incandragon

This is the most literary work by Moon that I've read, and actually one of the best pieces of actual science fiction that I've encountered in years. It's a piece of fiction about real science, and it is clearly written with the intent of changing the viewer's perception of what is normal, what is important, and the complexity of how those two concepts interact. The message sidestepped my initial expectations. The way the story unfolds also deviates away from the rigid formulas and tropes of regular sci-fi.

I'll read Animals in Translation later this year. Lycangeek is reading it now, and we've already begun having discussions about the alien otherness of the autistics' way of perceiving the world. That feeling of "not quite human" gave the story more of a sci-fi -- aliens are living among us -- feeling than many of the stories that I've read that take place on other worlds or in some distant future. And it's largely real.

So yeah, I think it earned its Nebula Award. I'm glad I read it.
[2009 #30]

This was a pleasant murder mystery, and I was surprised to find that it was the seventh and latest in a series of seven Dan Starkey novels. It had humor and nice pacing, good characters and interesting twists. More than twice I thought I knew where it was going, and then it didn't go there -- so, kudos. "Well intentioned but inclined to stupidity" is how the protagonist is described, and that's got Starkey pegged. As interesting as the plot, though, was seeing the portrayal of a community and culture trying to reclaim itself from a recent history of violence and terrorism.

There is, be warned, cat death.

Extra points for the audiobook experience, because it's narrated with an Irish brogue, and that's nothing but lovely.

I feel I must add that after the recent debacle with Grimes's "Belle Ruin," I was pleased to see that Bateman wrote a book where someone who isn't up to speed on the history of the series isn't left in crippling ignorance. Still bitter 'bout that.

( The other books in Bateman's Dan Starkey Series )

[2009 #29]

I watched most of The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension! tonight. Most, but not all. I remember liking it rather a lot when I was sixteen. I admit I still have a fondness for huge lapels, ginormous shoulderpads, and men who worship hairspray and don't mind a little eye makeup, and I gotta say it has a knockout cast.

But as much fun as the characters and throw away lines are, I just couldn't make myself love it again. I must hang up my Blue Blaze Irregular jacket. So sad.

Sing the blues for me, Buckaroo, sing about Yoyodyne Propulsions and Planet 10 and watermelons. With extra saxaphone.

Someone woke me up at 2:30 am on the morning of the July 4th by firing off extra-loud firecrackers at a steady interval. I hope they were firecrackers. There were six of them, so if we were in a murder mystery, it might have been revolver shots.

So ... at 2:30 I gave my dog a "don't be scared, explosions mean yummy food" treat, told my Overlord-playing husband to come to bed, and went back to sleep.

It's nice to have dogs that are only nervy about fireworks, rather than the panting, shivering, "where can I hide so they stop shooting at me" fear of my late golden retriever.

We had fresh fruit and barbecue at a friend's house, then went home to watch junk TV while we outwaited the noisemakers. At 11:45pm, we started rehearsing our "Hey You Kids!" rant, but it pretty much died out around midnight.

Next year I have GOT to get sparklers, so that it's not me being nothing but a fuddyduddy while the young un's have all the fun. One sparkler for kicks, and THEN I can -- comfortable in my ongoing youth -- tell those durn kids to pack it in and shut up already.

I didn't know when I read Norwegian Wood that it was nutsy popular in Japan. I read this on the advice of Rkimedes, and it was one of the most cold readings I've done in a long time.

It's an interesting book, full of opposites and the the people who bridge them: men and women, life and death, city and nature, sanity and insanity ... irresponsibility and maturity. Despite the bleakness of so many of the situations, the writing was light and enjoyable, and it was only the fact that I've been crunching for a month that I didn't finish this in just a few days.

