Monday, August 27, 2007

massacre of garlic: the kitchen revolution, part 2

Garlic. A lovely thing. Long ago when forced to read Things Fall Apart (prior to sophomore year of high school--the summer reading assignment) I noticed how very fond of garlic the main character guy is. His name escapes me, actually. It escaped far too many years ago to hope of an honest retrieval. Thus I cheat and look in the book. Ah. Okonkwo. Unless I am mislead (very probable) there is a passage somewhere where he says how much he likes to eat ropes of garlic but his wife doesn't like him to.

Thus I first came to ponder garlic. I did not swoon.

Many years later, after growing up without knives that cut, I have learned to delight in garlic. I have chopped garlic, peeled garlic, tease those that buy pre-peeled garlic, ate garlic, watched others eat garlic, and cooked with garlic. But secretly, subliminally, I yearned for a garlic press. I would say (as I do with all kitchen supplies that I want), when I am rich.

Alas, I shall never be rich, and thus I bought a garlic press 2 weeks ago. And now I can properly massacre garlic. And swoon.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

rock of ages

Today I become 24. According to my birthday theory, I should have celebrated yesterday.

For a long while I was reluctant to turn 24. I didn't like 24, thought it had no redeeming qualities--especially compared to the marvelous and glorious 23. 23, because it was a prime number and also the day of the month I was born. My golden birthday, golden year, has drawn to a close.

But two days ago I realized an important thing. 24 does have redeeming value. It is 4!, or 4 factorial. A very special age. The only age where you can be a factorial and know what a factorial is. At, 3!, age 6, I must admit I did not know. But at 4! I do. 5!, I hope I'm dead long before that.

I am compiling a list about reasons to love ones age. It does have holes, however. Those years are looking bleak.

<10: Too young to care about age number excitement. Just want to get older.
10: The world of double digits welcomes you.
11: Repeating number age...and prime, but too young to care.
12: Finally get out of primary!
13: Become a distinguished teen. And a prime, once again.
14-15: Nothing exciting about these years. I don't know how I survived them.
16: drivers license. and date. and 4^2. and 2^4.
17: My favorite number, also a lovely prime. And a Dancing Queen. Only seventeen.
18: can vote.
19: can buy cigarettes. (ha)
20: finally out of teens, can now be taken seriously by those old college boys (not that it did any good)
21: can buy alcohol. (theoretically)
22: another repeating number. Positively thrilling.
23: prime, golden, odd, etc. lovely.
24: 4!
25: 5^2
26: a very bleak year.
27: 3^3
28...not yet compiled.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

the abandoned posts post

There have been a handful of times where I started writing a blog entry and then never finished it for one reason or another. I have decided to post them as is. [with commentary]
Abandoned on 9/1/06: this entry had no title.

A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster salad and Champagne, the only true feminine & becoming viands.
~Lord Byron (journal entry for 25 Sept. 1812)

[I wanted to write something about how hilarious this quote is, but could never improve on it and deleted everything I wrote.]


In remembrance of things lost

I thought I'd lost my favorite bookmark a while back. I was sad..but then miraculously found it after several weeks. The elation that follows from such a stupid thing...

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us; a year impairs; a lustre obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory. Then, indeed, the lights are rekindled for a moment. . . . Let any man try at the end of ten years to bring before him the features, or the mind, or the sayings, or the habits, of his best friend.

~ Lord Byron (Ravenna Journal, 1821-22).

The tree was taken out and replaced with the japanese tree lilac [here, I must finish the thought. There was once a lovely tree that was next to the entry gate of a previous dwelling place. But mum removed it, and put in not a lilac tree, but a tree lilac. I missed the old tree. Alas. But I don't remember either of them anymore.]
9/15/06: this entry consists of a defunct link to a youtube video. I don't remember what it was, unfortunately.
12/30/06: this entry is just one line. There is no title.

Today was another unremarkable day. I awoke, and did several dull and forgettable things.
4/8/07: Dh and I went hiking at none other than Foothills Park, where we returned to car trouble. Many people contributed to the plot, and dh suggested I turn it into a play. Which I never finished.

Foothills Park: the play

Foothills Park: the play, is based on a true story that took place on April 6. The names have not been changed to protect the innocent, though most are protected by default since I never knew their names anyway.

Dramatis Personae:
crotchety old man
female park ranger #1
female park ranger #2.

Foothills Park parking lot, 4 pm. lr and dh are trying to flee the park in lr's Ford Focus, but they find the car unwilling to accommodate their wishes.

Act I

Scene I:
[Enter lr and dh. They enter aforementioned vehicle, and lr attempts ignition.]

[Months later, after dh left for zimbabwe, he decided to make a contribution to the play effort and wrote a poem, which I might post in future if he consents.]
Finally, 2 weeks ago I had planned to write a blog entitled "three dressers in one week," but never managed to. It was going to be about how I had bought three dressers in one week and managed to find them all happy homes, while finally liking the 3rd one I bought.
There are no more. As yet.

label failure

Most of my posts have the same label, blather--because that's what they are. I realize this defeats the purpose of labels. Janie the magnificent has a brilliant array of lovely labels (or categories, as she calls them), of which I am exceedingly jealous. I may consider reworking my label listings. Any label ideas are welcome.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

fae flying high

Fae is my butterfly. She is approximately 20 inches wide. Yellow and orange wings. I somehow fit her into my luggage after buying her at F.A.O Shwartz in New York City 6 years ago during choir tour. (my apartment is hot. This must be said. Now that it is said I shall move on.) Fae is the centerpiece of my stuffed animal collection. Only the most prized of my stuffed animals have names.

Herman: a very tall tortoise. He is my sole purchase from my one visit to Moab.
Walter: a rabbit, sent via david hubbards trunk from my own dear mum (for easter).
Clara: a raccoon, whose name I forgot and then remembered.
Ross Calvin: An owl. Many in high school said my owl looked like a furby (from behind), but it does not. I repeat, it does not. My mum bought me this owl at the hospital gift shop once after I had a PFT.
Fae: the lovely butterfly.

I have recently done a childish (but exciting!) thing and pinned netting to a ceiling corner and put all my stuffed animals in it. Fae is on the bottom, flying, seemingly supporting the rest. It is pinned very insecurely above my bed. I rest easy in the knowledge that no one I know has died from stuffed animals falling on them in sleep. It did take two tries to make it stay (though insecure) and Walter does not fit...or rather, I am afraid it will collapse if I put him in. Eventually I will get my film developed, and when I do I'll post a picture of the delightful spectacle.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

zip code heaven

I have had three zip codes in one year. I'm through with zip codes. (12345 might be ok though.) I have cast off multiple zip codes, and they have gone to zip code heaven. Zip code heaven is a lovely place with a health spa and free car rental. I have moved yet again--away from Melville. Alas! Though I will miss my delightful and warm hearted roommates, I will not miss how the little rocks from the walkway always stuck into the the soles of my sandals. I probably trailed many such rocks into the house unknowingly. But I threw many of them away, it's true, so I am not only responsible for trailing them into the house, but for depleting the ground cover.

12345 is actually a zip code too. It belongs to Schenectady, New York. I guess USPS didn't think it necessary to be skipped due to its semi-barely-uniqueness. In San Francisco, there are many buildings that skip the 13th floor, however. I couldn't believe it the first time I noticed, but apparently it was common practice. Those poor deluded 14th floor workers. Also, why does friday + 13th = stupid horror films on tv? Why doesn't "Freddy vs. Jason" air on monday the 13th instead?

Today I bet my life, and won it.

So long, and thanks for all the fish.