Death Bed

Rock solid logic from a food poisoning-compromised brain: I will set my alarm for two hours from now so that I can find out if I have died in my sleep or not. I will set the backup alarm for two hours after that, so I can keep checking my status throughout the night.

That was me last night. In all, I had two days in bed, illin' like crazy. I don't know if I have ever been so sick, or so illogical. I couldn't drink water, let alone eat. I dropped four pounds. Waking up with a palpitating heart and the dizzies (nod to Liza Minelli in Arrested Development) set me into full-blown panic that I was in a dehydrated state and about to slip into a coma or die. Google will do that to you. So I came up with the alarm clock plan. I'm pleased to report that I wasn't dead either time my alarm went off.



Photo is of my food poisoning culprit: my beloved carrot juice. I blame myself, not the juice. I exercised poor judgement and carelessness. I hope the day will come when I can stand the thought of carrot juice again. According to everything I saw online, botulism is the food borne illness most associated with carrot juice. That would have been worse (paralysis...). My carrot juice went easy on me, relatively speaking.

third post of the day and sexing things up

i know, what's wrong with me? this is what happens when i don't leave the house all day, i reckon. i had actually meant to write about something else, not gram parsons. that just slipped out. what i meant to say was that i found this apartment that i'm going to look at tomorrow. actually, it's a house. anyway, it sounds really ideal (price, location, and amenities-wise), but there weren't any pictures. i'm nervous because the landlady told me to drive by it first, then as a second step to look in the windows, then if i was STILL interested, call her and she'll come show it to me. it sort of seemed like she doesn't expect anyone to really get beyond step one and two. So then she said that there is something falling apart on the porch, and don't worry, she is going to fix it and replace the door now that the other tenant is out. also, something about the tenant having left a bed in the backyard? i don't know... it's raining like hell right now all over that bed.

It's all a bit sketchy, no? But just perfect enough price/place/amenities-wise that i will have to embark on at least step 1 tomorrow.

The other thing was that i got in trouble at my painting class for not following directions very well. true, i was supposed to paint the kitchen sink. also true, i totally cheated and painted my pretty rainbow-edged colander filled with blueberries, with the stainless steel sink surface below it. the teacherchastised me for taking this mundane subject, which apparently was mundane for a purpose, and sexing it up. what can i say? everything i touch gets sexed all up. GET USED TO IT.

Movies, music, and doom

Brendan Benson has not yet been bested by Yo La Tengo, but there is still almost an hour and a half left in the day. That sentence will only make sense if you read the last post, by the way. Actually, I took a break from my Stockholm Syndrome pity party and watched the Gram Parsons documentary, Fallen Angel. It was pretty good, considering there are no interviews with him, except two short audio snippets where he talks about working with Emmylou Harris. Anyway, I knew about his tragic end, or thought I did, but it's quite a bit more tragic than I realized. I only have one Gram Parsons song on ITunes and I have listened to it, let's see...twenty times less than Stockholm Syndrome and 66 times less than Metarie (why so many listens for that one? I like it, but it's not like it's my favorite song ever written. Weird). I like GP's music in theory, but I have never really dug into it; it all kind of sounds alike on the surface. He was pretty mesmerizing to look at, till he got bloated and old at 26...

Last week I watched the Townes Van Zandt doc Be Here to Love Me, which I had partly seen on PBS. Loved it. Didn't I mention that the theme of the summer is Doomed Geniuses of American Music? Hopefully I am not somehow accidentally dooming Brendan Benson or Georgia, Ira, and James of YLT in the process!

I haven't really been managing my netflix list, just getting whatever is next on the queue without much fiddling around. The other one I just watched was Lars and the Real Girl, which was too quirky and folksy for me. I am only willing to suspend my disbelief so far...

Oops, there is less than an hour left in the day now. There is no possible way I can listen to that song 46 times, even if it is only two minutes, fifty-one seconds long.

Carpal Tunnel and Heartbreak/ache

When I decided to cave and pay for wireless internet in my home, I expected convenience and new excitement. I didn't expect carpal tunnel and heartbreak.

But that is what I got. Also, heartache.

