laurenisms » mood

What I learned on Wednesday, February 1, 2012

lauren — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 05:52:31 +0000

I was in the kitchen preparing dinner and listening to the news on KUOW, our local NPR affiliate. G. went out to get firewood and when he came back in I was sobbing in the middle of the kitchen.

I had known that the Washington State Senate had the 25 votes it needed to squeak by with the majority, but this radio article at like 5:30pm announced that a 26th Senator had thought, and prayed, and despite the fact that it would make many of his friends hate him, he had decided that he must support SB 6239, the marriage equality bill. He did not have to — it would have passed without him — but he DID, and I started to cry. He didn’t have to but he did. He didn’t have to but he did, because it is the right thing.

It went to the vote tonight and I followed along via friend Genevieve’s Facebook — she was at the Capitol, watching — until suddenly Facebook exploded at just after 8pm, because the Washington State Senate passed SB 6239 with a 7-vote margin, at 28-21 — even better than the 26-vote clear win that set me to sobbing in the kitchen.

It goes to the House next, and the House is expected to pass it with no problem, and then to the Governor, who has said that she will sign it.

There will almost certainly be a voter initiative to repeal it, but I am hopeful that sense and love will prevail. Someone had some numbers on why it is OK to think that that is so, but I’m busy wiping my eyes and can’t find them now.

What I had for Solstice dinner, Thursday, December 22, 2011

lauren — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 04:57:43 +0000

For Solstice we like to hunker down and stay warm all day and celebrate that life is returning to the world, and appreciate our tiny role in the life of the growing things. Usually we eat pretty close to home — where, for us, “close to home” means “from the backyard.”

Today we had a homegrown chicken, simply roasted with salt and pepper. We also boiled some homegrown fingerling potatoes* and tossed them with homemade butter (storebought cream) and homegrown rosemary. I picked most of one volunteer Red Russian kale plant from the yard and sautéed it with homemade butter, homegrown/Laughing Crow garlic, a bit of Persephone Farm leek, and a pinch of ground homegrown cayenne pepper. Super simple, and SUPER delicious.

Raise a glass to turnings of the season; watch it as it arcs towards the sun.

* This one meal’s worth of potatoes was unfortunately OUR ENTIRE YEAR’S harvest. I don’t know why we are such failures at potatoes. This year it was even entirely storebought dirt, so no possible contamination from our compost. Just … gorgeous plants, and no taters. :(

Oscar has a scary

lauren — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 05:10:49 +0000

Oscar, the best dog ever, had an unexpected and undesirable vet visit this morning. G. texted me just as I was getting out of the bus tunnel with “Oscar is sick we are at the vet.” I immediately started freaking out and he called a few seconds later to say Oscar had been curled up all small, and drooling, which is unlike him, and when he tried to walk he held his hips like an inbred German Shepherd and then started staggering like he was drunk and eventually gave up walking completely. I tried to think of all the things that he has been eating or may have eaten lately — cat poop from the cat box (so gross, we just got a new one with a lid to prevent it), soup that I spilled that had lots of various kinds of veggies in it, and, most alarmingly, the rat poison I have been putting out in the greenhouse (I know, it’s horrible, we’ll get the cat unleashed on the world soon) that has been only in the greenhouse but maybe he found a dead rat outside of the greenhouse and ate it?

Much churning of this sort went on over frantic texts and emails, with me starting my day at work all distracted, laying groundwork for having to leave and come straight home again right now to say goodbye, and G. running the gauntlet of the super-worried vet receptionist and the super-worried vet tech. G. discusses the fact that it seems like he’s having a stroke, or a seizure maybe. Eventually the doctor, who we really like, arrived, looked at Oscar, and said oh, it’s probably an ear infection.

WHAT. We thought it was a stroke or rat poison but it is probably an ear infection? OK, I’ll take it.

Ultimately not quite so simple, but also not the worst news. It is something called vestibular disease or disorder, which could have many causes. Ear infection is a common one — and Oscar is prone to them, especially during allergy season, which it is for him right now. But my second-hand info via Garth is that it is not a straight-up ear infection; they didn’t send them home with any antibiotics, so it seems like that’s the case. For now it is diagnosed as idiopathic, which means we don’t know why it is there, and it may resolve itself eventually. We hope.

In the meantime, poor Oscar is hugging the floor waiting for the world to stop spinning. He doesn’t want to lift his head up because he is so dizzy he can’t hold his head still when it’s not attached to the floor. The biggest risk at this point is of malnutrition/dehydration/pooping all over the floor because he hasn’t the balance to get up. There’s nothing wrong with his muscles or anything, it’s just his balance is all messed up. He hasn’t eaten or drank anything since I got home from work just over 3 hours ago, so I’m going to agitate for figuring out how to make sure he’s staying healthy while his ears recalibrate themselves.

