Blog hiatus! Obviously.

Cats I Know

Here are two neighborhood cats I've befriended! We spend a little time together every evening on my porch, catching up.


The black and white character is Honcho, and his goofball kitten sidekick is JJ. They wander the neighborhood together, causing mischief.


Our Sammie is strictly an indoor cat, but he peeks out the window at these two when they're chasing each other around our yard.


I like to think he wishes he could run around with them. They'd form a little gang of cats - the Grayscale Crew!

Everybody frieze!

Hey Arrested Development fans, remember when the Bluth family participated in the Living Classics pageant, where actors were painted and posed to look like works of art? AKA tableaux vivant, if you want to get fancy about it?

I thought it was yet another event invented by Arrested Development writers to convey a sense of, "Ha ha, look what rich people do for fun!" but apparently the event was based on a REAL THING: the Pageant of the Masters!

...Is Motherboy real too?!

Aubrey passed along two free tickets to PotM to me this week, so C. and I made the trip to Laguna Beach a few days ago. We went with basically no idea what to expect. People acting out paintings on stage? They stand still and pretend to be art? For two hours?

It turned out to be really impressive! 30+ works of art, ranging in time from 5th century BCE to 2008. Sculptures, ceramics, prints, and jewelry pieces, but mostly paintings. The curtain would rise, or the audience's attention would be directed via spotlight to different parts of the stage and surroundings, and there would be a posed, painted and framed scene. There was much golf clapping. The orchestra played, as accompanying narration tied the work into the season's theme of Eat, Drink and Be Merry. The script was scattered with terrible jokes that the audience politely tittered at. "A reference to In-N-Out's 'Animal Fries'? How droll!"

A few times they turned the stage lights up just enough to let the audience see the sets and actors moving into position, for a behind-the-scenes peek. I brought along binoculars to get a close-up look, which revealed that the sets were intricately composed of disguised cutouts and hand- and foot-holds. For example...


In this Bon-Ton Burlesquers poster, the martini glass in the dancer's hand was attached to the scenery as a handle, and her feet were supported by narrow platforms. The dancer was the only actress in this piece.

The narration also pointed out how a large part of the illusion was careful stage lighting to eliminate shadows which would ruin the 2D look. They had a strict "no photography" rule, which was probably a good idea because hundreds of camera flashes would have really ruined it.

My favorite pieces were Gaston Doin's Carnival-themed oil painting, Reginald Marsh's Depression-era Breadline etching, and Carl Larsson's Brita, a Cat and a Sandwich, because a cat and a sandwich makes me pretty happy, too.

The most bizarre event was when the series of Mardi Gras scenes ended, culminating in a weird live parade of people dressed as food, winding their way through the audience. An old man dressed as asparagus danced with a young, lithe bunch of grapes, feet from where I sat. Bewildering!

Air plants

We have a wee air plant garden in our living room now!


With a big nudge from this air plant chandelier DIY project, I ordered an assortment of Tillandsia from Air Plants 4 U. So pleased with this shop and my new plants! I ordered 12, received a bonus 13th, plus a tiny little one that snuck in unnoticed, tangled up in another plant.

I keep the little plant on the windowsill in the bathroom, masquerading as the hair of kokeshi doll who is the size of my fingernail.


The plants came with paper tags, carefully hand-labeled with the species. After a few weeks the paper started to wear out, plus I was never a fan of the way the large white labels stood out against the greenery, so I decided to make my own small, sturdy, clear plastic tags.

First I ate some leftovers... then I washed the #6 plastic container the leftovers came in. Then I cut out some labels from the flat parts of the container, about 3 times as large as I wanted the finished products to be, punched holes with a regular hole-puncher, and wrote the plant names on with a Sharpie.


Then, I applied some MAGIC, aka 350 degrees in the oven for less than 2 minutes, on a foil-lined cookie sheet. At first nothing happened, then suddenly the tags started to curl up and look terrible and made me briefly question the choices I had made in life. Moments later, they shrank down and flattened out, and I was left with these cute little tags!


It's true - #6 plastic is Shrinky Dink plastic. Use this knowledge wisely.


The tags turned out so adorably that I had to spend a few minutes just cooing at them before I could move on. I finished up by cutting all the old paper tags off, and reused the string to tie the new plastic tags on. Ta da!

