Weekend Update

Friday

Last night, Mr. Electric and Dr. Funstuff held their annual holiday party. In past years, this party has been rife with scandal, and this year was no exception. While tearing up the dance floor, one of the guests of honour went ass over teakettle (over DLang) and landed on her face, resulting in a trip to the emergency room. Today's update: An hour and 2 stitches after arriving at the ER, she was back in business, apparently out drinking until 4am. Sue, you're an inspiration to us all. Meanwhile, back at the Fortress of Fun, there was an incident involving the Lego Death Star Lego, a candle, two shirtless men, and an explosion. The staff photographer was on hand, so we should have pictures shortly. Be afraid.

The lovely couple pictured here are Blake and Allison. Blake puts the Flo in Flocabulary, and Allison doesn't care if you spell her name with one "l" or two (but as my readers know, UFF is all about accuracy). Also, Allison and Brianna both look really cute in red dresses.

Saturday

This morning I went to the local greenmarket to purchase the Langenberg Family Christmas Tree: 2006 Edition. A lovely Fraser Fir beckoned from the edge of the lot, and as the tree guy was sawing off the trunk for me, a woman walked up to inquire about the cost of evergreens.

Woman: How much are the trees?
Tree Guy: $10 per foot.
Woman (pointing to an 8' tree): How much would that one be?
Tree Guy: $80.

The woman walked away. I looked down at my 6' tree and panicked.

Gillian: Um, how much is this tree?
Tree Guy: $40. She was wearing fur--she can afford to pay more.

Lesson learned: Dress down for the greenmarket.

And finally, this afternoon I headed to Wall St. to assist at yoga teacher training. On the way to the subway afterwards, I passed the New York Stock Exchange, which is all dolled up for the holiday season. USA! #1!

Love Letter to the United States Postal Service

Dear USPS,

You don't mind if I call you that, right? USPS? It just kind of rolls off the fingertips.

Lately I've been thinking about our experiences together over the years. We had that long-distance relationship for a while, you know, when I didn't really talk to you directly. Despite me having to use someone else to communicate, you always came through for me. In 1998, you really helped me make the decision to move to the United States, with your promises of self-adhesive postage stamps and Saturday mail (both of which I love to this day, USPS. Thanks for those).

Lately, I've really enjoyed our electronic communications. The way you let me calculate postage, and even print shipping labels, without even having to visit you in person - those little things mean a lot to me. In fact, the other day when I needed to send something to my friend in Canada, you even sent me - for free! - the stickers I needed to properly label the package. That was really nice of you, USPS, and I appreciate it. I'm grateful that you continue to improve yourself - it makes me want to give you extra-nice stuff.

I also want to express just how happy I am whenever I receive something from you. I think about you a lot, and whenever I get email from our receptionist to let me know that I have a package at the front desk, my heart smiles in the knowledge that you're thinking about me too.

There is one little thing I was wondering about. Sometimes you seem a little distant, and after I see you in person I feel weighted down, and like the walk home is really far. And sometimes you're just not accessible to me when I need to see you. Now, I'm not asking for you to be available to me 24/7, because I know that wouldn't be healthy for you. But maybe sometimes, especially during the holidays, you could keep the doors of communication open just a little bit longer. That would really help me to feel more secure in our relationship.

Well, that's about it. I just wanted to drop you a quick note to let you know how important you are to me. I know this is a really busy time of year for you, and I'm thinking about you, USPS, and I'm looking forward to our extra communications this holiday season. I have all the faith in the world that you can make it through to January, so hang in there!

Love,
Gillian

What Would Vanna Do?

Whenever I hear someone complain about his or her job being useless, or feeling ineffective at work, I say, "Hey, it could be worse, you could be Vanna White! She doesn't even have to turn the letters anymore - sure, she touches them and they light up, but that's a formality. When someone solves the puzzle, the letters light up automatically. She just stands there!"

I haven't thought much about Ms. White in a while. My parents (the lesbian contingency) are Wheel Watchers (hee), so about the only time I see the show is when I'm visiting. She was brought back to my consciousness this afternoon, when my brother sent me a link to a site about Girls of the NES, on which Vanna is featured along with the likes of Linda from Double Dragon, and Princess Toadstool. The very clever author of this site writes, "Vanna White fucking rules," and I'm inclined to agree, for the following reasons:

1. Vanna hasn't aged. She's been the "co-host" (and I use that term loosely, because her hostingness is debatable) of WoF since 1982. After minutes of scouring the interwebs, the earliest dated photo I could find was this one from 1981, called a Las Vegas cheesecake glamour photo (hilarious!). Cute! And from the official Wheel of Fortune web site, in Vanna's Style section no less. The woman is 2 months from 50, and look at those legs! Look at that skin! Look at her hair! She looks terrific. Well played, Vanna.

