March 5th, 2006

reading is fun-damental

The amazing adventures of The Really Old Married Lady

Found some lovely Port Salut cheese and something else yummy (Parrano? -it's Spanish, and, of course, they're both from Trader Joe's) in the fridge. Had them with crackers (and a bowl of grapes) as a late night snack. They were a lovely accompaniment to some hot cider (with rum in it, of course). I ate them and drank and read Tableaux Vivants (since I was disgusted with all of my other books) and paid bills, and that was the rest of my Saturday night. Ooh baby!

I'd like to complain about two of the books I've started reading this week. One, Living with Cannibals and Other Women's Adventures, was billed as the thrilling true-life tales of globe-trotting adventuresses of yore. Alas, it appears to be written at an eighth grade level and is putting me to sleep. I will be giving this away soon; any takers? It would be perfect reading for the can, but mine is already well stocked with fine catalogues and last week's Stranger. The second, Furies of Calderon, is by Jim Butcher, the man whose Harry Dresden mystery novels I've been enjoying so much. Now I'm convinced he's a hack. Page 12 and I'm bored. This and its successor are coming off of my wish list stat. Thank God this one was from the library and didn't cost me anything!

Shockingly, a book I started earlier in the week is proving a total treat: Every Night, Josephine! It's by Jacqueline Susann and it's the story of her love affair with her poodle. Now, she's no Steinbeck (who wrote about his own poodle in Travels with Charley), but she's such a charming ignoramus about dogs and her voice is SO incredibly strong that I'm finding it a total treat to read. It's rather like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes in that respect, only GPB was deliberately making fun of itself and I can't tell if JS has any idea she's a moron. I loved the harsh vision of Valley of the Dolls, which I read as a tale from a time when women really did have very limited choices and the interactions we had with men were so much more heavily structured by society. But reading this book makes the concept of "the little lady" so much more ... painful. At any rate, I'm getting a huge kick out of it, whatever my reasons, and this little Ebay purchase is making my reading time joyful. I'd love to have something a little more meaty, but, hey! That copy of Absalom, Absalom is right there any time I feel like picking it up again, where it's been sitting for about a year waiting for my attention, and Josephine is likely to be finished in about two days and then quickly making the rounds of my book loving friends. Sorry, Dead White Guy with a Really Labored Style! Sometimes you just can't win.
Pink poodle

Why you should be glad you're not married to me

Me (after struggling down the stairs in my flannel pink poodle jammies): I want pancakes.
J (who's been up for forty-five minutes): Not French toast?
Me: No. Pancakes.
J: Well, if you'd told me that when I got up, the batter could have been ready by now.
Me: Pancakes. (Sits at computer and tries to focus.) And bacon. I'll wait.

Spring has sprung

Day 4 of March and my first tulip bloomed. It's some kind of species tulip, short and small-petalled and destined to brighten that corner of the garden for years to come. Normally I can identify each and every flower I've planted in my garden (I've got records going back years), but I don't recall planting anything there, and the species tulips I bought this year all got put in the main part of my garden. Hmm. Welcome, bright stranger!

Meanwhile, the plum tree is in full bloom (sparrows keep landing on it and eating the flowers, so strange!) and the pink hyacinths (one of four colors) are blooming enthusiastically. The rock wall has miniature daffodils and fatty crocuses galore, and overall it just looks like spring! And the back yard ... well, it has some daffodils, but the season is still creeping upon it slowly. In another month or so I expect I'll see more tulips. It's a shame, really, when I was planning my purchases this year, I really thought I might not be around to see it bloom, and today the thought of me being out of this house by tulip season just gives me the giggles.

Smells like burning

In the future, I will remember that when taking a pan out of the oven, the handle of the pan doesn't magically cool down when you take the oven mitt off to grab something else (in this case, a plate). If I can't just remember it, I should still have a nice stripe on my palm and the tender swollen bit on my thumb and the muscle-y bit of my hand to remind me (at least if I try this again any time in the next week).

The enchiladas I made with the Trader Joe's chicken chile verde (stuffed with sour cream and cheddar cheese to boot) were still quite tasty, but I found my enthusiasm was dampered by burning myself so badly right before I served them.
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