MidWinter Reads

You would think that I might have progressed far through my “to-read” pile since it has been snowing for nearly every weekend for the past two months. Nope. One reason is that all I want to do in the winter time is make new soups and then eat them and then sleep. Another reason is American Gods by Neil Gaiman.

American Gods I chose because I liked the cover, I felt that I should read more sci-fi since my NaNoWriMo adventure, and I think that I was a little unfair to Neil Gaiman last summer just because of some poor timing. Well, the timing was poor again because I had recently finished A Thousand Splendid Suns, and the books in-between were not palate cleansing enough to prepare me for sci-fi. It’s like eating chili after Altoids.

American Gods is astonishingly creative and boasted of numerous subplots and hundreds of characters and no shortage of action and I have tremendous admiration for Gaiman in being able to imagine and tie it all together. Its primary question is: What happens to ancient pagan gods after their believers emigrate to America and cease to believe? How do the old gods interact with the new gods of internet, television, credit cards, cars, and freeways? I should have liked it. Most sci-fi fans would have. I appreciated the extended time that the characters spent traversing Wisconsin. But I was alienated by the relentless violence and I’m too ignorant of ancient pagan religions to really get it. After I looked the gods up in Wikipedia, the jokes were long passed. It took me three weeks to get through the first 100 pages.

Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson is described on the back cover as a “modern classic”, and that might be accurate. Ruthie and Lucille are orphans living on the edge of a lake which has taken the lives of their grandfather and mother, and their home is managed by a series of relatives with varying degrees of competence. The book has enough plot and character development to please many, but I was drawn in mostly for the style of prose, as changing and misty and heavy and somber as the omnipresent lake.

A Passage to India by E.M. Forster I chose because I adore the Merchant Ivory Production films of A Room With A View and Howards End, which began life as Forster novels. I didn’t know much about it but I assumed it would be an inter-racial love story, a clash between British colonial and Indian culture. It was indeed a clash, but in a different way than I thought. I liked it, but sometimes I was impatient with the relentless inner turmoil and social insecurities of the characters.

Bel Canto by Ann Patchett I had intended to read years ago when it was popular. I forgot, and then I found it recently in a used bookstore bin for one dollar! Really, I would have paid five dollars for it. Bel Canto was nearly poetry, which is good and bad. Good for the beauty and romance and all that, but unfortunately slow-moving in parts. I appreciated the suspense at the beginning and end but was impatient at times with the middle.

The theme, as I look these books over again, is surprise endings. Or maybe I was too winter-weary to attempt predictions?

Snippets

1) Sometimes I think that I have a dual personality. Therefore, I would like one of these bracelets. Thanks, bookshelves of doom.

2) REM will have a new album out this spring! As I mentioned to Caitlin tonight, every major episode in my life has been accompanied by an REM soundtrack. Rumor has it that this one won't be a snoozer (unlike the ethereal but melancholy Reveal).

3) I said before that I would never let a dog sleep in my bed. Well, just forget that I ever said that.

4) I bought a food processor. It's one of the best purchases ever. I made hummus, and I will never buy the grocery stuff again. I made romesco sauce, enough for the neighborhood. (Romesco contains tomatoes, roasted red peppers, garlic, toasted almonds, olive oil, and red wine vinegar, all mashed to a paste.) I portioned it out on chicken, cod, pasta, and baguette, and now I'm weary of it.

5) I built a fire in my fireplace, which I had never done before. I sometimes work in a burn ward, so I have become paranoid about fire. The wood was extremely dry and crackly. I perched on the hearth edge with a bucket of water, flinching with each pop, visions of my bandaged face in mind. But I survived unscathed.

Corduroy

The Writers Island prompt this week (early!) is "Desire." What I desire, as I ranted on before, is pants that fit right. And if it's not asking too much, pants that make pleasant noises. I chose the villanelle form to express my thoughts.