2. She's crafty. Say what you will about crafts, but I like 'em. Vanna crochets, and she has several stylish pattern books available, including Vanna's Afghans All Through The House and Vanna's Favorite Crochet Gifts.

3. She's a serious actor. Vanna's IMDB listing proves it. In addition to the many appearances she's made as herself, she portrayed Channel 102 News Anchor in Double Dragon: The Movie. And she held the title role in 1988's made-for-TV movie "Goddess of Love" (which I just added to my Amazon wish list, because, awesome).

4. In 1987, Vanna appeared in Playboy. When I was in college, I had a roommate named James. To put it bluntly, James was a dick. When I broke my foot, James was eager to run errands for me (and frequently "borrowed" my car without permission). When he moved out, he took with him a month's rent, over $1000, from me and our other 2 roommates. He did, however, leave behind a stack of Playboy magazines (to which he had subscribed, further proving he was "that guy"). After James' departure, I thought it would be funny to leave the Playboys in the bathroom, and in the year I lived there, I read a lot of Playboys (no, really, the articles are really good!). (Occasionally after we had people over, I'd notice a particular issue would have disappeared. Most of them reappeared after the next get-together. Heh.) Anyway, Vanna, Playboy. Props to her. If you're going to appear naked in a magazine, that's the place to do it. I did find a picture of her cover shot, and while I'd rather see breast cleavage than ass cleavage, she looks cute, and the PLAYBOY title is quite clever.

5. She was recognized in the Guiness Book of World Records in 1992 as "Television's Most Frequent Clapper," and according to the Honolulu Star-Bulletin, she averages 720 claps per show. (Apparently, Wheel of Fortune is the Most Syndicated Television Game Show. Who knew?)

6. She's a muse. Weird Al has a song about her called Stuck in a Closet with Vanna White. And in 1987, some dude named "Dr. Dave" recorded a song called "Vanna, Pick Me A Letter" which I remember really, really well and can even sing (as DLang can attest), however, it seems my self-proclaimed intarweb-searching queendom is at stake tonight because I can hardly find any info about it. I did find the lyrics, and they're genius:

Vanna pick me a letter,
No one does it any better
I dream about you (Hey, Vanna, is that an all-over tan or what?)

7. Earlier this year, Vanna got her own star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame.

8. She has fans. They're called, "Vannafans." Aw.

And so, gentle readers, next time you find your job unfulfilling, ask yourself, "What would Vanna do?"

Post Script: Writing this entry has me lamenting the days of shopping with one's Wheel of Fortune earnings, during which my brother and I would yell at the contestant's poor selections.

Winner: "I'd like to buy the player piano for $1500, Pat, and the antique carved giraffe for $450."

G: "What? That guy is an idiot! I totally would have bought the big-screen TV!"

Pat Sajak: "Sounds good. We'll put remaining $85 on a Service Merchandise gift certificate for you!"

Good times.

Do They Know^WCare It's Christmas?

This year, I attended an 80's-themed Hallowe'en party. You can see DLang in that video about halfway through, decked out as Robert Smith and vamping with Madonna, and I'm near the end as Cyndi Lauper also with Madonna (who was clearly a total lip-sync whore). One of the songs they played was Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas?"

Confession: I used to love this song so much that hearing it actually made me a little teary. And by "used to" I mean as recently as last year. It reminds me of high school and Brit pop and my first-ever cassette tape (Wham!'s Make It Big) and makes me all sentimental.

After hearing the song a few times on the radio this year and listening more closely to the lyrics, it still makes me tear up - only now, because I'm laughing so hard. There was a famine in Africa in 1984 when the song was recorded, and I'm sure that when Bob Geldof was inspired to record the song to raise money for Africa, he had the best of intentions. Let's review the lyrics to see how they've held up since the song was first recorded 12 years ago.

While the first verse is grasping a little for a good rhyming scheme, the words are relatively innocuous:

It's Christmastime,
there's no need to be afraid
At Christmastime,
we let in light and we banish shade
And in our world of plenty
we can spread a smile of joy
Throw your arms around the world
at Christmastime

That's a nice sentiment. Let's continue:

But say a prayer,
pray for the other ones

Hm. Who are these "other ones" for whom George Michael asks us to pray?

At Christmastime it's hard,
but when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window,
and it's a world of dread and fear
Where the only water flowing
is the bitter sting of tears

The "bitter sting of tears" - that's classic. And it only gets better.

And the Christmas bells that ring there
are the clanging chimes of doom

That's dramatic.

Well tonight thank God it's them
instead of you

Can you say, "white man's burden"?

