Oh hi hello neglected blog and my two whole blog readers. I am back....for now, until I get distracted by another creative pursuit, or just something shiny.
It takes that little apparently.
So what to say. My holidays were fun. I had too much to eat and too much to drink. I wrote a lot on my novel. I truly enjoyed fleshing out the book. It felt like I was breathing life into the nostrils of some characters....people....that I dig. All in all, I wrote about 55 pages of text. Of course that is not diddly squat for a novel, so there is much more writing to be done, but my book is in a happy place right now, and since my creative bend is now in a different direction, I'm gonna let the characters breathe on their own a little, and visit them sometime soon.
So for Christmas my sister got me skeins of fun yarns, so I have been all about knitting. I am currently knitting a shawl, and I love how the silky yarn feels in my fingers, and enjoy the tap tap tap of the knitting needles against each other. I will finish the shawl off with pom pom ties, because my wardrobe is severely deficient in the pom pom area, and they are damn fun.
It takes very little to make me merry. That is a good thing I am sure. The funnest thing I got for Christmas was.....drumroll please.......toe socks. OMG I love them so much. They are striped blue, green, cream and burgundy, and my toes are now swaddled in softness, as toes should be. I will take a picture when I next wear them, because they are just so lovely.
So here you have it. A few short paragraphs that sum up over a month of blog neglect. I would promise to do better, but yeahhhh I ain't gonna do that.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
Chapter 4
I am back to writing my novel, and it feels pretty good. Here's an excerpt:
Chapter 4
Home. She loved her apartment. Josie lives in the front, right corner of a rambling old house on West End Avenue. Her neighbor and landlady is a dear friend, Frances Hartman-Merriweather. Frances was always perfectly dressed, coiffed and smells of Chanel No. 5. She had an age but never told it, because she often said “women should never divulge their age or number of lovers.” Frances is Tom’s aunt, and is a fountain of wonderful stories and adventures.
Josie heard a soft knock at the door, and then a sweet Southern voice that dripped of magnolia.
“Josie dear are you decent?”
“Frances you don’t have to knock.”
“Oh honey I will always knock just in case you are in the throes of passion with an amorous lover. It’s the appropriate thing to do sugar.”
“Ha nope no lovers tonight. Just me, you, Scooter and Thai food.”
“Mmmmm that pad thai smells decadent. Reminds me of a lovely summer I had on Kamala Bay with Prince Annan.”
“Prince Annan? Did Charles know about him?”
“Oh honey this was years before I met my dear departed husband, I was a teenager when my father was stationed in Thailand. Those steamy summer nights on the bay….I cried for weeks when we returned to the States. Then Prince Annan was just a lovely memory once I met my dear Charles.”
Charles Merriweather was a well-respected pediatrician in Nashville. He ran his practice out of his home, and Frances was his assistant. Frances and Charles never had children of their own, but they considered every patient they took care of family. Charles died shortly after their 42nd wedding anniversary. Alzheimers robbed him of his memories, but Frances posted all the patient pictures she could find on the walls of their bedroom when the end was near. Thousands of family members lined the walls of that bedroom when he passed.
“So Tom says he’s given you a project that has to do with Eldridge Hartman?”
“Yep I’m going to start on it tomorrow.”
“To this day I will not buy The Tennessean. They printed such lies about poor old Great Uncle El.”
“Like what Frances?”
“Oh the paper claimed that Eldridge committed suicide by hanging himself in his office closet. Such fabrications. He had nothing to be unhappy about. His was a life filled with men’s pursuits and loose women. What man would hate that?”
“Ha you have a point there. He certainly was a man’s man.”
“And he was as rich as Roosevelt, but his fortune was never found. I think the gold was taken by corrupt police investigators. Eldridge was not one to trust banks. The safe in his office was empty when the police arrived, and none of his employees turned immediately rich after his demise. Hoooo I am still feeling the heat from the pad thai. Please excuse me whilst I dab some cold water on my neck.”