Viewers like you!

It appears GHOSTWRITER will be out on DVD soon. (Thx for the tip Marcus). I haven't thought of that show in years, but I was so into it in elementary school! Loved a good mystery, still do, loved the book nerdery - but also, as an only child, I took the idea of imaginary friends pretty seriously. The series spoke to me, and I may have on occasion worn a pen on a string around my neck in solidarity...

A couple of Ghostwriter plots have stayed with me through the years, one of which was the Very Special Episode about DRUGS. I remember not really knowing what drugs were, but having the vague understanding that they were Bad, and so I watched the episode cautiously, thinking I could get in trouble if my parents found out.

It was exciting to be suddenly, vividly reminded of a long-lost piece of childhood. I should check these DVDs out, I thought for a second - but reality quickly set in when I realized there's no way that watching the show today could be as satisfying and entertaining as it had been when I was 6. Nothing... is like it was when I was 6.

Seriously, check out this title sequence for Ghostwriter. I don't remember it sucking, but suck it does. Alas.

Well, looks like this is one show I won't be rewatching any time soon. I probably wouldn't be able to get through it without internally making snarky comments*, tarnishing the purity of childhood memories.

-------------

*I'm already doing it: So... the black character's name is Jamal, he has a fade and wears a tank top over a t-shirt? Original. See also Vince from Recess**.

**Veering off topic, but it appears someone is using Polyvore to recreate the outfits of the Recess crew. Huh. Do Pepper Ann next!

I don't know the name of this building

Announcement: My new and most important life goal is to see R. Kelly in concert with my boy Stu.

What has convinced me to reach for this particular star? It was the following fascinating video clip, in which thespian Aziz Ansari conveys the nuances of the R. Kelly concert experience.

I need this in my life.

Earthshaking

This video of a dog sensing an earthquake moments before it occurs is pretty interesting:

On the 30th of December I felt an earthquake, and after the shaking stopped I immediately looked around to see if Sammie was doing anything unusual or telling of the situation. He was in the bathroom, standing up and playing with the handle of the toilet like he wanted to flush. A sign of the end times? A little unusual for him, but he's an unpredictable weirdo anyway so I wouldn't attribute it to any kind of seismic activity.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

My joking around is only incidental to current events. It's been an especially difficult past few days for following the news - CNN's ongoing coverage of the Haiti earthquake.

Help out if you can, there are many ways. Here's a few:
- Red Cross (link for monetary donations, but blood donations accepted in some regions)
- Doctors Without Borders
- Knitting patterns on Ravelry with proceeds pledged to relief
- Craft Hope for Haiti on Etsy, all proceeds pledged to Doctors Without Borders
- Text HAITI to 90999

Moving (out, in, wherever)

Yesterday C. and I spent our evening in front of the TV, watching Biggest Loser. Instead of our usual (well... MY usual) habit of watching while eating foods embarrassingly similar to what landed those contestants on the show, this time we watched while treadmill-ing a few miles. Yeah, we are motivated to be healthier people... but also we don't have a TV and the closest available one was in our building's gym. And we felt awkward about just sitting there, casually draped across a weight bench while watching people struggle to carry the weight of their own bodies around.

I don't really exercise regularly, I just eat right most of the time, avoid being sedentary, and am blessed with the genes of a thin and long-living people. But I do like walking up a serious incline for hours at a time, on a treadmill or even just hilly urban terrain. The embarrassing but true reason behind this is... Janice Dickinson recommends it in her book Everything About Me is Fake… And I’m Perfect. It's a totally free and easy way to keep your calves and rumpus in shape, OK? Don't look at me like that. It's not like I'm doing other stuff she recommends, like getting botulism injected into your face.

Anyway, that's about as exciting as my life is going to get this month. NEXT month is going to be a whole 'nother thing though. I'll be starting school again (I can't find my Pee Chee folder you guys), plus we're moving into our new house. By "new" I mean "old" since it was built in 1913, but by "our" I really mean "OUR" since we're homeowners now!

Back on the best coast

Heyyyyy it's a new year and I live in a new state! I was living in a new state at the end of last year too, but that was the state of homelessness. The couch-surfing kind though. Not the real kind... with poverty. Although right this second I'm eating a cup noodle with a stolen plastic fork, so you can draw your own conclusions about how things are going for me.