This next part is one of my favourites:

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmastime
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life

"We feel sorry for Africa, because it doesn't snow there. And also, they don't have Christ, which we as famous British rock stars know that everyone needs, oh, and George, can you pass the eggnog? No, not that one, that's Sting's vegan mix without the rum. Right, that's the one."

Where nothing ever grows
No rain or rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmastime at all?

Really? Because it's very important that EVERYONE know it's Christmastime. (You'd definitely have that impression if you went to my hometown, where the local Tim Horton's has a Nativity Scene as big as a Honda Civic. The first year I lived in NY I vowed that I was going to meet a nice Jewish boy and bring him home for the holidays, but it didn't happen, well unless you count D2 but he only lasted 4 months and they didn't overlap with the holidays and anyway he was a jerk. It's also further proof that the world is a funny place when you feel the need to insert multiculturalism and religious tolerance into your half-lesbian family.)

Here's to you raise a glass for everyone
Here's to them underneath that burning sun

"Thanks for that eggnog, that's the stuff. I heard Bob was going to get us some ice, too. No, we're not going skating, Sting. Go back to your tofunog. Simon, tell Boy George I'm going to be in the third stall, he'll know what I'm talking about. Cheerio!"

Do they know it's Christmastime at all?

Semi-Famous

Just like Sandra Lee is semi-homemade*, I'm now semi-famous! A Datalounger posted a link in the forums to Ultra Fine Flair. While the Kwanzaa Celebration Cakestravaganza isn't exactly how I'd like to be known for my culinary prowess, I'll take it. And might I encourage you to also read about how I made croissants from scratch?

Happy Holidailies!

It appears that at least a couple of people have stumbled on UFF from Holidailies. Without further ado, here is a totally cheap intro to this blog (format plagarized from The Write Coast, another Holidailies participant).

Sunday Meme: Finish the sentence

I’m always: a redhead.

I say too often: "That's so awesome!"

I think flowers are: an awesome (hee) gift, especially cut flowers, because their entire purpose is to make someone happy.

My favorite Beatles song is: "Octopus's Garden"

My parents are: women.

I hate: raisins in stuffing.

I love: daisies, good red wine, and things that are orange.

I was born: on the first day of Summer!

Sometimes I try too hard: .

I work well on things: with other people.

My childhood was: happier before I went to therapy. (It's true.)

I love to read books about: people.

I’m addicted to: the bean.

I drink too much: of the bean.

My earliest memory is: standing up in my crib and saying, "Hello, World!" (which my mom says I did every morning).

The last place I went on vacation was: Connecticut.

I think living far away from: most of my family is probably a good thing.

I want to live closer to: my best friends (who are spread out over 2 countries), Sunny, and the Pacific ocean.

The President is: American. Don't blame me.

The Media is: busy.

Right now, I should be calling: my mom.

The glass is: full of sparkling water.

If I could go anywhere it would be: Paris. No, Santa Cruz. No, Waterloo. No, Madison. No, Andalucia. No, Brazil. Ack!

Life is: a trip. Someone should sell tickets. I'd buy one.

I love the TV show: The O.C.

I don’t get enough time to: be alone.

One of the nicest things someone has ever done for me is: be my friend no matter what.

When no one’s around, I really like to: sing along.

My all-time favorite movie is: "Raiders of the Lost Ark."

If I had a million dollars: I would buy you a green dress.

My dream job would be: working with food and people.

My dream life would be: the one I'm living.

I hope: Memphis lives forever.

I would like: Denver to win the Super Bowl.

I dream about: everything. I had one about breastfeeding a few months ago. It was lovely and peaceful.

I have nightmares about: losing love.

In five years, I want to: be a mom.

On my desk is: a decorative Kleenex box.

My favorite website is: Dooce, because Heather's writing inspires me.

NYTimes Article

Here's a link to the article I mentioned yesterday. It's worth reading.

Context: The Sequel

This morning on the hour-plus trek to Central Park to run the 7th of 9 NYRR qualifying races I need to complete this year for guaranteed entry to next year's NYC marathon, I flipped through the NYTimes Magazine, and almost skipped an article entitled, "The New, Soft Paternalism." (The Magazine section on NYTimes.com isn't updated to this week yet; I'll add a link tomorrow.) On first glance, the article appeared to be about gambling self-blacklisting. However, I turned the page to the following highlighted text:

According to Hume, the self that inhabits your body today is only similar to, not identical with, the self that will inhabit your body tomorrow.

Huh.

That's kind of not what I surmised yesterday.

The article goes on to say that "the self that will inhabit your body decades hence [will be] a virtual stranger."

This got me thinking about my own convictions; the ideas, opinions, and *values* that I consider to be so strong that they are unchangeable and define who I am.