Spring!

lauren — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 05:41:14 +0000

Yesterday I wore sandals to walk to town to meet Bill for lunch. And today I wore a skirt! AND sandals! to work in the yard and have dinner with library school friend Genevieve. Skirt + sandals = spring! Welcome back; I missed you.

Kureyon stripe!

lauren — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 04:56:54 +0000

Kureyon stripe!, originally uploaded by laurenipsum.

I am totally obsessed with this scarf and so I picked up some Noro Kureyon today. It calls for Silk Garden but it was enough cheaper for the Kureyon that I couldn’t justify the Silk Garden. I hope it’s not too scratchy. I have never been able to justify Noro of any sort before, but this is only 4 skeins and I had a gift certificate, and the scarf is so beautiful …

Colorways 172 (the dark one) and 214 (the brighter one).

Boaternets fail

lauren — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 04:16:23 +0000

The internets on the ferry (boaternets, as I often call them) have been difficult lately. The ferry system appears to have switched service providers, which is fine as I wasn’t that attached to the one they had, but is also frustrating, as I had already pre-paid for the month with the OLD vendor (who now has my December’s worth of money) and had to re-pay for the month with the new vendor (who also has a December’s worth, now). So, I have to sort that out, because $15 isn’t nothin’, anymore. In fact, it’s, like, two bottles of wine.

I didn’t get the account and software situation sorted out until this evening, though, so I lost yesterday morning and evening, plus this morning, that I was planning to get some stuff done online — that makes ~2.25 hours of internet time that I could have been billing, or at least cleaning out my inbox. Oh well, it is what it is.

We have finally started watching Heroes on Netflix. Anyone else think Nathan Petrelli looks like Mayor Hundred from Ex Machina?

I don’t know any Basque songs, so pretend this is just a bunch of Xs and Ks.

lauren — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 19:55:55 +0000

Home sick yesterday and today, boo. The dogs like to have someone around, though, and it’s nice to catch up on sleep, lack of which probably contributed to the cold in the first places. Thank dirt for honey and ginger and lemon in hot water. And thank the Basques for my new super-easy favorite sick (or cranky, or really just hungry in general) soup:

Basque Bread & Garlic soup
Thinly slice several cloves of garlic. One or two per person, or several if making it just for yourself and you like it that way.
Sauté said slices in olive oil until golden.
Add a stale (day-old or more, but not too old) baguette, cut into 1-1½ inch slices; toss or turn over to coat with delicious garlicky olive oil on both sides
Add broth to cover; season to taste with red pepper flakes, cayenne, salt, etc.
Bring to a boil
Drop in one egg per person and boil until egg is cooked. Serve immediately. I generally eat it straight out of the pot because I am lazy.
Adapted from The Basque Table by Teresa Barrenechea.

Spicy, garlicky, protein-y, salty, & hot. Perfect. Then, a nap.

In the service of the Queen

lauren — Wed, 04 Apr 2007 04:00:03 +0000

Ruby and I ran a block on our walk tonight, in work clothes and trench coat and un-ponytailed flying hair, just for the joy of spring. Tomorrow I will be requesting the day off because my daffodils announce that they will be blooming in the morning and I would like to be with them on their special day.

I have gone back to school! I am learning about research methods and statistics. It is interesting and I am learning a lot, even though it is for four hours on Monday nights, and even though I have like 250 pages of reading this week. Boo, textbooks.
Ultimately, one hopes, after three more terms, this schooling will result in a certificate in User-Centered Design. And then I will get a raise. One hopes.

Busy stuff lately. Classes all over the place — free jewelry class, hot yoga with work folks, regular school class — and shows — Chuckanut, Jesse Sykes — and folks coming and going — G’s mom and stepdad, my mom, Arlie. Soon I am headed to a conference in BC, and then after that I will have no free weekends until June.

(song: “The Rain King,” Counting Crows)

Shining on the silhouette

lauren — Wed, 14 Feb 2007 06:57:04 +0000

Last night I went for a run with the dogsters and I could have sworn it was spring. Could have sworn it so much that we were both independently worrying about getting seedlings started. (G. and I, that is, worrying, not the dogsters. The dogs said YAY RUNNING ZOMG RUN RUN YAY RUN ZOMG, and not much else.) It is about time to start tomatoes indoors if we wish to have them from seed, and time to start planning the outdoors situation. He really wants potatoes, which I fully support, so that will take some planning, as they need to have extra months in the ground. I am also interested in garlic, onions, and broccoli.

All day I have had in my head this totally ridiculous country song from when I was, like, nine, and listened to the pop country station. It was quite risqué, at that time, including the song “Black Velvet,” which I now know/suspect to be about young Elvis. Additionally, today’s title, which is about women who use men for their own nefarious purposes. I have something snarky and feminist to say there but I can’t find it among all the wine currently in my mouth.