I have a sneaking suspicion that if I knew more about the music and novels alluded to in the book, they would be Very Big Signposts -- I mean, big clue: he took a copy of The Magic Mountain to visit a woman staying in a sanatorium in the mountains. If I were reading this book for a college class (and it's very similar to books I read in college), I'd absolutely have a list of referenced books and lyrics. I thought it was notable that all the references were of Western media, but no one else seems to think it was odd, so maybe that's just the way college was in Japan in the late sixties and early seventies.

[2009 #28]

In my new favorite site -- lovelylisting.com -- one of the recent entries was considered post-worthy because the real estate photos of the site had lurking clowns. Now, I'm not particularly wigged by clowns, but I will say that these clowns were creepy. And that's before you look around the actual listing and see the other weirdness going on in what looks like a normal suburban home. Clowns and scythes and heads and industrial-sized fire extinguishers are arranged fairly seamlessly around to the nice, neat, modular furniture.

In the comments, someone made a mention of a company that purports to cure clown phobia. But, in fact, that company is actually selling the cure to ANY phobia. Which is fine, fine. Except the phobia-curing company has someone who walks the weird, shadowy corners of the internet, looking for people talking about their fears, and then they post their plug for curing whatever phobia is being discussed, cut and pasted with the ( currently discussed phobia. )

Because the Internet is vast, if you do a search, you can find comments telling people their secret phobia will cost them tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars if they don't address it. Just from the first two google pages are the grim financial setbacks of: Emetophobia (fear of vomiting), arachibutyrophobia (fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth), kolpophobia (umm, girlie bits), lutraphobia (OTTERS!), ...

Actually, I think it's a good that someone with the more unusual fears can know that they have hope of a cure. I just find it interesting to think of ways a fear of peanut butter on the roof of your mouth might hit you in the wallet. But hey.

So, thank you, Mr. Phobia Cure Guy, for making my internet just a little bit weirder.

Oh, I don't even know how to explain today. I don't have warm fuzzy feelings about my vet, and I have even less trust in the guy he recommended. My dog is peeing silty, crystalline urine, and they don't seem to think that's a crisis. I think it's not okay ... I mean, is this stuff being made inside her kidneys? That can't be good for them. Kidneys are important.

Nevertheless, it's oddly nice to hear someone say my dog is fine, even if I don't believe them.

Anyway, I'm vet shopping. I've got a rec for one that's half an hour away. Sigh.

( The rest of the day was sort of like that. )

I'll admit it took a while for me to get used to the melodramatic language and old fashioned style of Dracula, but overall I really enjoyed the walk in the old world. How old? Well, where vampires aren't sexy, they're crazy. Where the King Vampire to End All Vampires doesn't really know what all he can do -- so, do minions have to do the heavy lifting, or can he cart his own sleeping box around? And can he do stuff in the daylight? Well, some. He doesn't exactly know, but he'll wing it. (Haha.) Oh, and I just have to be happy about the rich hero Texan ... and an era where Texans aren't naturally buffoons but brave guys who are handy to have on a monster hunt.

Plus, I really like a writing style where "and every speck of dust that whirls in the wind a devouring monster in embryo" can be used. Devouring monster in embryo. Yum.
[2009 #27]

For our "walk around Seattle Saturday" we chose Madrona -- one of Lycangeek's favorite neighborhoods. We ate at St. Clouds, a self-described "contemporary comfort-food" restaurant.

It had a nice feel ... they had the broad windows opened wide, and the tables were far enough away from each other that there wasn't the "bump folks on your way to the table" crowd you get in most neighborhood eaters.

What I liked most, though, was the framed black and white photo of the owner's grandmother: the photo was matted along with the index card of one of her recipes. How wonderful!

After we ate, we walked around looking at the lovely houses on the steep slopes of Madrona ... including wandering around for a while in the park, to Nigel's joy. It was a nice long break before I had to get back to my long, long, nearly done work project.

It's late at night, and I'm just finishing up the day's work. The problem is that none of what I did past 6pm is something that had to be today, but I find that once you work-crunch for a few weeks, it's hard to stop. Instead, you do the double-whammy of setting your daily goal too high, and then feeling like you need to hit it. I remember, back during my gaming career, being absolutely flummoxed how NOT to be on crunch, once a project was over.