I want corduroys my size
Legs to warm in winter’s air
Hear my gentle swish of thighs

I regret eating so many pies
Should have left that last eclair
I want corduroys my size

I could turn the heads of guys
Follow me, but please beware
Hear my gentle swish of thighs

Those stores are fools, very unwise
I would get more than one pair
I want corduroys my size

The source, my rustle everyone eyes
Striding, dashing, here to there
Hear my gentle swish of thighs

To denim I say my goodbyes
I want these pants, but where, where?
I want corduroys my size
Hear my gentle swish of thighs

Five-Spice Haunting

The Writers Island prompt for this week is "Fork in the Road." My entry may not precisely fit the idea, but I was inspired to cogitate on a person with whom my path was parallel for a time, then split (forked, perhaps!) , and may reconnect again some day. And of course, I thought of food.

***

I like black licorice, on rare occasions and in small doses. I appreciate how it numbs my mouth and I like its smoky, dangerous flavor, as if too much of it might be poisonous. I don’t cook with it much because its presence tends to be overpowering, but I did make use of it today. I used Chinese five-spice for a recipe.* Licorice is the dominant of the five.** I am unlikely to ever see the bottom of this jar. I predict that it will join the ranks of the dozens of other forgotten jars lining my abundant spice shelf.

The dinner turned out well and the spice combination was not overwhelming, balanced well with garlic, scallions, ginger, tamari and hoisin and distractions of side dishes. The sweet cinnamon edge was the most prominent. I almost forgot that five-spice was in there at all. I left the house to let the dog out and when I returned, the full fragrance of five-spice surrounded me. My senses must have grown tolerant of it until recently refreshed. I felt a wave of sadness sweep over me. My eyes dimmed with tears for a moment. Memories long pushed aside fluttered for attention.

There is only one other person I know who cooks with Chinese five-spice, and that is Johna. I imagine that she has set it aside now in favor of more ordinary seasonings, but at one time she used it as some use salt and pepper. I’m a snob with food and cooking now, but there was a year when I lived on spaghetti and jarred sauce, scrambled egg creations, and stir-fries made by Johna. She seasoned her stir-fries liberally with five-spice, which I found to be odd and not altogether pleasant. The spice cabinet only contained about four jars. I don’t know how the five-spice managed to appear when we failed to own anything as basic as chili powder. Possibly it had been abandoned by the previous owner. Our little kitchen often had a cloud of licorice scent hovering over it, and when I am revisited by the five-spice ghost today all of those times in the house return.

I don’t think that our other two roommates indulged in the stir-fries. I doubt that Jill would have trusted the novelty of the seasoning. Elizabeth would have disdained the broccoli component, which was ubiquitous in our house because it was cheap. Stir-fry was something particular shared by Johna and me, I like to think.

We were close friends from day one of college. We ate together every day in the dorms for every lunch and dinner, sampling each flavor of ice cream and cereal, grazing the salad bar at our leisure, and eagerly anticipating the monthly Steak Night tickets. We weren’t roommates until our fourth year, when we rented a house. Being friends is easy enough. Living together and encountering one’s kitchen habits, movie selections, and thermostat preferences is another creature altogether. We grew apart that year. We spent less time together than when we lived in separate locations. We had domestic disagreements and eventually formed a rift that was more painful than items such as the ownership of the greasy dishes in the sink. She spent most of her time hidden away in her bedroom. I calculated how to best avoid her.

Johna moved away at the end of the year in pursuit of love and graduate school. She left some of her kitchen utensils, which I still use today. I had two more years of school to complete and was desolate at the thought of most everyone else I knew stepping up to new lives. She left either late at night or early in the morning, and we did not exchange goodbyes. I felt to be at a turning point. I left behind the old roommates and found new ones. I focused my undivided attention on school. I did post-graduate work. I moved away and moved on. I did not look back. I did not stir-fry. I did not own five-spice.

Lately I have been making contact with old friends from the past. Johna is conspicuously absent. It has been seven years without a word. I am at another crossroads. I might be ready. I may choose, soon, to confront the past. Until then, I will pursue five-spice recipes.

*The recipe was Rachael Ray’s Five-Spice Burgers with Warm Mu Shu Slaw Topping. It is tasty and easy and is recipe number 245 in the cookbook 365: No Repeats.
**Actually, my five-spice jar contains seven spices.