But no, I kid - things are going really great. I live in San Diego now, which is a big enough city that I feel my chances of being stalked for revealing my location are pretty low. Last year I lived in Rhode Island, which I don't think I ever mentioned on here, because the whole state was the size of a jellybean. (Flavor? Coffee milk.) I was pretty sure a stalker could randomly come to Rhode Island and, completely by accident, stumble into my backyard. Then it would have been curtains for me.

Daily, I am adding to a mental list of things that are pretty great about living in southern California. Produce is abundant and cheap - I bought a big ol' onion for 13 cents the other day. Also, avocados at 5 for a dollar is nature's way of telling me to eat more guacamole. Also abundant: sunshine! So much so, that we plan to harness the sun's rays to do our bidding. I was in t-shirts and flip flops for a week when we first got here, in the beginning of December. Winter: no longer my mortal enemy! Thanks, San Diego.

Lemony goodness

A fascinating true fact about me is that I love lemon. Lemonade is in my interests on Facebook, that's how you know I mean it - it's right there between gingersnaps and salami.

So I am thrilled to be able to announce that I've had success in making one of my favorite combinations of sweet and tart, lemon meringue pie! And it only took me two attempts. The first one was ages ago, and frankly was not very well made. Just all around sad, really. See here? I didn't really understand the fussiness of meringue, which is why you see nary a stiff peak. The lemon filling had cooled and settled before I even applied that pathetic meringue, which is why there is weeping and separating all over the place. Still tasty... but my goal was tasty AND awesome-looking.

This time I did my homework, and read up on the special needs of meringue. I used just egg whites and sugar. Absolutely NO yolk, so each egg should be separated very carefully and individually, so just in case a yolk breaks, it doesn't pollute the rest of the whites. No touching the whites with grubby fingers, because the oils on your skin could be enough to ruin it. Seriously, very high maintenance - but WORTH IT! Behold the beauty of a meringue peak.


Also just for kicks, here's my pie crust. I thought it looked neat.


So here's how you do this thing: make a batch of lemon filling (recipe below), and pour it hot into the baked crust. IMMEDIATELY slather meringue on top, make some peaks by smacking the back of a spoon around on it, then throw it in the oven at 350 F until the top is attractively browned, about 10 minutes. Behold!


Lemon Meringue Pie
- 1 cup white sugar
- 2 tbs flour
- 3 tbs cornstarch
- 1/4 tsp salt
- 1 1/2 cups water
- Juice and zest from 2 lemons
- 2 tbs butter
- 4 eggs, separated into yolks and whites
- 6 tbs white sugar

Bake pie crust prior to starting the filling.

Preheat oven to 350 F. Whisk together dry ingredients (1 cup sugar, flour, cornstarch, salt) in a saucepan, then stir in water, lemon juice and zest. Stir together over medium-high heat until boiling, then stir in butter.

Beat 4 egg yolks in a small bowl, then temper by whisking in 1/2 cup of the hot lemon mixture. Whisk the egg yolk mixture back into the remaining lemon mixture.

Bring back to a boil and continue to cook, stirring constantly until thick. Lower the heat, but keep mixture hot while making the meringue.

In a large bowl, whip egg whites while gradually adding 6 tbs sugar, until stiff peaks form.

Pour hot lemon filling into pie crust, and spread meringue over the top, sealing the edges to the crust. Bake in preheated oven until meringue is golden brown.

Srs talk about pop music

There are really a lot of things about this Jesse McCartney feat. T-Pain video for Body Language that offend my sensibilities. Let me tell you about them!

First of all, repeated use of same lyric in two different songs by same artist. We already KNOW "that thing you got behind you is amazing," from Leavin'. The worst offender of this, by the way, might be The Police. How do we know it's a big enough umbrella, but it's always Sting who ends up getting weeeeeeet? Because he told us! In like twenty different songs.

Moving on... that hand gesture that young McCartney uses to describe the convexity of a posterior (0:43 in the video) strikes me as kind of tacky and lewd. I guess it's inaccurate for me to call him "young" when he is basically the same age as me, but I still think of him as this child, singing nasally about the beauty of someone's soul.