Everything makes me cry lately. There are dogs who have died (not mine, knock on wood, but one of Oscar’s oldest friends) and there are grandmas gone too (not mine again, knock on wood again) and then there are so many new babies come into existence (not mine, knock on wood more than ever, and hi baby Ciaran! hi baby Mina! hi baby Hank!) for whom life is so small, I am worried for it. And if I spend even a minute on that thought, I become distracted and distraught with how small life is for us all, because really it is, and we are so tiny and chronologically insigificant, and then I will cry for nothing; I will cry for imagining all the so many things that could change all the other small lives so much. I will be forever changed when these dogs and these grandmas and these babies are lost. And it is too selfish to wish that I should be lost first, but I do not know if I can bear the loss of them.
What is the solution? Are all adults just veterans of the war of aging, where there are daily casualties (parents, children’s childhoods, pets & loved ones, garden plants, bus routes, hair lines, waistlines, roadkill, favored shoes chewed by new puppies, all the things large and small in which we used to rejoice but that are now gone)? Or is there some way to avoid it? Must we all submit ourselves to that? Can I opt out of one section of growing up and thereby shed all the rest? If I choose to devote my child-caring to another’s child, not my own, do I mourn with the parents when that child changes, grows, is gone, or do I mourn alone? And do I mourn less or more — does the sharing increase or mitigate the pain? Or do I merely mourn the recent demise of my glass of wine?

I hate being the youngest. Everywhere I go I am the youngest, and I feel inexperienced and foolish. I want to know what will happen to me, and to know if my current situation of conflicting heartache and jubilation will be henceforth a constant. (Big words!) I suspect it will, but more than anything I fear I will be surprised by something that experience (that I don’t have) should have prepared me for. What do I do? What can I do? I can, I guess, love my dogs and my husband and my surrounding friends and family and babies, and I can know that all of that is contingent on their continuing existence. And that love requires acceptance of the fact that they may not continue to exist. And I will deal with that when it comes, I guess.

PS. any post that starts with “I went for a run” and ends with drama and tears and wine and discussion of the meaning of love is PURE WANKERY.

(Song: “Fast Movin’ Train,” Restless Heart. Woo, 1990!)

Waiting for something to happen

lauren — Wed, 10 Jan 2007 02:44:30 +0000

“The aggressively kinked noodles form an aesthetically pleasing nest in cup or bowl, but when slurped, their sharp bends spray droplets of broth that settle uncomfortably about the lips and leave dots on your computer screen.” Thanks, Mr. Noodle.

Lately I have been reading way too much Mimi Smartypants again, starting from the beginning and working my way up to the present. I am not as good as she is so apologies for my disjointed rambly linkification, surely not as witty and intriguing as hers.
It was interesting, though, to read her posts from September 4 and then September 7 and then the 10th and she’s so funny and lighthearted and I know, but she doesn’t, that she is on the verge of this big awful thing.
That made me cry but now I am past that, into summer of 2002, and I am very curious about when she will mention that she adopts a kid, because it’s got to be coming up sometime soon here.

Mimi Smartypants always has lots of links. Unfortunately, as I am reading posts from 2002, most of her links are dead. But here is an interesting thing she showed me: hobo signs dictionary.

Marika came to visit not last weekend but the one before it, the one that contained New Year’s Eve. We ate good food (sushi down the street; delicious roast beef at home; Le Pichet for lunch; McMenamin’s cajun tater tots; fondue at Skip’s house on New Year’s) and we went to lots of museums. We went to the Bodies exhibit and also the Dead Sea Scrolls, whose site seems to be gone now, since the exhibit ended.
I found them both very interesting. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to make it through the Bodies exhibit, right at the beginning. I wish I could find a trustworthy source discussing the provenance of the bodies, though I might not like to know now that I have given them the money. I learned that the cause of cirrhosis, apparently, and PLEASE do not say “cirrhosis of the liver” because you cannot have cirrhosis of any other part of your body!!, is “the bad diet and lifestyle often associated with alcohol or drug abuse,” not the alcohol or drug abuse itself. Who knew?
The Dead Sea Scrolls was very full of people, including rude children. *shakes fish* I found myself surprisingly little moved by the documents themselves, especially considering their, well, documentality. I liked the rest of the exhibit, the archaeological parts and the language parts especially. Maybe it was because the scrolls are so small and the lights kept turning on and off — which I understand, of course, but they did seem to turn off on me more often than one might expect.

Last weekend I did laundry and read the internets. I have all kinds of half-formed grand plans about making everything in my life work — my house, my computer, my projects, my dog, my skin, my hips and arms and thighs, my hair, my sleep — but none of them have coalesced yet. But I am reading Open Secrets by Alice Munro and I find it to be extremely enjoyable. So I’ve got that.

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ETA: I just panicked that I have used the word “coalesce” far too many times in the recent past, but searching for it on this page returns nothing. Patient readers who might still be out there, sorry if I have abused you recently with too much coalescing. Coalescence.
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(Song: “Painting Her Fingernails,” Bobby Bare Jr.)