Happiness Lifehack

i love it when things just flow together, and I haven't had that happen in a while. I feel like I slogging through a mire of cellophane wrappers (real cellophane, not that cheap petroleum based polypropylene stuff). So I was doing one of my random "that seems interesting; I think I'll google it and see what it means" searches that comes out of editing pages from weird books, I found out about the Happiness Manifesto lifehack (the BBC has a whole lifestyle section on this, including an easy-to take test to discover happiness levels. And there's recipes, too. Because recipes make people happy). There's even a group following it informally on 43 things, and my new obsession is 43 things

And writing of 43 things, I love the idea of setting up self-imposed punishments for not meeting my publicly-declared challenge. I heard on NPR (I think) about a group of people who swore they were medically incapable of losing weight, but when threatened with having pictures of themselves posted naked on the internet (taken with their permission, and the study was started with their permission to post if they didn't lose weight - always read the fine print, people), these same study victims managed to drop some poundage. Crazy that. Although I did get chastised for suggesting that I might really want to eat a worm if I don't get the worm bin up and running. I don't really want to eat a worm, even with the recipes in the back of my worm book. I ate snails in Paris. I discovered they're just carriers for butter and garlic, and I much prefer bread or mushrooms for that. In fact, mushrooms have pretty much the same texture and consistency of snails without the creepy knowledge that they once had eye stalks. Eye stalks kind of freak me out.

yeah.

Yummers!

So dinner was from a new cookbook. Fish en papillote with fennel, thyme and olives (but not sea bass, because they had lasers on their forehead, were $24/lb, and the Central Market guy had a substitute that was just like seabass for half the price); crushed cauliflower with bear cheese, and asparagus with orgasm butter lemon sauce. Central Market must have had their artisan baker quit, because their bread suddenly sucks balls. The rustic bread had fine holes. Not rustic at all. Last week, we bought bread and the chef must have mistaken cup for teaspoon, because it was salty like a seadog. Enough Complaining!

Crushed cauliflower, modified for two:

6 cups water
Kosher salt
1/2 pound cauliflower, separated into medium sized florets
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/8 cup finely grated parmesan reggiano (or chunked extra sharp bear cheddar cheese
pepper (freshly ground, preferably white, although I don't keep white pepper around, so black works fine)
cayene pepper (my addition - if it's got cheese, it can stand a sprinkle of cayene)

Pour the water into a large, heavy bottomed pan, add 2 teaspoons salt and bring to a boil over high heat. Add the cauliflower and cook about 10 minutes. Drain.
Return cauliflower to pot and cook for 3 minutes more over medium-low heat to evaporate excess liquid. Why? Because he said so. Add butter, oil and cheese. Turn off heat. Break up the florets and mash with a potato masher, or if you're me, two wooden spoons, while you tell the story of not knowing what that thing was that your friend gave you because your mom never used a potato smasher, and your husband's mom used a pastry blender. Who uses potato smashers? Season with salt if you want, pepper, and if you're me, cayenne, and a dash of crushed thyme to meld with the fish. Yum!
Transfer to a bowl and serve hot. I transfered to a steel mixing bowl I got at IKEA and put on the back burner of the range so it got the heat of the oven as the fish cooked. The bowl was nice and hot and kept the food warm without drying it out.

The boy said, "Cheddar and cauliflower? OMG - thank you."

It's a keeper. And it helps if you consume an ENTIRE BOTTLE OF WINE!
gah.

Pan's Labyrinth

Don't read this if you haven't seen the film yet. And this is brief so don't read it as complete as I haven't fully formed all of my arguments, I just want to get it down. But yeah, she died.

It's a great film, but I've been thinking about the imagery, and the symbolism. Ofelia's first discovery of the dual identity with Princess Moanna left her with a sense of pride, and pride is the first of the seven deadly sins. At that point, she was already human. The image in the well was of the faun holding the girl with a baby. Didn't happen: the captain took the baby back. Ofelia failed her promise to trust the faun without asking questions and her promise to her brother that she would take him with her and make him a prince. And all of the other deaths were delusions - the captains desire to pass on the legacy left by his father - denied; the mother's desire to take care of her family - denied (especially with the hints that the captain was the one that caused the death of the tailor); the death of Ofelia was the death of an innocent past. I don't know much about the Spanish Civil war, except for the glorious propaganda of Hemingway and Gramsci, but she represented something other than an innocent child. Maybe the delusion of being able to maintain belief in a dream instead of facing the reality of utter failure. Dunno. Could be.