“Powder room is all yours.”
“Honey the cold water knob came right off. Why don’t you ask Dan to lend a hand?”
Yeah that’s probably because I loosened it earlier as an excuse to get Dan up here, Josie thought to herself. There are only so many times you can tamper with the floaty thing in the toilet before a hot handy man will get suspicious. So she changed up her routine, and then forgot.
“Oh um sure Frances, I’ll call him right now.”
Dan was up in Josie’s apartment in under a minute. Dan was gorgeous, but in a rugged I-don't-know-that-I-am-a-Greek-God sorta way. Josie watched as Dan bent over and reached for a wrench in his bag. His brown hair that really needed a haircut fell in his face, and he pushed it back. She wanted to offer to hold it back for him...with her teeth. She sighed, and looked over at Frances, who was staring at her with a wizened smirk on her face.
“Anything else you need?” Dan asked as he bent over again to return the wrench to his bag.”
“Damn.”
“What was that Josie?”
“Oh um nothing. I said done. Ahhh yeah nothing else. Thank you Dan.”
My bed could use some servicing came to her mind as quickly as she tried to stifle the thought.
“You’re welcome Josie. You know where I am if you need anything.”
“Hot….ha um thanks again Dan.” Josie closed the door and wondered how many brain cells just shot out of her mouth.
“Oh lord girl will you jump him already?”
“Frances!”
“Honey you are a lovely woman, and Dan, well he’s just gorgeous. If there was any more chemistry in this room there would be an explosion. I love a good drama, but every drama needs a romantic interlude.”
“I know Frances. I would love a romantic interlude. Life is just complicated right now.”
“Everyone has complicated lives. Complication and drama make life worth living. Without it we would just go through the motions of living, but never actually experience life.”
“True Frances, true.”
Chapter 4
Home. She loved her apartment. Josie lives in the front, right corner of a rambling old house on West End Avenue. Her neighbor and landlady is a dear friend, Frances Hartman-Merriweather. Frances was always perfectly dressed, coiffed and smells of Chanel No. 5. She had an age but never told it, because she often said “women should never divulge their age or number of lovers.” Frances is Tom’s aunt, and is a fountain of wonderful stories and adventures.
Josie heard a soft knock at the door, and then a sweet Southern voice that dripped of magnolia.
“Josie dear are you decent?”
“Frances you don’t have to knock.”
“Oh honey I will always knock just in case you are in the throes of passion with an amorous lover. It’s the appropriate thing to do sugar.”
“Ha nope no lovers tonight. Just me, you, Scooter and Thai food.”
“Mmmmm that pad thai smells decadent. Reminds me of a lovely summer I had on Kamala Bay with Prince Annan.”
“Prince Annan? Did Charles know about him?”
“Oh honey this was years before I met my dear departed husband, I was a teenager when my father was stationed in Thailand. Those steamy summer nights on the bay….I cried for weeks when we returned to the States. Then Prince Annan was just a lovely memory once I met my dear Charles.”
Charles Merriweather was a well-respected pediatrician in Nashville. He ran his practice out of his home, and Frances was his assistant. Frances and Charles never had children of their own, but they considered every patient they took care of family. Charles died shortly after their 42nd wedding anniversary. Alzheimers robbed him of his memories, but Frances posted all the patient pictures she could find on the walls of their bedroom when the end was near. Thousands of family members lined the walls of that bedroom when he passed.
“So Tom says he’s given you a project that has to do with Eldridge Hartman?”
“Yep I’m going to start on it tomorrow.”
“To this day I will not buy The Tennessean. They printed such lies about poor old Great Uncle El.”
“Like what Frances?”
“Oh the paper claimed that Eldridge committed suicide by hanging himself in his office closet. Such fabrications. He had nothing to be unhappy about. His was a life filled with men’s pursuits and loose women. What man would hate that?”
“Ha you have a point there. He certainly was a man’s man.”
