60. Kittens greet us with yowls of welcome.

Dublin Equations

2005-07-29T11:02:00.000-04:00

Dublin= rainy
porridge= good
Butler's hot chocolate= excellent
All gay man production of The Importance of Being Earnest at the Abbey= beautiful and wonderful
us= moving on to Cavan

Ireland

2005-07-26T14:08:00.000-04:00

Fuz and I are off to Ireland until the 3rd. A couple of days in Dublin, then to Cavan for a wedding. W00t!

Oh, Capital.

2005-07-19T17:40:00.000-04:00

I have obtained A Job. Said Job is both
a)really cool
and
b) completely boring.
I'm working for a painting company on the restoration of a Masonic Lodge turned hotel convention center. It's cool in that I get to work in a circa 1908 Masonic Lodge everyday and my co-workers are really nice and fun. It's really boring painting though. The building is huge and very, um, grand. Think rooms with 25' high plaster relief ceilings. Marble columns. Gold leaf. Marble floors. Marble everything. Giant gold "G"s on the walls of many rooms, radiating golden rays.* Climbing up to the 5th floor is a real chore, because it's way more than 5 stories up. It's more like ten, due to the incredibly high ceilings in each and every room.
Of course, I love it. Even though I spend all day on a 20' scaffold in the Corinthian Room, painting the 25' ceiling (How do you stand up straight? With difficulty.) I am in love with this building.
But it is an old building. Bits of it are somewhat delicate. Today I was on my scaffold, happily priming away. I put out my hand and rested it on the plaster capital of one of the columns. A chunk the size of my head fell off and plummeted to the floor. It smashed into 5 big chunks and approximately ten thousand tiny bits. Oh, shit. I have just broken a 97 year-old building. This is the sort of thing you get sent straight to Hell for in my philosophy. Jim the Plaster Guy started laughing riotously. Greg, my scaffold buddy, immediately felt better about the fact that he had earlier spilled a quart of oil primer on the marble floor. Suddenly I was Asshole of the Day. Hell.
Boss Mariah was very nice about the whole thing. It seemed to be no more than she was expecting from the capitals, which are falling apart anyway. Still. I will be mocked about this for days. By a guy named Toad, no less.

*Someone who knows something about Masons, tell me, what does the "G" stand for? God? Geometry? Giraffes? Giant Golden Geese?

So shiny

2005-07-04T13:37:00.000-04:00

Raleigh logo
Originally uploaded by Adridne.

Fuz has been craving a bicycle. The main impediment was lack of storage space. Saturday we saw Landlord Jay (actually Property Manager Jay) as we were taking out the recycling. Fuz mentioned his problem and asked if he could store the hypothetical bike in the laundry room. Landlord Jay said not in the laundry room, but the storage space would be fine.
Storage space? We have a storage space?
Apparently yes. He showed us where the mysterious door at the back of the building leads. A little dimly lit hallway with small storage spaces. And at the back, a bunch of crap. Bookshelves, dressers, china, and two bikes. So we took the bookshelves.
Now let me tell you a secret. I hate biking. It's sweaty, it's uncomfortable, it's just no fun. I didn't even learn to ride without training wheels until I was ten. But this bicycle... it's so pretty. I could not resist its shiny red pull. Pretty lines, an upright posture, a wide cushy seat. And in beautiful condition.
Okay, in reality it was filthy and had obviously been abandoned for years. Both tires were completely flat. But the paint job looked pretty good.
Anyway, we cleaned it up, oiled the chain and sprockets, filled the tires, and it's great. It turns out I don't hate biking. I just hate biking fast and hunched over. Now that I can sit up and look around and go as slow as I please, it's pretty fun. Yay.

Being Tom Cruise

2005-06-30T08:28:00.000-04:00

Fuz and I went to see War of the Worlds last night. The inescapable conclusion was that the only sure way to survive a major disaster is to be Tom Cruise, or a member of his immediate family. Merely being near Tom Cruise is not enough, indeed, people in close proximity to him get vaporized at an alarming rate. Nor is having a name enough; several people are introduced with names only to die seconds later. No, the only real protection is to be Tom Cruise. Or descended from or previously married to Tom Cruise.
Excuse me. The aliens might be coming at any moment. I have to go seduce Tom Cruise. I'm in the right age category, right?