The feeling of accomplishment is nice, but now I look around and I haven't done any living today. I had stuff to do -- stuff that I wanted to do, even.
Eh, crappity.

At least tomorrow I hope to see a movie (The Proposal, probably), so I'll have a hard stop scheduled, plus I'll have to leave the house. That'll help.

I had a good time last night, and it got me thinking about friends. I really enjoy the company of my friends because they make fun things better. That reminded me of a story someone told me ....

Some old friends of ours (our old next-door neighbors, if you recall any of those legendary anecdotes) moved to Florida, and experienced what I've heard described as "Seattle Freeze" -- thus confirming my suspicion that the "friendly but not offering friendship" phenomenon isn't specific to the northwest. Anyway, they were there for about a year, and hadn't made any friends.

One day, they were sitting in a bar and the wife was complaining about their total lack of a social circle. Her husband, a little tired of this ongoing subject, pointed to another couple in the bar and said, "There's some nice looking folks, why don't you go introduce yourself and make friends?"

She rolled her eyes.

About ten minutes later, the wife of the other couple walked over and said, "Hi. We've lived here for six months and nobody will hang out with us. My husband said I should see if you want to be friends with us."

And that's how they made their best friends there. Sometimes just the right people are in just the right place.

What makes a really great burger joint? In one part, it's the burgers. The patty of my burger was notably not a patty chipped out from a stack of factory-created patties (you know, the kind with a piece of paper between them). The ground beef was half an inch thick -- which I consider the minimum thickness for a really good patty -- with irregular edges. In other words, something like a friend would make you. All the other accoutrements were good (although I don't think the bun was toasted, alas). Extra points for choices on types of patties, too: veggie patties, salmon patties, and probably others.

Another part -- the fries were great. Crispy, and so nicely seasoned that I didn't want to dip them in anything. That being said, they had a variety of dipping sauces, from ranch to some odd Fry Sauce.

They had malts. They had beer. They also had wine, but, ya know ... Seattle.

But more than the food, they had the right attitude. The motto on their door and website is "It's not life and death, it's just lunch and dinner."

They post the best pictures from the coloring pages on their website. Some make me feel like I've spent my life inadequately drawing between the lines. Some were drawn on the back of the page -- which never even occurred to me -- so that now I know that if you need to draw outside the lines, it doesn't hurt to get the hell alway from the lines, entirely.

But lastly, what makes a good burger joint a great burger joint is when you meet up with good friends and new friends. Yeah, I'll be going back to Zak's.

For 3 people who like gumbo

Mix in a 4 or more cup measure until completely blended

2/3 cup oil
2/3 cup flour

Microwave on high for 5 minutes, mix with a whisk.
Try another 90 seconds, watching all the while, then mix with a whisk. Continue until it reaches the chocolate color. (Can also be done in a heavy pot on the stove, and it takes forever.)
The true color will not appear until the mixture is whisked and fully blended. You are looking for a Hershey bar milk chocolate color. (That means old, dark copper penny, dammit. Light roux sucks.)
Let stand for several minutes.
The roux will separate and there will be a shallow layer of oil on top of the roux. Pour it off into a Dutch Oven and you'll saute the vegetables in that oil.

2 cups chopped yellow onion (1 med to 1 lg)
1 cup chopped celery (4 stalks)
1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper (1/2 lg)
1 cup of okra, if using. Frozen is okay.

Saute in topped oil until limp, (cover with lid so they'll sweat) then add

4 cloves garlic, minced.

Stir it around in the oil, then add roux and then add vegetables. (Don't be afraid of okra.)
Add hot water to a thin consistency. Generally this is enough water to cover the vegetables, and 2 inches. If you can see the veggies, you need more.