“And he was as rich as Roosevelt, but his fortune was never found. I think the gold was taken by corrupt police investigators. Eldridge was not one to trust banks. The safe in his office was empty when the police arrived, and none of his employees turned immediately rich after his demise. Hoooo I am still feeling the heat from the pad thai. Please excuse me whilst I dab some cold water on my neck.”
“Powder room is all yours.”
“Honey the cold water knob came right off. Why don’t you ask Dan to lend a hand?”
Yeah that’s probably because I loosened it earlier as an excuse to get Dan up here, Josie thought to herself. There are only so many times you can tamper with the floaty thing in the toilet before a hot handy man will get suspicious. So she changed up her routine, and then forgot.
“Oh um sure Frances, I’ll call him right now.”
Dan was up in Josie’s apartment in under a minute. Dan was gorgeous, but in a rugged I-don't-know-that-I-am-a-Greek-God sorta way. Josie watched as Dan bent over and reached for a wrench in his bag. His brown hair that really needed a haircut fell in his face, and he pushed it back. She wanted to offer to hold it back for him...with her teeth. She sighed, and looked over at Frances, who was staring at her with a wizened smirk on her face.
“Anything else you need?” Dan asked as he bent over again to return the wrench to his bag.”
“Damn.”
“What was that Josie?”
“Oh um nothing. I said done. Ahhh yeah nothing else. Thank you Dan.”
My bed could use some servicing came to her mind as quickly as she tried to stifle the thought.
“You’re welcome Josie. You know where I am if you need anything.”
“Hot….ha um thanks again Dan.” Josie closed the door and wondered how many brain cells just shot out of her mouth.
“Oh lord girl will you jump him already?”
“Frances!”
“Honey you are a lovely woman, and Dan, well he’s just gorgeous. If there was any more chemistry in this room there would be an explosion. I love a good drama, but every drama needs a romantic interlude.”
“I know Frances. I would love a romantic interlude. Life is just complicated right now.”
“Everyone has complicated lives. Complication and drama make life worth living. Without it we would just go through the motions of living, but never actually experience life.”
“True Frances, true.”
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Apple Treasure Cookie Quest
So the Husband just called to say that a lady from church requested my e-mail, so that she could send me an invite to a cookie party. Since it is not bridal or baby shower, which I always try to avoid, I will for certain go, especially since the theme involves cookies, and I fully support the cookie yo.
So then that got me to thinking....what sort of cookie should I make? I can make peanut butter cookies in a jiffy, and I'm sure there will be many iterations on the chocolate theme, so what to do?
Then that set my mind clock spinning into past cookie loves, which sent me to Pomona, New York. Every year, the family would go upstate to Pomona in the fall for apple picking. Along the way we always stopped at this specific store and got pies and cookies. Said cookie purchase always included a bag of "Apple Treasure Cookies." They were chewy but not tough, cake-like, a reddish sort of brown, and they had bits of apple, peanuts, perhaps raisins and probably a bit of elfin magic, because they were that awesome.
I'm sure no one else would think of making anything like the Apple Treasure Cookie, so now I am totally fixated on the idea.
So I googled "Apple Treasure Cookies" and alas nothing popped up that was right. I am still searching, but if any of my many 2 readers have any intersting apple cookie recipe, or even know about the Apple Treasure Cookie love, help a sistah out mmmmkay?
So then that got me to thinking....what sort of cookie should I make? I can make peanut butter cookies in a jiffy, and I'm sure there will be many iterations on the chocolate theme, so what to do?
Then that set my mind clock spinning into past cookie loves, which sent me to Pomona, New York. Every year, the family would go upstate to Pomona in the fall for apple picking. Along the way we always stopped at this specific store and got pies and cookies. Said cookie purchase always included a bag of "Apple Treasure Cookies." They were chewy but not tough, cake-like, a reddish sort of brown, and they had bits of apple, peanuts, perhaps raisins and probably a bit of elfin magic, because they were that awesome.
