Birthday dinner

Tomorrow I'll be in class, so Aaron and I celebrated my birthday dinner a day early. Went to Doña Emilia's - an argentinian casual dining place across the street from the Four Seasons - as Chez Nous (my fave) is closed on Mondays. Tasty chimichurri, but it was a little too oily for my stomach. Aaron loved the ribeye, and there were a couple of other things that looked intriguing. The mashed potatoes had -- bacon! and the green beans were incredible. However, the nice part - and I mean come-back-for-again nice - were the happy hour prices. Half priced appetizers and drinks from 5-7. Well worth going down just for that. We ended up spending a bit because, well, it's my birthday, but didn't order dessert as I made myself a tart. No, I didn't tart myself up. Silly. I was going to make a chicken cake (never mind), but decided I wanted a tart instead. Pretty! Too bad the only fruit at H.E.B. that looked good were the kiwis, strawberries and blackberries. A good start, though.

Garden in the works

Spring has brought surprise in the garden. Tulip petals taste like beans (or peas). The dogs will eat anything. The amaryllis bloomed and is gorgeous (testament in the picture). So did the lilac. The poppies came up in both places I planted, and some seeds remained in their original planting and also came up. Snapdragons are fun. Slugfest on the pansies. The petunias are going crazy. And my little bottle garden has inspired another neighbor to drink too much wine and put one in. Decadence for the sake of beauty. I also told her about the Orange Show. Everyone needs a little Orange Show.

Last post .... EVAH!

Intentionally going out of your way to hurt someone and their relationship with another person is not "high-schoolish". It's just hurtful.

Ashes

I never posted my Nuncle story. I just picked up their ashes. The ashes are in separate bags, in purple velvet pouches, in wooden boxes. Each comes with a certificate of cremation and a little plastic plaque embossed with their names.

I think it's the only time an animal person has spelled all three correctly.

My razr wasn't that dirty

So Sunday, after the horror of finding our cats dead, AC was nice and started washing the urine-and-blood covered laundry I had piled in the office, including the clothes I wore to carry the bodies to the emergency clinic.

Unfortunately, my phone was still in the pocket of my hoodie.

And he washed it.

I did everything I could, including taking the razr apart (I had to buy a T6 and T5 size screwdriver), but, even though I was able to get it to start, it wouldn't recognize the sim card. Not even ACs. So I'm getting a new one thanks to insurance. I don't think it's worth it (I have to pay $50 and the new phone is going to be reconditioned anyway), but this will be the last razr I own. I've had bad luck with them.

At least I'm not getting a replacement pink one. I asked the first time if I could get a silver, and the Cingular rep said "no" so I declined the replacement. I had AC call the second time, and the service rep said "sure". Sexist Cingular rep (the first one, not the second). She sounded like she was 12 anyway. I really wanted to tell her off, but I'm not really in the mood yet. I'll be getting a new phone on Wednesday. And it will be the silver one (again). Small, but it makes me smile a little.

Taki and Tsuki

Pillow
Originally uploaded by carabou.

Taki ("dragon") was a fierce kitten, and the biggest attention slut of all. He would meow in the kitchen. I would give him dry food. He would meow again. I would give him a can of wet food. He would meow again. I would give him fresh water. He would meow again. I would open the front door for him so he could go out. He would meow again. I would pick him up. He would snuggle up underneath my chin and purr.

Tsuki ("moon") was as big as the moon and just as unreachable. Small kitten from next door would come over and they would play the slo-mo version of chase. When Tsuki ran, though, he scurried. He once scurried around the corner to the kitchen, lost control, put his claws out for traction, but the mass of his body and the hardwood floors worked against him and he slammed into the wall. He left claw streaks etched into the wood across the length of his attempted stop. And he would give the most amazing purr-bys.

I miss them.

My cats are dead

We came home this morning from Brian's 35 birthday celebration to find the dogs had killed Taki (in the office), and Tsuki and Nuncle (in the living room). Esme is alive. She was in the kitchen, hiding behind the coffee maker. There were bloody paw prints all over the dishwasher, so she was next.

Cheese Board Lemon Shortbread Cookies

I learned a new lesson about sugar and spread in cookies today.

I wanted to make a treat for David and family to return with the cookbook he loaned me, but they spread too much and got too brown. They're tasty, but they don't look so fantastic, and they're a little on the crispy side, and not enough on the shortbread side. My first thought as to why was because I added too much sugar, even though I followed the recipe (even making my own candied lemon peel because I couldn't find it in the store. Candied lemon peel is deceptively easy to make. I've found a new treat).

So a little research (and some knowledge I already knew) pointed to the observation that sugar weakens the bond in the gluten, and this was a short cookie anyway (even though i used all-purpose flower, it was mostly butter and sugar -- very soft dough). So too much sugar will interfere with the structure of the cookie, but so will finer granulations. Because I inadvertently turned the sugar into powdered sugar when I was incorporating the candied lemon peel, I guaranteed ruin of the shape of the cookie. Next time, I'm going to add a little cornstarch, as that will theoretically prevent spread in a cookie, despite the finer grind.

Next time, better.

Cheese Board Lemon Shortbread Cookies

• 1 cup + 1 Tbs sugar
• 3/4 cup candied lemon peel
• 1 cup unsalted softened butter
• 3/4 tsp kosher salt
• 1 2/3 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

Preheat oven to 350.

Combine the sugar and candied lemon peel in a blender or food processor. Be brief! Or try adding a little cornstarch - how much? I don't know (yet). In your mixer, combine the butter, sugar-lemon peel mix, and salt for about four minutes (until fluffy). Don't forget to scrape down the sides when done. Then, on low speed, add 1 1/3 cup of the flour and combine for about two minutes. If the dough isn't soft enough, add the remaining 1/3 cup about a tablespoon at a time until it is. Not sure what that means? I took it as "it's raining, so I'll need the rest of the flour". The dough was battery before I added the remaining flour. After I added the flour, it glonked around the mixer paddle.

Put the dough on a lightly floured surface and shape into an oblong (yes, really). Then roll out with a floured rolling pin into a rectangular-ish shape 3/8 of an inch thick. Cut into 2 1/2" squares (huge) with a floured knife or ravioli cutter (I don't have a ravioli cutter, but the pizza roller was fun) and transfer to a a cookie sheet covered with parchment paper at least an inch apart using a spatula that has been lighlty floured first. They suggested that the recipe would fill three sheets. Not mine - I just got one. Not sure what when wrong there, but it may have affected the cooking temperature of my oven, too. Anyway. 15 minutes in the center, turn, and another 10 or until lightly browned. Cool a little by placing the sheet on an inverted cooling rack. The cookies are really soft and will burn you if you try to eat one. But they're really good with a cup of tea (try Republic of Tea's Botswana Blossom Red Tea. Yum!)

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.)