Austen's Men

I found this link on somebody else's blog who found it on somebody else's blog. Someone must have had a mirthful time writing up these online dating profiles for Jane Austen's men. I chose Edward Ferrars even though he lives with his mother. Can you guess who the top pick was? (surprise, surprise) But I really was taken aback by how highly Mr. Collins was ranked.

Reunited

One summer when I was in high school, the A&E channel showed a series of Midsomer Murders, a British mystery. I didn't think that I liked mysteries, but I was so intrigued by the theme music on the advertisements that I found myself watching them. The theme song was played at the start and end of each commercial break and I was fascinated because it was a macabre and circular sort of clarinet solo. I hoped that if I listened to it often enough I would be able to play it myself.

I don't think that I achieved that goal, but I did get into the series. Midsomer Murders features a detective and sidekick who investigate murder after murder in a quaint British town. All of the suspects seem equally dodgy, but the detective gets a subtle hint from the scenery every time and manages to solve the crime with a neat twist and no loose ends.

In the back of my mind I have hoped once in a while to see the show again. A&E has long since been more E than A, and it is doubtful that they would show anything as erudite as Midsomer Murders now. It's too obscure for local video stores. I found it on Amazon, but there are, like, hundreds of episodes. I wouldn't want to buy them anyway; once you know who did it there isn't much reason to watch it again. But I found a solution: Netflix. My new addiction. They have them all.

Puzzled

I haven't been blogging or doing much of anything else lately because I have been occupied by this 3000-piece puzzle. I stood on my tallest chair to take this photo and still couldn't fit it all in the frame. It was a good diversion but I'm glad to get my dining table back and I need to dig in to my stack of books before they fall on Trixie. I got a fresh supply from the library yesterday and I'm starting to feel anxious about getting them all read before the due dates.

Over The Horizon

For this week's Writers Island topic, "Over The Horizon" I choose not to write about what is in my own future, but rather what is in store for my dog, Trixie. Trixie joined me in April 2007, a rescued dachshund who was terrified of everything: furnace noises, garbage disposals, men, wind, being outside, baths, etc. Sometimes I thought that she would never voluntarily leave her crate. After months of work Trixie is a happy little thing and has overcome nearly all of her fears except for the big one: walks. One of my resolutions for 2008 is to work on this, to gently help Trixie discover the joys of outdoors and regular exercise.

So, though she doesn't know it now, walks are over the horizon for Trixie. If she could compose a proem regarding her current thoughts on the matter, I think her sentiments might be as follows:

The neighborhood is a perilous place to idle
Forces wishing me harm study my every step.
Peace may be sought in the secret places, the shadows, the corners, the undersides of porches, the low brush of shrubs
Agents of menace stride freely in the open air.
Birds threaten me, black or lackluster-gray, shrilly shrieking, circling for a meal
Rabbits hide jagged teeth and black hearts beneath enchanting brown eyes.
Some days the garbage barrels arrive to spy
Hidden creatures lurk silently within, waiting to pounce as I pass.
Cars hurtle by with their squeaky brakes and belligerent mufflers
Sometimes they pause to exclaim to me in foreign brutish tongues
Naming a price for my head.
One small swerve and the sidewalk is no longer a sanctuary.
The sun bakes cruelly and the wind slides its icy fingers through my threadbare coat
Someday this wind will knock me down
And squirrels will battle over my body before I can rise.
I warn the others who pass by
They are fools, every one.
I drag, I sit statue-still, I scramble for the cover of the underbrush.
I tremble softly in the breeze.
I spy my house in the distance
A haven of hope.
I lope, I run, I sprint faster than the chipmunks
I ignore the pull in my neck
And the faint shouts behind me.

Temporary Setback

Have you ever been to a grocery store that doesn't sell milk anymore? Neither have I. But I think I know what it feels like. I went to a video rental store today and browsed Classics, Drama, Action/Adventure, and Mysteries. I couldn't find The Godfather anywhere.

Me: I'm looking for The Godfather.
Clerk: We don't have it.
Me: [blank stare]
Clerk: [silence]
Clerk: We used to have it. Someone stole it.

