November « 2007

November 2007

30 and counting

Monday, November 12th, 2007

I missed yesterday’s post due to being on the road and among the offline. We were in SVA for my parents’ 30th anniversary dinner, where many memories were shared, including this one from my mom’s friend:

“I do know that when they STARTED seeing each other that Martha and I lived at 8 N.W. St. in an apartment in the upstairs of Mrs. Nellie Fix’s house [actually, it WASN'T Mrs. Fix's house--we just thought it was. Turns out, ol' Nellie rented it and sold her landlord a bill of goods that she was so poor so he let her have it for a VERY low price. And then she rented out the upstairs to the point she hardly had to pay any extra to him. And of course, Mrs. Fix was a Christian...] Mrs. Fix was older and she and her little old lady friends would sit on the front porch of the house and make little “Oh, there’s the happy couple” remarks or something like that that really set your mom’s teeth on edge.”

My grandmother told an unrelated story about her brother-in-law, who approached her father in order to ask for a sister’s hand in marriage. He worked up the nerve to ask, “Sir, I’d like to marry your daughter.” Her father replied, “Well, I have 5 daughters. Which one do you want?”

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I made this

Saturday, November 10th, 2007

cart1.jpg

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Freedom to make fun of religion

Friday, November 9th, 2007

So at work, people contact me to temporarily secure the services of my company. Sometimes they have funny names, like Mr. Fluck,* an unfortunate middle school teacher. Sometimes the names are so outrageous that surely they made them up. Surely, they are part of an SNL skit and picked the names for hyperbole.

Such was the case of a group I’ll call “The Temple of Nature Loving.” I’m changing the names just enough to make me feel less guilty, but these changes are like calling someone Kitty Face Meowcat instead of their real name, Puppy Nose Lickchop.

The head…shamans? shamen? shapeople? of The Temple of Nature Loving were named, approximately, Dr. Trout Flysabout and Cindi Glowing Stagheart. Ok, bless their hearts and all the religions of the world, odd and less odd, but were they trying to be a New Age Stereotype?

Isn’t this like naming your kid Assface Fartnip and then sending him off to 5th grade recess? Kind of asking for it, isn’t it?

*Mr. Fluck really is his name.

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Lesson

Thursday, November 8th, 2007

The word is: ori·ent

Pronunciation: \ˈȯr-ē-ˌent\
Function: transitive verb
Etymology: French orienter, from Middle French, from orient

1 a: to set or arrange in any determinate position especially in relation to the points of the compass
b: to ascertain the bearings of
2 a: to set right by adjusting to facts or principles
b: to acquaint with the existing situation or environment

YES:
I emerged from the subway and used the street signs to orient myself.
When I woke up, I felt disoriented.
The new students assembled for orientation. (“-ation” is the act of orienting)

NO:
I will go in early to my new job to get orientated.
Shuckadarn! This moonshine makes me feel all disorientated!

So, don’t let me catch you…..!

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M’Lord will have his joke

Wednesday, November 7th, 2007

if someone is prosecuted for a crime of fashion, do they have to produce a material witness?

-Ptango, avoiding homework

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Baking saves on heat

Wednesday, November 7th, 2007

Our whole apartment gets up to about 85 degrees if I try any kind of extensive baking project. That’s been fine with me this week, when I can feel a draft coming in under the cupboards.*

I’ve been a-hankerin for some pumpkin goodies, so I found this recipe online and adjusted it some. I read somewhere that you can substitute wet, saucy ingredients (applesauce, yogurt) for fats (oil, butter), so I’ve been doing that lately with muffins. We’re more interested in having something healthy and solid (nutrient-wise, not weight if all goes well) to grab for breakfast, so buttery flaky sweetness isn’t such a sacrifice in our muffins.

In this case, I used cinnamon applesauce instead of vegetable oil, and omitted all but a heaping tablespoon of sugar (the applesauce and pumpkin are sweet already, and honey could help, too). 1 cup ww flour and 1/2 c white made up for not having the pastry flour, and I used 1 1/2 teaspoons of pumpkin pie spice instead of the cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg (that was just laziness).

I doubled the recipe and did half with raisins, half with chocolate chips. Great success! I wouldn’t serve them to anyone expecting a normal sweet, puffy muffin, and I think sticking to the original spices would make it more pumpkinny-tasting, instead of a general pumpkin+apple autumn flavor.

