People ask me with regularity why I don’t write a book, or they suggest that I should, or they demand it. Or whatever. The subject comes up. Invariably I answer “because my constitution isn’t strong enough for alcoholism”, trying to conjure images of say Dashiel Hammet pounding away at his trusty Underwood will pounding away at his trusty bottle of rye.
You know what I mean.
and of course it should be noted that this website is not the only example in existence of my writing. So before you think “christ, the only thing this bitch can write about is dogs and her own butt” think again.
No, wait, you might be right. I enjoy writing. Or more specifically, I enjoy words. I love a dry wit and a good turn of phrase, I love wordplay. I love people who not only write well, but creatively and with passion.
but it’s not enough to be able to fingerfuck the english language into a fenzied orgasm. A good turn of phrase, like a pretty smile or a good pair of tits will really only get you so far.
The real reason why I do not want to write a novel is because, quite honestly, I have nothing to write about. Anything I do write would probably be as interesting as one of those Oprah book club emo-fests. You know the ones where ‘stark circumstances’ and ‘inner strength’ become emotional crutches for the wiener set?
Or even worse, I could totally see me writing one of those terrible chick-lit books with the garrish pink cover and the woozily stylized drawing of sunglasses or flip-flops. Yeah, fuck that.
So, what I’m saying is that I recognize in advance the utter lack of meaningful story in my head. I think Norman Mailer recently said that the great american novel is dead, and I think he might be right.
Or at least mine is.
so addicted
I’m so addicted to my bread machine. It’s making dough for whole wheat buns so I can bring my lunch to work and save money and stop eating the crap in the cafeteria. This is the fourth thing I’ve made with it since sunday. I’m a nutball for the bread.
Today’s one of those days. I was completely hyper most of the day, but entirely unfocused. I destroyed an important excel document because of my full on a-tardation. Had to email my boss and ask him for his copy. I’m so dumb.
The other night, after I fell down, i noticed that I had scraped my wrist a bit. Then I noticed the bump. Back in ’95 I developed a ganglion cyst in my wrist right at the point where my median nerve enters the dreaded carpal tunnel (I just like to call it dreaded). My lack of insurance meant I had no real medical options at the time. I had to let it go for almost 2 years before I got insurance (yay for living in one of the wealthiest countries in the world!! I’m lucky it was just a cyst, I’d hate to see what would’ve happened if I truly got sick). In that time it grew and it pressed the nerve against the tendon and caused some damage. To this day I still get tingly fingers and I can’t quite open my thumb all the way.
I had surgery and assumed that day surgery meant super fantastico easy. Jesus, no. I was out of work for a week just dealing with the pain and the pain killers and the sheer exhaustion. then I had my hand in a cast for about a month, during which time I COULD type, but it would make my hand go numb.
Anyway, the lump is back. I’m not thrilled about it. The options, as laid out to me before were to drain it and have it come back frequently, or remove it.
I’ll keep you posted on what the doctor says. I mean, I could use a week off work, but I prefer it be for fun and not involve garbage bags on my arm during showers and trying to wipe my ass with the wrong hand (try it sometime, it’s not as easy as you think).
god-fucking-dammit
Clear the goddammed ice from your fucking sidewalks or I will punch you in the temple two times, the second time so hard you will die twice and come back as someone getting punched in the temple a third fucking time. 2 times in one block I slipped and fell on ice hidden under the beautiful, bucolic powdery snowfall. Once I almost hit my face on a retaining wall. Both times I landed on my knees. I’m so fucking cranky right now.
To cheer me up, I will write about my dogs.
Ghengis: To get my attention and let me know that he REALLY wanted to go on his alk so he could get his poop on, Ghengis jumped on my arm, shoved his nose deep into my ear and inhaled as hard as he could. Go now, find someone you trust, have them stick a very cold wet sponge to their nose then have them cram this nose-sponge into your ear and breathe deeply. All I could do was stare at the dog in wonderment. Of course he returned my gaze with a look that said “I discovered something better than my own butt”.
Maddie: Maddie farts. She farts a lot, but lately her farts have become something completely beyond the realm of reality. Her butt whistles when she does. Whistles! Like a train in the distance, like a siren song for the emotionally unfit, like a beautiful undiscovered bird in the forest. She’s completely uninterested, she just farts constantly and the music fills the house.
DO NOT
Sometimes you have to yell the strangest things. “WE DO NOT HUMP DOGS IN THIS HOUSE!”. How do you explain to a 2 year old dog that it’s okay for the people to hump but it is not okay for him to hump Maddie. I mean I guess if she was into it….but she’s not. She’s just not down with the Ghengis-hump. She likes him and everything, she just doesn’t see him that way. It’s not him, it’s her.
This is kind of a new thing in the Ghengis/Maddie dynamic. I mean, sure, G went through a rather extended (and upsetting) hump-phase. I share the details with the people I’m upset with in order to upset them (with legs as short as his, he’s hung to the floor). Eventually, after I got his nuts lobbed off, he stopped.