I'm sure no one else would think of making anything like the Apple Treasure Cookie, so now I am totally fixated on the idea.
So I googled "Apple Treasure Cookies" and alas nothing popped up that was right. I am still searching, but if any of my many 2 readers have any intersting apple cookie recipe, or even know about the Apple Treasure Cookie love, help a sistah out mmmmkay?
Monday, December 1, 2008
Fish Pedicure Anyone?
Y'all. This is some crazy shizzle. I have not seen this sort of pedicure offered in the spas of Nashville, but it is only a matter of time. Don't people see the danger in this?
The fish are going to overtake us an eat us, without a delicious wine and butter sauce.
Apparently, you can now go to some spas and get a fish pedicure, where you place your feet in warm water and fish, known as "doctor fish" yomp at the dead skin cells on your tootsies. You get to pay $35 for this treatment according to this article.
People that get this treatment describe the sensation of nibbling fish as "ticklish." Hell to the no. These fools are getting fish used to the idea of eating humans, which is so wrong on the carnivore food chain. We eat the fishes, not the other way around. These doctor fish probably have a collective intelligence with other species of fish. Soon goldfish and other supposedly friendly pets will leap from their bowls and feast on our flesh....leaving only our skeletons in their wake as testament to our foolish quest for smooth feet.
If you want smooth feet use a pumice stone. At least rocks don't have brains or any ability to move (except for gravity and merry throwing).
I can't look out for all of y'all forever. Be safe and don't tempt the fishes.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
I'd like my turkey with a side order of meat please
Firstly I would like to wish all of my two readers a very Happy Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving, and usually entertain the family at my house, but this year I have a break, and am going to my parents house. I must say, even though I really do love cooking the Thanksgiving meal, it is going to be really nice just to be a guest at Thanksgiving, and not having a mountain of dishes and the exhaustion thereafter will be a treat as well.
I have done all sorts of turkey recipies....one where I placed a mosaic of herbs under the skin, and one year I ordered a turducken. Just in case you don't know what it is, it is a turkey stuffed with a chicken that is stuffed with a duck. I know that sounds perhaps a bit lewd, but trust me it is indeed delicious.
And then this morning I found this meaty mammoth on the intertubes:
Y'all what you are seeing is a turducken that has been wrapped in bacon. Jeebus it looks like something a butcher tripping on acid would create, but who can deny the deliciousness of bacon? Surely I cannot - bacon makes everything better, and I must say that the druggie butcher that thought this up is genius.
Here is the beast fully cooked:
Oooooh gimme a piece of that y'all!
Images courtesy of http://bacontoday.com/turbaconducken-turducken-wrapped-in-bacon/
I have done all sorts of turkey recipies....one where I placed a mosaic of herbs under the skin, and one year I ordered a turducken. Just in case you don't know what it is, it is a turkey stuffed with a chicken that is stuffed with a duck. I know that sounds perhaps a bit lewd, but trust me it is indeed delicious.
And then this morning I found this meaty mammoth on the intertubes:
Y'all what you are seeing is a turducken that has been wrapped in bacon. Jeebus it looks like something a butcher tripping on acid would create, but who can deny the deliciousness of bacon? Surely I cannot - bacon makes everything better, and I must say that the druggie butcher that thought this up is genius.
Here is the beast fully cooked:
Oooooh gimme a piece of that y'all!
Images courtesy of http://bacontoday.com/turbaconducken-turducken-wrapped-in-bacon/
Friday, November 21, 2008
Want
There are not many things I miss about New York. I fell in love with Nashville and middle Tennessee shortly after moving here, and getting over the culture shock. For example, if you are walking on a downtown street in Nashville, and make eye contact with a stranger, said stranger will smile and or say hello to you. My New York friends will think that is some crazy shit, but it is indeed true.
I usually miss New York around this time of year, when the weather gets cold and I think of my Italian extended famliy gathering in Queens, around a big table, with really gorgeous food that I would kill for right now.