Seriously though... the fetishization of women for being "ethnic" is pretty gross. In this song, a woman is "so international" that Jesse McCartney sings to her in French and Japanese, while she may or may not be Mexican. Although, maybe he is trying to reach out to his mixed race/ethnicity fanbase by featuring a tri-ethnic woman... in which case, progressive.

Not progressive: repeated shots of a bikini-clad woman, with her face kept HIDDEN. Who cares what her face looks like, all you need to know is she's a foreign girl with fly booty!

Voicefail

In case you were wondering how accurate the transcriptions courtesy of Google Voice are, here is a "shopping list" I read to C's voicemail:

Broccoli, rye bread, a sailboat, Yukon Gold potatoes, Nilla Wafers, Sammie, Beanie, Spigot, and some steaks.

And what was written in the transcription he received:

Broccoli, right. Bread the sailboat you calling gold potatoes. You know, wafers. Sammy the me take it and some steaks.

Man! I would have received a breaded sailboat when I really wanted plain, the wrong kind of potatoes, just some random wafers, and absolutely no Beanie or Spigot.

Lego cookies

C. got me this Lego cookie cutter, and we got ourselves all worked up with dreams of edible Legos. I tried it out last night with a batch of gingerbread. I was a little skeptical that the cutter would actually work, based on all the negative reviews...

I'm sorry, but the review that said "My son cried," made me laugh out loud. I do feel for the mom, though - I wouldn't want to have to post a review that simply read, "My boyfriend cried."

Anyway, I rolled out the dough and dusted it with flour, and also rolled the cutter in flour to keep everything from sticking, and here's what I got - cute wee Lego cookies!

There they are, waiting to go in the oven. But would they keep their shapes through baking?!

The answer is YES!

So this baking endeavor would have been a great success - EXCEPT for the fact that the gingerbread recipe I used turned out to be pretty bad. I'd never tried this one before, and I won't try it again. The dough turns out so sticky that neither chilling, freezing, nor extra flour could save it. The cookies pictured here had so much extra flour in them that the texture was really affected, but it was the only way I could get the dough remotely workable. Also, there was hardly any flavor - no sweetness, no gingeryness, no spice.

Still, the cookie cutter worked! I just need to find a better recipe... suggestions?

Funspot

After having heard about it 'round the internets, I downloaded The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters. C. and I watched it and were kind of blown away that competitively playing classic arcade video games can be people's whole lives. I guess I wasn't COMPLETELY surprised... but it watching a grown man videorecord himself playing a game as his child wails "Daddyyyyyy, stop playing Donkey Kong!" in the background was unexpectedly sobering.

I learned a lot from this documentary. I learned that classic video gaming is very high stakes, that there are heroes and villains among the well-known players... and that there are well-known players, period. These well-known players convene and compete in locations such as The American Classic Arcade Museum at Funspot, in magical Laconia, NH. Right after watching the documentary, we turned to the internet for more information about this Funspot, and discovered that the 11th annual International Classic Videogame Tournament was coming right up. These days we need only the slightest nudge to get us moving on a roadtrip, but this information practically shoved us off a cliff.

We gently landed in New Hampshire, the first day of the tournament... and were changed forever. Our first glance around the parking lot at Funspot revealed vanity license plates which read "MAPPY," "DKONG," and "CNTIPD."

This vehicle had much Mountain Dew and generic cheese puffs in the back seat, I am not even kidding.

The arcade was not as busy as I'd expected, but still lively with challengers and onlookers. There were a lot of games, and a lot of people's hands all over the games... I yearned for Purell.

This fellow is filming himself playing Ms. Pac-Man, while wearing a special Pac-Man garment.

A game I don't know, being played by a guy wearing a "Power Glove" which is also something that exists I guess. That's me, bemused, in the background.

But enough about these random gamers - we met CELEBRITIES! We got our picture taken with Walter Day, the video game referee who is in charge of Twin Galaxies. We got our picture taken with some other unknown guy who wasn't in The King of Kong but kind of forced us to get our picture taken with him. We got our picture taken with BRIAN KUH, a man who quit his real job to move to New Hampshire to play games at Funspot ALL THE TIME!