Now, 7 months after Maddie joins us he starts up. I don’t know if it’s a dominance game for him or if he’s just doing some standard regression right before he turns 2. Who knows. All I know is that I find myself yelling things like “we do not hump dogs in this house” and “hey! humping is for people!” too often. I wonder if my neighbor can hear me.
Also, the weight loss mystery has been solved. I’ve mentioned before about how too many people say that I look like I have lost weight even though it would not be possible at all (if it were possible, I’d make a million dollars on my dorito and ice cream and coffee and cigarette and chicken fingers diet). I had to ponder what the deal was. I’m not losing weight, my clothes don’t fit me any differently. So what’s the deal?
The deal is that I have a fat personality! When I am not around, people think of me, but they imagine me as much fatter than I am. When I show up later they’re surprised that I’m not nearly as fat as the picture in their head and they think I have lost weight. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.
I’m fat on the inside, and it shows!
The coziness of it all will make you puke
We had the COZIEST weekend! Friday night I made veggie molé burritos, he played his zombie game and I worked on a new scarf for a coworker.
Saturday I got up early and met the Minnesota Jam Queen for breakfast. I ate the absolute BEST swedish pancakes I’d ever had. I could write poems about these things, light, decadently eggy without being dense, perfect. I was in heaven. Afterward we headed over to Penzeys for some much needed spice shopping. I’ve got my trips down to once a year. Mostly I just pick up replacement spices and herbs. I picked up some sweet curry and some of their chili con carne spice. Both of these have a lot of flavor without any heat. I appreciate that because it means I can make a dish to any heat level. I picked up some sanaam peppers (which have a medium heat rating) to use to heat things up as I need to. I also own their ground chipotle powder which is wonderfully smokey, but as such is kin dof limited in its application. It’s just not right in curries.
I kept my haul pretty low, though I did manage to fill a whole bag.
We then made a quick stop at the grocery store where I picked up three bags of flour to feed my bread machine addiction. 2 bags of bread flour and one whole wheat. I wanted to get some whole grains, but Kowalski’s, while hip and happy, is not so much into the whole grain thing. The few whole grain mixes and flours they had were exceptionally overpriced. I need to head over to the co-op and freak the bulk bin section.
The last stop was Brianno’s where we picked up the most delightful basil vinaigrette.
I got home and whipped up a quick lunch of sliced italian bread with the basil vinaigrette and tomatoes for the boy and I.
Then it hit. I’d noticed that the sausage with my breakfast was a tad underdone. I didn’t mind, I don’t get freaked out over the things that are a tad underdone. I know for as much as people freak, a little undercooked pork isn’t going to kill you. It will, however, give you an oogly belly for the rest of the day. I slid into bed around 3 hoping to sleep it off. Got up around 6:30 and knew it wasn’t going away. It wasn’t terrible, it was just unbalancing. So, I sent David out on his own to chill with his friends and I watched season two of Sealab 2021 while crocheting.
Before I went to bed I set up the bread machine with a loaf to be ready by 10:30 in the morning.
This morning we awoke to the lovely scent of fresh bread filling the house. After some lazy sunday morning cuddling, is there anything better than cuddling up with a boy and two dogs? on the most comfortable bed in the world?! It’s like you’re a little snuggle bunny and the whole world is working on keeping you warm and happy.
When I finally did extricate myself from the happy rumple, I went to make coffee and get the bread ready. David soon joined me and I got breakfast on the table. Fresh, hot bread, slathered with butter and the Jam Queen’s very own Cherry jam. So delicious. I’m a big fan of cherry jams and I like this one a lot as it’s not too sweet and it’s crammed full of cherries.
Over breakfast the Jam Queen and I discussed jam making. I have ideas for making jams and chutneys, things that would be very different and creative. The thing is, I’m afraid to preserve or can any of these things as I do not want to kill anyone. She assured me that I could not kill anyone with fruit jams and explained the various processes to me. It’s fairly easy and I feel confident enough to get started. I may not be super creative or confident, but the one thing I am good at in the kitchen is combining unlikely flavors. I can throw in an ingredient that is super subtle but would round out the high notes of a dish so you end up with a more full bodied flavor. I add different seasonings to things that will ‘sound’ at different moments so you’ll taste say something citrus, then cinnamon, then some ginger, then maybe the slow heat of a pepper.
I want to utilize this skill and make some jams, both sweet and savory.
I’ll keep you posted on the progress, I won’t tell you all the flavors I have in mind. If they don’t turn out I won’t tell you about them.
This afternoon I sent David to the store while I cleaned the kitchen and when he returned I made dinner. I made a 3 bean chili with fake meat (one of my dishes that showcases the way that I manipulate flavors) along with a loaf of jalapeño cheddar bread. Dinner was good and I have enough of everything to pack lunches for both of us.
Please note that I made two loaves of bread in a day. this is the problem with having a bread machine, you eat too damned much bread and butter.
After dinner I made a curly scarf for a certain little girl and I am searching for maybe a complimentary purse pattern.
An uneventful dog walk and now I am up way too late. This was my cozy weekend with the boy. It was so relaxing I really don’t want it to end.