I would really like to replicate my Nonno's minestrone, but so far that has proved to be impossible, because I think it was infused with his soul as he stirred the pot over and over until it was ladeled into bowls.
There is another problem with growing up with Northern Italian cuisine and being far removed from a lot of Northern Italians. It is hard as shit to find certain products here in the South.
Perfect example: cappeletti. Oh, you say you are not familiar with this? Well, let me 'splain by all means. Cappelletti is a pasta extremely similar to tortellini, but they are smaller, and mostly consumed in broth as a first course for either a Christmas Day or Christmas Eve dinner. It is by far the most perfect and gorgeous soup I have ever had. I would not even bother asking a grocery store clerk if they carried cappeletti, because they would invariably scratch their noggin and be like "cappawhat?", so I would just be happy finding a good frozen meat tortellini, but alas I have not found any.
Sad y'all, so sad.
So I guess I will have to make the pasta myself, which is the textbook definition of labor intensive. It will be a chore for me, because my cooking style is quick, combine flavors on the fly sort of cooking, and this is more like manufacturing. But I am desparate, so I think this will happen before winter is over. I need a fix.
I usually miss New York around this time of year, when the weather gets cold and I think of my Italian extended famliy gathering in Queens, around a big table, with really gorgeous food that I would kill for right now.
I would really like to replicate my Nonno's minestrone, but so far that has proved to be impossible, because I think it was infused with his soul as he stirred the pot over and over until it was ladeled into bowls.
There is another problem with growing up with Northern Italian cuisine and being far removed from a lot of Northern Italians. It is hard as shit to find certain products here in the South.
Perfect example: cappeletti. Oh, you say you are not familiar with this? Well, let me 'splain by all means. Cappelletti is a pasta extremely similar to tortellini, but they are smaller, and mostly consumed in broth as a first course for either a Christmas Day or Christmas Eve dinner. It is by far the most perfect and gorgeous soup I have ever had. I would not even bother asking a grocery store clerk if they carried cappeletti, because they would invariably scratch their noggin and be like "cappawhat?", so I would just be happy finding a good frozen meat tortellini, but alas I have not found any.
Sad y'all, so sad.
So I guess I will have to make the pasta myself, which is the textbook definition of labor intensive. It will be a chore for me, because my cooking style is quick, combine flavors on the fly sort of cooking, and this is more like manufacturing. But I am desparate, so I think this will happen before winter is over. I need a fix.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Gone
The 4th floor is empty.
Gone is the cowbell.
Gone are the ceremonial throwing chairs.
Gone is the miniature baseball bat used for therapeutic purposes.
Gone are the people that I have worked with for many, many months.
I am a solitary person by nature. I have never had a lot of friends - not because I have cooties or anything, but I have always been happy entertaining myself. It's a middle child thing. Since March, I have worked with a great group of people. Yes, they were young, crude, and took the Lord's name in vain a lot, but I loved their spirits and their passion.
And now it is all done, and I am back working by myself in the solitude of the second floor, slowly getting back to the job I used to do and was good at. It feels like a warm blanket that was just waiting for me all this time.
Except now I am alone. I guess I am in a period of mourning for the cameraderie. I feel numb.
Gone is the cowbell.
Gone are the ceremonial throwing chairs.
Gone is the miniature baseball bat used for therapeutic purposes.
Gone are the people that I have worked with for many, many months.
I am a solitary person by nature. I have never had a lot of friends - not because I have cooties or anything, but I have always been happy entertaining myself. It's a middle child thing. Since March, I have worked with a great group of people. Yes, they were young, crude, and took the Lord's name in vain a lot, but I loved their spirits and their passion.
And now it is all done, and I am back working by myself in the solitude of the second floor, slowly getting back to the job I used to do and was good at. It feels like a warm blanket that was just waiting for me all this time.
Except now I am alone. I guess I am in a period of mourning for the cameraderie. I feel numb.
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