I will be watching this again. Imagery keeps coming back to me - the editing of the chase through the forest where trees are used to make the captain's troupes jump around in the frame. It was a brilliant way to disturb time and space. I also want to reexamine the train scene where the lights/screens were manipulated to give an otherworldly sense of dusk/dawn. The technical was nicely executed. And this was so much better than Hellboy (not that I didn't like Hellboy, but this was just better.)

Another Texas Charmer

I didn't expect, so soon after going to the Ann Richards memorial, that I'd wonder if I wanted to go to the Molly Ivins memorial (with a gathering at Scholz Garten afterwards - how fitting). I used to read the Texas Observer diligently, and have always loved Ivins' ability to turn the Texas legislature into the object of mockery that it deserves. Sad day. I remember when I was studying at Mojo's Daily Grind (I think it's Kasbah Coffee or something even more ridiculous now), I overheard a blonde scrawny thing complaining about a woman in her class: "She's like, a *feminist*". And she spat the word out like it was an insult. I wanted to slap the blonde scrawny thing, and remind her that unless she was there to get her M-R-S degree, the only reason she was at the university was because *feminists* made it acceptable for women to express their opinions and get educations. Ivins had that Texas charm that, like Richards, could have made that girl feel both shame for being so stupid, and for expressing it in public. I just piss people off.

You will be assimilated

Yesterday I went over to my neighbor's house to help out with Flea stuffing (our neighborhood newsletter is called "the Flea" in honor of a large cat colony that used to exist on one of the streets). I mentioned that I stumbled into the artisan baking class at TCA and he immediately loaned me a book from The Cheese Board Collective (he lived in Berkeley for a while). Yum!

I'm working my way through the history and the basics, and am looking forward to trying the recipes. I'll post my findings as they appear in the kitchen.

Outrage

Just hit one of the blogs I lurky-read. The first story made me want to post because I've downloaded enough to the boy. Having been raped at 16 by a total stranger (my first sexual experience), this causes bile to rise up in my throat and makes me want to scream. Seriously. WTF? A woman was raped, then thrown into jail? (It was a clerical error. She had no reason to be there.) And then she was denied a prescription to keep her from getting pregnant because the jail medical examiner had a personal problem with it? I spent time volunteering for NARAL and TARAL, but it seems more than a few men need a firm kick in the balls. And some women, too. Wouldn't it be great if there was a rape awareness day and every man and woman who had been raped or sexually assaulted wore a pin that said "Rape survivor". (Actually, I think I'm going to start a campaign because there IS a Sexual Assault Awareness Day!). And the first google link is for the Florida Council Against Sexual Violence. *snort* the woman's story above happened in Tampa. Seems they've got a bigger problem than they think.

Random Random Random Senseless Practice

(The second week of February is Random Act of Kindness week. I hate that bumper sticker, but really love it when people mutate it into other messages.)
One of the things I do that doesn't actually bring in any viable income but is still fun because of the randomness of it all, is proofreading OCRed documents for a company that contracts with major publishers for online document search retrieval. I'll edit a Christian marriage counseling page, a page from a children's book, and then a page of soft-core erotica, then a math book page. Great for keeping the brain non-linear, and I get to play with my weird ability to immediately spot the typo in written text. (I inherited this ability from my super-human mom, and until recently, just used this ability to constantly criticize myself. So this is a slightly lucrative use of a power for good, and not evil.)

For the most part, I don't get involved in the content, but I sometimes I'll proof a page that compels me to read the rest of the book. Rarely does the publisher omit the author or the title of the book from the layout of the individual page, but it does happen, and I'm left fumbling with half-finished novels in my head that will never be completed. So far there's a fictional biography of an icelandic punk band, a sci-fi series that I think I can track down, and an autobiography of a person who did a tibetan monk thing in England somewhere and has a funny writing style that I adore.

So yesterday afternoon I had a conversation with my fabulous neighbor about our ability to convince ourselves that we're worthless by listening to others trying to beat us down and turn us into something they think we should be, and not who we really are (a common enough occurrence in our media-inspired culture, I suppose). She went back to the gym and I sat back down in front of the computer and immediately ran into a great (para)quote in that tibetan monk book I happened to get to proof a few pages: I choose my own direction. And however much I may wobble in reaction to others, I keep my direction steady.