Stockholm Syndrome by Yo La Tengo is still my favorite song for that fucked-up heartbreak/ache mood. I predict that by the end of the day it will surpass my current most-played song on ITunes (Metarie, by Brendan Benson).

I just listed six cute pairs of shoes on eBay. I hope people will buy them so that I can get the shoes I really want for school. Comfortable, sensible shoes. Is the frivolous, uncomfortable-but-cute shoes phase of my life over? Oh my god. Cue Stockholm fucking Syndrome.

name-dropping and pitchers

Don't let the back-to-school hype fool you; summer is not over! Proof: sangria.

There are many ways to make sangria, but this was a no-nonsense and simple way: fruity Hungarian Merlot, cut up apples, pears, grapes, plums, slices of orange... just left to soak together in the pitcher. The recipe called for agave nectar and/or maple syrup, but I left them out and it was plenty sweet.

Mostly I just want to show off my pretty Iittala pitcher, which i barely ever use.

Asterisk Plate

There are lots of things I just don't need more of, like black shirts and plates. But how can one resist an asterisk plate? Alice and I found it at an antiques shop Friday night. It was cheap and an ASTERISK, which is a great punctuation mark (although an ellipsis would have been the real score, since that is the punctuation mark I abuse). There was a larger plate with an exclamation point. "Chips and salsa," Alice suggested, and she was right. But the exclamation point seemed kind of gaudy. The asterisk was just right.



It will look great filled with candy or nuts or something, right? For the time in the future when I have people over. I wanted to try filling it, but of course I have nothing interesting to test it out with. I finally settled on dried kidney beans, just to get an idea.



I like it quite a lot.

Three more things:
1. Yesterday at the bookstore, I saw a magazine called "Natural Dog." Natural dog? Are there other options for dog-hood? Maybe it's all about resisting the urge to buy your dog clothes or to feed it conventionally produced dog food. I don't know...

2. Also, in another magazine I looked at, there was an article by my train romance, whom I once wrote about here. It's all about his family's crazy adventures roughing it. I'm glad it didn't work out, because I don't really like to rough it. It's hard when you wear contacts.

3. Today I made a potato salad that contained potatoes, chives, capers, and a mustard/vinegar/caper juice/olive oil dressing. No mayo, of course. I don't normally cook potatoes, but I like this, and it was for my dad's birthday dinner. Although it is not his real birthday. On his real birthday (65th), he got into a car accident, broke his nose, cut his eye, which swelled to the size of a small egg, bled profusely all over his clothes, and had the new car he was just driving home from the dealership smashed. So for him, I make potatoes.

Owls and Rivers

I realized last night that I'm somewhat scared of owls. Not of physical owls; we don't really cross paths. But I'm scared of liking owls and owl motifs too much.

Take this woodblock print:


It is by Kawano, an artist who I love. I would love to own a Kawano print, and I like this one (although there are others I like more). Last night on eBay, it was at $9.99, but that will not stay. It will go quite high, and so I am not bothering right now, as it's belt-tightening time, not art-buying time. I like to fantasize once in awhile is all.

Anyway, the owls. I don't know why my mind is stuck in junior high lately, but there was this teacher there who was head-to-toe owl lady. Not Ms. G-W, but Miss H. Miss H. struck me even then as a tragic, tragic owl-adorned figure. She was probably close to retirement and could not relate to the students at all. She was grumpy and mean. Consequently, the students were not kind (I was among them). And the owls. Good lord, the owls dangling around her neck, from her ears, perched on her desk, etc. Big, ornate owls.

So I don't want to be like her, you know? Liking owls can lead to bad things.

Also, rivers. I love rivers as a motif, and I think that's OK; I never had a tragic teacher who wore voluminous river jewelry. But I've been wanting to move, and thinking about the concept of place, and this print made me think:

It is a lovely one, by Koitsu. See the lovely summer night on the river? I look at this and could cry at how much I want to be in that scene, on a river in Kyoto, fitting in and drinking at one of those glowing inns or in that little boat, looking at all the lights and stars. The thing is, I basically live on a river right now. I'm steps from being riverside. Across the street is a hotel with a restaurant that looks over the river. There are several restaurants, in fact, along the river. But it's not the right river, and they're not the right restaurants, and there sure as hell is no little pleasure boat like that.