One time he broke 16 world records in one day. That's a lot! One of them was Paperboy, which I tried to play, and it's pretty challenging.

Brian Kuh was actually kind of a toadie villain in The King of Kong. Without giving away any spoilers, I'll just say he basically committed a crime in order to make life harder for another gamer. I thought poorly of him for that, and had entertained fantasies of calling him out on poor sportsmanship if I were to meet him in real life. Then I did meet him, and he was so meek and modestly grateful that we had enjoyed the documentary... and for a moment I thought deeply on the fact that he quit his job and moved to New Hampshire to pursue gaming... and I decided it wasn't for me to judge.

We spent the rest of our time at Funspot collecting tickets on the kiddie games, like Skee-Ball and Wack-a-Mole. We were so rich with tickets by the end - our rewards were a Cookie Monster plushie, a little figurine of a dog taking a bath in a bucket, and a red Chinese finger trap. Funspot, I hope to be seeing you again soon.

I knit a sweater!

It occurred to me recently that almost all of my knitting has been for other people, so I decided to work on a project for myself - I chose this Owl Sweater that I saw on One Pretty Thing. I started working on this wool, cabled project right away because I figured it would take me a while to complete, but no - two weeks of knitting flew by, and then I had a sweater! Just in time for the heat and humidity of summer...

Great pattern for a first-time-sweater knitter. I managed to make my way through it with only minimal fuss, even though I had to do a good deal of math to convert this pattern (intended for chunky weight yarn) into something that could work with worsted Lion Brand Fishermen's Wool. This was also my first time working cables.


Rather than put eyes on all my owls, I decided to just give one lucky hooter the gift of sight, in the form of vintage pearly yellow button eyes.

Really quite pleased! This may be the first time I have ever eagerly awaited the return of sweater weather.

Virginia is for squatters

The situation right now is this: we are staying for a few days in the great state of Virginia (boo!)* in a tent (yay!) in a condo (what?). It is C's friend's uninhabited and unfurnished condo - as I look around the room right now, the only things in here are the two of us sitting on the floor with our respective Apple computers, my flip flops, and a promotional-sized box of cereal.

A little bit ago, I woke up and climbed out of the tent with no sense of what time it was. I heard some voices outside the door, and in a sleepy haze thought, "I hope that's not a realtor trying to show this place." Then the doorbell rang, because it was a realtor, trying to show this place. C. and I scrambled to put clothes on and put most of our belongings out of sight, and then we let the realtor and an unsuspecting couple in. Pretty sure all three of them thought we were squatters, or maybe just weirdos - tent in the bedroom, no furniture, random assortment of things. They left in under three minutes. The day is ours!

*Just kidding, Virginia. We are having a really good time in the loving arms of Old Dominion.

Engage!

C. and I have set out on a quest to watch Star Trek: The Next Generation in its entirety, which is five million episodes... or it FEELS like so many, since we are still on the first season and it hasn't quite picked up any steam yet. Cornwell tipped me off that I should stick with it and get through the first season "even though it is campy and unbearable," because it improves by the third season, "where they started getting a lot of money and all the actors took classes and shit." Hmm... At this point I'm mainly watching because I like the antics of Data, all trying to be a real boy. He's forever getting into crazy situations! And I like following up each episode with the recap by Wil Wheaton, who plays a kid who wore insane sweaters... in the Future!

Well, I've already run out of things to say about ST:TNG. To keep things interesting, we're going to be alternating seasons of that with seasons of Red Dwarf, which C. had never seen or heard of. Hooray for summer and idle pursuits!

Bee time!

Hey, what better way to revive my blog than with fresh, current material, such as... commentary on the Scripps National Spelling Bee! (This weekend is going to be live, y'all - just wait until you see my posts about Star Trek: The Next Generation, and The International Classic Arcade Game Championship. I'm serious.)

I had the idea to liveblog this event, and maybe play along by trying to spell the words... but they're like, really hard. I couldn't keep up with these kids! While I'm still trying to wrap my mind around whatever jibberish Dr. Jacques Bailly is saying, the kids are all... "H-Y-D-R-A-R-G-Y-R-U-M!" and "G-Y-A-S-C-U-T-U-S!"