Half.com conflict

So I'm in the middle of a weird little conflict with someone that purchased a book from me on half.com. I didn't realize when I bought the book at Book People, that some ass had decided to rip a few pages out. So I, in my naiveté, listed it as a complete book. The buyer recognized this and sent me an email demanding a refund, thinking that I had ripped the pages out. This was a logical assumption, since that was the first thing I thought he did. But it cost 2.15 to mail the book media mail, and with the commission and packaging, the book I listed for $5.00 really only brought in about $2.50 in profit (the idea of commission and postage being separate from the value of the book is beyond the buyer). Since that's only about a fifteen cent difference from postage, I'm going to end up in a no-win-no-lose situation for no reason (I seriously doubt half.com will give me money for return postage - they're a business, not a charity. A concept that is also lost on the buyer). So I asked the buyer to neither waste his time nor mine, and get a faster refund, by not returning the book, destroying it and providing proof of that destruction. I even suggested he do it in creative ways. This is beyond him. I'm guessing this isn't a lesson in patience for me, but instead is The Ganzfeld desperately trying to tell me this guy is too repressed to own a copy of something that's an expression of creativity.

Dog fence span completed (almost)

Yesterday was an amazing combination of complete laziness and getting things done. AC made biscuits and we watched Veronica Mars for breakfast. Then he watched another Netflix movie while I did a bunch of random things, including attacking the growth on the fenceline. I got enough of it out to convince him to make a span of wooden dogfence, and when he finished it, it looked so good, I pizza&beer bribed him to do the last span to the cottonwood. I'm afraid of the cottonwood: this is the tree with the poison ivy trunk that's larger than my two hands fisted together. Avoidance! Avoidance!

So since I pulled the bribe out, I had to call for delivery. I hate papa johns - their sauce tastes like corn syrup - but besides Conan's (which is way too expensive for what you get) and Eastside Pies (which we weren't in the mood for -- the crust is too crusty), they're the only pizza that we know of that delivers to our house. I wouldn't have minded carryout Slices & Ices, but I wanted something different to remind myself why we like them. So I went on a pizza hunt, looking for a place that wasn't evil that might possibly deliver to our area. Austin's Pizza looked promising. They won a "best of austin" award for delivery from the auschron, so they might deliver eastside as most of the staff at the chronicle has lived over here at one time or another. I called. Nope. At least the guy was highly apologetic (we're about two miles away).

But I can't figure out why this myth of eastside Austin still prevails. It's quite cush now. I remember when cops would pull you over if you were white and driving east of IH35 after 8pm (mainly because it happened to a friend from the coop - and yes, he was actually trying to buy something illegal), but that's been decades. Seriously. AC and I were trying to figure out how we could best share our disdain for having to pick up our own pizza (which we really didn't mind, since he wanted to get beer, too), and he decided to write a letter. I suggested rather than pulling out the "I approve food orders for our events and I'll never shop there again!" whine (since it would be hard to really enforce - he has frequent lunch meetings there), that he instead do the "I would think Austin's Pizza was a little less racist than that" tactic. I doubt it will work, but I can still highly recommend the Bacon Pizzaburger with Fat Tire. Yum!

Friday mini-vacate

As planned, I drove to San Antonio Friday afternoon to pick up AC from his conference. Did I mention San Antonio drivers suck? We found the McNay (after taking a long and circuitous path. I *so* hate that city. Who plans a city around a friggin' circle? At least the mormons have it down - identify temple square and name the streets ordinal from there on a grid. Not a circle. Once you figure it out, you'll never get lost in Deseret - I mean, Utah. Oh, and never tell the story of the bulimic seagulls at an airport waiting for a plane going to Salt Lake City. Duh! Sure to be someone who doesn't find it as amusing as you).

At the recommendation of one of the docents at the McNay, we ate at a pretty tasty little sandwich shop called the Twin Sisters on New Braunfels - not as good as NeWorlDeli, but what is? Their parmesan bread was pretty amazing, the waitor was pretty funny (and obviously recognized his regulars). The soups left a little to be desired, but we're spoiled for soup. I should post my celery soup recipe - it's not for the faint of heart.

Once fortified, we were back at the mansion. I had been there when I was in high school (and saw pages from the first edition of Tom Phillip's A Humament - incredibly instrumental in who I am now. Art is best explored in its original form - not in a book, especially when it is a book) but AC had never been. So we walked around for a couple of hours, talked with the guards, and did a wonderful job not spending any money in the gift shop. It's a great museum, intimate without being overwhelming. It has representative pieces from artists, great for student field trips, but the exhibit that blew me away and left me with tears in my eyes was Jacob Lawrence's Migration Series (showing as part of Black Heritage month). Wow.