I did find Vertigo, anyway. It occurred to me later that it was very comprehensive of someone to steal all of the copies of all three of the Godfather movies. So now I will either locate someone who owns them or join the mainstream and get Netflix. Or hassle around with a new membership to some Blockbuster-ish chain.

Identity

One of my favorite bloggers often makes statements about her friends’ behaviors like “that is typical of him, being a Taurus” or “one would expect that, given that she is a Gemini.” I believe that she is half-way serious about it. Recently she wrote of a friend who arranged a grand Christmas party, inviting hundreds of people to his small house and providing more food than those hundreds could eat. I was thinking to myself that this is exactly the kind of party that I can’t stand, when she commented that “this must be a Leo thing.” But I am a Leo.

There aren’t many spaces on the Blogger profile to describe myself. So the lines available must have been very important to someone. My astrological sign is one, which was provided when I typed in my birthdate. (If I provided my birth year, my Chinese sign would display as well.) I don’t know much about what my sign says about me because I think the whole system is rubbish. But I am curious about what others might infer about my personality, so I did some research on the traits of a Leo. The websites I chose were surely all reputable despite having pesky popups.

“independent, achieves goals, feels isolated, vain, creative, stubborn, proud”

I think that these terms describe me accurately most of the time. I like to work alone. I am a goal-maker and sometimes do-er. I feel isolated (but I would feel stifled otherwise). My ego is prominent. I like creative writing. I won’t budge on my opinions (though I often keep them to myself). I like to boast.

“aspire to supervising positions, generous, flamboyant, sympathetic, magnetic, graceful manners, extroverted, spontaneous, likes children, likes drama, numerous love affairs”

I have a sullen distrust of administrators and would hope to never become one. I have miserly tendencies. Flamboyant I definitely am not, preferring to lurk unobserved in the periphery. I may be sympathetic due to social obligation, but be assured that my first impulse is to hide until the storm has passed. Magnetism I do not have; I only try to maintain my small circle of acquaintances. Graceful manners I lack, small talk being one of my greatest discomforts. Extroversion and spontaneity: on the Myers-Briggs personality test I was middle-of-the road as far as N (intuition) and T (thinking). But I was extremely shifted toward I (introverted) and J (judging). This means that it is unusual for me to be talkative or spontaneous. I try to avoid children because I am afraid of them. I have no patience for workplace drama. Numerous love affairs….where are all these men, eh?

One source noted “open-minded” while another noted “intolerant of differing opinions.” Not sure what to make of that. So I conclude that my Leo sign doesn’t suit me very well. I read through the other sign descriptions and found them to be vague enough to see a bit of myself in each. But the one which seems to fit me best is Capricorn: “Neurotic, introspective, inhibited, conservative, fatalistic, methodical, practical, concerned with detail, a good planner.” (from howstuffworks.com).

Resolutions

I make resolutions every January 1. Sometimes they stick, sometimes not. A few from the past:

• Make my bed every day: Didn't stick with it. But why bother, when I have a whole house now?
• Drink two liters of water daily: still do.
• Consume 100% RDA of calcium daily: still try, don't always succeed.
• Make an effort with my appearance for at least one day per month: gave it up. I got tired of people fussing over me and asking if I had a date.

Resolutions for 2008:

1) Overcome some of my cultural ignorance by watching these classic films: Godfather I, II, and III, Casablanca, and Vertigo. No, I haven't seen them. I live in a cave.

2) No more baked goods from the hospital cafeteria. This includes cookies, muffins, breads, cakes, brownies, pies, and cheesecakes. It is not so bad to control my carbs at home, but I sometimes will begin a shift with a slab of baklava and eight hours later find myself ravenous and with a cookie in each hand and a pie in my mind. Goodbye, chewy ginger cookies, chocolate chip banana bread, and Snickers pie.

3) Help Trixie move beyond her fears of the outdoors and lose a couple of her holiday pounds. But we won't start this one until it's warmer, at least 30 degrees. I am going to buy one of these dachshund-friendly harnesses and we are going to begin walking regularly again. The indicator of success will be when I get out the leash and Trixie does not tremble or run for cover.