*if you know anyone who spells this “cuppert,” please advise them otherwise.

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of pictures

Monday, November 5th, 2007

1. The Sex and The City movie is filming all over New York, and at first, everyone seemed to get a kick out of spotting the action and actors and sending guerilla cell phone pictures to gossip blogs. At this point, I suspect other less grouchily inclined folks are feeling, like me, that this whole SATC operation is more of a plague with its inconvenience and restricted areas.

Most film companies seem to accept that NYC is fairly populated, and it would be a tad unreasonable to expect everyone just not to show up one day while they’re working. But the SATCies will yell at you if you stop and try to spot the celebrity. Or look sideways at their lunch wagon. I tried to take a picture of Kristen Davis’ director chair, and I got an, “(unh!) Excuuuuuuuuse me, Ma’am, but you can’t just stand here and take pictures (huff!).” I moved two steps and took one, anyway. Because I am passive-aggressive like that.

How is it that film crews can just take over national landmarks, like the front steps of the NY Public Library? There goes about fifty thousand tourists resting and taking photos and about fifty thousand mid-town lunchers using the chairs, benches and tables.

I remember being blown away by the fact that New York City was entirely empty in The Mouse That Roared. Now, of course, anything is possible with computers (man, I just sounded a generation older saying that), but did they have computers in 1959?

I guess a library isn’t such a big deal, but what about all those movies that take place in the White House? How does that work?

“So, Dubs, can you and the fam just sleep over at Condi’s tonight? We need to film the White House for our movie about aliens attacking from outer space. Also, we may be destroying the Pentagon with firebombs. That’s okay, right?”

2. Never, ever go to CVS to reprint old photos. I had twelve of those little tiny square prints packed together four to a page. Those bastards charged me $50. Then the cashier had the audacity to hand me a slip offering a $4 coupon if I filled out an online survey. I WILL AND THEY WILL FEEL MY WRATH. But keep your $4, why don’t you?

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I blame New Jersey first and Christmas second.

Monday, November 5th, 2007

Just got back from the Garden State Mall, where it took 20 minutes of stop-and-go traffic-dodging to turn into the mall property, 20 minutes of stop-and-go traffic-dodging to park, 20 minutes of stop-and-go people-dodging to get inside to H&M, where 20 minutes of stop-and-go shoving people-and stroller-dodging was enough to make me get the hell out of there.

I can’t wait until next week. We’re going to Staunton, VA, where not only is ’shit’ a four-letter word, it is a four-syllable word.

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Introducing Mr. S

Saturday, November 3rd, 2007

Well. Last week, I thought I was going to come home and continue my day’s “winter is coming and work is blah” mope in front of the television. Instead, I came home to pick up the mail and howl mirthfully at the contents of the package therein. Peter arrived to find me rolling on the bed with my legs waving in the air like some sort of upended bug, gasping,”I will beat you with wheat until you are naked!”*

Fifi had sent me a collection of our high school cartoons, birthed mainly in algebra class and inspired largely by our mildly-stuttering and thickly-bespectacled teacher, Mr. S. In retrospect, Mr. S. must have been a clever teacher to make us recite, “Mmmmmm, slope!” Even today, I can remember that in the line-forming equation y=mx+b, m represents the slope of the line. Naturally, Fifi and I found it spasmodically delightful to see him standing in front of us, rubbing his stomach in appreciation of the delicious slope at hand. Especially when he wore one of his shirts that looked like graph paper or a tic-tac-toe grid.

Another algebraic principle that caught our attention was the idea that subtracting a negative resulted in a positive. We promptly determined that our insignificant bustlines suffered from such negativity and drew scenarios in which beating—or subtracting—them would create a lovely positive swelling. Because that isn’t weird at all! Quite funny, in fact.

Here we have an adventure in which Fifi and I take advantage of the checkerboard pattern on Mr. S’ shirt, and he kindly obliges by passing out.

*no idea, but it was a common punchline

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Friday, November 2nd, 2007

Not sure why my November 1 post is dated November 2, but it was most certainly composed and fully posted on the first of the month. (In case the gods of NaBloPoMo are putting me on the naughty list). So there.

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