I did something right in a dog fight!

Maggie posing as a "good dog"
Originally uploaded by carabou.

Woo hoo! OK. Let me clarify. I'm not woo-hooing because Maggie jumped Pico. In fact, I feel kind of stupid because I figured something like that would happen, but I was really hungry and I was busy scarfing down half a can of kidney beans while dispersing cheers. My bad. Anyway.

It's a fantastic day, and I didn't want Pico digging up all of my worms and coming back in the house with a filthy nose, so I had her in the kennel for most of the day while I worked in the garage. Sorry A - it was driving me crazy. I wanted to take the trash out since the bin was full, and ended up doing more than I expected. Anyway. I decided to take some time and play with Pico and Hopus. I put Maggs and Chew in the back-back yard (we seem to have developed a complicated back yard system) and threw a toy for Hope. Pico ran around, peed twice (sniffed a lot first), and took a very large poop (which I cleaned up, thankyouverymuch mrC). It was fun, but I tired out Hope and she started to get a little grumpy toward Pico (I think she sprained her rear leg when I had her jumping and twisting in the air. She's amazing twirly dog!). Then Pico didn't want to run around any more because Hope was grumpy. So I thought I'd run in, grab a bite, and then do the doggy shuffle, but leave Hope and Pico in the main back, and Chuy and Maggie in the back back.

Bad idea. Kind of. I had the kitchen door open, and when person-walking-by triggered dog barking frenzy, I heard a dog run by the door and back again. "Huh? -- there shouldn't be any dogs there" so I peaked my head out the screen door and saw Chuy, but no Maggie. Crapola. Maggie probably jumped the fence and is now in the same enclosure with the dog that she has caused more than 5K worth of damage in at least three separate instances. Yay.

So I open the back door to the dogroom. And Pico runs in. A HUGE no-no, and Maggie, being the enforcer of all rules (she's very fascist that way), jumps Pico in the office, on the rug, next to the pile of books I'm trying to sell. I am sooooo happy Pico already did her bidness -- all that came out was a tiny little turdlet that I stepped on after the mess was over (I was wearing a sock. It's now in the trash and there's pee-eating enzymes on the floor where it got smushed).

So my long rambly story is now to the "I did something right!" part. What I didn't do: Panic. Yell. Scream. Pour water on the dogs. Rush around like a frantic person. What I did: I put down my bowl of food (I was eating a half a can of kidney beans, remember? Although, for a split second, I really did consider throwing it at Maggie, but how kidney beans would deter a fight is now beyond me. Glad I didn't - one less thing to clean up). After I put down my food, I put down my chopsticks (hehe). I grabbed Maggie by the tail. Still not screaming, I pulled. I didn't say anything, I just pulled Maggie away from Pico. Thankfully, she let go (I didn't get a chance to tether Pico to anything, so she was on her own).

Quick survey: no pee or crap everywhere and Pico is free. I'm still holding Maggie by the tail, and she's snarling like a mad dog (frothing at the mouth and grrr!) Pico, sweet little stupid thing that she is, is sitting there, wondering what the frack she should do. I am so glad we trained Pico to go to her kennel. "Pico! Kennel" (stupid dog, I'm thinking - but she's not alpha, and has no idea what to do, so it's actually good that she waited for me to tell her what to do. It's my job.) Pico heads out to her kennel in the living room and I reach behind me, open the door and very calmly shove Maggie outside. Go to the living room, check Pico over (she's slobbery, but no damage. Whew!). Walk back to check for a more thorough pee-poop check and step in some. Take off socks and throw away. Let in Chuy, let in Hope. Walk around with Maggie for a little bit to reaffirm my alpha (and she's really doing it all right - walking behind me, totally focusing on my face. I ignore her, but demand she come out with me while I'm taking out the recycling). Let her back inside with me (and yell at Hope for jumping over the couch and eating all the cat food).

Then I realize that I don't have a headache, nor despair, nor melancholy. Maggie just attacked Pico and I didn't lose it. I actually handled it in a way that didn't cause more damage to Pico (unlike the previous times when I yelled and screamed, which I realized afterwards caused more damage b/c Maggie thought I was encouraging her - she's such an obedient dog. If only she weren't so rule-bound). So I'm happy in a weird sort of way. And I'm proud of myself. So, yeah, I'm bragging. But in a weird sort of "my dogs aren't really well-behaved" way. Which is perfect, because it makes no sense. Just like me.

Snopes has a picture gallery!