Old Songs

2005-06-27T11:03:00.000-04:00

Fuz and I went to Old Songs this weekend. It's a wonderful folk songs festival in Altamont, NY. I loved, loved, loved it.
High points:
- Faith Petric. I can only hope that when I am ninety years of age, I will be like Faith. I wish I was more like her right now. She's a Wobbly, a lovely woman, and a great singer. And she's so happy.
- Michael Cooney. The man has wonderful shoes. Also a great musician.
- Nightingale. Good music on New England and French Canadian themes, such as mills, unhappiness, and black flies.
- The Arrogant Worms. Actual song lyrics (disowned by 66.66% of the band, but sung with great joy by Mike) "I pulled my groin! I pulled my groin! It hurts when I skate, but it doesn't hurt when I master- I pulled my groin! I pulled my groin!"
- The IWW songs workshop. V. powerful. Great to listen to Faith talk about the history of the IWW, much of which she witnessed.
- Pesto Crepes.
- Murder Most Foul workshop. A whole hour of songs based on my favorite theme. What could be better?

Low Points:
- It was really, really hot and sticky.
- Port-a-potties. In the heat, y'all. Not so good.
- I'm realizing that while I would really like to be the sort of person who enjoys camping, I am most definitely the sort of person who enjoys air-conditioning. Also real beds.

Conclusion:
Going back next year.

I will never be too old.

2005-06-23T15:11:00.000-04:00

bunny hoodie
Originally uploaded by Adridne.

So, some time ago, I put an ad up in the wanted section of craigslist dc looking for a serger. Four days later with no responses I had given up. Then I got the most wonderful e-mail ever. A very kind woman was moving to a smaller apartment and wanted me to take her serger and some fabric she no longer wanted. No money, please, just take it away. How could I refuse?
I pictured three, perhaps four bags of fabric. Instead, I was presented with twenty-four boxes. My god. Twenty-four boxes of every kind of fabric you can imagine. Teeny-tiny silk scraps. A bolt of cream stretch velour. Two bolts of cotton batiste. More tricot than I really want to think about.
The serger is in the shop. But I present the first of my free-fabric projects. A bunny-eared hoodie. Grey velour with light pink satin lining the ears. Comfy. Warm. Unutterably cute.

As promised, strawberries and vinegar

2005-06-13T13:56:00.000-04:00

So, for our anniversary/his birthday, I bought Fuz an ice cream machine. This was a poor idea. I should have bought Fuz some nice black socks and kept the ice cream machine for myself.
Number of times Fuz has made ice cream: 1
Number of times I have made ice cream: waaay too many.
I have become an ice cream maniac. And sorbet. Let us not forget the sorbet. Anyone who does not own an ice cream maker should go out and buy one right now. They are so worth it.

Strawberry and Balsamic Vinegar Sorbet
1 c water
1/2 c sugar
1 lb strawberries, leaves and bad bits cut off
2 tbsp Balsamic vinegar

Over medium heat in a heavy saucepan, dissolve the sugar in the water to make simple syrup. Remove from heat. Put this in a bowl in the fridge. Puree the strawberries in a food processor. Put them through a strainer or two* layers of cheesecloth to get out the seeds. Add the juice (and some solids will get through. This is a good thing) and the vinegar to the syrup in the fridge. Chill. This is wicked important, yo. The mixture needs to be really cold when you put it in the machine. This is what my short but intense life as an ice cream chef has taught me. When it's really, truly cold, process it in the machine according to the instructions.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "Vinegar? In sorbet? Eeeeew!" Trust me, okay?

*Two is the correct number. One is not enough, three doesn't really let anything through.

The Kraken emerges

2005-06-13T13:54:00.000-04:00

I have a Flickr account! I have a blog! I am slowly reaching out to conquer the web! Does this mean I have to join Friendster?