About 6 weeks ago, I attended a workshop entitled "Managing Difficult Conversations" (based on the book "Difficult Conversations"). My biggest takeaway from the workshop was the concept of an "identity quake." The book surmises that

three identity issues seem particularly common, and often underlie what concerns us most during difficult conversations: Am I competent? Am I a good person? Am I worthy of love?

When any of these issues are challenged, we can be knocked off-balance, or have an identity quake.

Now, about those convictions. When a challenge to one of these convictions involves an identity quake - that is, my belief that I am competent, a good person, or am worthy of love is questioned - it becomes much more difficult for me to change my mind, because I believe it (the idea, opinion, value, or belief) defines who I am. Although it doesn't happen all the time, I've certainly caught myself sticking by something I've said simply because I said it with such certainty that changing my mind would be second-guessing my very self.

That is, no matter how much I value someone's opinion, if I'm in a state in which I believe my identity is challenged, I'm less likely to objectively consider a different angle. On the other hand, if I'm confident in Who I Am, it becomes OK for me to change my mind about something, even something I once believed absolutely-and-without-a-doubt. Aha! There's that context again.

It seems to me that it takes a good deal of self-confidence to change what one holds as a firm belief, and that it might even be a sign of strength to change a fundamental conviction.

Context-Sensitive

Context

Pronunciation: 'kän-"tekst
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, weaving together of words, from Latin contextus connection of words, coherence, from contexere to weave together, from com- + texere to weave -- more at TECHNICAL
1 : the parts of a discourse that surround a word or passage and can throw light on its meaning
2 : the interrelated conditions in which something exists or occurs : ENVIRONMENT, SETTING

NYC has been unseasonably warm this month. Today, December 1, the temperature reached the high-sixties (that's high-teens for you Readers-of-the-Commonwealth). I've found myself strangely annoyed by this warm-spell, and couldn't quite figure out why I've been longing for a temperature drop when I really hate being cold. I then realized that it's all about context. If this was March, or April, I would be praising global warming for bringing us an early respite from Winter. As it is though, it's December, and in the context of the Northeast, we expect December to bring near-freezing temperatures and snow (and fuzzy sweaters and wooly socks).

A few years ago, two of my best friends (Sirrah! and MFD) were living in sin with their respective significant others (who were, to be clear, not each other). Sirrah! really wanted to get married. MFD didn't (but his girlfriend did). When I talked to Sirrah!, I was all, "Dude, WTF? If he doesn't propose to you soon, I will!" (Kind of funny, actually, because Sirrah! and I have long agreed that cohabitation would destroy our BFFship.) However, when I talked to MFD, I had the opposite opinion: "Marriage is overrated! She should just enjoy living (and breeding) with you." It's all about context.

There is a very old Sufi story about a man whose son captured a strong, beautiful, wild horse, and all the neighbors told the man how fortunate he was. The man patiently replied, "We will see." One day the horse threw the son who broke his leg, and all the neighbors told the man how cursed he was that the son had ever found the horse. Again the man answered, "We will see." Soon after the son broke his leg, soldiers came to the village and took away all the able-bodied young men, but the son was spared. When the man's friends told him how lucky the broken leg was, the man would only say, "We will see."
(Source: Yoga Journal)

This story is usually used to illustrate gratitude, but it also helps me to appreciate the value of context. The two concepts are, of course, related, and the point of this story is really that the people, events or things for which we are grateful may depend upon the context in which we experience them.

We can create context, too, and many of us do so regularly, often without even realizing it. When I complimented Brianna's manicure yesterday, she said she loves manicures, but doesn't get them often: "If I always got them, it wouldn't be special." (Manicures in NYC are cheap; getting one weekly would cost about half as much as buying a latte every day at Starbucks.) Bri is creating a context in which she doesn't take a luxury for granted. Similarly, if I want to develop a particular skill, I would do well to associate myself with people who have that skill and from whom I can learn.

I'm starting to realize that one's self can be context-sensitive, too: My context is the set of interrelated conditions in which I exist. The answer to the question, "Who am I?" might vary depending on when, where, why, and how I am at any given moment. However, I think there's a fundamental answer that isn't context-sensitive, one that has to do with core values. There is a me that doesn't depend on any external settings, and just *is*, and the challenge to answer that question at the most basic level is both exciting and daunting. Further, I'm more likely to find that "me" if I put myself in contexts that are nurturing and supportive to those values.

And with that last sentence, I'm pretty sure UFF can now be classified as "New Age."

The Blogging Fun Continues!

Welcome to December! Friends in NY - you might think it's actually late-April from the weather (the flowers on my block certainly do, as they continue to bloom rather enthusiastically), but no, here we are, only 24 short days until Christmas. W00t!

Though the end of November means that NaBloPloMo is over, Holidailies is just beginning, and I've signed up as a Portal Participant. That means if you look at the Holidailies site, you'll see Ultra Fine Flair listed along the left side, which also means that Blogger better watch out, because traffic to UFF is going to SKYROCKET!