Bring the mixture to a simmer, simmer until the liquid looks velvety. Add salt to taste (it won't take much) and also ground red pepper. (Real gumbo is not made with black pepper. Cajuns don't eat black pepper because it rots the stomach, and will kill you dead, cher.)

Add whatever seafood or meat you are going to use at the very, very end. You want them just cooked, not overcooked. Shrimp, lobster, crab, crawfish, oysters, andoille, etc. Frozen is okay.

Serve with hot white rice. Serve garnished with chopped green tops of scallions and chopped parsley. Also (according to my memory of Farm Royale -- all hail the once gumbo king) goes well with iceberg lettuce salad, with black olives, tomatoes, thinly sliced pepperjack cheese, and croutons. And too much bottled dressing. :-)

I was at the doctor's, playing the Hot Potato game of "what could possibly be going wrong now," when the receptionist handed the nurse practitioner a large envelope, which she then passed over to me.

"Your x-rays," she informed me.

I put on my thinking face. "What x-rays?"

"From your mammogram."

"Oh," I said. Then, "Don't you want to keep them on file?"

"We scan x-rays, and keep those on file. We give you back the actual films."

I took the rectangular plastic sheets out of the envelope and looked at them. Mostly black, with a triangle tracery of slightly luminescent gray. Kinda interesting in a gross kind of way.

"I guess I'll keep one, in case there's an eclipse I want to watch. But you can toss the rest."

The NP said thoughtfully, "They make good stencils."

That's when my brain abruptly and unexpectedly visited the bizarre world of Martha Stewart marries David Lynch.

At my glazed look, she said, "If you do craft projects, the plastic's the right thickness for making stencils. Of shapes."

"Oh, yeah, I do crafts. Stencils. Sure."

I know that House is far, far, far from a documentary, but I will say this: it does get me to go to the doctor to check out random oddnesses. After a while you think "it's probably nothing, and I'm sure I'm getting better, but it's weird and different and long lasting and I'd hate to move into convulsions and cough blood so ... "

It's just a little twinge. I should be fine unless they decide to put me in the Death Tube of Spasming Leprosy.

I yelled out my car window to my neighbor that I liked her roses, and she and asked if I liked any particular color. I said no. She said she'd cut me a bunch of roses after she fetched in the mail.

I went into my house, thinking she would bring them over ... then I had a flash of common courtesy, and walked over with a vase. I'm still new at this good neighbor thing, but I do occasionally have a moment.

I discovered, during a hot afternoon following a rose gardener around, that if you want roses that actually smell beautiful, you really need to go to a garden and not a flower shop. Every bloom smelled nice, and each one smelled slightly different from the next. A little sweeter, a little spicier, or perhaps with a whisper of fruit. The nicest smelling ones didn't last long once picked -- "This will drop all its petals in a day, but it has a lovely strong scent" -- but even the second best ones were redolent.

Then another neighbor walked by, heading home from the mailbox.

"Oh, this reminds me," he said, smiling at all the vibrant flowers, "of when I had a summer job grafting roses at a big rose farm. You know, you take the new stem, and peel it down to the little pimple under the leaf. Then you make a T-cut in the rose stem, and press them together, and wrap it with a plastic tie. If you got to where you could do nine hundred a day, you'd get a raise."

He grinned at me. "A whole five cents, to $1.25 a day. Of course, that was a while ago. I'm ninety-four. But back when I was eighteen, I was really raking in the money."

Now, I love crepes, and this morning I heard someone refer to my favorite local crepe place as ... I can't remember the word they used, but they didn't like it. Now, everyone has their own reasons for what they like and dislike, and I'm sure it doesn't meet up with their standards, but it's my local fave, and I'll tell you why.

- The crepes taste good, all by themselves. It's easy to under- or over-season a crepe.

- They put the right amount of fillings in. It's also easy to overfill a crepe. Fresh veggies, fresh mozzarella, feta that's not too strong ... and throughout it all, I can taste the crepe, and that's important.