See, some people are disappointed because they expect reality to be like the movies. It's woodblock prints that get to me.

But really, is it so wrong to want to do a bit of sophisticated merrymaking in a little lantern-strung pleasure boat on a romantic river under a clear, unpolluted night sky? It seems like it should be do-able.

Art inspiration

I meant to add another heroine to the previous post: the author of this cooking site from Spain. She is a phenomenal artist. Many of the recipes involve meat, so I don't go there for the recipes, necessarily, although I always find them interesting. Really, I go for the paintings, because they are so lovely.

I have an assignment to paint my kitchen sink before next Tuesday's watercolor class. I hope I can channel lobstersquad...

Random thought-gatherings (fair warning: involves wine)

1. The lovely meal Jen S-G and I ate: Chopped-up things meant to be wrapped into Thai fresh rolls, but which became a salad due to tearing fresh roll wrappers. Such a good, good thing to eat...



2. Why am I getting mad about the scoring for the Olympic gymnastics competition right now? Why am I even watching it? Why haven't I gone to bed? Why this foolishness? (that came from a high school English teacher I know who wanted to write "WTF???" on some of her students' papers, and tried to come up with an acceptable reason, like "Why this foolishness?" My thought was "Where's the focus," which only highlights my squareness).

3. Added to my cadre of heroines, along with Lynda Barry, the "Picture Lady" who presents at my school, and others, is Vivian Vasquez. You might not be interested if you are not an educator. But if you are an educator? Seek her out right now! She has a blog and a podcast and uses technology in classrooms in a good way (i.e., the kids actually use it).

4. Today I went to school to start setting stuff up. The desks looked really, really small. I feel far from the reality which is about to descend upon me.

A thicker skin (plus a new coat)

I had my painting class last night. God. I enjoy the physical act of it, but it is hard on my ego. Last week, we worked on color values, and to practice we had to paint a selection of black-spectrum buttons on black paper, and then a selection of white-spectrum buttons on white paper. I sucked at it. I have never been good at faithfully copying stuff anyway, and the colors were hard for me to replicate. I also misunderstood the homework and felt embarrassed, although as a teacher, this is information that can be put to use in the future. File under, "empathy when someone misunderstands her or his homework."

Last night, we did a variety of things, but I just felt like the teacher kept going to the other new students and saying, "Wow!" "Good!" "You've really got it!" etc., and just kind of looking at mine without comment. I keep meaning to grow a thicker skin, and then forgetting to do so. Instead I just keep buying new jackets, which is not the same at all.

Anyway, it reminds me of the time in junior high school when my teacher, Ms. G-W., gave everyone in the class an adorable nickname, usually consisting of some form of their real name with "-ski" tacked onto the end. For example, Brad became Bradski. Jennifer became Jenny-ski. These names were said lightly, with a shared fondness or secret implied. My name, however, stayed exactly the same. No -ski was added, and the voice returned to normal seriousness when it was said, placing me firmly outside her whimsical circle. In retrospect, this is a fantastic thing. I might have gone down an entirely different path if I had been wrapped into this little sorority training group. At the time, though, I took it as further proof that I didn't fit in and had deserved to be left by my one good friend for the cheerleaders. I know. I'm like the only person you have ever heard about having a hard time in junior high. All I can say is, good thing for the Cure and the Smiths, who were there through thick skin and thin (mostly thin). See how Robert Smith stuck by me even when I was alone in my room, all sullen, with a shower cap and panty hose on my head?
Take that, Ms. G-W! What a shitty teacher. I'm sure she thought she was a great one.

Anyway, I didn't really mean to go down that path, because my painting teacher is not shitty. She is good, and she is honest. I'm kind of lazy and ridiculously crave validation. I'm starting a skin-thickening program right now. Please hurl insults at me when we meet so that I can use it to better myself. Is that Am I Hot or Not? website still around? I am so posting a picture of myself in a bathing suit right now.