And you guys can say you knew me way back when.

Kwanzaa Celebration Cakestravaganza

A few days ago, Brianna IM'd me a link, which I unfortunately clicked.

Go ahead, click it. I dare you.

I watch the Food Network a lot. It's like my porn. Nine times out of ten, when DLang comes home later than me, I'm sitting on the couch, eating something of questionable nutritional value (hi bag of chocolate chips!), and watching FoodTV. I can watch just about anything on that channel, but should Sandra Lee's show "Semi-Homemade" come on air, I'm out. I'm all for convenience, but come on Sandra! A few weeks ago (while searching frantically for the remote control to END THE HORROR) I glimpsed her scooping out the insides of a pumpkin pie and a cheesecake, and mixing them together to make a pumpkin cheesecake filling. It was just wrong.

Now, in all my years of using the World Wide Web, I've seen some crazy shit - however, I don't think I've seen anything quite like Sandra Lee's Kwanzaa Celebration Cake. It's offensive and wrong on so many levels. For one, the recipe includes a store-bought angel food cake, corn nuts, and canned apple pie filling. Those things DO NOT GO TOGETHER. (Frankly, canned apple pie filling doesn't go with anything, although when we were grocery shopping for Project: Kwanzaa Celebration Cake, Brianna charitably suggested that a non-baker might use it to bake an apple pie. She's nicer than me.) Next, the recipe is on FoodTV.com, Now, I know Thomas Keller isn't exactly vying for a slot on the Food Network, but there are some respected, reputable chefs who contribute, and what exactly do Mario Batali and Wolfgang Puck think of the "food" that Sandra "cooks"? Thirdly, look at her, and think hard about what this woman knows about Kwanzaa.

Let's look at that picture again:

WTF?

Anyway, we decided to get together and create this culinary delight. A quick stop at Key Food and $20 (we also bought ice cream) yielded the necessary ingredients. (Brianna had the more reasonable ingredients at home, like vanilla, cinnamon and cocoa. Somewhat surprisingly she also had corn nuts, which is good because we actually couldn't find those at the grocery store.)

I sliced the angel food cake in half and placed the bottom on Brianna's grandma's silver platter. (We really are just that classy.) Brianna mixed up the frosting, and despite my protests and the recipe CLEARLY stating that we should use a large bowl, she insisted upon adding the mix-ins directly to the frosting cannister, claiming, "That's how Sandra would do it." Spillage was minimal. We then frosted the cake (Sandra doesn't use a crumb coat) and got to the fun stuff: Canned apple pie filling. 21 ounces of it.

"There's no way this is all going in that hole."

"Make it fit. Come on, just jam it in there."

Hehe. That's what she said.

Next came the fun stuff: pumpkin seeds, popcorns, and corn nuts.



Why, Sandra? Why? What compelled you to put corn nuts on a cake?

Three Jim & Gingers later, we had assembled our masterpiece. Either Sandra's cake (and thus her hole, hehe) was much bigger than ours, or she was daintier than her recipe called for with those toppings, because, dudes, look at this thing:


(We forgot the candles.)

We actually did taste it and then rinsed our mouths with turpentine, because turpentine was less offensive to our taste buds than store-bought vanilla frosting mixed with cinnamon and cocoa. Then we drank some more bourbon.

Photographic evidence is available on Flickr.

Brianna's recap of our cakestravaganza is on Random Access Babble.

Fortune

I love Chinese takeout. We don't have it very often, but the other night, due to an extreme lack of grocery in the Langenberg fridge, we called Red Hot and ordered up chicken with hot pepper sauce & peanuts, beef with broccoli, and fried pork dumplings. Red Hot rocks. The delivery arrived so quickly that I suspect they prepared it on the way over. The hot pepper chicken was deliciously spicy, and the broccoli was crispy, and overall, yum. Red Hot also sends along an orange to cut up for dessert, which is always a happy surprise to me when I unpack the goods.

My two favourite things about Chinese takeout, though, are the little boxes, and Fortune Cookies.

In Canada, Chinese takeout doesn't come in little boxes. It usually comes in those aluminum pie-plate-like containers with cardboard lids. And, you know, those containers do a perfectly fine job of holding a serving of chow mein or General Tso's Chicken. But the little boxes are just so cool, and seeing Jerry & George eating Chinese takeout out of them always caused me much envy. Not long after I moved to California, MFD (also Canadian) visited one weekend and we ate Chinese takeout out of the little boxes and were so totally excited about it that we actually took pictures. (Those little boxes are also perfect vessels for Christmas cookie distribution. For a couple of years I bought them from The Container Store at 69¢ a pop. Last year I realized that it would probably be much more cost-effective to purchase white ones from a Chinese restaurant, and sure enough, most are willing to part with them for 25¢ each - woo! More money for sprinkles!)