I like snopes, but it's not one of those sites I look at every day. I usually only use it to refer people who send spam as they were one of the first, and are still pretty active, and -- they've got pictures! I'm not so keen on the gruesome bits, but the one that really cracked me up was a pic of urinal art. I though, "Oh, the stupid fly target again" (which is clever, btw, but since I'm female never really appealed to me). Not that. In fact, not that at all. I almost sent it via email to some people I know, but resisted -- oh ... so ... hard ... -- cuz if it's on snopes, it's already been emailed too much. So I put it here. (And the shopping bags are pretty cool, too.)

Quinoa recipe from my acupuncturist

lightly toast about a cup of quinoa in ghee until it starts to pop and smells really toasty. Add in about the same to double of broth and some peas and chopped red and yellow peppers. Cook like rice (bring to boil, then simmer low low low! with barely any flame for about 20 minutes). TaDa!

Argh, A Restaurant Drink, Limey!

I have mixed feelings about Saba Blue Water Cafe. We went when they first opened, when the warehouse district was just on the edge of being the urban scene it truly is now. OK - I lie. It was pretty hipster then, but I was better paid, better dressed, and much younger (but never a hipster - swear!). They were one of the few places in town that knew what a Mojito was, and theoretically, how to make it. I tried to make one at home, but couldn't really figure out the "muddling" bit, so I wanted to compare it to a "real" one. I'm still no expert, but I decided I like margaritas more.

Mojito

• 3-4 fresh lime quarters (like, take an organic lime? and wash it? and then cut it into quarters? Right?)
• 10-12 fresh sprigs of mint (and I used spearmint, which is what I had at the time. There are so many types of mint, I bet this could really change the drink. I bet lemon verbena would also make a killer replacement. Mmmm. I love verbena.)
• 1/2 ounce simple syrup (easy enough to make - but it takes an hour. Don't burn yourself, and you may want to consider adding flavoring to it if you think you want the extra kick
• 1 1/2 ounces white rum (I'm not a big rum drinker, and the boy likes spiced rum - I'd probably just use plain Bacardi, but if you know more about rum, get what you like. There's tons of rums - lemon infusions, raspberry flavored. I bet vodka would also work fine and I really like my Hanger One vodka)
• soda water (not coke, just the carbonated water stuff you get at the drink mixer section)
• Ice

Add limes, mint and simple syrup together in a 12-ounce glass. Pestle (really - that's what it says. Probably mean "muddle") together with 5-10 downward twisty motions (or muddle, if you know how to do that). Add the ice to the rim of the glass, and alternate adding rum and soda until the glass is full. Shake two or three times (the glass - in a shaker if you were smart and put the ingredients in a shaker glass) and serve. Don't forget to strain the mint leaves. No one thinks green stuff in your teeth is attractive.

It's in the eyes

So I was watching an episode of Dead Like Me on the sci-fi channel last night that I hadn't seen before (which is weird, because I rented the DVDs, but it's been a while and I'm easily distracted) and a new show is previewing that I thought I might want to watch - the Dresden Files. Looks dark, looks like a good carrier for some cool stuff. I ended up recording it to the DVR, but it was not necessary. (GAH! THE DOGS WON'T STOP BARKING AND WHEN I WENT OUTSIDE TO SEE WHAT THEY WERE BARKING AT - CONSTANTLY BTW - HOPE JUMPED ON MY KHAKI-COLored pants (yelling PICO really loud seems to have calmed me down a little bit) and now my pants have four dog-foot smears on them. Lovely).

Anyway. I started thinking about all of the webstreaming of tv shows and how they've got a directed target (I caught up on Vanished and was both annoyed and amused at how they require you to watch an ad before seeing content). So in my inbox this morning, I find a link in my Benton Foundation communication update to a Reuters article regarding an analysis of TV shows being watched on teh internets. The Benton synopsis made me laugh: [Nielsen stressed, however, that watching TV on your computer does not make you younger, smarter or more affluent.]

darn.

Another Door, another Drink

I haven't been to the Cedar Door in a while -- something about avoiding trying to find a place to park and the fear of the overpriced downtown crowd. But I found the recipe for their absolutely delish Mex Mart, so I may not have to worry about this anymore. Mmmm. Mex marts. If only they had Migas and Fajitas, I could avoid going to the frat-packed horribly loud Trudy's ever (but then, I actually like Trudy's, so I can deal).