OK, maybe not. I am in one of my semi-annual Unsuccessfully Attempting to Date phases. That may be a good enough skin thickening exercise in itself.

I did get a new coat for fall. The welcome-back letter came from the superintendent. One must cope somehow.

Eggplant picture

Finally, the much anticipated eggplant picture! See how Michigan-esque? Sure, the thumb area is a bit exaggerated, but still. I can't use it to show you where I live, however, because it's already been cut up and marinated with tomatoes and basil. Yum! Here's the recipe I used (loosely):

Marinated Tomatoes and Eggplant

1. Turn on broiler.
2. Mix together 3 T. balsamic vinegar, 2 T. olive oil and 2 cloves of garlic, crushed.
3. Cut up 2 small eggplants (mitten-shaped optional), toss with half the dressing, and broil for 3-4 minutes. Toss/turn pieces over, and broil for a few more minutes.
4. Cut up 2 or 3 tomatoes (any shape OK)
5. Combine tomatoes, eggplant, remaining dressing, and 2 T. or so chopped basil.
6. Let marinate for at least an hour, up to overnight. Serve chilled.

Michigan-Shaped Eggplant

Today this eggplant-loving Michigan girl scored big at the farmer's market:

A Michigan-shaped eggplant.

(where is the USB cord for my camera???)

Michigan is in a terrible way, economy-wise. People are losing their jobs, their homes... The auto industry is going belly-up. It's hard to feel great about anything.

Our mitten shape, however, is a constant, economy-proof source of joy. This eggplant celebrates what's right about Michigan, minus the upper peninsula.

(If only you could see it! Where is that cord?)

warm beer in a cold mug

I am, indeed, drinking warm beer in a cold (frosted) mug in recognition/celebration of the following facts:

1. Despite waving her frightening fingernails centimeters from my face during dozens of expansive gestures at our training today, my principal somehow did not put out my eye.

2. I have polished off a few more of the walnut-stuffed pickled baby eggplants that Chris and I bought in Skokie. I am always fearful of them, as is she, because they may or may not be properly sealed, and the labels are usually translucent from oil - but from the jar, or another source? It's kind of sketchy, but we like them anyway.

3. There was actually a frosty mug in the freezer when I wanted one!

opening the conversation

Do you know about the durian fruit?

The durian is known for its powerfully rank smell. Its smell is considered so bad that is in fact banned from many public places in Thailand, Singapore, and Malaysia. I have tasted the durian only in dried form. It tasted fine, but with a weird aftertaste that I think relates to its infamous smell.

Do you know about the peanut?

The peanut is known to cause allergic reactions in a growing number of people. Unlike most other food allergies, a peanut allergy can be airborne. The slightest trace of peanut dust can be like anthrax if it hits the right set of nostrils. Consequently, "peanut-free zones" are set up in schools and some other public places.

Do you know about tuna?

Tuna has an incredibly strong smell. To people who like the taste of it, this strong smell apparently is a good one. To people who do not like the taste, the smell is nightmarish. Take me, for example. One whiff is all it takes for a major gagging reaction to unfurl. One whiff. I bring this up because of recently being in a close-quarters tuna situation, in which the person next to me in a closed-up, airless conference room LINGERED over a tuna sandwich over the course of several hours. Lingered, I tell you. For hours I breathed through my mouth, waiting for her to please, god, finish the sandwich and throw the remains far, far away. In the meantime, I couldn't focus on the conversation or add to it, so I'm sure I came off looking like a mouth-breathing imbecile. All of my resources were engaged in not becoming sick from the smell - the overwhelming, gut-wrenching smell!

This has also happened to me in an airplane. An airplane must be a tuna sandwich-free zone! I'd totally support the airlines in searching carry-on luggage for tuna sandwiches before boarding.

Please, tuna eaters of the world, do not enjoy your sandwiches and salads in closed-in places. I'm gagging right now just thinking about it - even the memory of the tuna smell is that strong!

And don't even get me started on the time I bought what I thought was a plain roll at a bakery in Japan only to bite in and discover that it was FILLED WITH TUNA. I can't go back to that dark place to tell you what happened next, but I will say that it was the impetus for me to get serious about learning to read more Japanese...