So, yeah, love the little boxes.

The other thing I love is the Fortune Cookie. I like the shape of Fortune Cookies. I like the taste of them (Red Hot's are chocolate-flavoured and yummy). And, I love the fortune. Fortunes are so fun. Yeah, adding "in bed" at the end is funny (and if you've never seen the movie Guinevere, it's worth watching just for the Fortune Cookie "in bed" line - hilare). I vaguely remember a superstition about eating the whole cookie before reading the fortune, but I don't know where that's from. I've heard that keeping a fortune in one's wallet is really common. I have two in mine right now. One I keep because it is totally hilarious: "Avoid compulsively making things worse." Good advice, eh? The other I have because it's totally true: "You are the master of every situation." Ha. And I'm going to keep the one I got the other night, because it makes me happy: "There will be someone sharing your warmth."

Gillian's Head

Remember the TV show Herman's Head? I only saw a couple of episodes, mostly because my brother *loved* it. Every time the main character (Herman) had to make an important decision, actors representing his emotions would weigh in.

That's how my head is working today. The internal dialogue is so present that it's like there are people standing around me giving me advice and ideas and telling me how I feel, and none of them can agree on any of it. Fuckers.

Take this morning:

Genius: We're awake, but we're not going to look at the clock because then we'll have a better chance at falling back asleep.
Wimp: Crap! We saw the clock. It's 6:30. Our alarm is going off in an hour. There's no way we can fall asleep before then!
Animal: Feh. We're just going to get up now.
Genius: Why don't we just reset the alarm clock to 8:30?
Wimp: We'll never get to work by 9:30! We have a meeting!
Angel: It's OK. We need to sleep. People at work will understand.

And so on like that, all day. I'm often aware of this dialogue, but when these guys are all bickery, decisions take a lot longer (and are ultimately a lot less certain). I'm going to put them to bed early tonight and maybe they'll be a little more agreeable tomorrow.

(Adventures in "baking" have been postponed until Thursday.)

So Much For That Second Post

"Hey Gillian, can I talk to you?"

"Instead, how about I just lay down on the floor and you kick me?"

Sneak Preview

Tomorrow's post is going to be very special for a number of reasons. For one, it involves the following ingredients:

1 (10 to 12-ounce) purchased angel food cake
1 container (16 ounce) vanilla frosting
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 (21-ounce) container apple filling or topping
1 (1.7-ounce) package corn nuts
1/2 cup pumpkin seeds, toasted
1/2 cup popped popcorn

Be afraid.

(I'm still going to post tonight, making today an extra-special 2-post bonus day. Hopefully that makes up for spending the weekend in Colonial Times, before the internets were discovered.)

Country Roads

This weekend, DLang planned a weekend getaway for us at a Connecticut B&B. Getting away from NYC for the weekend is more complicated than getting away from most places, because it involves renting a car. In Brooklyn, most car rental places are closed on Sunday, so the car-rental adventure includes finding parking on Sunday night when one returns.

Friday morning, still slightly hungover from turkey and pie, we walked down to Enterprise Rent-A-Car on 3rd Ave. in Brooklyn. We stopped for coffee and egg sandwiches and arrived around noon to pick up the car. After completing the paperwork, the (very pleasant) clerk told us, "We don't have any cars right now, so you'll get the first one that comes in. Is that OK?"

I'm pretty even-keel, and my default response in this kind of situation would be, "Sure!" and I'd smile and make DLang sit out on the curb with me playing rock-paper-scissors or something until the car arrived. On Friday, however, Gillian's Cranky Stars were aligned, and I replied, "No." The girl looked a little surprised, but I continued: "That could take several hours, right?"

"Oh no, it shouldn't take that long," she replied. Right. I asked her about our other options, and she told me we could have a pickup truck. My husband looked quite startled when I told her we'd take it. He started to make arguments about gas and parking, but I was pretty sure I wasn't going to wait around for a car to come in. She asked me if we'd prefer a small or large truck, and we unanimously answered, "Small."

Heh.

This is Kevin, who had to drive us in his own car (to which he referred as "The Tank") to the Enterprise location in Bay Ridge to pick up our pickup. He is standing beside the small pickup truck! I wonder what the large one looked like.

On the way to Connecticut, we played a little game called Spot The Cell Phone Tower Disguised As A Tree:


We spent Saturday in the town of Putnum, Connecticut, and since it is known as the "Antique Capital of the Northeast", we looked at some antiques (like "scrapbook", I am opposed to the use of "antique" as a verb). We ate a very delicious lunch (mmm... crabcakes) at 85 Main, and drank fancy coffee-based beverages at a little cafe up the street. Before dinner, we hung out at the b&b and played a couple of games of Scrabble (1-1) and a couple of games of Chez Geek (thanks Merman!) which I think I mostly lost.