CD's original mexican martini

• 1 ounce Sauza Gold tequila
• 1 ounce Hiram Walker Triple sec
• Freshly squozed lime juice (Central Market sells non-pasturized freshly squoze in convenient pint-size containers in the produce section)
• splash of both orange juice and sweet&sour mix

Combine the ingredients in a 16-ounce pint glass chock full o' ice. Shake well (the glass) and serve in a salted rim glass (they recommend one of those Marie Antoinette boobie champagne glasses, but any ol' glass'll do), and garnish with three green olives on a miniature pirate sword pick and a wedge o' fresh lime.

You'll recognize the template

I took this amazing workshop with Liz Belile when I was in grad school (although, because of the mess of teaching and learning, and the politics of accusations and money disbursement that was going on with the faculty at the department, I had to stop going to the workshop to save my sanity (although losing it happened anyway. My shrink totally sucked. I needed tools to cope with what was happening then, not to revisit the rape that happened in high school, or retell all of the "poor-little me" stories from my childhood while holding a human-kid-sized doll and sitting on battery cables - yeah). So I never performed my pieces but that's okay because it was still a cool workshop). Anyway. Liz has a new blog up for people who can't take the workshop because she's put a hiatus on offering it until she's got a kiddo. So go and take a look at it. Now!

(and san antonio drivers suck.)

Beautiful Day!

Yesterday I worked in the garden in a short-sleeved shirt. Amazing. 65 degrees, sunny, beautiful. We took Chuy, Hope and Maggie out for a short walk (just around the neighborhood) and enjoyed the beauty of the day. We thought about going to Town Lake, but decided not to waste gas (we could bike, but there's too much glass/debris on the road there for the dogs' paws). My new goal - walk all four dogs at the same time. Maggie hasn't had the opportunity to go for Pico's throat in a while, and I like to live dangerously. (Just kidding. I would never do that. I would like to be able to walk them all at the same time, just with Maggs and Pico on opposite sides of the two sets of legs holding the leashes.)

An update on the cats: Taki has taken to crawling under the cover with me when I get into bed. It's a little creepy and a little cute at the same time. He's gotten incredibly demanding when it comes to my attention/time/space. Right now he's in my lap (he demanded his way there). It's really cute, but poor Esme and Nuncle aren't getting any me-time. Eh - not true. Esme still sleeps on my head (which is great for my asthma - let me tell ya) and Nuncle hangs out on the desk when I'm working. He's there now, leaning on my stack of business papers I have to sort through. It's a good thing he's so cute, because it would be annoying if he weren't.

I had a dream last night that he had a tortoiseshell coat, with green on the head. And that all mathematicians had to run 4-minute miles. What an interesting combination. There was another long complicated movie dream, but I think it was just a recreation of Children of Men. The main thing I remember was a synchronized blackening with spraypaint of all of the security cameras in the world.

Turquoise Rita

Once, when I drank in public more because I had a horrid job working for people who's only mission in life was to be well-dressed, I asked for a "blue drink." The bartender, since it was slow, amused me and himself, and came up with a drink he called "Windex." I don't think I've ever been to Z'Tejas. Or, if I had, I don't remember it. But if I had, I'm sure I'd remember the Turquoise margarita.

• Rose's lime juice
• 2 ounces Patron Silver tequila
• 1 ounce blue curacao
• 2 ounces sweet and sour mix
• 1 fresh lime wedge
• Coarse salt
• Ice

Pour a little Rose's lime juice into a saucer or shallow dish, and coarse salt in second dish (about 1/8" deep). Dip the rim of a pint glass (the 14-ounce pilsner variety) in the juice, and then the salt. Set aside.

Fill a shaker with ice, and add tequila, curacao and the sweet and sour mix. Cover and shake vigorously. Pour the drink and the ice into the salt-rimmed glass. Squeeze lime wedge into the drink and plop it on in to drink.

I 'm warm.

I 'm warm.
Originally uploaded by mikapon.

I borrowed the picture from mikapon because I don't have any new pictures of anything vaguely normally. Aielli did a search on "cold" - so far we've got Muddy Waters "Cold Weather Blues", Guy Clark's "Expose", and Crosby, Stills and Nash "Cold Rain". Yep. It got turned off. Guess I need to charge the ipod battery.

Today is "catch up on everything I haven't done yet" day. A five day vacation was nice, I suppose, but I didn't really get much done. I could have been editing, but then I would have felt even more snow/ice bound than I did, as I would have been in front of the computer all the time.

The N&D is off to work. The dogs are outside, the cats are asleep on the bed. It's all back to normal.