Ooh - one of the words is "blancmange." Much like these Bee kids, I have known, and known how to spell, this word since middle school, but not because of studying and cramming. I learned it the same way I learned a lot of things about life - from Monty Python. "They mean to win Wimbledon!" (Part 1, part 2.)

Hmm there are only seven spellers left now, and only one of them is a homeschooled kid! This surprises me... I guess I was hoping to see more Rebecca Sealfons. There aren't too many characters among the spellers this year: a class clown, a really laid-back little dude, a bunch of sharp but otherwise ordinary kids. I don't have a favorite this year...

Now the spellers are dropping like flies! Who's going to win the ridiculously huge silver cup!?

"Menhir," there's another one I know. Thanks Asterix... or rather Asterix's friend and menhir delivery man, Obelix. So far I have been able to best middle school-aged children in the spelling of TWO whole words! And only because I knew the terms as pop culture references... yesssss I feel like a champion.

Hey, someone won! This year's competition was pretty sedate, so I'm finding it hard to muster up a great deal of enthusiasm. To steal a joke from C./Adam Sandler: "Phoresy"? More like boresy.

Tick tick tick...

People don't really get ticks where I'm from, unless maybe you're out camping in the wilderness, way off the grid somewhere. I've never actually heard of someone I know getting a tick on them, so to me it was just some jokey affliction, kind of like scurvy - no doubt real, but not really something to worry about. This is the modern age, after all!

Note that I said it WAS a joke to me. This weekend, C. and I walked along a nice, wide, maintained nature trail with some friends of ours, Matt and Miki. We went down a short side trail to the beach, and I probably brushed against some foliage ONCE... fast forward a few hours when I was washing up in our friends' bathroom. I looked in the mirror and had a train of thought something like this: "AHHH there's a spider on me - wait no it's just some bug, I'll brush it off - why won't it... come off... AHHHHHHH IT'S IN MY NECK!"

A tick was in my neck, feasting on my blood. I tried to telepathically communicate, "I NEED that blood, you jerk! I'm using it." The tick continued quietly sipping away.

First we tried unsuccessfully to drown it with rubbing alcohol. It wasn't working, so I lay on the couch feeling awkward while C. and Matt rushed to - The Internet! - for advice. Matt and Miki were optimistic about pulling it out with tweezers, while C. wanted to heat the bug up with a lighter. An open flame, next to my alcohol-soaked neck. Was I concerned my head would go up in flames? Yes.

But my neck had dried at that point, so I let C. get to work with the lighter. Based on Matt's narration of the events, I think he was having some success, but then the tick burned up and died. Tweezers were employed, and then I was tick free - until I went back to the bathroom to finish washing up, and I found ANOTHER ONE in my hair. I squished it before it could tap into me. NOW I was tick free.

So now I'm just waiting... 3 to 32 days after being bitten, to see if I have Lyme disease. Fingers crossed! Sometimes I feel like the Northeastern United States is out to get me. I've transplanted here, but I'm not taking, and am being rejected...

Sammie's Outdoor Adventure

My long Memorial Day weekend started out with Sammie running away! Spoiler alert: he came back. I was out on the back porch hanging laundry to dry (I'm trying to give up using the dryer as much as I can this summer - you're welcome, The Earth), and I had propped the screen door open, thinking that Sammie is too skittish about literally everything to want to venture out. I didn't even see him take off... but after a while we determined he was gone, and then C. and I had an anxious night of searching for him with flashlights. We went to bed, and there were no pointy little feet stepping on us, and it was sad.

We hung signs around the neighborhood the next day. I kept calling him from the back door throughout the day - mostly "Sammie," but "Samuel" too, so he would know I meant business. In the evening, after a whole day of roughing it in the out-of-doors, Sammie decided it was time to start meowing back when I called him. He's skittish, but he'll "talk" back to me, and is sometimes pretty chatty, which I'm glad for. And the promise of wet food helped to lure him back inside. I suspect he didn't leave the neighbor's backyard the whole time, hiding in an extensive pile of stuff.

Soon as we got him back, he suffered the indignity of a bath. As I poured water down his back and soaped him up, he tried talking to me again, this time with what sounded exactly like the word "Noooo!" wailed over and over. Sorry buddy, you smelled funky. So glad you are home!

Huuuugs!