- The crepe-ista took her time and never got flustered or frowned, despite the fact that her more experienced co-workers hadn't shown up yet, and the line was half an hour long. She smiled, and made her two crepes at a time, complete with funny pictures, and you wouldn't be able to tell that she was supposed to have two other people with her.

- They (or at least the woman who made our crepes) made the sweet crepes cute, even if you weren't a kid! The cute little girl ahead of us ordered a peanut butter & banana crepe, and the woman piped the peanut butter onto the crepe in the shape of a house and a tree. It was only there for a moment before it got folded up, but the girl got a little picture. Lycangeek pointed out that the crepe-ista had to do it upside down so that we could see it. Then Lycangeek ordered a peanut butter, nutella & banana crepe, and just as I was thinking "I bet WE don't get a cute upsidedown picture" she drew him a big smiley face with goofy teeth and eyebrows.

So while my favorite crepe place is Cafe Crepe in Vancouver -- which has a strawberry nutella crepe that tastes way better than it should, and that's saying something -- seriously, I do love me the crepes you can get at Redmond farmers' market.

Yay for Camping! Yay for -- I can't believe dhw actually made -- crumpets for breakfast. For that matter, yay for camping with foodies who make Thai chicken and other great stuff on their stovetop/Dutch oven. Yay for buying some of those foot warmer thingies to scatter in my cocoon sleeping bag so I didn't lie for hours like a grumpy vengeful mummy. (Although it takes movement to keep them warm, so maybe rice socks warmed in a Dutch Oven?) Yay for a husband who can build and maintain a fire. Yay for a beach full of many astonishingly pretty pebbles.

The memory to keep will be Nigel playing Tag with Lycangeek on the beach, with Nigel clawing at the ground with both paws before launching his "I'm gonna get you" passes. Nigel had an absolute blast. So did Kalluna's Kenneth, especially when we put him on the extending leash. Running on the beach seems to be something dogs either don't understand, or LOVE. And Zoe ... she loves seaweed.

Things I need to remember: I am going to be cold. Even if it's blazing hot when I'm packing for an overnight, even if I've been sleeping with the window open for the last two weeks, I have never been too warm during a camp-out. Pack the warm stuff.

I was robbed of 12 hours of my life. STOLEN STOLEN STOLEN! I was ROBBED ROBBED ROBBED! I don't normally finish books I don't like. In fact, I hardly ever read books that weren't recommended. So how could I be saying that I read a ( sucky, sucky book? )

Although, I did uncover something interesting. It doesn't say (that I recall) what year the story is supposed to have taken place, but it seems like the 1960s or 70s or somewhere. The girl makes a point of the 3 Musketeers candy bar as having three layers. So, okay ... maybe it DID, at some point in time, have three layers. It's called 3 Musketeers, right? Well, no, it never had anything besides nougat. So Grimes was wrong, and her editors/proofreaders flubbed it ... I can but assume because they were mired in "100 more pages to go" despair. No, 3 Musketters is 3 Musketeers because you used to get three little bars: chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry flavored. But now you only get chocolate. Aramis stands alone.

I also didn't know that outside the US/Canada, what we call a 3 Musketeer is called a Milky Way, and what we call a Milky Way is called a Mars Bar. And what we call a Mars Bar is totally different entirely.

In other words, I could have read Wikipedia for twelve hours, and it would have been a VAST improvement on the stupid Belle Ruin book. Dagnabit.

[#26 2009]

The people watching is good on from the place I'm currently spending Thursday evenings. I just saw a woman in ankle-length black velvet and purple silk, with red dreadlocks, carrying a bunny rabbit.

My pink complexion would look ill in red dreadlocks (not to mention my hair is so thin I'd look like I'd been snatched bald in a chickfight), and my personality doesn't carry black velvet ...

... but I wouldn't mind carrying a bunny.

I could carry Zoe, I suppose, but twenty pounds gets heavy fast, plus she puts a woeful "Horrible Drop Forthcoming!" look on her face.