Hilariously, on Saturday night we ate dinner at a "Southwestern-influenced" restaurant -- hilarious because we were pretty much as Northeast as we could get.

Before we left town on Sunday, I stopped to photograph a truckful of decoy Canada geese. Awesome.

Our truck came in handy on the way home, when we stopped at Ikea in New Haven for some retail therapy (and Swedish meatballs). I really love furniture assembly and when we got home I put together our new bathroom cabinet then banished DLang so that I could organize everything, which surprisingly makes me really happy (surprising because I'm not very organized at all).

Tomorrow morning our weekend adventure will continue when we attempt to pick up our monster truck from the parking garage (an excellent call by my husband, and well worth the $30 it's costing us for the NIGHT, and yes, I know, in places like Madison it costs like 25¢ to park for a week, that is, if the attendant feels like charging you at all). Furniture assembly and organization will continue all week, so check back early and often for updates.

Thanks

Happy Turkey Day, American friends!

Last year DLang and I celebrated U.S. Thanksgiving in Argentina. Our Thanksgiving meal consisted of a buffet lunch with fellow turistas in the Andes Mountains on our way back from visiting Puente del Inca.

This year, we spent the afternoon with friends in Brooklyn. There were about 15 adults and 2 babies representing at least 5 countries (including one guy from Kazahkstan, yes, really). JSol cooked up an amazing turkey and we had side dishes from my absolute favourite restaurant ever (including a freaking amazing winter squash soup). Have you ever noticed how Thanksgiving dinner has this remarkable expanding property, whereby it looks like a reasonable amount of food when it's on your plate but halfway through eating you're totally full?

My contribution to the meal was 3 pies: banana cream, pumpkin, and maple pecan (for the latter two I used recipes from The New Best Recipe, which I cannot recommend highly enough for good recipes for practically anything you can think of), accompanied by bourbon whipped cream. (I realized today that if there is a maple variation for a recipe, I will almost inevitably chose it, and I always have gallons of maple syrup around. DLang says it's genetic.) We also brought along some Pumpkin Chocolate-Chip Squares that I made last weekend.

My future Thanksgiving food goals include deep-frying a turkey, the mere thought of which makes my mouth water (even right now when I am so full that I can't even button my jeans), and cooking a turducken (mostly because it's hilare, although I hear they're actually quite good).

As for giving thanks, well, I think gratitude deserves its own posting. Right now I'm thankful that it's a long weekend and that I can spend the evening in my jammies drinking tea.

Invest Your Passion

Aspiring to blog daily about something relatively interesting (or at least, something about which I have enough of an opinion to write a couple of paragraphs) has caused me to spend more time thinking about things that fit that category. This morning's thoughts led me ask myself, "What am I waiting for?"

I've envisioned some pretty great stuff for myself and my life. I have ideas about how I'd like my living space (clean, organized, a little cluttered, crafty, colourful, happy), my food (fresh, local, unprocessed, home-cooked), my body (healthy, toned, muscular, fit), my mind (clear, sharp, uncluttered), my friendships (caring, respectful), etc. Being really explicit about my goals has helped me to accomplish some of them (OK, some were gimmes, like running a marathon which I added after I was past the point of no return in training) and I think I can continue to add to and check off the list, thus creating the life I want to have and becoming the person I want to be.

Like many of my friends, I sometimes choose goals JUST because they're challenging, (see also: Marty McFly). When I graduated from high school, I could have studied either English (creative writing) or Math in University. I chose the latter, because I thought it would yield a more lucrative career (which I'm sure it did), and also because Math is more challenging, and fewer women go into that field of study, so BRING IT. Above: "His only major character flaw is his persistent desire to show others that he isn't a coward, which sometimes causes him to take unnecessary risks."

My recent epiphany about self really got me thinking about who I want to be. This morning it became apparent to me that there are certain parts of myself that I've been repressing somehow, and certain things that I haven't been doing because I'm afraid of being judged or of doing them wrong or of failing or because I'm waiting for Something To Happen.

I tend to feel a twinge of envy towards those people whose lives have been affected by some big challenge - you know, that Something Happened - because it gives them an obvious place in which to invest their passion. An abundance of choice can be daunting, and having infinite opportunities for passion-investment can be downright paralyzing!

On the other hand, though, it's kind of exciting: What if you could do anything and be anyone you wanted? And if that's the case, what you waiting for?

Self

If The Universe used del.icio.us my tags might include: daughter, sister, wife, friend, catmom. (I guess it would depend on The Universe's tagging preferences - the tags could also be more specific, like DOSsister or DLangwife.) I might be able to browse The Universe's items and tags and look at all the items tagged "redhead" or "SirrahBFF," and I'd certainly have some expectation of what an item with any given tag would be like.

Lately I've had a lot of expectations of myself in different areas of my life. Obviously, we all do, and that's OK. What I realized, thanks in no small part to therapy (to which I should probably just devote one whole entry because being in therapy has been such an interesting experience), is that the real conundrum happens when I try to meet other peoples' expectations about who I should be.

To wit: Last week, I glumly told my therapist that I'm afraid I'm not going to be the person that other people want me to be, to which he enthusiastically replied, "That's great!" I laughed and asked him what he meant. He said, "Can you imagine the pressure of trying to be who someone else wants you to be?!"

Later in the same session, he asked, "What if you were afraid of not being the person that *you* want to be?"

It was a total "Aha!" moment, the kind that makes me keep going to therapy even though for the rest of the year it's costing me $125 per session OUT OF POCKET because my awesome health care plan is sure that any mental health problem I might have can be neatly resolved in 30 sessions per calendar year. Thanks Oxford, and whatever.

Anyway, thinking about self reminded me of 2 things. One is about my friend C, whose husband taught her the mantra, "I'm C, who the fuck are you?" It's a lot less Stuart Smalley when you put it that way.

The second thing is a Cary Tennis column I read earlier this year about self:

There are many ways to describe a self: As a set of memories, for instance. You are the storehouse of all that has occurred; you are the repository of and expert on all events occurring to you, a curator of memories, a collector.

Then there are your talents and abilities, the things you do with particular relish or style. Most interesting to me, though, is your collection of incidents of maximum impact, moments of insight, life-changing events: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, the thing that has made all the difference. Some of these things involve unknowing knowledge, unsayable understandings. Certain things work for us: certain painters, certain tunes. That we can know dependably what works for us is also a measure of self.

I've said this about a zillion times and it seems like right now I need to remind myself about it: Sometimes I look to other people for validation of myself. The interesting thing about that is, if someone looks to me to validate him- or herself, does that automatically give me credibility and/or validation? And if so, then why not just take that other person out of the loop altogether and believe in whatever I believe in?

In other words: I'm Gillian. Who the fuck are you?

Movie Reviews^H

Casino Royale

On Friday night DLang and I braved the opening-night crowds to see the newest James Bond flick, Casino Royale. (Obligatory tangent: When I lived in Ottawa and the extreme sub-zero winter temperatures necessitated hibernation for 1/4 of the year, I attempted to watch all of the James Bond movies chronologically. I think I only made it to You Only Live Twice before giving up, but then I married someone who has not only seen all the films, but he's also read all the books on which they were based.) James Bond is now played by Daniel Craig, and you know what they say about a man with two first names. Heh. Anyway, Daniel Craig is hot. As James Bond, he reminds me a bit of Jack Bauer in 24. He's a little edgier and less, well, charming about everything than his predecessor. Bond girl Eva Green (please click that link, SFW and I swear you will not regret it) was pretty good, all smoky-eyed and cleavage-y, but the plotline involving 007 getting googly-eyed over her added an unnecessary (and even boring) 20 minutes to an already-long film. (When I complained about the lengthy Venetian vacation, Bond-expert DLang informed me that in the books, Bond even quits the service at one point and *gets married* which makes me happy that screenwriters and directors have some liberties with the stories.) There are some awesomely over-the-top scenes, like the crane chase, which had me laughing aloud in delight at it's absurdity. Mads Mikkelsen is good and creepy, and Ivana Miličević's dress in the casino scene is mesmerizing.

I didn't love the Chris Cornell rendition of "You Know My Name" (which is too bad, because I LOVED Soundgarden and was really sad when they broke up) - it just didn't get me all quivering with anticipation like Madonna's "Die Another Day." And I'd be interested to hear what other women think about the torture scene. Without spoiling it for anyone, let's just say it was gender-specific and I'm not sure I fully appreciated the extent of the implied pain.

Overall I'd give it my stamp of approval. Get it? Stamp?

(Oh, and while I was researching the links for this review, I found this little gem: There was a short story in the "Octopussy and the Living Daylights" collection called "007 in New York" in which Bond "muses about New York City, and his favourite recipe for scrambled eggs, during a quick mission to the Big Apple to warn a female MI6 employee that her new boyfriend is a KGB agent." DLang, that is so going in your Christmas stocking this year. Also, wouldn't "Octopussy and the Living Daylights" be an awesome band name?)

I was planning to also review Transamerica, which we watched on Saturday night, but it took me way too long to write the Bond review so I'm signing out for tonight. Hasta la pasta, amigos.